Once we poured out of the elevator and left through the front doors, I regretted my earlier thoughts. Separated from Noah again, I was suddenly freezing. And, yeah, I missed being pressed against him.
There. I said it.
He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me back against him. “You’re shivering.”
“I am.” I tried not to seem too into him, but inside, I was dancing. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” he countered. “You stuck by my side that whole time.”
“Not exactly,” I said. “I don’t enjoy the company of sleeping people, so I ran home to get my laptop. Speaking of, I did manage to find something.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked as we reached my car. I unlocked the doors, and we both got in. “Tell me about it.”
“I think I found out which asylum Sarah went to.”
Noah’s brow furrowed. “What asylum she went to?”
“Oh,” I said, starting the engine to my Corolla. “See, Heather told me Sarah became obsessed with this one mental hospital and how she changed after that. I’ve been doing some research online, and I bet it’s Trenton State. I think it might be tied to whatever hold she has over you. Please, stop me now if this is some blackmail issue, because if so, I’m way off the mark.”
“It’s not blackmail,” he said, a scowl defining the dimple in his left cheek, “but you still need to back off. Don’t you get it? She tried to kill you today.”
“Yeah, and whatever she’s doing to you isn’t a walk in the park, either, is it?”
Noah released a heavy sigh. “I admire your fearlessness, and I appreciate your tenacity for wanting to help.” He grinned shyly. “It’s been nice having someone I can talk to. You’re about the only good thing in my life right now.” He looked at me expectantly, his nerves written clear across his face. “Which is why I need you to promise you won’t go near that asylum.”
“But I have to,” I said firmly. “It’s my only lead.”
That was when he did it. The most unfair thing ever: the pleading puppy dog eyes. “Please,” he said. “Find another way. Promise me you won’t go.”
I ticked my head to the side and clicked my tongue as I refocused on the road. It was the last promise I wanted to make – especially since going there might lead me to some kind of truth that would make sense of my mother’s death – but it was time to admit I wasn’t only doing this for her anymore.
I cared about Noah, and maybe, possibly, the reason he didn’t want me to go was because he was beginning to care about me, too.
“Please, Emily,” he begged.
Inwardly, I groaned. Helping him would give purpose to my gift – would make me something more than a total waste of oxygen. I’d been a terrible daughter and a worse friend, but this was my chance to redeem myself for not being able to save my mother. Staying on Noah’s good side was my best shot.
If he thought I could figure things out without the asylum – that it would be safer for us both – then the least I could do was try.
When I glanced at him again, he still had the same pleading in his bloodshot eyes. He needed this promise – this peace of mind.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I won’t go.”
At the time I said it, I thought I was telling the truth.
6
MADE IN CHINE
After I explained in detail how someone almost died because I didn’t have a cell phone, my dad reluctantly returned mine, but not without first making me read an article from some magazine listing all the reasons cell phones ruin society and people’s lives.
For the next week, Noah remained absent from school while he recovered at home. The doctors found no explanation, but we knew what happened – well, kind of – and we had to find a way to make sure it never happened again. But every time I mentioned the seizure, he quickly changed the subject, promising to talk to me about it when he returned to school.
Meanwhile, Sarah continued with her intimidations. It seemed her damaging magic could only be used on Noah; without him around, she didn’t make any attempts to cause me to hallucinate or whatever she did that day in the cafeteria.
But that didn’t stop her from finding less supernatural ways to target me. Such as the dissected frog stolen from biology and left in my gym locker, or the time one of the twins “accidentally” pegged me in the head during a game of volleyball. I think the worst part was how Sarah managed to stay in the teacher’s good graces, always sucking up to them. I wondered if she had her friends to thank, since the other It Girls always did the dirty work.
Today was no exception. Miss Jensen kept me after class to run suicide sprints – a completely un-PC-term for a public school to be using – due to my having missed a few gym periods. Yet Sarah frequently stood on the sidelines, dressed for gym but still with her purse slung over her shoulder, and Miss Jensen always gave her a full participation grade. It made me sick.
When I finished my sprints, I rushed to the locker room. Miss Jensen didn’t care if I was late for my next class, which meant I would get in trouble twice. I changed and slammed my gym locker shut, spun toward the exit, and found my path blocked by Sarah, Kate, and the twins. I still couldn’t remember which had the short hair – Jessica or Abigail?
“Hi, Emily,” Sarah said in that sickly-sweet voice of hers. “That was super unfair of Miss Jensen to keep you.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, and I tried to shoulder past them, but the twins wouldn’t let me through. “What do you want?”
Sarah splayed her fingers across her chest. “I only wanted to make sure you were okay. You’ve had a rough few days. I would hate for things to get any worse. Like, imagine how terrible it would be if you ended up missing your next class because someone dumped chocolate milk on you.”
“Wha –”
Before I got out the word, one of the twins pulled an open bottle of chocolate milk from behind her back and tossed the contents at my shirt.
