"Why is that? You're the only person with a functioning brain around here."
She smiled and looked out over the masses as they stood, stretching and getting warmed up. She didn't seem as twitchy or shy now that she was away from her house and her mom.
"I didn't know you had gym this hour." I hadn't seen her in class before, although admittedly I always tried to zone out during physical education.
"Well, I got to miss the first few days because of my ankle," she said, pulling her skinny leg up and gesturing. Her socks had rabbits on them. "I could have sat out today in study hall, too, but I figured I had milked my injury enough."
I was curious as to how she'd gotten hurt, but I didn't want to pry. I barely knew her and even though I had a ton of questions I thought it best to hold back.
She leaned closer to me. "My ankle's been fine for a week," she admitted with a sideways grin. "But I had to avoid the fitness test. Fitness is the one test I'm sure to fail."
"Why is that?"
"I run at top speeds of two seconds an hour."
"You can't be that bad," I protested.
"Oh, I can." She chuckled. Wiggling her hair out of her glasses, she pulled all of it up in a high ponytail. "This body may look solid, but it's made out of pizza."
Theo put both feet on the hardwood floor again. Black marks from rubber shoe soles marred the area around her sneakers like waves. Coach Fletcher appeared, chatting with Lainey and Madison. She prepared her whistle at her wrinkled lips, and I winced, preparing for its high-pitched cry.
"The less they know about my lack of athletic skill here at cheerleader camp, the better," Theo said, eying Coach warily.
The whistle blew, and we both stood up to join the shuffle.
###
Being around Becky and her friends at lunch seemed even more awkward now that I'd spent time talking to someone I actually could talk to. I forced myself to interject into their conversation a bit, discussing the news I'd caught that morning about some celebrity getting arrested for her umpteenth DUI.
Then the girls started making plans to go shopping in Ann Arbor that coming weekend. They didn't invite me, and when the bell rang, I was the last one left at the table. I watched them stroll carefree out of the commons, feeling the weight of my limbs, the insistent tug of gravity. Feeling the empty hole that still burned in the space where Jenna should have been.
###
After history was Honors English, which had always been my favorite subject. Not this year. The portly teacher, Ms. Fellows, made a habit of parking herself next to the antique overhead projector. Her brother had made a living shooting documentaries about mountain climbing and cliff diving. Whenever she brought him up, and it was often, she'd get a dreamy, far-away look on her jowly face. As though she wished she'd been brave enough to go with him.
She droned about grammar, scribbling her words down with dry erase markers, filling the screen like a football recap. I couldn't stay present in the dark. My mind drifted, and my thoughts came to rest on Jenna. I'd turned every word she said to me over a thousand times, like an old coin. But I still felt like I was missing something. The exact phrase or moment Jenna decided to run always eluded me, and the more time passed, the more I couldn't help but forget.
###
When I walked into art room B at the end of the day, Theo patted the seat next to her. An inviting smile spread across her face. It was a stark contrast to the first day of school, which seemed like ages ago.
I promptly scrambled beside her, happy to be a little farther away from Lainey and Henry. We pulled out our sketchbooks in preparation. My cockeyed attempts were marred with holes and thin spots in the paper from erasing and redrawing. I glanced at Theo's sketchbook as she was shuffling through the pages.
Her work instantly both impressed me and made me deeply jealous. Drawings already crammed the pages—birds, horses, a strange, exotic fish with looping fins. She casually settled on a page with a detailed drawing of human lungs.
"Wow," I breathed.
"What?" she asked nonchalantly. She hadn't noticed I was eyeballing her work.
"You're so talented." I knew I was gushing, but it was honest gushing, so I felt no need to restrain myself.
She blushed, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "It's not a big deal. I just draw all the time. If you do something enough, you get better at it."
Turning to a fresh sheet, she smoothed out the paper. She'd dented three quarters of the book in only a matter of days. Her face morphed into a serious expression, as though entering creative mode.
