by Sarah Adams
“Morning.”
“You look like you got about as much sleep as I did.”
“Guilty conscience, I guess,” Tamara closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat.
“There was a damn bug trapped in my room last night and I couldn't find it.”
Tamara arched an eyebrow and opened her eyes.
“You too?”
“Huh?”
“A moth or something woke me up last night and then this morning I found tiny hand prints on my mirror.”
“What do moths and hand prints have in common?”
“I don't know,” Tamara yawned, “I haven't heard that one before.”
“It wasn't a joke,” Hayden smiled at her in the rear view mirror, “It was a serious question.”
“Oh, I don't know, but the hand prints were itty bitty,” Tamara said, raising her hands in front of her holding her the pads of thumb and index fingers less than an inch apart, “Tiny little hand prints.”
“I think you're sleep deprived, Tamara,” Hayden laughed, “Moths don't have hands.”
“No, duh. I don't know what it was. I've just had a weird feeling since yesterday.”
“Since the apples?”
“Yeah, since the apples. I don't think we should have stolen them.”
“You can't steal from an inanimate object,” Hayden yawned.
“Yeah, but Greg left them there....” Tamara tried to explain.
“Even if we didn't eat them someone else would have.”
“I don't know if that makes it better or not.”
“Maybe not, but we can't change that now.”
“What if we really did screw with the team's luck though, Hayden?”
“Once again, Tamara, I have to say it, I think you're suffering from lack of sleep.”
“Maybe,” Tamara said, closing her eyes again.
Tamara drifted off to sleep and didn't wake up again until the car pulled into the parking lot of a small diner.
“We're here already?” she asked, stretching her arms above her head, narrowly missing stubbing her finger on the roof of the car.
“Yeah,” Hayden nodded.
“Sorry, I fell asleep.”
“You were tired.”
“I haven't had any coffee yet.”
“Well, the coffee here sucks from what Greg and Cindy said, but you'll have to make due.”
“I don't drink coffee for the taste,” Tamara said, getting out of the car and stretching her legs, “I drink it for the energy.”
Breakfast didn't help with Tamara's exhaustion. With her belly full she wanted nothing more than to curl up and go back to sleep.
“Maybe you should get a coffee to go too,” Hayden said.
“I planned on it,” Tamara yawned, laying her head on the table, “Are they going to bring us the check or not?”
“They already brought the check,” Hayden laughed.
“I'll go pay for this, you drink more coffee.”
After her third cup of coffee Tamara began to feel and look more like herself. She even ducked into the bathroom before leaving to do her makeup. After examining her reflection she winked at herself, with a bloodshot eye.
“So besides the bug you couldn't find has anything else weird happened?” Tamara asked, as she slid back into the passenger seat.
“Not really,” Hayden shrugged.
“What do you mean, not really?”
“Nothing that I've noticed. Let's not talk about Sir Bedivere anymore, okay? I mean we're about to participate in a tournament. We don't need to worry that we've screwed it up. Superstition can only hinder you if you believe in it.”
“Who told you that?”
“My mother,” Hayden blushed.
“I didn't take you for a mama's boy.”
“I'm not. My mom died when I was six.”
“Sorry,” Tamara frowned.
“Don't be. You didn't kill her. You didn't even know she was dead.”
“I just meant….”
“Don't worry about it, Tamara, really it's okay,” he said, playfully bumping into her shoulder when the car came to a stop at a red light.
“It's too early in the morning. You're going to knock me over,” Tamara giggled.
“Nah, I'll catch you if you fall.”
Tamara laughed and leaned her head against the window. A bug hovered a few feet from the car window and disappeared when she blinked.
“I'll hold you to that,” she said blinking rapidly, trying to ignore the single piece of glitter drifting to the ground.
The parking lot was nearly full when they arrived at the tournament. Hayden was forced to park in the back forty. Tamara pulled her hoodie tightly around herself and ignored her chattering teeth as they walked across the parking lot.
“It's not that cold,” Hayden laughed.
“Yes, it is,” she said, pulling her hands inside her sleeves.
Tamara nearly tripped over the air when Hayden stepped closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“You're warm,” Tamara grinned.
“I'm naturally warmblooded, I guess.”
Tamara pressed her side close against Hayden's and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked. Greg and the others had gathered outside the door, waiting for them to arrive.
“You guys are three minutes late!” Cindy said.
The pair startled apart, “Your watch is fast, Cindy,” Tamara said.
“My cellphone is not fast. Its time is set by satellites in space. Satellites can not be wrong!”
“Actually they can,” Hayden said, opening the door and holding it for Tamara.
“Thanks.”
Six hours later Tamara sat against the wall with Hayden. She had lost her first game in three moves. Tamara hadn't expected to win, but she wished she had lasted longer than three turns. Why was it that chess, of all things, could make her feel so lame?
Hayden had lost his third match along with most of the others. Cindy had made it to the fourth before getting her butt handed to her by a kid who looked no older than twelve. Greg was the only one still playing. The rest of the group had gathered away from Hayden and Tamara.
