Ground Training

by Bonnie Bryant

  Callie clamped her mouth shut and sank down in her seat. Get a grip, babe, she told herself irritably. Just chill. You’re going to have to figure out a way to deal with George without coming down with a terminal case of diarrhea of the mouth every time you have to talk to him.

  She shook her head, feeling annoyed with herself. Maybe her week in Valley Vista would give her some much-needed perspective on what she was beginning to think of as the George Problem.

  Carole was at lunch when the dreaded announcement finally came. “Attention, please,” the PA speaker blared. “Will Carole Hanson please report to Dr. Durbin’s office immediately? That’s Carole Hanson to Dr. Durbin’s office.”

  Carole’s tuna sandwich suddenly turned to sawdust in her mouth. Swallowing with an effort, she quickly stuffed the rest of the sandwich back into her lunch bag and stood up, carefully avoiding the curious gazes of the students seated nearby.

  “Yo, Hanson. What’s the Durbinator want with you?” called a guy from Carole’s computer class who was sitting a few seats down.

  Carole shrugged and smiled weakly. She was too nervous to come up with any kind of answer. But she could feel the curious gazes following her as she hurried toward the cafeteria door.

  The halls outside were deserted. All the juniors and freshmen were in the cafeteria having lunch, while the seniors and sophomores were safely in their fifth-period classrooms. Carole could hear her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway as she passed the auditorium and rounded the corner toward the office. For one crazy second she was tempted to turn and race down the hall, straight out the double doors at the far end. If she kept running, she could be at Pine Hollow in a matter of minutes. She wouldn’t bother with a saddle—she would just throw a bridle on Samson and clip a lead rope to Starlight’s halter. Then the three of them would ride off into the rarely traveled wilds of the state forest, not returning until the world had turned right side up again.…

  Carole sighed, shaking off the daydream. It was foolish to think she could just ride away from her problems. After all, I brought them on myself, she thought. At least that’s what Dad keeps telling me. Glancing ahead, she saw that she was almost at the office. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and pushed open the clear glass door, which made a little bell tinkle overhead.

  The school secretary, a maternal-looking Asian woman named Mrs. Kennedy, glanced up. “Hello, Carole,” she said sympathetically. “Dr. Durbin is waiting for you. Go right in.”

  Carole nodded her thanks, not trusting her voice to speak. Then she turned and stepped past the reception desk and down a short, brightly lit hallway. Several doors opened off the hall, and most of them were open—Carole could see the principal, Mr. Price, and the two guidance counselors sitting at their desks, talking on the phone or doing paperwork. But the vice principal’s door was shut. Carole hesitantly raised her fist and knocked softly.

  “Come in!” the response came at once, short and sharp.

  Carole pushed open the door and stepped inside. The vice principal glanced up, nodded, and gestured at one of the hard wooden chairs facing the spotless metal desk. “Have a seat.”

  Carole crept forward and perched on the edge of the chair. She arranged her hands on her lap and glanced around quickly, curious in spite of herself. She had never been inside this office before, but she had heard horror stories from other students who had visited it. They mostly made it sound like a combination of a medieval dungeon and the manure pit at Pine Hollow. But in reality, it looked like a normal school office—nothing more, nothing less. Dusty venetian blinds blocked the bright Virginia sunlight from the two narrow windows. Several framed family photos hung on the beige-painted walls. A large potted plant sat in one corner. Nothing scary at all.

  The vice principal herself was another matter. Dr. Durbin was a brisk, businesslike woman in her early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing green eyes that had the ability to cut right through people. Carole had heard of more than one tough customer who’d dissolved into a puddle of helpless goo in the face of that steely gaze. Bracing herself, she cautiously peeked across the desk at the vice principal.

  “Carole Hanson,” Dr. Durbin said deliberately, glancing at her calendar. “Carole Hanson. I don’t think I’ve seen you in my office before, have I, Ms. Hanson?”

