11
I raised my eyes to Jamie. She stared back at me, eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. She had heard it too.
I raised myself to my knees. In my excitement, I almost knocked over one of the candles.
“Cindy? Is that you?” Jamie whispered.
And again we heard the soft whisper of a voice, so close . . . so close to us: “I’m here . . . I’m here.”
I froze, blinking into the flickering flames.
Jamie jumped to her feet. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute,” she murmured.
She tiptoed to her closet, pulled open the door—and Danny came tumbling out. “You RAT!” Jamie screamed.
It took me a few seconds to realize that Danny had been the whisperer.
Jamie grabbed the little guy, and he started to giggle. Jamie wrestled him to the floor and tickled his stomach with both hands. He wriggled on his back, giggling and slapping at Jamie.
“You rat! You rat!” Jamie cried, laughing with her brother.
“You scared me to death!” I confessed.
Danny rolled out of his sister’s grasp. He jumped to his feet and sprinted to the doorway.
“How long were you in there?” Jamie demanded.
He didn’t answer. He giggled some more, totally pleased with his little joke. Then he disappeared into the hall. We heard him clumping down the stairs, shouting, “Hey, Mom! Mom! I played a joke on Jamie and Dana!”
Jamie dropped back onto her knees on the carpet and began to blow out the candles. “Guess we won’t reach Cindy tonight,” she said.
“Think Danny knew what we were doing?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Who knows what Danny knows? He’s such a funny kid.”
“Yeah, funny,” I said. My heart was still pounding.
• • •
My first day at Shadyside High was as hard as I’d expected. I mean, how impossible is it to start a new school senior year?
Jamie gave me a short tour of the building before classes started. But of course I forgot everything she told me as soon as she hurried off to homeroom.
I kept staring at faces, looking for kids I knew. I actually remembered some kids from elementary school, but they didn’t seem to remember me.
I saw Nate in the hall between third and fourth period. I hurried over to him, but he was rushing somewhere with his friend Shark. We barely said hi.
After school, I found Ada and Whitney in front of their lockers. They were both talking at once. But when they saw me coming, they stopped and both put these fake smiles on their faces.
Whitney wore a short, pleated skirt and layers of T-shirts. Ada had a maroon and gray Shadyside High sweatshirt pulled down over very tight, boot-cut jeans.
“How’s it going, Dana?” Whitney asked, eyeing me up and down.
I sighed. “I was late to two classes. I couldn’t find the rooms. My school was all on one level, not three floors.”
Ada snickered. “Jamie should’ve drawn you a map.”
“I guess,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll figure it all out in a few days.”
Ada shifted her backpack on her shoulders. She was staring at me coldly.
I wanted to apologize for the other night at Jamie’s party. I wanted to find out if she still thought I had pushed her down the stairs. I didn’t want one of Jamie’s friends as an enemy.
But how could I bring it up?
Besides, I was late for an after-school tryout.
“Where is the music room?” I asked them. “I’m totally turned around. I’m supposed to be there now. I’m trying out for chorus.”
Ada’s mouth dropped open. “Whitney and I are in the chorus,” she said. “It’s all filled up.”
She said it so coldly, as if I had no business even asking her about it.
“My chorus teacher from back home sent a note to Ms. Watson,” I explained. “She told her about the singing awards I’ve won.”
“So Ms. Watson said you could try out?” Ada asked.
I nodded. “Yes. She’s waiting for me in the music room.” I held up both hands with my fingers crossed. “I really need to be in chorus,” I told them. “Because I’m trying out for the Collingsworth Music Scholarship.”
They both gasped. They exchanged glances. “Ada and I are both trying for the Collings-worth Prize,” Whitney said. They glared at me. They didn’t even try to hide their feelings.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess we’ll be competing against one another.”
“Guess we will,” Ada muttered.
“If I don’t win it, I won’t be able to go to college,” I said. I don’t know why I told them that. It was very personal. I guess I was trying to make them my friends.
The Collingsworth Music Scholarship is a statewide scholarship. It includes singing and academics. You have to have a really good grade point average to apply.
I’m a good student, and I know how to get good grades. But sometimes I clutch at test time. I didn’t do that well on my SATs.
My singing is the one thing I’m confident about. I hoped I was good enough to win the scholarship. Otherwise, I’d have to get a job after high school.
Ada and Whitney were still frowning at me. “Only two students can be sent from each high school,” Ada said. “We can only send two kids to compete at the state level.”
“I know,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. Of course it meant that all three of us couldn’t win.
I glanced at my watch. “I’m really late,” I said. “Can you direct me to the music room?”
They kept staring at me, letting me know they didn’t like me. Ada rubbed her shoulder. “It still hurts from the other night,” she said. “Something is pulled. I have to have X-rays.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her. Then I added, “I didn’t push you. I would never do anything like that.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she pointed down the hall. “Keep going that way to the end. You’ll find it.”
“Thanks,” I said. I turned and hurried off.
“Good luck,” Whitney called, totally sarcastic.
“Yeah, good luck,” Ada shouted. “Break a leg!”
