I looked over at my desk. My sketchbook lay open to the drawing of Ginger.
It couldn’t hurt to try again.
I leaped off the bed and into my chair. On a fresh page I drew an oval and set Amica’s features into the bottom half of her hairless head.
Life already felt a little better.
She went without a body while I filled in the alligators at the bottom of the paper. Seven of them snapped toward her with long rows of razor-like teeth. One crawled onto another’s back to get closer to where Amica’s feet would soon be.
Someone knocked on my door and opened it.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“What?”
“Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Mark sat on the bed and looked over my shoulder. “Geezow. Anyone I know?”
“Amica Aldridge.”
“What’d she ever do to you?”
I spun around. “Really? You want to know?”
He leaned back on his elbows and grimaced. “Does it have anything to do with Damon Sheppard?”
A wave of nausea hit me, and rage boiled up out of my bone marrow. I’d trusted Ginger.
“What did she tell you?”
“She who?”
“She Ginger, of course!”
“Ginger? Ginger didn’t tell me anything. Was she supposed to?”
Then what did he know? And how did he know it?
“What are you doing to Amica?”
I filled in her body. Her limbs flailed through the air as she plummeted into the alligator pit. “She’s falling to her doom.” I finished her off with a little extra revenge. “And there goes her precious diamond necklace down the storm drain.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
I started to cry. “At Academic Olympics practice she told everybody every embarrassing story she knows about me.”
Mark rubbed my shoulder. “You used to be friends, right?”
“Till she turned into a total witch.” I put my pencil down and turned back toward him. “She told them about when I peed my pants in fourth grade.”
Mark closed his eyes and groaned. “Did she also tell them it was because you’d had like six gallons of punch at her birthday party, then the clown made everybody laugh so hard one kid even threw up?”
“No, she skipped that part.”
“Why didn’t you tell it?”
“I couldn’t get a word in.”
“You know, I’m kind of surprised you and Damon Sheppard are doing the Olympics.”
I wiped my cheeks. “Why? Because I’m not as smart as you?”
“I didn’t say that. You’re smart in some ways. It just doesn’t seem like your thing.” Mark got up off the bed and sat on the floor next to my desk. “And I wouldn’t think it’s his thing, either.”
“What do you know about him?”
He sighed, which meant I wouldn’t like what he had to say.
“His brother, Adam, is in physics with me. He’s a junior.” Mark twisted the silver ID bracelet on his wrist.
I pointed to the bracelet. “Why don’t you give that to Ginger?”
He grinned. “Not ready.”
“Ginger’s great.”
“Yeah, she is.” He leaned back on his elbows. “Are you trying to change the subject?”
“Why would I do that?” I went back to sketching the background. “So, Adam.”
“Partier. Big time. He’s been to juvie, and I heard him say that his brother has, too.”
“So?”
He shrugged. “So, be careful. Don’t get involved with someone who’s going to hurt you. Or hurt your future.”
“How do you know I even know Damon?”
“Adam asked me if I was your brother.”
I just stared at Mark. How would Adam know me?
Mark shook his head at me. “Maybe you are stupid. Damon told Adam about you.”
“About me?” A school of piranha tore through my stomach.
“He’s a year older than you. He should be in high school. Just be careful about him.”
“Careful of what?”
“Stuff happens to girls younger than you, kiddo. Keep your head on straight.”
“Okay, Dad.”
He stood and looked down at me. “I’m serious, Juliet. Just keep both eyes open. The Sheppards are trouble.”
“You don’t know Damon.”
Mark walked over to the door and pointed at me. “That’s my point. Neither do you.”
* * * * *
I found a smooth tire rut in the gravel road and changed up into fifth gear while I pumped the pedals harder. The sun hung low over the treetops and the nearly full moon crept up from the opposite horizon. Overhead a sheet of mackerel clouds warned of a coming weather change, and my skin prickled at the whisper of fall that September brought to the late afternoon air.
My skirt hiked itself up and bared most of my legs. I wished I hadn’t left my sweater in a heap on my bedroom floor.
The public access road peeled away from the main road in a grassy, bumpy trail, and when it entered the line of trees I hopped off and walked my bike. Just inside the woods a thick briar of raspberry canes and wild rose blocked the path, and I circled around it to regain the trail. Long, narrow shadows crosshatched a forest floor of pine needles and scraggly ferns, and squirrels skittered across the path like clumps of brown leaves blown ahead of a scattering wind.
The access road made a smooth sweep to the left, then arched over a hill and came out of the thin woods at the edge of Lake Little Pomatok, an almost perfect circle of crystal water surrounded by a narrow band of sandy beach. A concrete slab started at the cusp of the rise and slipped into the water like a long, white tongue. Why anyone would put a boat launch on such a tiny lake made no sense, since I’d never seen anything in the water bigger than a foot-powered paddleboat or a one-man kayak.
Next to the launch a weathered wooden pier floated on metal drums and ended in a square raft about thirty feet out into the lake. Mom and Dad made us promise never to dive off the raft, but we did anyway. Mark swam like a fish, and did lots of things in the water that would make Mom’s and Dad’s hair fall out.
