by Cody Wagner
“Interested in the craft?”
“Not really.” I shuffled my feet on the fancy blue carpet. “It’s more of a duty. Or something.”
He smiled and said, “I miss Jimmy, too.”
I turned to look at him. His eyes were as sad as I’d ever seen them.
I couldn’t do anything but nod.
“I heard you persuaded Jimmy to do the play last year.”
I shrugged. “Cassie and Roze helped.”
He smiled. “It seems the three of you did a lot for him.”
I wasn’t sure what to think. In a way, I guess we did help Jimmy. However, I still carried the guilt of his death on my shoulders.
Suddenly, Wolcott straightened. “What you did for him was wonderful. The three of you brought him happiness he’d never experienced. I mean that, so try not to blame yourself for what happened.”
I shrugged again, surprised at how Wolcott seemed to be reading my thoughts.
“You know,” he said. “Every single person who experiences a tragedy blames him or herself. It’s human nature.”
“Do you blame yourself?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
“How? We’re the ones who led him out of school.”
Wolcott gave me another sad smile. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we can rationalize anything. I could have maintained a better eye on Jimmy. I could have been more involved in his personal life. The list goes on and on.”
He was absolutely right. I’d found a million ways to blame myself for Jimmy’s death. Suddenly, I found myself tearing up. Wolcott placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m not trying to upset you. Your being in Jimmy’s life was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“Thanks.” I blushed. Hearing that from someone like Wolcott made me feel better.
“Is that why you brought me here?” I asked.
“Partly,” he responded.
I figured there was something else. And I was ready to move on; the last thing I needed was to start crying right in front of my principal.
“What do you need?”
“I need to ask for a favor. If it’s too difficult right now, I understand.”
“OK.”
Wolcott removed his hand from my shoulder and fixed me with a serious stare. “I’d like to know what Jimmy told you.”
I froze, confused as to where this was coming from. “What do you mean?”
“Coach Adkins said you told him Tracey was innocent.”
I sank back into my chair. So that’s why he wanted to talk with me. I shouldn’t have been surprised Adkins mentioned this to Wolcott. Once again, I regretted opening my big mouth without thinking.
Wolcott must have noticed my mood shift because he said, “You did a good thing. Tracey is having a rough year. We hope things will eventually blow over. Until then, she can really use friends like you.”
I felt a tiny surge of guilt. Tracey wasn’t really a friend. We just put up with her. Still, that was more than anyone else had done and I found myself saying, “She could really use adults like you.”
For a second, I regretted saying the words. But Wolcott didn’t get mad. He nodded and said, “You’re absolutely right. Your friend Roze and Coach Adkins had a long chat today. Hopefully we can make some impact.”
That surprised me. I expected some fluff words, but it sounded like something was really happening. Before I could ask what, though, he turned the subject back to Tracey. “Now, I talked with Coach Adkins and he told me what you said about Jimmy telling Tracey to come back. I need to know if there’s anything else. Anything at all you need to share.”
I didn’t speak for a minute. My mind was flying in a million directions as I debated what to say. Part of me wanted to spill everything. The school had been without a Seeker for over four months. That’s probably what Wolcott really wanted. Maybe it was time I stepped forward. Maybe I could get some answers of my own. Maybe they knew something about Jimmy’s uncle.
The desire to come clean was just a pipe dream, though. I wasn’t going to reveal myself and I knew it. Nothing bad had happened to Sanctuary and it was just too soon. I’d only been back at school a couple weeks. And I’d had some really disturbing dreams of the Siren killing me and my dying in Timothy’s arms. A very real fear of death made up my mind for me.
But should I have told some of what we knew? I debated ignoring the Seeker business and saying we knew about the Siren. But where would that have left us? Maybe in a heap of questions and red tape we didn’t want to deal with. Worse, there was a good chance Wolcott would deny everything. That’s what he did last year when I started questioning him. Having a teacher lie to your face isn’t fun, even if he was doing it for the right reasons.
“Mr. Trales?” Wolcott leaned forward and placed his hand back on my shoulder.
Looking back at him, I decided the one thing I couldn’t do was pin any blame on Jimmy. I didn’t want his name tarnished. And he hadn’t told us anything, anyway. We’d figured the Siren stuff out for ourselves. Just then, an idea hit me. And it didn’t feel like a total lie. It was a theory Roze had come up with last year before finally believing in the Siren.
“Jimmy told us Tracey was drugged,” I blurted.
Wolcott sat back and crossed his arms. “Drugged?”
“Yes, sir.” Seeing his skepticism, I added, “We didn’t believe it at first. But then Coach Adkins started checking our eyes before gym.” That part was true. People under the Siren’s control had dilated pupils. That was a weak sign, but because Jimmy couldn’t be everywhere looking for glowing people, checking our eyes was a tactic the school could do.
Wolcott’s shoulders relaxed a little and I figured he’d bought my story. Or at least he wanted to. But the skepticism was still in his eyes. At that point, I admit I the situation started to irk me. Here he was beating around the bush when he’d lied to me last year.