  “N-No,” Carole squeaked. She cleared her throat, willing herself to sound a little less pathetic. “I mean, no, ma’am. I’ve never been here before.”

  Dr. Durbin nodded and leaned back in her chair, tapping her fountain pen against the edge of the desk and studying Carole’s face carefully. “Well now,” she said at last, so suddenly that Carole jumped in her chair. “Why don’t you fill me in on this cheating business?”

  Carole swallowed hard, wondering how much Ms. Shepard had told the vice principal. “Well…,” she began tentatively. “Um, I didn’t really mean to do it, but I—”

  “Didn’t mean to?” Dr. Durbin broke in sharply. “What happened, did your textbook jump out of your bag by itself? Did someone hold your eyes open and force you to look at those answers?”

  Carole winced, feeling as though she’d been slapped. But she knew that Dr. Durbin was only calling her on her own self-deception. “No,” she said weakly. “I did it. I know it was wrong. Even while I was doing it I realized it. But I felt like I had to, because I didn’t want to flunk the semester. But I know that’s no excuse—I should have studied more. I’m sorry.”

  Dr. Durbin nodded, seeming somewhat satisfied by that. “Well now,” she said. “Remorse. That’s what I like to hear. So what are we going to do about this, Ms. Hanson?”

  Carole wasn’t sure whether it was a rhetorical question or not. She decided to play it safe and answer. “Ms. Shepard assigned me a research paper,” she offered. “To make up the material on, um, that test.”

  “Yes.” Dr. Durbin nodded and pursed her lips, still gazing at Carole intently, like a scientist studying a bug on the end of a pin. “A research paper. Very good. But you must know that I can’t simply look the other way in a case like this. I’m going to have to add an official punishment from the school.”

  That was the sentence Carole had been dreading. “Um, I understand,” she said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. This was it—the moment when she would learn her fate. Suspension? Expulsion? A year’s worth of detention?

  Dr. Durbin leaned forward and rested her elbows on her desk, still gazing at Carole. But now her expression was thoughtful. “Carole Hanson,” she said deliberately. “Carole, it would be a real shame to suspend you over this, since it is your first offense, serious or otherwise.”

  Carole kept silent, holding her breath. She knew that Stevie would have come up with some kind of funny response to lighten the tension, something like Yes, I agree, that would definitely be a shame. And Lisa might say something responsible and supportive, like I appreciate your saying that.

  But Carole couldn’t say a word. All she could do was wait to see where Dr. Durbin was going with this. She twisted her hands in her lap, trying to prepare herself for the worst.

  “I think I may have a better idea, though,” the vice principal went on. “Carole, have you ever heard of an organization called Hometown Hope?”

  Carole blinked, a little startled by the sudden change of topic. “Er, yes,” she said. “It’s a volunteer group that fixes up abandoned buildings and stuff in this part of the county. My dad spoke at a benefit dinner for them a couple of months ago.

  “Hanson!” Dr. Durbin’s face lit up, and she smacked herself on the forehead. “Of course! I thought your name sounded familiar. Mitch Hanson is your father?”

  Carole nodded, still feeling perplexed by the shift of direction. Was Dr. Durbin ever going to tell her what her punishment would be?

  Dr. Durbin didn’t keep her in suspense for too long. “Well now, then you may also know that Hometown Hope is based right here in Willow Creek. But judging by the confused look on your face right now, I’ll bet you
don’t know that I’m the volunteer coordinator for the group.”

  Carole shook her head. “No,” she said. “I had no idea.”

  “I suppose that means you don’t find our morning announcements very enthralling,” Dr. Durbin said with the ghost of a smile. “Because I spoke about the group just last week, asking the students here to consider donating their time to our next project.”

  Carole blushed and shifted her weight on her chair. “Um, I guess I don’t always listen to those as carefully as I should,” she admitted, thinking about all the times she’d sat daydreaming in homeroom, coming back to reality only when the first bell broke into her thoughts of Samson or Starlight or other Pine Hollow-related subjects.

