by Cecily Wolfe
Especially the voices.
“If you say so. Don’t push yourself, though. It’s flu season, you know.”
I nod, holding my smile in place until I turn away and rush down the hall, arriving at my classroom flushed and hot.
Everyone looks up when I walk in, but most of them return to their notebooks to continue working on their projects, except for the few who nudge each other and glance knowingly from me to their friends.
I wish I could text the anonymous tipster back right now and ask how they knew what was going on, and if they know who is involved.
When I start to sneeze repetitively, I’m as shocked as everyone around me, as they lean away like I have a disease.
Something is tickling my nose, a sweet scent that is hardly there.
Where is it coming from?
The teacher passes back a box of tissues and I thank the boy in front of me, who hands it over his head without looking.
It’s not a strong smell, and it wasn’t here before.
As I’m wiping my nose, my eyes grow damp before I realize what my body knows already.
Cotton candy.
Kayla’s boyfriend’s favorite, which is why she wore it all the time.
“I’d be crying too if Josh dumped me.”
Whoever says it doesn’t try to keep her voice low, but she doesn’t sound mean, just sympathetic.
But wasn’t that little act this morning about saving his reputation, about making it look like we were still together and closer than ever?
The way he grabbed my hand makes me want to go to the restroom for real now and wash it.
“If you don’t use this time in class wisely, you’ll be sorry when your projects are due.”
I hug the cardboard box close to my chest and lean forward , focusing my gaze on the teacher as she reprimands the class.
But I’m not worried about my project right now.
My sister would tell me to do my best in school, to get the best grades and take the most difficult classes. To prepare myself for college so I could . . .
Get away from our parents.
Make my own way.
Choose my own life.
For the first time in a long while, I smile. A real smile, one that makes my cheeks warm and my eyes slide closed.
I imagine she’s still here, waiting for me at home to take me to cheerleading practice when I get off the school bus.
She’ll make me hot chocolate even though our mother doesn’t approve of all the sugar, and she’ll make sure I’m wearing a turtleneck under my sweater so I’ll be warm enough in the cold.
When the bell rings, my daydream comes to an end, but I feel like I’ve slept for a long night, my vision clear and my muscles refreshed.
I spend the rest of the day jotting down what I saw and heard in the band room, writing it down in different ways, with different words and explanations, and begin to write questions about it all.
Starting with the notes, with every detail I can remember from those along with today’s revelations.
And the cotton candy scent.
I don’t know what that has to do with it, if anything, but it feels relevant, so I let it come out as it wanders through my chain of thought.
Krystal and Bethany ask what I’m doodling, and I shake my head, closing my notebook and shifting my focus to them during lunch.
It’s the only time I talk to anyone else for the rest of the school day, even Eli, who doesn’t approach our table but offers me a stiff wave when I catch his eye as he stands right inside the cafeteria doors.
The vice principal hovers nearby, and I wonder if Eli is in trouble again.
If he has detention, we can walk home together.
Even if he doesn’t, it dawns on me he’s been waiting around after school for me to finish with the newspaper, when he could easily leave earlier and get home before dark.
“What’s that about? That smile?”
Bethany catches me smiling as I think of Eli, and I keep my gaze lowered as I stare at the plain blue cover of my notebook.
Up in the corner, I’ve written my name in silver Sharpie.
I stare at the letters and wonder who that is.
I’m not sure I know anymore, or if I ever did.
“No new notes, Mia. I don’t know what else we can do.”
Megan cuts to the chase as soon as I walk into the newspaper room after school, and I catch sight of Dante not far behind her, watching us both.
Should I tell her about the anonymous text? Or what I overheard in the band room today?
I wish we didn’t have anything else between us, as this situation with Josh complicates my answer when it should be simple.
But I don’t think she would tell him anything about this, not when she, Dante, and I have agreed to keep this a secret.
For now.
Alex seems like he’s nicer than Josh, but I can’t be sure now. I thought Josh was sweet and gentle, patient and kind, and now I know better.
I’m not a good judge of character, apparently, but that would apply to most of the female students here, along with a few boys, who think he’s wonderful, too.
"Do you have any ideas?"
I shake my head, both to bring myself out of my thoughts and to answer her question.
Dante turns away and starts to talk to a group of students sitting behind him.
Megan touches the blue tips of her hair and leans in, tilting her head.
“I don’t believe you, but I think you must have a good reason for lying.”
I look down, which I know is a tell for lying . . . I’d seen my sister do it enough to realize something wasn’t right, and it was only after she was gone I learned the many ways she had unknowingly (or knowingly?) signaled that everything was so wrong.
But everything isn’t wrong right now, is it?
“I’m sorry, Megan. Trust me on this, please?”
She taps on the desk between us and nods slowly.
“Be careful. This feels really important, but with a teacher involved, we’re asking for trouble.”