One summer we took a tape measure from Dad’s toolbox and I held one end of it on the raft while Mark dove down with the other. The tape went to sixteen feet, but it ran out before he got to the bottom. I suggested we get a longer one, but Mark said that a thick mass of seaweed grew up out of the floor of the lake.
I laid my bike on the ground beside the boat launch and walked out onto the pier. It sank a few inches under my weight, and creaked with every step. When I got to the raft, I lay on my back and laced my fingers behind my head.
I thought about Kitty at her lake. I wondered if she and George had gone down the river to find the blueberries yet. I wished I could be there with them. Anywhere, really, but here.
The first star woke up and glinted in the cobalt sky like a diamond in a velvet box. The light probably came from Venus, but I wished on it anyway.
“Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight.”
A blue heron appeared over the top of a pine tree and coasted to the far edge of the water.
“Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
The heron settled in a thick tangle of water grass and lily pads, and waited for its dinner to come up for the bugs that swirled on the surface of the water.
“I wish…”
I closed my eyes and thought. A light breeze carried the scent of pinesap with it. I bent one knee to tap my foot against the raft’s wooden beams and the rocking motion made the water slap against the metal pontoons.
I didn’t know what to wish. I didn’t know what I wanted.
“I wish things could change.”
Be careful what you wish for.
The sky deepened to royal blue, and more stars freckled the heavens. On my right came a pop-splash, then another toward the middle of the lake. Fish be
gan to surface and feed. I sat up and hugged my knees. Ripples circled outward here and there across the lake and met others as they grew. Where they touched a shudder of ragged wavelets mottled the face of the water until they crossed each other out and the surface reflected the twilight once more.
I couldn’t stay, or I’d be late for dinner. Someone might come looking for me, and I didn’t want to be found here. This place belonged to me.
Dusk cast purple hues over the splintered pier as it sunk beneath my steps. I picked up my bike and pushed it into the darkening woods.
* * * * *
When I turned into the driveway I met Mark’s car. He stopped and rolled down the window.
“I’m going out. You okay on your own?”
“On my own?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t seen the folks.”
“What about dinner?”
“Have to feed yourself.” He cranked the window up and pulled away.
I put my bike in the garage and pulled the overhead down. If Mom and Dad ever cleaned out all the junk, they could park both their cars in here.
Mark left the door between the house and the garage unlocked. Good thing, since I didn’t take a key.
I walked inside and took a long, deep breath.
Where are Mom and Dad?
My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since lunch.
When I walked into the kitchen the streetlight at the end of the driveway flickered on and threw a wedge of yellow across the sink and floor. I opened the refrigerator and its white glow cast shadows around the corners of the room. A glass of milk and a jelly sandwich would have to do for dinner.
The shag carpet swished under my feet as I carried my plate and glass up the stairs to my bedroom, where Mom forbade food. I clicked the door shut with my hip. When the phone jangled I jumped and milk dribbled over my knuckles.
“Crud!” I hissed and thrust it over my desk before any spilled on the carpet. I dropped my plate down next to it and grabbed at the lamp switch.
The phone rang again.
I wiped my hand on my skirt and reached for the handset.
“Hello?” My voice trembled, too loud in the library-quiet house.
“Is Juliet there?”
A boy.
“This is she,” I said, quieter and with way too much sultry in my throat.
“Hey. It’s Lucas.”
Lucas. Why did I pick up?
My chest heaved and fell. “Hi.”
“What are you doing?”
If I said nothing he’d invent a reason to come over. “Having dinner.”
“Oh.” He sucked in breaths like he’d just run a marathon. “We had fried chicken.”
“That’s great.”
More heavy breathing.
I pulled some tissues out of the box and wiped my glass and the spilled milk. I’d dribbled it onto the drawing of Amica, and now she looked all wet. “Get caught in a shower, Amica?” I mumbled.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. What do you want, Lucas?”
He made some strange noises, like clucking or chewing.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah. I just… look, um… I wanted to…”
Oh, please. Don’t let him ask me out.
You’re not old enough. You can’t date. It’s fine.
“I felt really bad about practice tonight. What Amica said.” Lucas sounded like he might choke on his own spit. “I wanted to see if you’re okay.”
I sat down at my desk and leaned my cheek on my hand. “I’m fine. You know her.”
“Yeah. Why’s she got it in for you so bad?”
“Does she?” I took a bite of sandwich. “Isn’t she that way to everybody?”
He snorted. “She’s really mean to you.”
“Lucky me.”
Lucas sucked in a few more noisy breaths. “She shouldn’t be the most popular girl at school. You should.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have to go. It’s dinner.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Bye.” I started to put the phone back in the cradle but he said something else. I brought it back up to my ear. “Huh?”
“Can you go?”
“What?”
“To see Tron? A bunch of us are going on Friday.”
I chewed on my lip. I did want to see that. But not with Lucas. “Who’s a bunch?”
“Everybody. Charlie and Dale. And Pam. She said she’d go.”
That made five. “This is not a date. I can’t date.”
“No. Of course not. Just a bunch of people going to a movie.”
“Okay. Maybe.”