I clenched my hands at my side. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The girl smirked. Normally I suppressed reactions to their taunts and wild stunts, but enough was enough. I lunged toward her, but not before the other twin jutted her hand into my shoulder, sending me stumbling back.
“You’re nothing in this school,” Sarah said, turning on her heel. “Remember that.”
Once she left, the other It Girls followed. As angry as I was, the exchange told me everything I needed to know about Sarah. She was a coward. And maybe her posse didn’t realize it, but she needed them more than they needed her.
I didn’t want to end up dealing with Miss Jensen, so I stuffed my gym shirt into my messenger bag and went to the hall bathroom to change. Wearing my gym shirt for the rest of the day wasn’t my idea of a good time, but I was already in enough trouble with my classes.
When I came out of the stall, Kate was standing in front of the mirror, wiping tears from her face. I stepped up to one of the sinks to wash my hands, trying to avoid eye contact with her. She sniffled and blotted her eyes again.
“I know what you must think. I’ve been horrible to you so I deserve any bad thing that happens to me.”
I turned off the faucet and shook the water from my hands. “I didn’t say that.”
“Well, I bet you think so. I wouldn’t blame you.”
I swallowed around the growing lump in my throat as I reached for a paper towel from the stack.
“People don’t understand what it’s like being Sarah’s friend,” Kate said, turning toward me.
Dropping the tissue from her eyes, she added, “She’s not exactly nice to us, either. She took my social sciences assignment again, and now I’m going to flunk and my dad is going to kill me. I know, serves me right.”
“I – uh –” Crud. Crying people were not my forte, and Kate was near geyser mode. “Couldn’t you make new friends? Why be friends with
someone who is so mean to you?”
Kate pressed her trembling lips together. “No one even looked at me before I became friends with Sarah, not unless they wanted to make fun of me or call me bozo or ask me if I wanted some clown shoes to match my hair.”
Her voice dropped at the end as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Her hands twisted nervously in front on her stomach, the tissue she held in them now a crumbled ball. Ugh. I was going to have to be nice to her.
“Who cares?” I asked, trying to keep my voice cool. “It’s better than being friends with someone who takes advantage of you.”
Kate’s eyes shifted back to me. That look could give sad puppies a run for their money. “I’m not sure what’s worse. Failing social science or pissing Sarah off.”
“Probably pissing Sarah off,” I mumbled.
The girl started crying again. Way to go, Emily. I sighed and dug into my bag to pull out my social science notebook. “Listen, you can copy my assignment, but next time, if you’re gonna give her your homework, make two copies so you still have something for yourself.”
She took the notebook from my hands and gave a small smile. “Thanks.”
My phone buzzed with a new text. I pulled it out of my bag hoping to hear from Noah, but the message was from an unfamiliar number.
LAST WARNING. BACK OFF.
No need to guess who sent it. I pushed the phone back in my pocket right as Kate snapped my notebook closed.
“Done, thanks,” she said, thrusting the notebook back into my hands. Then she strode out of the bathroom.
Strange. I shoved everything back into my bag and hurried off to Social Science. Kate beat me there and was already back to acting like Sarah’s sidekick, but she gave me another small smile as if to say “Thank you.”
I returned the smile then took my seat. Amidst the aroma of cheap perfume and rubber eraser shavings, my phone vibrated again. I glanced over at Sarah, but she didn’t have her phone out. This time, the text was from Noah.
First was an image of a sidewalk. Beneath that, a note:
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore
Nameless here for evermore.
Easy. This was one of my favorites. Poe’s The Raven.
We’d invented this game to keep him – and me – entertained while we waited for his doctors to approve his return to school. He would message me an excerpt from a poem, and I would send back a picture to match his excerpt along with a sample of my own. He’d been quick to solve mine, which came from Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends. I would pick a harder one the next round.
Mr. Dougherty glared at me, and I wiped the smile from my face, tucking my phone back into my bag as he gave me an admonishing shake of his head.
“Miss Bishop, please come here.”
Great. I was about to lose my cell phone again. Something told me it would be harder to get it back from Mr. Dougherty than it had been to get back from my dad.
When I arrived at his desk, he held up a drawing of Noah. “What’s this?”
The eyes of the entire class burned holes into my back and probably into that sketch, too. I snatched the page from his hand – probably not my best move – and shook my head.
“I…I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know why you have this.”
“I think you do, Miss Bishop,” he said, raising his voice. I guess he wanted to make sure everyone in the school heard him. “You left it in the homework bin with your name scribbled in the corner. Let this be warning – I am not interested in drawings of my student’s crushes. If you focused on your academics as much as boys, your grades would improve!”
“Mr. Dougherty, I swear, I didn’t hand this in. I did the assignment. It has to be in there.”
Sarah waltzed up behind me, smiling. “Did you read my paper yet, Mr. Dougherty? I think you’ll find it much better prepared. Perhaps I could tutor Emily?”