"That's really impressive, is all," I said. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Her lips twitched and she shrugged, drawing a steady, thick line in the center of the sheet.
"Why don't you want people at school to know Ms. Vore is your mom?" I asked, changing the subject. I took a pencil from the plastic cup on the table, but I hesitated to draw anything.
"Wouldn't you be embarrassed if you had your mom for a teacher?"
"Well, yeah," I agreed. "When you put it that way. I get embarrassed when Claire comes up for parent teacher conferences. Last time, she grilled my teachers on where they got their certifications. I had to grab her arm and drag her outside."
"It was just another thing for people to tease me about back home," Theo said, her pencil lines getting more frantic. "I'm not Goth enough for the Goth kids. Not common enough for the regular kids. I was lucky enough to have a few good friends. Here I don't have that protection."
I nodded, fully understanding now that my own defense had disappeared.
For the rest of class, we continued to chat about our lives. She told me that her father also lived in Hell, only three houses down from her mom, in fact.
"They love each other, they just can't live together," Theo explained. "For a long time, I expected them to get back together. Eventually it became normal for them to be apart."
"Are they going to get a divorce?" I asked, instantly wincing at my own rude question.
Theo just shrugged. "Probably not. I mean, why bother when what they have is working?"
"What if they want to marry other people?" I couldn't imagine my own parents being apart, even though it seemed like the norm among most of the people my age.
"They don't exactly date much," Theo said wryly, watching her mother as though Ms. Vore might catch that her daughter was gossiping about her sex life. "But if the time comes, I'm sure they'll work it out."
She was the most down-to-earth person I'd ever had a conversation with; there were no barriers, and I sensed no pretense. When the day ended, I felt like I wasn't alone anymore, at least not at school. I no longer felt like a target, dodging around and waiting to get hit.
CHAPTER 6
ALL THE RECENT rain had made puddles out of the roads, spilling over onto the sidewalks. I dodged around the murky, standing pools on my way home. Even though the sky was overcast, it seemed like the rain had passed for the time being.
After dinner, I was downstairs finishing my homework. I tapped my pencil on the geometry worksheet, then filled in the letters of surface area formulas. I tried to focus on the math, but my mind kept going off in different directions and I couldn't tether it.
The last day of ninth grade captured my wandering thoughts. Jenna and I had been sitting in the front row of Mr. Calhoun's history class, talking about moving onto sophomore year. Calhoun was keeping himself busy behind his desk. He used to spit when he talked, and Jenna would joke about needing an umbrella.
It was one of those strange memories that for some reason stuck out, like the last working lights on a strand of mostly burnt out bulbs. There were several of those when I thought of her, yet I had a hard time remembering the last time we'd watched a movie or went out for pizza. Mundane things we must have done a hundred times.
Calhoun had given us the last two weeks off, merely having us complete word find puzzles to keep our hands busy and mouths shut.
"I
t's like rush week. It's finally over, and we survived, despite the hazing," Jenna had said, flaking off her orange polish. Her nails were always painted a different color or pattern, her way of warding off boredom.
"And look, we still have all our hair," she continued, running her hand lovingly through her springy, perfect pale brown curls. There were times I'd been jealous of Jenna's easy beauty and confidence, since I felt so awkward in my own skin. I tried not to let her know, but she probably did, anyway.
"I guess you can look at it that way," I agreed. "I'll just be happy to never be called frosh again."
"Until we get to college," Jenna warned.
Mr. Calhoun handed out pamphlets about a job seminar the school was holding in July. Jenna snatched hers up and read the summary on the back flap.
"Ever wonder what technology lies ahead?" she asked animatedly, in the voice of a commercial announcer. "You can become involved in your future starting now!"
She scoffed and crumpled the pamphlet into a ball, aiming for the garbage can. She missed by a fraction but didn't bother getting up to retrieve it.
"Like I would really want to rush right back up to Hawthorne when I'm finally free. No thanks. I wish I never had to see this place again."