“It’s going to be great. I’ve already seen it. Twice.”
“Okay, Lucas. I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll buy you popcorn.”
“I’ll buy my own.”
I hung up and finished my sandwich.
I’d gotten all the way through my math equations and finished my book for English before I heard a car pull into the driveway. I raced down to the dark kitchen with my dishes and dropped them into the sink just as Mom opened the door.
She flipped on the hall light and hung her blazer on the hook by the door. Her white blouse wrinkled at the insides of the elbows and at the waist, where it hung crooked, half in and half out. Her skirt stretched over her butt and puckered across the front.
She started toward the living room, then stopped to look in the mirror. Her palms rubbed back over her cheeks and she sighed really hard. She turned her head one way, then the other, and smoothed her hand over her neck and chest.
I took a breath to say something, but before I got a word out she clenched her fist and hit the meaty side of it on the wall next to the mirror. I jumped back and bumped into the refrigerator as she did it again.
Then she tucked some loose strands of hair back into her banana clip, adjusted her necklace, and went into the living room.
I slid my feet across the linoleum and stepped over a creaky place. When I made it to the dining room carpet I crept toward the staircase and stayed close to the wall where the floor made less noise. Only three feet across the doorway to get to the stairs.
I pressed my back against the wall and prayed Mom wouldn’t see me as I peeked around the doorframe.
She sat on the cushion in the bay window, her feet tucked under the afghan Nonnie crocheted for her and Dad’s wedding present. The light from the streetlamp illuminated her profile and cast a long, distorted shadow across the living room floor.
Mom closed her eyes against the world outside the window, and her mouth drew into a tight line. The contrast of light on her features and darkness all around drained her skin of color and the details of her face floated against her pale skin, as though she’d turned into an overexposed photo of herself. Her face melted into the upsweep of her blond hair and disappeared into the night that enveloped the rest of her.
I’d seen this face before, and I shivered.
She looked just like Nonnie in her casket.
CHAPTER 8
Dolph, the school custodian, watered the flowers in front of the school with a green hose that snaked around the side of the building. Two dogs, a terrier and a chocolate lab, tore across the lawn in pursuit of a terrified rabbit. The bunny dashed this way and that, and the dogs’ backs arched and flattened with every pump of their knobby legs.
They barked and snarled, and the mob at the buses cheered and screamed, but Dolph just bobbed his head to the beat of whatever music his headphones carried out of the Walkman on his belt.
Amica and Bethany paused on the top step, just outside the school’s front doors, and turned around. One of the glass doors swung open and a seventh grader burst out of the building. He yelled at the dogs and the lab stopped dead in its tracks. The huge dog’s sad, hungry eyes looked at the rabbit once more, then turned back to the boy. He leaped toward the school and knocked Dolph’s legs out from under him on the way. The kid bumped into Amica as he raced down the steps toward the dog.
P
am shrieked and stood on tiptoe for a better view. She almost knocked me out the bus door.
Bethany reached for Amica, who teetered on the top step.
Dolph, hose clutched in his fist, went airborne over the lab, and landed flat on his back in a clump of zinnias.
Bethany grabbed at Amica’s shirt as Amica stumbled forward.
Dolph’s hose shot a stream of water square at Amica’s chest.
Amica screeched and thrust out her hands. She flailed into the air and her legs twisted behind her like a pair of bent paperclips.
Bethany’s finger snagged Amica’s necklace. The gold chain snapped and the enormous diamond spun through the air. It caught the sun in a brilliant flash at the peak of its arc, then dropped straight into the storm drain.
Amica looked toward me for just a second before her elbows and knees skidded on the hot pavement.
Déjà vu didn’t begin to describe it.
My sketch came true.
I did it.
* * * * *
I pressed open my copy of The Little Prince to the chapter on the lamplighter.
Why did only part of my Amica sketch come true?
But why did any of it come true?
Mr. Tollin stood up and walked to the board. “‘Since it is beautiful, it is truly useful.’ What does that mean to you?”
Kim Leasier thrust her hand into the air.
“Kim.” Mr. Tollin pointed at her with a nub of blue chalk.
“I think it means that beauty alone is enough to make something worthwhile.”
Of course, it would be ridiculous to think I could summon up alligators in the Midwest.
Mr. Tollin wrote Beauty on the blackboard. “Can you think of anything beautiful that isn’t useful?”
Someone shouted out, “Madonna!” and got booed and hissed by most of the girls in the class.
Mr. Tollin waved his hands in the air to silence everyone. “Think about the beauty that’s right around you.”
A boy in the back of the class coughed out, “Miss Downey.” Everyone laughed as Mr. Tollin’s mouth dropped into a frown and his cheeks went pink.
Maybe the fall caused head trauma and they’d shave Amica’s scalp at the hospital.
“Jimmy?”
“The little prince thought his rose was beautiful.”
“Yes.” Mr. Tollin nodded. “Do you think if his planet had two roses, they would both have been as lovely to him?”
Jimmy didn’t answer right away.
“Are all roses the same?” Mr. Tollin asked.
“No. His rose was beautiful to him because she was different. She was his only rose.”