12
The school was emptying. Kids were going home. I jogged down the long hall, dodging a group of cheerleaders carrying silver batons.
I thought about Ada and Whitney. What a shame we’d be competing for the scholarship prize. I realized I’d never win them over as friends.
I could tell they really believed I pushed Ada down those stairs. Is that what everyone in school believes?
How unlucky to start out life at Shadyside High with everyone suspecting me. And all because of a misunderstanding.
I tried to force those thoughts from my mind. I had to keep cool and concentrate on impressing Ms. Watson. Making friends was not as important as winning the money to go to college.
Ms. Watson was a tall woman, young and very pretty, with shiny, blue eyes, high cheekbones like a model, and light blond hair pulled back in a French braid. She wore a pale blue turtleneck over tight, charcoal slacks that showed off her long legs.
As I entered, she looked up from her desk, where she was sorting through a stack of sheet music. She had a killer smile. “Are you Dana?”
I nodded. “Yes. Sorry, I’m late. I couldn’t find this room.”
She crossed the room and shook hands with me. She was at least a head taller than me! I barely came up to her shoulders. “Your first day?” she asked.
“It seems like ten days,” I replied. “I spent most of the day totally lost.”
“Well, come over here.” She led the way to her desk. She had a music stand set up beside it. “You certainly come highly recommended. What’s-his-name—Mr. Margolis? He couldn’t stop praising you in his letter.”
“He’s really nice,” I said. Hearing my old music teacher’s name gave me a pang of homesickness.
Ms. Watson picked up the letter from her desk. “This is an impressive list of singing awards, Dana. D
id you bring music with you?”
“No. I have some things memorized,” I said. My throat tightened. I suddenly felt cold, nervous. The feeling I always have before singing.
“I have a song from The Vagabond King,” I told her. “You know. The operetta. And I have a Bach piece we used to use as a warm-up.”
“Excellent,” Ms. Watson said, flashing me that smile again. I want the name of her teeth-whitener, I thought. She motioned me to the music stand and took a seat behind her desk. “Anytime you’re ready, Dana.”
I cleared my throat. As I turned to the front of the room, I saw something move in the doorway. The classroom door was open a little more than a crack. I could see a person standing there. And I recognized her by her red hair.
Ada.
Hiding there. Spying on me from the hall.
I took a deep breath. Anger pushed away all my nervousness.
Okay, Ada, I thought. If you want to see a show, I’ll give you a show.
I don’t think I ever sang better. My voice was clear and steady. I don’t think I wavered on a single note. And all the while I could see Ada hunched at the door, eavesdropping on my performance.
When I finished the second piece, Ms. Watson applauded. “Dana, I’m impressed,” she said, standing up and shaking my hand again. “Mr. Margolis didn’t exaggerate. You really have a gift.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ve been singing since I was a little girl. My mother heard me singing along with a CD when I was three or something. She couldn’t believe I was hitting all the notes. So she started me with lessons.”
“You should congratulate your mother,” Ms. Watson said. “That was very wise of her.”
“I can’t,” I blurted out. “She died a few months ago.”
Ms. Watson’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She bit her bottom lip. Her bright blue eyes locked on mine.
“Anyway,” she said, “we need you desperately in our chorus. I know the others will be so happy to have you join us.”
I glanced at the doorway. Ada hadn’t moved. I wondered what she was thinking. Probably making hex signs.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’ll have to show me what you’ve been singing. It’ll probably take me a while to catch up.”
Ms. Watson returned to her desk and sifted through a file of papers. “Dana, have you applied for the Collingsworth Prize? I think I have an application for it here.”
“Thank you. I’ve already filled it out,” I told her.
I thought I heard Ada groan from behind the doorway.
“Well, this school is naming two finalists,” Ms. Watson said. “I think you have a real chance.”
It was my turn to blush. She was being so awesomely nice.
“I’ll try,” I said.
She handed me a schedule of chorus rehearsals. I thanked her again and strode out of the room. I swung the door open wide.
Ada must have been frozen there or something. She hadn’t moved.
Behind me, Ms. Watson let out a startled cry. “Ada? Are you still in school?”
Ada blinked several times, as if coming out of a daze. “Uh . . . yeah. I had to stay after,” she said.
“Do you have a minute? I want to talk to you,” Ms. Watson said, motioning for Ada to come in. “Have you met Dana?”
Ada didn’t look at me. “Yeah. We’ve met.”
“I’ve got to run,” I said. I pushed past Ada and hurried out the door. I pulled the door shut after me—but only partway.
It was my turn to eavesdrop!
I gripped the doorknob and stepped back from the opening. I kept glancing up and down the hall, making sure no one was approaching. But it was nearly four o’clock. The hall was empty.
I leaned into the doorway and listened.
“I don’t understand,” Ada was saying. She didn’t sound happy.
Ms. Watson replied in a low, steady voice. “I’m saying you have to bring your singing up to the next level, Ada. Or I’m afraid you won’t make the finals.”
“But . . . ” Ada hesitated. “Ms. Watson, you practically guaranteed that I’d go to the state finals.”
