At that, I wished I had more cinnamon rolls to offer. Or something I could perhaps hose Emily down with.
In the first months of our friendship, I was convinced Emily had not one single insecurity. And why should she? Emily was clever, beautiful, and a better surfer and water polo player than most of the boys at our school. Still, I knew better than to make judgments based solely on outside appearances. Emily, however, truly did seem to be the real deal, which was why when I learned she did in fact have a sensitive spot—Jake very nearly losing a clump of his hair after making a slight about Emily’s bottom—I was somewhat surprised. I wondered what he would lose this time.
A large crowd had gathered to watch Emily pummel Jake. He took the beating chivalrously, allowing a fair amount of her assaults to land squarely.
Over Emily’s repetitive insults and Jake’s laughter, I thought I heard my name spoken; as though someone intended to see if I would respond to it. I pretended not to notice, hoping I was mistaken. Then I could no longer pretend. I clearly heard the name Frasier. As covertly as possible I looked to my left where two cheerleaders in purple and black uniforms bent their heads together, their eyes honed on me. I looked away quickly, my cheeks hot under their scrutiny.
Emily—tired or merely satisfied with the severity of the beating—ceased thrashing Jake. They parted unceremoniously, each one headed in a different direction.
Emily fixed her hair in the reflective sunglasses worn by a boy not too much taller than she, and Jake—though he made a good show of equanimity—rubbed his shoulder. He chuckled, proudly displaying his battle wounds to a crowd of lurkers. All over his body, pink welts slowly made their appearance. Splattered across Jake’s capacious shoulders and arms were Emily’s tiny handprints; they looked like starfish.
The two girls who had called me Frasier passed in front of me and sauntered toward Jake. On the back of a letterman’s jacket the name Winkler was embroidered in thick, purple scrawl. The other girl’s last name was concealed by a tumbling mass of fine, black hair. The shorter one, with a pudgy face and bovine features, adjusted the black headband holding back her short blonde hair, just before slipping her hands into the holes of Jake’s tank top.
He jolted at being tickled, but instantly relaxed, placing his hands above the ones still lingering on his bare ribs. Spinning around, the smile on his face went slack; clearly she was not whom he had been expecting.
“Amanda,” he observed grimly, stepping forward and outside her short reach.
Amanda Winkler smiled brightly, not the least offended by the shrug off. “Hi Jake! And it’s Mandy, remember?” She giggled. “I don’t go by Amanda anymore. It’s too . . . well, I don’t really know, but Mandy suits me so much better, don’t you think?”
“Um, yeah.” He nodded, offering a conciliatory lopsided smile. “Sure. Hey, do you know my friend—”
“Did you notice we got new cheer uniforms?” Mandy interrupted shrewdly, not about to be deterred by Jake’s attempt at acknowledging the boy elbowing him for an introduction. “Look,” she demanded, feverish brown eyes on Jake and placing one plump finger just above the swell of her ample chest. She traced it suggestively over the swirling purple embroidery. “You see this? This stitching wasn’t there before. My mom—I mean, Coach Winkler and I”—she giggled—“came up with the idea last month on the bus trip down to San Diego Nationals. Isn’t it so great?”
“Um, yeah,” Jake responded, scratching the back of his neck. “So, this is my friend Ry—”
“Ouchie!” Mandy’s features, naturally bunched at the center of her face, became even more pinched when she pouted. She lurched forward to caress Jake’s welted cheek. “This looks like it hurts!” She rubbed her thumb back and forth across the tender mark.
“This one too,” remarked the other girl, raising a hand to gently stroke Jake’s arm. She batted dark eyes at him, smiling coquettishly, but in a less obvious way than Mandy. Her skin was stunning, the color of stained birch, and without blemish.
Jake’s friend turned to leave, and I didn’t blame him. Jake did, though, and sent angry glances after him. “Dude?” he said, “Where you going?”
“Uh, somewhere girls see me,” the boy called back.
Mandy rolled her eyes and continued to paw Jake. “He’s just jealous.”
Jake’s eyes darted around frantically. I suspected he was searching for Emily; not finding her, but instead me, he raised his eyebrows. Help! I nodded, and did the only thing appropriate—continued to search for Emily.