I know this, knew it as I was sneaking around and running away from the band room earlier today, but to hear her say it out loud, even as a whisper meant for my ears alone, makes me realize whoever is doing this not only has a position of authority in this school, but has the potential to harm anyone who tries to hold him accountable for his actions.
What if he finds out I’m looking for evidence against him before I discover who he is, before I have anything to take to the principal or school board to prove his guilt?
Chapter Fifteen
Eli doesn’t make himself known in the hall, and as I finish up my work on tomorrow’s edition of the newspaper I wonder if he’s waiting for me.
I don’t know if he had a detention today, and as my hands finally stop shaking enough for me to complete the last template, I worry he isn’t here.
What if he isn’t?
How many times have I walked home alone, just fine by myself?
I shake my head and close my eyes, pushing back against a rising panic Eli has decided I’m not worth his time anymore.
While I know this is just my fear getting the best of me, I’m tired and my mind is full of so many conflicting thoughts, so much I don’t understand . . .
“No one’s allowed in here but staff. We don’t need any trouble.”
Dante’s voice reminds me I’m not alone in here yet, and while usually there are a couple of students in here with me when we wrap up and lock the door, the editorial staff generally leaves before we do.
But he’s still here, and when I look up, I find him by the open door with Eli, who is smiling with his arms outstretched.
“No trouble intended. Just checking on a friend is all.”
A friend.
The word brings tears to my eyes and I blink them away, shutting down the laptop and standing up.
“Hey, Eli.”
My voice sounds small and timid, and I wish I cou
ld take the words back and wait a moment, until I can find a stronger tone so I don’t sound like a frightened child.
I’m so relieved I want to run over to Eli and throw my arms around him.
Instead, I stare at him, smiling like a moron.
He doesn’t smile back, though.
“You good, Mia?”
Dante speaks first, frowning at me while I nod, and I tell him I’ll see him tomorrow as I walk over to them both and lead Eli out into the hall.
“No offense, but you look like crap.”
My laughter echoes down the empty hall, and Eli nudges me with his elbow.
His honesty is like a balm to my jumbled thoughts, although he hasn’t said anything more than a reminder I’m wearing my stress like an outfit.
The back of his hand grazes my fingers, and he takes them in his own, lacing our fingers together and squeezing.
“Seriously, though. Maybe you need to stay home, take a day off. I don’t know what’s going on, and you don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want. I promise not to tell anyone else.”
It’s only Monday, and like everyone else here I’ve just had two days off school, so I don’t know how another day at home, avoiding my mom and writing to my dead sister, could make any difference.
A good night’s sleep should do the trick, but even so, I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with Josh as well as the teacher romance mystery to deal with.
And I can’t really talk to Eli much about either.
Or can I?
“Is this okay?”
His question throws me off, until I look at his face and he glances down at our joined hands.
I frown.
“I get the feeling you don’t get asked that often.”
He’s right, I start to think, and stop myself before I go down what looks to be a dark and deep rabbit hole.
“I’m sorry I dumped on you Saturday, about Josh, I mean.”
As soon as I had started to wonder about Eli, about what it would be like to kiss him, I realized asking him how to manage Josh was a bad move.
There’s been nothing to indicate Eli thinks of me as more than a friend, but now he’s holding my hand like this . . .
“Not a problem. Relationships can be tricky, and obviously I don’t know much more about them than you do, but it helps to get that stuff out of your head and talk.”
I look down at my feet, my worn, white tennis shoes catching the light from the end of the hall as I watch them flicker back and forth with each step I take.
“Mia, you can talk to me anytime.”
Eli drops my hand and for a moment, I miss the way the warmth of his hand makes me feel, until he touches my elbow and stops me from walking ahead.
“There’s a room here no one goes to anymore, and it isn’t even locked. I’ll show you tomorrow during lunch, if you’re interested.”
I doubt I’ll be eating anything then, and besides, a tiny shiver of excitement rushes through me at the idea of Eli sharing a secret with me.
“Sounds fascinating. It’s a date.”
My smile is teasing, as are my words, but I hear them again in my head and realize what I’ve said.
But Eli returns my smile and takes my hand again.
“Definitely.”
Our walk home together is mostly quiet, and I steal looks from time to time to see the dark red scarf wrapped close against his throat against the cold.
The wind has died down, and without it, the cold isn’t as biting, and there’s a certain beauty about the stillness of it all.
My body grows stiff and I stop walking in the middle of an intersection as my thoughts take me somewhere I don’t want to remember.
Kayla’s body in the casket at the funeral home, silent and firm like a block of something hard and unforgiving.
No longer a person at all.
I poked her arm a few times and whispered her name, hoping maybe those eyelids might flutter, maybe the powdered cheeks and pink painted lips might twitch a bit to show me she had returned.
Just for me.