"It's not that bad, is it?" I asked. "I mean, most of the time. You have track. You have sitting in the commons, eating monstrous meatloaf." Our cafeteria had cutesy, Halloween-themed names for every menu item, an idea that belonged in elementary school.
"Are you kidding me?" Her nostrils flared, like she was on the verge of losing her temper. She zipped up the purse on her desk. Mentally, I compared it to the childish backpack beneath mine. "This town is a nightmare, even if it didn't try so hard to be that way. I don't want to spend the rest of my life stuck here like my parents."
This from the person who used to have the world's most optimistic attitude. She was so obsessed with smiley faces and daisies as a kid that I endlessly teased her about it.
In my bedroom, I shifted uncomfortably at my desk chair, miles and months away from the conversation. Thinking over what she'd said now, I could see a little of what everyone else claimed to. Why they thought she had run away and not simply disappeared. Jenna was headstrong and always determined to get what she was after. Even if that meant evaporating, and destroying any trace of her steps.
The way she'd acted then was the beginning of the rift between us, little cracks in the smooth facade of our friendship. I had tried not to notice her mood swings, thinking denial was my best defense. I knew now that was my biggest mistake.
THUD.
I jumped, rudely yanked out of my recollection. Something had pounded the wall above my desk. I pushed my chair back and stood up, staring at the white stucco.
THUD.
Maybe it was the water heater. I was pretty sure that and the furnace were on the other side of the wall. I waited. For a few seconds, it seemed like the sound had stopped, maybe been a fluke. Maybe—
THUD.
I flinched, fear speeding through my veins again. My hands felt clammy and I realized I was clenching and unclenching them rapidly. I thought of the night when I had awakened, certain that someone waited in the dark. I was being watched now, too. Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead, yet a cold chill swept through me.
Swallowing hard, I stood still. I could feel the presence of someone—or something—right behind me. I turned my head slowly, inch by inch, not wanting to see but not able to stop myself from looking.
I was alone. But I found no solace in it. The hot sweat bathing my face went cold. Jogging out of my bedroom, the door banging behind me, I fled to the basement stairs. I had to stop myself from racing up, not wanting to alarm my parents.
"Hey, did you drop something in the kitchen?" I yelled up to Claire. "Or several somethings?"
I already knew her answer, but I had to investigate reasonable possibilities.
"No, why?" she called back down, her voice curious. I heard the water in the kitchen sink shut off.
"I just heard a couple of loud sounds." I peered back from where I'd come. My eyes convinced me I saw a ghoul tearing out of my bedroom, racing towards me. I blinked, the microscopic logic in my brain reasserting itself.
"It wasn't up here. It could have been outside. The wind picked up and the deck chairs are getting knocked all over," Claire explained. "Hugh is going to have a mess tomorrow morning, I don't think he'll be happy."
Well, it could have been the persistent wind, had the thudding sound not been right above my desk in the middle of our basement. I glanced at the French doors and saw leaves blowing across the grass, whirling up and cascading back down again.
"Is everything okay down there, Ariel?" Claire called, her voice closer to the landing.
"Everything is fine," I shouted hastily. "Just fine."
After a moment of hesitation, I crept back down to the end of the hall, past my room, to the little alcove beyond. The unexplained sounds hadn't stopped. Every thirty seconds or so, there was another rumbling thud. Each time I flinched, even though I was anticipating it.
There wasn't much in the alcove space. The water heater stood silent, the small orange-blue flame of the pilot light burning beneath. The furnace wasn't even on. Boxes of mechanical junk slouched on the floor in an untidy heap.
I went back to my room and stood in the doorway, staring at the wall.
THUD.
There was nothing that seemed to be causing it. Unless it was the same thing that made lockers open and shut at random, and strange dreams appear in my head. I rubbed my burning eyes with my fists. If I didn't stop my train of thought, it would slam right into crazy town.