“They're talking about us,” Tamara said, leaning her head on Hayden's shoulder in defeat.
“They're just looking for a scapegoat, because they can't admit they've lost the tournament because the other guys are better.”
“So you don't think this has anything to do with Sir Bedivere?”
“No.”
“But….”
“Guys, we need to talk,” Greg said, appearing suddenly.
“Pull up some floor,” Hayden said, waving his hand at the empty space in front of him.
“No, I'm okay. The points aren't up, but we've lost the tournament by 16 points.”
“We know and that sucks.”
“We've never lost this tournament before. In fact we've never lost a tournament.”
“Well, there's a first time for everything,” Tamara said, her voice sounding hopeful.
“We think it's because you guys didn't leave something for Sir Bedivere.”
“A little late for that, isn't it?” Hayden asked.
“You guys don't even care that we lost do you?” Cindy stomped up.
“Yes, we do,” Tamara said, “but...”
“You didn't leave anything, either!” Cindy said, “I knew we shouldn't have let her join!”
“That wasn't our choice, babe,” Greg said, wrapping his arm around her waist, “That was Mrs. Kelly's.”
“Whatever,” Tamara rolled her eyes.
“Let's just go, okay?” Hayden climbed to his feet and offered his hand to Tamara.
Tamara allowed Hayden to pull her up and lead her out. She kept her eyes on the floor, unable to look Greg and the others in the eye.
“Don't let them get to you!” Hayden said, as they walked across the parking lot.
“We should have just left something at the stupid statue!” Tamara said, “And well, maybe,
not have eaten the apples.”
“That statue has nothing to do with winning or losing! It's a piece of wood! It may be an old piece of wood, but it's just a piece of wood none-the-less!” Hayden said, slapping his hand against the hood of his car, reiterating his point.
“You said it yourself, superstitions only work if you believe in them and they do believe in them, Hayden, or at least in Sir Bedivere!”
“They got themselves all worked up because we didn't leave candy for some chunk of wood! That's their problem!”
“Hayden!”
“Tamara!”
“What happened to everyone's right to be themselves?”
“Well, they have that right as long as they don't try to hinder others from doing just that!”
“Shut up and drive!”
“Don't tell me to shut up in my own car!”
“I just want to go home, Hayden!” Tamara crossed her arms, “I can't deal with this!”
“Deal with what? Me telling you the truth?”
“They're not hurting anyone!”
“Sir Bedivere is just a statue!”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Can we talk about something else?” Tamara sank deeper into her seat.
“Like what?”
“Anything that doesn't have to do with chess or Sir Bedivere?”
“Fine!”
Tamara bit her lip as a silence engulfed them. She watched Hayden watching her through the rear view mirror, out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't much different from Doug or anyone else, not really. Just like the rest of the guys Tamara had fallen for, he always had to be right. In the past Tamara had lost more than one guy's interest by proving him wrong. Why did guys have to be like that? Lame.
“I'm sorry,” Tamara muttered.
“Don't worry about it. Believe me, losing a tournament always causes arguments.”
“Now it's starting to sound like sports,” Tamara laughed, sitting back up, “Everyone trying to find someone to blame.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Let's get something to eat?”
“Sounds like a plan. Where to?”
“The first place we pass.”
“That hungry?”
“I'm always hungry after a competition.”
“Too bad, Sir Bedivere isn't here. I bet he's stuffed with candy he can't digest.”
Tamara slapped Hayden on the arm, laughing, “You shouldn't say stuff like that!”
“Why?”
“Because it isn't nice!”
“I never claimed to be nice.”
“Well, you should be.”
“I'll make sure to apologize to Sir Bedivere.”
“Good, maybe I will too,” Tamara said with a trembling tongue.
Chapter Five
Monday was dragging by and Tamara had a feeling the principal's voice ringing out over the loud speaker at lunch time was going to worsen matters. Her eyes were heavy and instead of eating she rested her head against the table. Amber and Josh was chatting away, leaving the brain-dead Tamara alone, since she couldn't keep up with their constantly changing babble about books. She heard the word fandom a half dozen times, but she didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Why couldn't the world just shut up for a minute?
No sooner had she completed her thought the intercom's pitched beep sounded and the voices in the cafeteria fell silent. Last year, the beep had sounded just once during lunch and that was to announce that Junior Sammy Kirish had died in a car crash. Tamara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to prepare herself for anything Principal Hashings might say.
“Good afternoon, students of Central Glade High School. I hope you're all enjoying your lunch or study periods. Before I share some sad news with you, I want to assure all of you that to the best of my knowledge all of your classmates and teachers are safe, sound, and alive. I know many times through the decade of my leadership of Central Glade lunchtime announcements have brought news of someone departing our company,” Principal Hashings began.
Tamara opened her eyes and exchanged a worried look with Amber.