My father had pulled me away quickly and pushed me into a chair to wait for the service to begin, but I only stared down at my finger, where I had felt the hardness where she had been soft and warm only days before.
“Hey, Mia. I don’t know where you are, but you need to come back.”
Eli is shaking me, and I feel my eyes grow wide as I realize where I am and what I’ve been thinking.
“Sorry.”
My voice is barely audible, but he nods slowly and pulls me against him, as if he thinks I might be too cold and need warming up.
He has no idea.
There are no more words between us as he leaves me at the end of my street because I refuse to let him walk with me further, teasing him unsuccessfully about his jacket again.
He touches the scarf, his gaze on mine.
“Someone gave me this great scarf, so I’m good. I’ll watch you from here, if that doesn’t sound too creepy.”
I shake my head, because it’s sweet, and I don’t think anyone has looked out for me like this since my sister died.
But he’ll get tired of this, of my weird emotional vagueness, and the thought makes me frown.
“It is creepy, isn’t it? I can go.”
I grab his hand as he turns away, his eyes downcast now.
“No, Eli. It isn’t. I was just thinking . . .”
How do I explain it, without comparing him to Kayla, which is not exactly what is going through my head right now?
“You do that a lot, don’t you?”
He has a good point.
Maybe too good.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to see this secret room of yours.”
His eyebrows rise and his smile returns, and it’s impossible for me not to mirror it as some of the tension releases from my body.
“I’ll give you a hint: old, taped-up gym mats and a slippery wooden floor.”
I rub my mittened fingers against my cheek and consider these very unhelpful clues.
“I have no idea.”
He laughs but doesn’t turn away, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
A car horn honks and Eli looks up, waving before I can see who is driving.
“My neighbor. Sometimes I keep an eye on her kids when she goes to the grocery store.”
This is both easy and hard to believe, and I’m glad he’s mentioned something I can mull over instead of my own depressing thoughts.
I shake my head, because he couldn’t make something like that up, and he taps my elbow.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Call or text if you want, okay?”
With homework and today’s new developments to consider, it would be better if I don’t start a random conversation with Eli once I’m home, but it’s a comfort to know he’s there if I need more than that.
“Sure, thanks.”
We part with another smile, and I find I’m not self-conscious with my back to him, walking away knowing he’s watching me.
“She won’t be able to come. It would mean missing too much school.”
My mother sounds exasperated, her voice the first thing I hear as I hang up my coat and peek into the kitchen, where something in the oven smells too good for me to eat.
Something rich, with tomato sauce, cheese . . . a lasagna?
Kayla avoided pasta like the plague, and I know I can’t possibly take a bite.
“Stop hovering like that, Mia. It’s rude.”
My mother’s irritated voice yanks me from my thoughts, and I stand straight with a jolt, walking into the kitchen with my head down.
“Sorry.”
I don’t ask what she was talking about, partly because she’s annoyed with me already, and also because I’m distracted by the scent that fills the room.
My stomach churns and I fight the urge to rest my hand over it, knowing I won’t like the bulge I feel there.
“Your father wants to tell you something, so don’
t just stand there.”
I don’t usually expect my father to be home, so when he is, it can sometimes be a nice surprise.
Or just a surprise.
He’s flapping the pages of his newspaper around as he attempts to fold them together, finally rolling it all up and dropping it to the floor.
Why is he so flustered?
“Have a seat, Mia. I have some work news.”
He points to my usual chair, as if I need the direction, and I do as he says, unsure what is coming.
His smile is condescending, and while I know he views me as a little girl, just as I was before Kayla was lost to us, I’ve grown tired of being treated like a child.
But there’s nothing I can do about it.
“How was school?”
I nod and attempt to smile, but I don’t think I’m very convincing because he sighs heavily in response.
“The other partners have suggested a cruise with some of our most valuable clients, and those with older kids plan to bring them along. Would you like to go with your mother and me? I hear the Bahamas are beautiful this time of year.”
The Bahamas sound beautiful to everyone in Ohio this time of year, but I don’t say this out loud.
A cruise? Kayla and her friends would jump at the opportunity, but only if they were together.
I wonder what the other kids who are going are like.
Could I take that chance, and risk ending up stuck on a boat in the Caribbean with my parents for . . . how long?
“It’s only a week, Mia. You can catch up on homework when you get home.”
But my mother doesn’t want me to come with them.
With her.
It doesn’t take me long to decide, not with so much of such a situation that would be out of my control.
“I don’t think so, Dad. But thank you for asking.”
He glances at the kitchen, where my mother is silent, moving about audibly but obviously listening to our conversation.
“Are you sure? Take some time to think about it. I can change our reservation up through the day after tomorrow.”
They’ve already made reservations?
Plans that don't include me.
This isn’t anything new, so why do I look down now, hoping he can’t see the tears that pool in the corners of my eyes?