Thinking about that, I found myself leaning forward, saying, “I mean, what else could it be?”
I kept my voice completely innocent, but I saw him cock his head ever so slightly. Did he know what I was getting at? Wolcott knew I was at least familiar with the idea of a Siren. But did he think we still believed it?
We watched each other for a few seconds. Normally, I might have crumbled and apologized. But a belligerence comes over me when I feel I’m right. Or at least when the other person is kind of wrong.
Suddenly, Wolcott stood up. “Well, she is innocent, so please don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
I nodded, thinking, Way to avoid the subject. Not ready to let it go, I said, “Don’t worry. We know the truth.”
Wolcott cocked his head again. “The truth.” He said it more to himself, as if trying to decipher my meaning.
I mentally berated myself. What was I trying to do? I wasn’t ready to get into all this with Wolcott yet. This could take me down a road I wasn’t ready to travel. And I was hiding secrets of my own, so I was being a hypocrite.
I took a few breaths and tried thinking about it from his point of view. Not only was Wolcott devastated over Jimmy’s death, his weapon against the Siren was gone. The whole situation must have been tough for him. How does a professional—that leads an entire school—breach the subject of a mythological creature nobody believes in? He was shoved between a rock and a hard place, dealing with something this crazy.
Sighing, I said, “The truth is I was picked on back in Pamata, so I know what Tracey’s going through. It sucks.”
Wolcott eyed me a second longer, let out a long breath, and said, “We really appreciate your standing up for her.”
“Thank Roze. It’s mostly her.”
We chatted a few more minutes. I think I kept the conversation going so things wouldn’t feel weird. I just didn’t want an adult—who’d done nothing wrong on purpose—to be mad at me.
Finally, Wolcott stood and escorted me out of the Admissions Building. He stopped when I reached the door. The teachers’ apartment
s were on the upper floors, so I knew he’d head back to his place. After shaking his hand, I stepped out into the cool air when he called my name.
I turned around.
His eyes bore through me. “If there’s anything you need to talk about, come find me. My door is always open.”
I nodded and simply said, “Thanks.”
* * * * *
Cassie sat at her desk doing homework when I walked into our room ten minutes later.
“Hey,” I said. Normally, I wouldn’t have bugged her, but I wanted to talk to someone about what had just happened.
Cassie lowered a textbook and immediately registered my confused face. “What’s wrong?”
“Wolcott just pulled me into his office?”
Cassie put her book down. “Why?”
“Oh, I said something stupid today.”
“You?” Cassie flashed a sarcastic smile.
“I hate when I do that!”
The smile disappeared, and her earnestness reappeared. “Your heart is just faster than your brain sometimes. It’s a good thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is it?”
“Well, what did you say?”
I went and sat on the edge of her bed. It might have been more comfortable on the couch, but I refused to touch it. Cassie wouldn’t either. That was Jimmy’s spot and the thought of encroaching where his bed used to be felt wrong. Even if this was a different room.
“Darrin hurt Tracey today in gym.”
Cassie nodded. “Roze told me.”
“Did she tell you I said Tracey was innocent? Out loud. Right to Coach Adkins.”
“Oh.” Cassie looked down at her socks. The bottoms were dirty. “So Principal Wolcott wanted to know how you knew?”
I gaped at Cassie. She was too smart for her own good. “Yes!”
She moved to the end of the bed. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“You didn’t tell him about the Siren, did you?”
“No. Should I have?”
“No.” She picked something off her sock. “He wouldn’t have believed you, anyway.”
“What if I’d flat out said I knew about her?”
She shrugged. “You’re a fifteen-year-old sophomore. He’s responsible for you. He wouldn’t share anything with you unless there was something in it for him.”
“Sounds selfish.”
“Not at all. Being involved in this is dangerous. Wolcott would play dumb to keep you out of danger unless he really needed you. That’s what I’d do if I were him.”
I looked at Cassie. That made perfect sense.
“I actually got mad at him,” I said.
“I think you’re just mad at the situation.”
That made sense, too. “I really hate you sometimes.”
She blushed.
“Can you just be me for a while,” I said. “It would help a lot. And Geometry would sure be easier.”
Changing the subject, she said, “So that’s why you left tonight.”
I almost said No but caught myself. Cassie couldn’t know about Timothy and the play right now. But that shoved Timothy back into my head again. Maybe I was mad at Wolcott for making me miss Timothy. It would be a couple more weeks until the table read and the idea of going that long without talking to him sucked.
I turned to see Cassie studying me again. It was obvious my mind was elsewhere.
“It’s so weird when you look at me like that,” I said.
“I just find people fascinating.”
I smiled, shook my head, and thought, My turn to change the subject.
Standing up and grabbing some shorts out of my drawer I said, “Speaking of fascinating, any idea what Roze is up to?”
“Sort of,” Cassie said, lifting her book again.
I stopped and looked at her. “What did she say?”
“It’s more what she did.”
“What did she do?”
“She asked if she could go through my clothes and borrow some.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“So, you let her take your clothes without knowing why?”