Unfortunately, after walking a complete circle, I couldn’t find her either. Without his audacious twin, Jake was drowning in hungry hands.
Only those closest to Jake would know that conflict of any sort made him extremely uncomfortable; he relied heavily on Emily to handle all confrontation—heated or harmless. And since they were together ninety-nine percent of the time, Jake rarely found himself in predicaments where his sister was unable to take charge.
Mandy stood on her toes, lifting her chin skyward and angling her neck beneath Jake’s nose. “I’m wearing a new perfume. Do you like it?”
“Um, yeah. It’s, nice.”
“You didn’t even smell it!” she complained, stepping forward so their bodies were almost touching. “Here.” She pointed just below her ear. “This is where I sprayed it. Smell,” she invited, the giggle in her voice sounding closer to a purr.
Before I ever knew what I was doing I had put myself between Mandy and Jake. “Emily needs you,” I blurted. “Now.”
“Foster!” Jake threw himself at me, clapping an arm around my shoulder. “Hey, have you met my friend Foster?”
Mandy reached out and strangled me with her eyes, her lips all but unnoticeable, bit back into her mouth. “Oh, and I think Maddie might be looking for you also,” I said.
“Maddie? My girlfriend? The love of my life? Sure, where doth she be?” Jake literally turned his back on Mandy.
Affronted, she locked muddy brown eyes on me, sneering. “Wait. I thought your name was Frasier?”
“It’s Foster,” I said quietly.
Mandy smiled in an ugly way. “I like Fraiser better,” she snarled, then pushed me out of the way. “Jake, you still haven’t smelled my perfume.”
I watched Jake’s whole body go rigid as Mandy landed herself on him, pressing her chest liberally against his arm. She rose up on her toes and lifted herself a few inches closer.
Jake’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Um, you know, I don’t think—”
“Oh, come on, Jake,” she urged, “don’t be such a baby.” Again she exposed her neck, pulling her shirt down much further than necessary.
Jake stared, frozen, shaking his head fractionally.
“Unless my brother is a vampire and is planning to eat you . . .” said a voice I recognized as our salvation. “No—not even then. Because I’m thinking you wouldn’t taste very good.” Emily stepped up to Jake’s side, leading with her arm. “Kinda like the milk that’s been sitting out all night.”
Mandy stepped back, forced to do so when Emily pushed her. “Yeah, whatever. He was smelling my perfume.”
“Is that what that is?” Emily scrunched her nose and sniffed. “I thought someone had put one of those Glade plug-ins in their backpack.”
“It’s Midnight Fantasy by Britney Spears,” Mandy retorted nastily.
“Congratulations,” Emily said, nodding, “you smell like my grandma’s bathroom.”
“I don’t think Jake thought so.” Mandy made to smile at him, but Jake had his eyes cast down and a look on his face like he was silently spelling the word subpoena.
“You know, I’m not sure that’s really saying all that much, because Mr. Cultured over here likes to snack on his toenails.” Emily suddenly waved her hand. “But none of that really matters, Mandy, because Jake has a girlfriend—which you know—which makes you kinda gross and desperate for throwing yourself at him like stinky underwear.”
Mandy bristled, and for a mo
ment I thought she might start to cry. Then she spat, “Oh, is that the tutor girl with all the nasty freckles?”
I didn’t even see Jake’s hands come up. Emily, arms pinned to her sides, looked like she wanted to sink her teeth into Mandy’s throat.
Jake spoke in his sister’s ear. “Em, let it go. It’s not worth it.”
“I’m willing to make it worth it,” Emily grunted, wriggling.
“Mandy,” Jake said in a voice that almost sounded irritated. “Can you just leave?”
“Sure. But you know where to find me when you get bored.”
Once there was some distance between Mandy and Emily, Jake let his sister go.
“You idiot,” she growled and punched him in the chest. Then she took off toward Mandy.
Again Jake caught her, lifted Emily off the ground and began carrying her away. I exhaled, glad that was over. Then I heard Mandy calling my name.
“Now I remember who you are,” she said. “You’re that girl who got chewed out by the new guy, because he didn’t want you as his partner. How sad.” Mandy regarded me like I was a piece of mold, then she laughed in a thoroughly delighted way, and turned around after one last scathing glance over her shoulder.