“Well, I didn’t really guarantee it,” the teacher replied. “And, I have to be honest with you, Ada. The competition has just gotten a lot tougher.”
Silence for a long moment. Then Ada said, “You mean Dana?”
“Yes,” Ms. Watson replied. “Dana has had a lot of training. I can’t lie: I was impressed by her. She’s a very strong singer.”
“But that isn’t fair!” Ada was whining now. “She’s too late, isn’t she? She can’t just transfer here and—”
“Dana is definitely eligible,” the teacher replied. “Take it easy, Ada. You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing. You can still qualify. You just have to work hard. Practice a lot more. Concentrate your efforts.”
Again, Ada was silent. Then she muttered something too low for me to hear.
She came storming out, shoving the door in front of her. I staggered back. Her face was bright red, and her mouth was set in an angry scowl.
I don’t know if she saw me or not. She spun the other way and strode down the hall, her shoes thudding loudly on the concrete floor.
Now I definitely have made an enemy, I told myself.
I suddenly pictured Jamie. Jamie and Ada were such good friends. I knew Jamie wouldn’t want Ada and me to be at each other’s throats.
I decided to go after Ada and talk to her. Tell her I really wanted us to be friends. See if I could convince her to start all over.
I trotted down the long, empty hall. My footsteps echoed against the tile walls and banks of metal lockers.
I turned the corner and gazed down another long hall. No sign of Ada.
How did she disappear so fast? I wondered.
And then I let out a scream as someone grabbed me hard from behind.
13
I spun around. “Nate! What are you doing here?”
He grinned at me. He has a cute, lopsided grin. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Yes, you did,” I teased. “You like to make girls scream, don’t you?”
His grin grew wider. “Maybe.”
“So why are you still here?”
He shrugged. “Shark and I had detention. Don’t ask.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Nate, I thought you were a good boy.”
He grinned again. “I can be very good.”
I could see he liked me teasing him like that, coming on to him. Did I have a crush on him already? My mind was spinning.
Stay away from him, Dana. Ada already hates you. Don’t make it worse.
“So? What’s up?” I asked. I started walking to my locker.
He hurried after me. “These guys . . . uh . . . they’re having a skating party Saturday night. On Fear Lake.”
Fear Lake. I hadn’t thought about that lake on the other side of the woods since I was a kid. My family used to have picnics on the shore. And my dad would drag a canoe there and we’d paddle around for hours.
The memories rushed back to me. Fun times. Before we moved away. Before it all turned bad . . . .
“Is the lake frozen already?” I asked.
Nate nodded. “Yeah. It’s been so cold this fall.”
“I’m not a great ice-skater,” I said. “Weak ankles.”
He raised his eyes to mine. “You’re probably better than me. The last time Shark and I went skating, I fell on top of a six-year-old girl. It was totally embarrassing.”
I laughed. I stopped at my locker. I stared at the lock, trying to remember the combination.
“So . . . you want to go?” Nate asked. “You know. With me?”
I turned back to him. “What about Ada?”
His smile faded. “I told you. She doesn’t own me.” He pulled down the neck of his T-shirt. “See? No leash.”
I pictured Ada and Whitney staring at me so coldly. “Well . . . ”
“I like you,” Nate blurt
ed out. “You’re interesting.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” I said. “Okay. I’ll go.”
That brought the smile back to his face. But I immediately regretted it.
What did he mean, I was interesting?
Was Nate interested in me? Or was he interested because he thought I could tell him stories about the Fear family?
I had to talk to Jamie.
I needed advice on what to do about Ada. And I needed advice about Nate.
My first day at Shadyside High, and already I felt in the middle of something. Maybe Nate was someone I could really be into. Maybe he was someone I could trust, someone to rely on.
Or was he someone I should stay away from?
Jamie would tell me.
I hurried home. The sun had already lowered behind the trees. I hate winter. I hate when it gets dark so early.
I looked for Jamie in her room. I saw her backpack and her bag tossed on the floor by her bed, so I knew she was home. But no sign of her.
Jamie’s mom—my aunt Audra—was in the den. She looks like an older version of Jamie, with wavy, black hair and creamy, white skin. She had classical music on the stereo. She was lying on the couch, doing a crossword puzzle.
“Jamie is in her studio,” she told me. “You know. In the garage. Ever since the accident, that’s where she spends her time. Doing pottery she never lets me see.”
Did I detect a little bitterness there?
I thanked her and headed to the back of the house.
“Dana, how was your first day?” Aunt Audra called after me.
“Great!” I shouted back. No sense getting into it.
I closed the kitchen door behind me and stepped onto the driveway. A gusting wind had come up, shaking the bare trees in the backyard. A shutter rattled at the side of the house.
I was still wearing my down jacket from school. I pulled up the collar as I trotted to the garage.
The single, pull-down door was shut. The door had no window, but I could see yellow light pouring out at the side of the garage.
“Hey, Jamie!” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth. “It’s me!” I listened hard. No reply. “Hey—Jamie?”
I bent down, grabbed the garage door handle, and started to hoist up the heavy door.