  “Well, perhaps you might think about paying more attention in the future,” Dr. Durbin said, not unkindly. “In the meantime, what would you say to doing a little community service in lieu of suspension or detention?”

  “You mean working for Hometown Hope?” Carole was finally catching on.

  The vice principal nodded, leaning back in her chair again. “We have a new project coming up, refurbishing a run-down park over on the other side of Whitby Street,” she said. “It’s pretty easy to get volunteers for outdoor work when the weather’s nice. But in November, well …” She spread out her hands expressively. “We’re a little short on able-bodied help. Especially since we plan to get started this weekend and work right through Thanksgiving week if we have to. So what do you say?”

  Carole wanted to make sure she understood. “You mean if I volunteer for Hometown Hope, I won’t get suspended?”

  Dr. Durbin chuckled. “That’s what I’m saying,” she agreed. “Do we have a deal?”

  Carole almost grinned. She wasn’t going to be suspended! She wouldn’t even have to serve detention. Besides that, volunteering for Hometown Hope was probably the only way she was going to escape from her house for the next six weeks. And throwing herself into some hard physical labor definitely sounded better at the moment than sitting around in her bedroom all alone, brooding over all the fun she was missing at Pine Hollow and maybe doing a few pathetic sit-ups and leg lifts to try to keep her riding muscles in shape.

  “We have a deal,” she told Dr. Durbin quickly. “Um, I’ll just have to check with my dad first. I’m supposed to be grounded, and well…”

  Dr. Durbin nodded. “Fine,” she said. “Would it help if I called him myself and explained our deal to him?”

  “Probably,” Carole answered. “If you want to call him this afternoon, he should be home right after lunch.” She hesitated. “So if he says yes, what do I need to do? I mean, to get started.”

  Dr. Durbin rubbed her hands together and leaned forward again, looking eager. “There’s a planning meeting Wednesday afternoon,” she said. “It’s at the community center over in that new development, Willow Woods. Do you know where that is?”

  Carole shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. You can follow me over there after school.” Dr. Durbin smiled. “All right, then, you’d better get back to lunch and finish eating. You’re going to need all the energy you can get once we put you to work!”

  “Phil?” Stevie said into the phone, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Hi, me,” Phil replied. “What’s up?”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “I did,” Phil replied. “We’re all set for Wednesday afternoon. A.J. actually seemed kind of psyched about it.”

  “Really?” Stevie felt a twinge of hope. If A.J. was excited about hanging out with her and Phil, maybe that meant he was coming back to his senses. Maybe he was over his attitude problems and ready to talk to his friends again. If so, maybe they would finally be able to help him. “That’s great. I’m psyched, too.”

  “I’m psyched that I’ll get to see you,” Phil replied. “Even if I have to share you with A.J. So we’ll meet at Cross County right after school, okay? Then it’ll be off into the wilderness, just the three of us. See you then.”

  “Bye.” Stevie felt a slight pang as she hung up the phone. It would have been nice if it had been just the two of them. It had been a long while since she’d spent any quality time alone with Phil, so long that she had almost forgotten what it was like. But she did her best to push such selfish thoughts out of her mind. A.J. needed them right now, and that was the most important thing.

  Phil and I will have plenty of time to hang out when I’m ungrounded, she told herself. And if A.J. keeps on the way he’s been going, who knows how much time we have to get through to him?

  SIX

  As her classmates jogged over to take their places on either side of the volleyball net in the Fenton Hall gym, Callie took her usual seat on the lowest row of bleachers. Because of her bad leg, she was excused from participating in phys ed for the entire semester. But that didn’t mean she was excused from attending. Twice a week since the beginning of the school year, she had been forced to sit there for the whole class period, watching her classmates run laps or practice their tennis swings or do sit-ups. Or play volleyball, as they were doing today.

  What a waste, Callie thought with a sigh, not for the first time. Pushing her blond hair out of her face, she idly watched as Ms. Monroe called the class to order. I wonder what kind of educational experience this is supposed to be.