Something small and blonde flew past me. I almost fell.
“Hey!” Emily shouted, advancing on Mandy. “Bathroom stink!”
Mandy slowly spun back around, a laugh still on her face. Even from a distance away, I could tell Mandy knew what was coming. Her eyes bulged, and she threw her arms out protectively.
I looked for Jake, and found him on his knees, his face the color of raspberry jam. With one hand he cupped his . . . he looked like he was in a great deal of pain.
Whirling back around I clasped my hands to my mouth, just as Emily released her arm and punched Mandy in the face. It could have only been my imagination, but I thought I heard the unmistakable sound of small bones being crushed—I hoped it wasn’t Emily’s hand.
The first thing I noticed was the blood; bright, shiny, oozy red blood smeared around Mandy’s nose and dripping into her mouth. The second thing I noticed was Emily, wearing the expression of someone extremely happy about being naughty.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said to me, “I had to keep my promise, didn’t I?”
Jake hadn’t moved much. He was rolled over onto his back now, moaning with eyes squeezed shut. I could see Maddie in the distance, running toward him, red hair flying behind her.
“What promise?” I finally managed to croak, gasping at the sight of Emily’s bloody knuckles.
“It’s not mine,” she answered, flexing her hand. Then to my other question, “You don’t remember? The message I left on your phone?” Emily shook her head at me, lively eyes probing mine for recollection. “Didn’t I promise you that by today people would have something else to talk about.”
The little fiend smiled euphorically.
“And as you know, I always keep my promises.”
Chapter Ten
“Are you sure?”
“She’ll be fine,” Jake assured me for the hundredth time as we stood outside the cafeteria.
News had traveled fast. By the time the bell for first period had rung, the whole school was buzzing with news of Emily Donahue’s knockout. Everyone—surprisingly even bloody nosed Mandy—was reluctant to give up Emily’s name. Before third period, however, someone had finally leaked it and Emily was taken to the principal’s office.
Jake’s easy smile did nothing to ease my apprehension. “But what about her coach?” I pressed. “She could get kicked off the team. You said—”
“Emily can take care of herself. She always has.” He smiled thoughtfully. “You know that.”
I looked into Jake’s eyes, knowing he was right. It still wasn’t enough. “I know, but . . . I need to make sure, Jake. This is my fault and I need to fix it.”
“Foster.” He grabbed me by the shoulders furrowing his eyebrows at me. “How do you suppose any of this is your fault?”
“Well.” My thoughts were disjointed, which was making me more forthcoming than usual. I tried to answer as if I were merely stating facts. “Well, if Emily hadn’t heard about what happened in Music yesterday, she never would have left class to find me,” I began. “And then if she never would have left me a message and made that promise, then you two wouldn’t have planned the-the—”
“The crapper idea, yeah, go on.”
“Mandy wouldn’t have known about the situation, and maybe if we wouldn’t have been where we were this morning, or if—”
“Okay,” he held up a hand. “By my count, that’s like,” he counted through his fingers, “like five ‘ifs’ so far.” Four, but I didn’t correct him. “That’s a whole lot of possibility and not a lot of proof for you to go and take all the blame. And besides, this is Emily we’re talking about here. Come on, be smart, Fost.” He shook me lightly. “She’s probably already sweet talked the principal into taking her off campus for lunch.” He chuckled. “She’s going to be fine,” he said adamantly. “I on the other hand won’t be, if I don’t get some food soon.” He pretended to sway, adding in a strained moan, “It’s been like thirty minutes since I last ate.”
I sighed. “Go ahead and go eat. I’m just going to use the restroom. I’ll catch up with you soon.”
“Foster,” he said dryly. “I live with Emily.” He raised his bushy brows, smirking. “You really think I can’t spot a lie—especially when someone who does it as badly as you is giving one?” It wasn’t a full lie. I did plan to use the bathroom—on my way to the principal’s office.
“Do you really think she’ll be okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll wait until I talk to her.”
“Good. Now let’s go eat.”