I slowly strode over to the desk, eyes glued to the plain, innocuous white wall. My birthday books from Corinne were stacked on the desk by my scattered schoolwork. A skull grinned at me from the top cover. I flipped the book over, fully aware that the skull was still there, grinning its fleshless grimace. It spooked me more now that I couldn't see it.
I stood as still as I could, not easy considering I was shaking. I waited for the sound again, the rhythm eerily predictable. I shut my eyes, pushing my fear into the dark recess behind my eyelids. My own rapid breathing sounded loud in my ears.
Stillness. Quiet. I could hear the faint sound of voices from the TV upstairs, the water sliding through the pipes in the ceiling. The assault on the wall had ceased. I waited for what felt like hours and was probably only minutes, but all remained silent. The mysterious banging had stopped.
###
On Wednesday, Theo and I were walking together at Hawthorne, towards the electives hall. We had started spending more time sitting together in our few common classes and scoping each other out for easy conversation between them.
In gym that morning, Madison and Lainey ganged up on another girl with a full set of braces and an unfortunate splotchy complexion. They strategically positioned themselves on either side of the awkward girl, getting too close and making her squirm, as though trying to squeeze the sanity out of her.
"It was like Lainey and Madison went invisible," Theo complained. I knew she didn't realize it, but I heard a faint tone of reverence in her voice, too. "They just kept knocking her over. And Coach was looking everywhere except at them."
"It's not the first time I've seen Coach do that," I said. "Maybe she's a little scared of them herself."
"Have they always been such bitches?" Theo asked. She pulled down the flaps of the goofy hat she was wearing. It was shaped like a monster, with arms that wobbled down beside her ears. "They're experts."
"You don't get that mean without lots of practice," I said, shaking my head. "But maybe not the level of bitch they're cultivating now, no. They have been awfully active lately."
"Like a yeast infection."
"Uh, sure. I try to ignore them, like the adults preached in kindergarten, you know," I continued. "Ignore the bullies and they'll stop picking on you?"
"That
's what my mom always says," Theo agreed, nodding.
"Yeah. My parents, too. The problem with that little theory is that I've been ignoring them for the last ten years, and it hasn't ever worked. If anything, they've only found new, innovative ways to torture us."
"But what other choice do we have?" Theo wondered aloud. The monster's arms wiggled again, as if to emphasize her point. "Fight back? I doubt that's an option here at the Hell County Club."
A crowd of people blocked the hallway in front of us, preventing us from going past. Not unusual, since certain members of Hawthorne's student body believed they owned the place.
"What's going on here?" Theo asked no one in particular. Standing up on her tiptoes in her sneakers barely got her shoulder height to most of the lanky, athletic builds responsible for the blockage.
I stepped around the boys in the back, trying to ascertain what all the fuss was about. A few freshman scurried away from the crowd like insects under a lamp.
Ambrose Slaughter had pinned another boy up against the wall by his shirt collar. I groaned. Theo looked at me, obviously wondering who this pretty, awful boy was. I knew Ambrose had been keeping too low of a profile, considering last year he had bloodied more than one kid's nose in the first month.
"Are you deaf?" Ambrose barked in the freshman boy's face. "Do you have a listening problem?"
Ambrose was tall for his sixteen years, and that made his intimidating persona that much worse. He slammed the other boy, whom he easily outweighed by thirty pounds, into a line of paper letters and musical notes. The paper fluttered to the floor and was scattered by the boy's shuffling feet. Ambrose's muscled biceps flexed, looking like tree branches.
"N-no, no," the boy stuttered, his voice breaking. "I can hear you. I hear everything you say." His eyes were wide and frightened, his head lowered submissively, like a wounded animal.
But Ambrose was apparently incapable of recognizing submission. "Then what is the issue? Because you obviously have one." The tone of his voice was so nasty it made me cringe. He wrenched the other boy's shirt, and the sleeve tore with a loud rip.
Fat tears rolled down the threatened boy's ruddy face. His crying elicited cruel laughter from the crowd surrounding them, and that egged Ambrose on.