“Of course.”
I shook my head and grabbed a towel. “You’re more trusting than I am.”
She simply smiled.
“So that’s it?” I said.
“Yes.” Cassie opened her book as if the subject were closed.
Still shaking my head, I headed off to the shower room, wondering what Roze had planned.
Eight
The Red Shirt Brigade
That night, I dreamed I was the lead in a play but never learned the lines. It was opening night, and Darrin pushed me on stage with a script. I freaked out and frantically tried to memorize what I could, when I looked up to see Timothy standing under the spotlight. He wore his easy-going grin and a tuxedo.
Terrified, I walked over to him and whispered, “I have no idea what to do.”
The audience laughed, like in a sitcom.
“You’re just supposed to kiss me,” he said.
“I am?”
More laughter.
“It’s in the script,” he said.
“Well, if it’s in the script…” I said.
“Right on page forty-three.”
“That’s only the best page!”
Timothy laughed. So did the audience. I turned to face them and became extremely aware we were having a private conversation in front of hundreds of people. Darrin shook a fist at me from the front row and shouted, “You’d better make it believable!”
“I’ll try.” Wringing my hands together, I puckered my lips. Timothy followed suit.
And that’s when I woke up. Dammit.
I looked at my clock. 7:18. The alarm would be going off in two minutes. I hated that.
Determined to make the most of those two minutes, I lay back and willed myself to appear on stage with Timothy again. It wasn’t going to happen. As soon as I tried clearing my head, I started thinking about Roze. What she was going to do today? Scenarios started coming to me—like Roze getting Darrin suspended by proving his Patented Breathing Ring was a patent violation—and I realized I was never going to fall asleep again.
Sighing, I climbed down from my bed and went to the dresser. I noticed Cassie had already gone to breakfast, so I threw on shorts and a t-shirt in silence, and headed to the Classroom Center.
I didn’t have to wait long to see what Roze had planned. The second I walked into Geometry, she shoved something into my hands.
I looked down. “What the—”
“Put it on.”
I held up a red t-shirt. “What’s this for?”
“Hurry,” she said.
This wasn’t Jokey Roze giving me crap. Her face was full of purpose. She chewed her lip, looking at different students passing by. Shrugging, I threw the red shirt on over my own as quickly as possible.
“Now, do you mind telling me what this is about?” I said.
“Congratulations. You’re officially part of my group.”
That’s when I noticed she was wearing a red shirt, too.
“What group?”
Without answering, she went to her desk. I followed and took my seat next to her.
“What group?” I repeated.
She opened her mouth to explain, when a guy walked in. Without saying anything, she grabbed a bag and ran over to him. They talked for a few minutes, then she retrieved another red shirt and handed it to him. Nodding at her, he threw it on over his own button-up.
Smiling, Roze came back and sat down again.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Keeping her eyes on the door, she said, “Power in numbers.”
“Huh?”
Just then, Darrin and his posse walked into the room. They strutted over to the windows, preening and joking around. Roze watched them intently. I tried questioning her, but she silenced me with a look and turned back to Darrin.
Just then, a dor
ky freshman guy stood up and scurried past them. One of Darrin’s friends reached out and grabbed a piece of paper from his hands.
“Hey!” The freshman timidly said the words to the floor.
Roze leapt up and whispered, “Show time.”
Before I could respond, she grabbed me and pulled me toward the jocks. She nodded at the other guy wearing a red shirt, and he joined us. Together—Roze leading the way—we formed a barrier between Darrin’s group and the freshman.
“Is there a problem here?” Roze glared at Darrin.
Darrin looked at our matching red shirts and smiled. “What is this?”
“Protection,” Roze said.
Darrin smirked. “Yeah?”
“Give his paper back.”
Darrin put on a smile almost as effortless as Timothy’s. “We’re just goofing off with our friend here.” His smile vanished as he glared at the freshman. “Right?”
The freshman waffled. I totally understood. In a situation like this, where a bully is staring you down, you know life could be hell later if you don’t give in.
Roze wasn’t having it. “Stop. I’m not some out-of-touch teacher.”
The guy in the red shirt next to her said, “Give him his paper, Winborne.”
My heart was pounding, but the words Power in numbers ran through my head. I puffed up my chest and added a very tough, “Yeah.”
The only problem was Darrin plus his group equaled six people.
Darrin squared up to us, as did the rest of his friends. He knew he had the advantage because instead of giving up the paper, he held it right in front of Roze’s nose and slowly tore it in half. Then he sidled over and tossed it in the trash.
I expected Roze to throw out a threat or snide comment. Instead, she laughed. Turning to the freshman, she said, “You were going to throw that away, right?”
Still looking at the floor, he nodded.
Roze grinned at Darrin. “Thanks for helping him out!”
I started laughing, not because I found it funny, but to try and embarrass Darrin. Maybe he’d lay off if he knew what it was like. God knows he’d laughed at Jimmy enough last year.
Darrin’s expression wasn’t embarrassed, though. Instead, he glared at us. Roze simply smiled back as we returned to our desks.