~
Leaving campus for lunch was the best thing I could have done. Even with the majority of conversation centered on Emily and Mandy, I couldn’t completely escape the stares, the whispers, and the looks of vague recognition. Then there was the knowing that at any moment, he could show up. The prospect of sitting in the middle of the cafeteria while people did or didn’t talk about me, or constantly scanning every face for his scorching blue eyes, was more than I was prepared to handle.
Pulling into the parking lot, I made my way slowly over a speed bump. My hands shook on the peeling leather of the steering wheel. Due to Hattie’s age the whole car trembled violently at all times, though my particular tremors had very little to do with the vibrating engine.
I didn’t have to wait long before finding a spot. Luck was on my side, and I was able to park Hattie to the very far left, right in front of the school. This gave me a direct line to the obscured path along the hedge, where I could sneak into the side door of the main building. Arriving to class unseen was fairly easy, as most everyone else used the more convenient double doors.
My fingers were slippery on the hard nylon casing of my music folder. I reached my other hand into my backpack for support, lifting it up and laying it on the flat surface of my desk. As happily lunched students entered the classroom and quickly filled the empty seats surrounding me, the sweaty print left by my hand vanished, receding at the tips until the hand was nothing more than an amorphous blob, then nothing at all.
Dressed for ballet as she was every Wednesday, Vanya floated toward me soundlessly in black flats and body hugging spandex, easily fitting through the narrow path between desks. She turned her head to the side for just a moment, giving me a clear view of the white-blonde bun coiled securely to the middle of her skull. It was wrapped so tightly the corners of her slanted eyes pulled upward into her temples. Closer now, the eager smile on her pallid face could almost be considered kind, if not for the hint of snarl probing in the corners. She bent at the waist, slowing her pace enough to whisper a languid sentence in my ear.
“We’ve been waiting all day for this.”
A cloud of wintry mint blew frostily onto my cheek. I had the
urge to wipe it, and see if a layer of condensation would appear on my palm. Vanya and her friends scooted along sideways, snickering. I understood perfectly. Just like me, everyone had been waiting for this moment to arrive; the only difference resting in the concurrent fissure of dread and excitement. Animated murmurs sprung up at an increasing rate, and soon the entire class was buzzing as conversation hopped from desk to desk.
“What do you think he’ll say to her? Do you think he’ll flip out again? Do you think Mr. Balfy switched their partners?”
Gina shouted above the din, “Whooooo caressssss. Gawd, you all are a bunch of frickin’ sheep. Get a LIFE!”
I glanced at the clock, where the long hand indicated he would come through the door in less than a minute and a half. When the time came to split off and work as partners on the Senior Piece, I would not so much as breathe at him. I would work alone until the bell rang. Not for any reason would I say a single word. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but under the circumstances, it was the best I could do. And if for some reason—
The bell rang, interrupting my monologue, sending a searing blast of coolant up my spine. I forgot my systematic posture and shot up ramrod straight.
He was late.
Relax. As I waited for my heart to restart, I decided this could be a good thing, and quickly repositioned. Any minute he would come through that door, and I needed to be ready. Staring at the shoelace of the boy next to me, I uttered silent reassurances. Since he was late, now we wouldn’t have to sit in the horrible silence while we waited for class to start. Also, people wouldn’t be talking about us—at least not at a volume I could hear easily.
Mr. Balfy greeted us pleasantly from the front of the room. With some reluctance, I removed my eyes from the safety of the shoelace and raised my head. Soon my head was bobbing in a manic triangular formation: Mr. Balfy, clock, door. Mr. Balfy, clock, door. Clock, door, Mr. Balfy. Door. Door. Door. Door.
Where is he? Why isn’t he here?
The first five minutes were just short of unbearable. It felt like time had actually found a way to tick backward. My body did not react well to his tardiness; my feet bounced below me, toes pressing into the carpet and shaking me hard enough to cause cramps up the back of my calves. The inside of my mouth was the worst. It seemed no matter how many times I swallowed the nerve-induced spittle, instantly a hot pool of saliva was there to replace it. My throat burned from the abrasive repetition, and after a while began to resist the involuntary reflex. I tried to relax so the wetness could pass easily, but only succeeded in choking on it. I coughed loudly and everyone turned.
Awakening Foster Kelly Page 22