Mr. Dougherty huffed and rolled his eyes, but something told me it was more out of doubt of me than annoyance with Sarah. He pulled her paper out of the bin and adjusted his round wire-rimmed glassed on his face.
“Yes, Sarah, very good.” He nodded. “Impressive. This is some of your best work.”
I leaned over to steal a peek at what was so “impressive” about the paper. My paper, apparently. She’d erased my name and wrote her own over top.
“Hey!” I said. “That’s my assignment!”
Sarah gave Mr. Dougherty a wide-eyed expression of innocence. He glared at me, taking his glasses off. “That’s enough, Miss Bishop.”
“Look at the name on the paper!” I pleaded. “It’s obviously changed. She must have stolen it!”
I spun around and scowled at Kate. Or had someone else? God, how could I have been so stupid?
Mr. Dougherty stood, his fingertips pressing into his desktop calendar as he leaned toward me. “Who am I to believe? A three-year honor roll student, or a problem-transfer with a mile-long transcript?”
“But you can see the imprint of my name under –”
“Enough! You may redo the assignment and turn it in tomorrow for a ten-point deduction. This time I expect an original paper, in case you are thinking of taking any more shortcuts.”
“It took me two weeks to write that!”
“Take a seat, Miss Bishop,” he said, louder this time, “or I will have you in detention for the remainder of the week.”
That was the last thing I needed. I growled beneath my breath and stormed back to my desk. The day couldn’t end fast enough. At least Noah seemed to be doing better.
Thinking of him, I sighed. Today was petty drama compared to the real issue at hand. This wasn’t run-of-the-mill bullying. They were trying to get me to back down. I refused. I would spend the weekend with Heather, in part because I enjoyed her company and in part because I needed another lead on what Sarah’s deal was.
Funny how that worked, since I didn’t even know what my own deal was. It seemed I was connected to certain people in some bizarre kind of way. The warnings for them would come to me through images drawn through my subconscious. First, a childhood friend, and later, my mother. Now Noah, and with little hope my ability could do anything to save him. After all, I’d had this gift – or curse – since I was a child, but it never amounted to anything useful before.
So how was I supposed to help him? He seemed so sure I could. I needed something more to go on, which meant I had to figure out where Sarah’s magic came from. As soon as Noah recovered, I would make him tell me.
In the meantime, there was only one thing I knew for certain: If I didn’t put a stop to whatever was in motion, Noah would die.
Iwas more of a homebody, but Heather liked going places. This was the third time we’d been bowling since we met. Lucky lane three, red-and-white shoes, twelve-point balls, hers green, mine black. The constant clatter of pins being knocked down didn’t make the setting conducive to questioning her about Sarah, so we talked about boys instead.
She sipped a cherry slushy as we took a break on the plastic mustard-yellow chairs. The drink stained her lips the same color as her glasses, reminding me of the first time we hung out. Maybe I could get her a bright lipstick, since she always wanted to try one but feared it would be too bold. It might be just the confidence booster she needed.
“Did you see the guys in lane six?” she asked. “I don’t think they go to our school.”
I glanced over. “They seem a little…what’s the word?”
“Cute?” Heather said, giggling.
Hmm. Not the word I was looking for. “I guess you could say that, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Let’s go talk to them,” she said, grabbing my
hand.
Perhaps I underestimated her confidence. Heather bordered on shy when we were at school and reserved when at my house, but our trips to After Hours Bowling lit some kind of fire in her. What were they putting in those slushies?
I took the drink from her hand. “I think you’ve had too much sugar.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “You have someone. Now you have to help me find a guy.”
I shook my head. “Nuh-uh. First of all, I don’t have anyone. Noah and I are friends. Second of all, I don’t have to help you find some meat-head jerk to hook up with and never call you again.”
Heather’s expression fell. “Ouch, Emily.”
Remorse sank into my stomach. “I’m not saying that because of you, okay? It’s them. Look at them.”
She stared in their direction, though not with the skepticism I had hoped for. The colorful overhead lights washed out her complexion and hid her freckles, which I always thought added to her beauty. Those boys didn’t deserve her attention, yet still she pined after them.
“They’re making obscene gestures at every girl who turns their back to them!” I said, indicating the guy who now made derogatory motions using his hand, mouth, and tongue.
“I don’t think –” she started, but then one of them began humping the air behind the girl in the lane next to theirs. Heather let out a defeated sigh. “All right, so they’re a tad immature.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You think?” I wrapped my arm around her. “The good news is, you’re beating me by like, a million points.”
“I always beat you,” she said, her impish grin returning.
“We’ve only been bowling three times,” I argued.
“And we’ve played several games each time. Don’t sweat it, though. You’ll be fine once you find your mark.”
After we finished a game, Heather cut right into begging me to play another. Before I could reply, Sarah walked in, flanked by Kate Walcott on one side and the Booth twins on the other.
Heather started unlacing her shoes. “Ready to head back to your place?”
Something like Voodoo Page 7