“Today that is not the case. As many of you have likely heard our chess team lost the tournament yesterday. They did not place in the top three teams of the tournaments. What some of you may not know is every year of Halloween dance is funded by our excellent chess team placing high in the two tournaments held in October. The top three teams earn money for their school or academic establishment.
“Without this funding Central Glade cannot afford to host its annual Halloween dance. There is the slim possibility of the dancing taking place if our team can win first place in the tournament the weekend before Halloween. Please give your support and encouragement to the chess team. Each of member of the team works very hard to ensure many of traditions are upheld,” Principal Hashings finished her announcement by reading off the names of the team members.
The quiet of the cafeteria echoed around Tamara's skull when her name was read. Up until now she thought she had done an adequate job of keeping her membership of the chess team away from gossiping ears and lips, but Principal Hashings had just undone all of her hard work.
“What does she mean we're not going to have the Halloween dance?” someone across the cafeteria asked.
“Why should it depend on how some nerds do?” someone at the next table over muttered.
Tamara buried her face in her arms, trying to ignore what was being said. She wasn't participating in the club by choice, Tamara reminded herself.
“It'll be okay, Tam,” Amber said, patting her shoulder, “I'm sure you'll win the next tournament.”
“I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. I suck,” Tamara said, her voice muffled by her arms and the table.
Just when she thought the worse part of losing was over when the weekend ended, Monday had to come along and kick her while she was down. Sunday morning Tamara was surer than ever Sir Bedivere was much more than a statue or Greg and the others were very well versed in the art of practical jokes. She woke to find tiny hand prints in the pattern of giant candy apple on her mirror, complete with shading.
“What the…?” Tamara muttered, standing akimbo before the mirror. She turned to grab her phone, intending to take a photograph, but when she turned back the door the image was gone.
She dropped to the floor and stared at the mirror, examining it closely: running her fingers over the glass and around its edges. Not finding anything Tamara carefully removed it from the wall and lay it face down on her bed. She ran her fingers over the back of the glass, checking for anything that could project an image through the glass. Its surface was cold against her finger tips, but nothing more was there.
Frustrated with the mirror that had played tricks on her two consecutive days, Tamara carried it into her closet, tucking it behind her clothes and shoes. Which she regretted. It was the following morning. Tamara had enough trouble getting started on Monday mornings without having to compete with her mom for time in front of the bathroom mirror. Giving up on doing her makeup, Tamara waited outside. With arms crossed she paced the drive.
A rustling sounded to her left followed by the sharp echo of a twig snapping. Tamara swerved to face the sound. Leaves skittering across the pavement were her only companions. A frigid breeze carried distant laughter to her ears. Tamara shook her head and decided to wait for her mom in the car.
The time in between leaving for school and lunch had blurred by, leaving Tamara feeling disoriented.
“Come on,” someone said, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie.
Tamara looked up to see Hayden, “Come on, Greg and them are heading this way. Unless, of course, you want to hear them nag us about not feeding Sir Bedivere.”
“Who's Sir Bedivere?” Amber asked.
“I'll tell you later,” Tamara yawned, “Hayden's right. I don't want to hear Greg sound like my grandma. I haven't had enough sleep for this crap.”
Tamara followed Hayden o
ut of the cafeteria and into the hallway between the band room and the gym locker rooms.
“What are we going to do?” Tamara asked when Hayden finally came to a stop.
“Nothing. There's nothing we can do,” Hayden shrugged.
“But….”
“We just have to make Greg and the rest of the team sees that Sir Bedivere has nothing to do with their success or lack of, I should say.”
“But….”
“But what?”
“More hand prints.”
“What are you talking about, Tamara?” Hayden asked, “You're not making any sense.”
“Sunday morning I woke up to find like a billion little hand prints on my bedroom mirror and someone was watching me this morning. Maybe not a someone, but a something.”
“Do you know how crazy you're sounding?”
“Yes! Yes, I do, Hayden. I haven't even told my best friend about any of this, because I'm afraid she'd think I've finally lost it!” Tamara stomped her foot. “Hayden, has anything weird happened to you?”
“Outside of my younger brother tying all of my shoes together last night, no.”
Tamara leaned against the walls and closed her eyes, “I think we should just leave an offering before the next tournament.”
“What's up with you?”
“What could it hurt? I mean, what could it hurt to just humor them? If it helps us get our dance, I'm all for it.”
The end of lunch bell echoed through the empty hallway.
“See you at practice,” Hayden said, leaving Tamara alone.
By three-thirty Tamara's mood had soured even more. Her feet stomped with each step and her arms swung at her sides, matching her long hateful strides. She didn't stop by her locker to talk to Amber and ignored the questions buzzing from her volleyball teammates.
“Can't you play chess?”
“Are you happy that we lost the dance as well as volleyball, Tam?”
“Are you sabotaging their team just to be a bitch?”
“You can't even be a nerd, right!” one of them shouted as she dashed up the stairs on her way to room five eighty five.
“Ignore them,” Hayden said, appearing on the stairs beside her.
“What do you think I'm doing?” she snapped.
“Are you?” Cindy said appearing on her other side.