  She couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Before being elected to the House of Representatives in the last election, her father had been a state representative. One of his duties had been chairing a committee on improving the public school system, and during that time the talk around the family dinner table had focused an awful lot on things like “educational experiences.”

  Callie’s smile faded. Thinking about those days reminded her of her life back in Valley Vista, which brought her back to a topic that was never far from her mind this week—her family’s upcoming trip.

  Okay, so maybe I can’t play volleyball, she thought. That doesn’t mean I have to just sit here and veg out. This doesn’t have to be a total waste of time.

  Shooting a quick look at the volleyball game, which was in full swing, Callie was just in time to see Stevie dive for a wild ball. Veronica di-Angelo, who was busy examining her fingernails, took a casual step in the wrong direction and almost collided with her. Stevie threw herself aside just in time, landing hard on one knee as the ball bounced away toward the locker rooms.

  “Watch it!” Stevie cried in frustration, rubbing her knee and glaring at Veronica as she climbed to her feet. “If you’re not going to play, at least stay out of my way!”

  Veronica just shrugged, not even bothering to look up from her stylish French manicure. “Don’t blame me, Stevie,” she said calmly. “It’s your own fault if you’re a spaz, not mine.”

  Callie shook her head, wondering how her brother could ever have seen anything in Veronica. For a while there, it had seemed that the two of them were really becoming an item. During Scott’s campaign for student body president, Veronica had been all but glued to his side, talking him up to her legion of friends and admirers, laughing at his every witty remark, and generally acting the part of adoring groupie. Then Scott had told her he just wanted to be friends. That clearly wasn’t something Veronica had wanted to hear, and she hadn’t let him forget it since. She really had it in for him, and that meant she wasn’t exactly looking to be best friends with Callie, either.

  It’s Scott’s own fault, Callie thought idly as she watched Veronica whisper something to her friend Nicole, who giggled and shot Stevie a quick glance. Stevie ignored them both, focusing on the ball as a teammate served it cleanly over the net. If he wasn’t such a flirt, he wouldn’t have this kind of problem. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought along those lines, and she didn’t waste much time on it. She knew her brother could take care of himself.

  Instead she returned her attention to her own situation. Pushing her books and her crutches out of the way, she planted both hands on the bleacher seat and t
hen concentrated on her weak leg. Her therapeutic riding sessions had helped a lot to strengthen and recondition her muscles, but her doctor had assigned her some additional exercises, which she had been doing faithfully every morning and evening in her bedroom. Concentrating on keeping the correct position, she slowly lifted her leg six inches off the floor, held it for a count of three, then lowered it just as slowly. One rep. Then another. Then another.

  When her thigh muscles started to ache, she switched to a second exercise that worked a different set of muscles. She did twice her usual number of reps before returning to the first exercise. By the second set her weary limb started to protest and her leg shook slightly as she lifted it again and again.

  Come on, come on, she chided herself, gritting her teeth as beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip. You can do this. You know you can.

  She was focusing so hard on controlling her muscles, on making them do what she wanted, that she barely heard the phys ed teacher call for a time-out. Callie was unaware that several of her classmates had turned to stare at her until she heard a sardonic voice mention her name loudly.

  “Check it out, everyone!” Veronica exclaimed with barely concealed sarcasm. “I think Callie’s having some kind of seizure. Should I call nine-one-one?”

  Callie looked up quickly, letting her foot fall back to the floor with a bang. She winced at the impact, which jarred her joints clear to her hipbone.

  But before she could come up with a suitable comeback, Stevie spoke up. “Shove it, Veronica,” she said. “It figures you wouldn’t recognize actual exercise when you saw it.”

  Veronica rolled her eyes. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spends a whole lot more time exercising her mouth than her body.”

  “Oh yeah?” Stevie replied more hotly than ever. “Well, maybe polishing your fingernails seems like exercise to a witch like you, but—”