Poison Ink

by Christopher Golden

  8

  O n Wednesday, they didn’t come to school at all.

  The day seemed oddly still. Not a trace of cloud appeared in the sky, yet its blue was a pale, pitiful color, without any vividness. No wind blew. When Sammi walked the corridors of Covington High, the voices of the other students and the other sounds of the school seemed strangely muted. She moved through the halls as though in a dream. On Tuesday, she had been comforted by the friends who’d been cool to her, talked to her at her locker, invited her to sit with them at lunch.

  Today she just felt alone.

  The night before, Sammi had not slept well. Falling asleep had been easy enough, but she’d tossed and turned and woken at five, unable to drift off again. While she’d been getting dressed and eating breakfast, her parents had been like ghosts passing each other in the halls and in the kitchen. They seemed locked in a kind of détente, a tenuous peace that existed mainly because they had stopped talking. Sammi had walked past their room on the way to the shower and caught a glimpse through the door of an old bedspread and a pillow made up on the carpet. Her father had spent the night on the floor.

  The way the girls had blown her off had hurt her badly, but somehow knowing they weren’t even there felt worse. When she thought about their behavior the day before—cutting class and smoking, Letty going psycho bitch on Andrea Cooper, and Caryn beating on Rafe—it made her shiver. Plenty of kids cut class or smoked, but not these girls, not her friends. At first Sammi had wondered if she had just never seen the real them. They had all had their faults, and she knew she had her own. But had this kind of nastiness been there in them all along, and she’d just never realized it?

  No. Impossible. She had rolled it over and over in her mind, and she knew that wasn’t the case. They were different. They’d changed, and she knew exactly when it had happened.

  It’s me, she thought as she hurried to her locker after fourth period.

  It’s my fault. I spoiled it all. I’m the trigger.

  Sammi knew it made no sense, but couldn’t deny the timing. She had ruined the friendship they had all shared, and as a result, all four of them had undergone major attitude adjustments. And not for the better. Hell, they weren’t even in school today, and no way did they all have legitimate excuses. They must have left their houses this morning so their parents would think they were going to school and met up somewhere later. Sammi didn’t even want to think about what kind of trouble they might be getting into at the moment.

  Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t help wishing she could be with them. Letty, T.Q., Caryn, and Katsuko might be able to just throw a switch and suddenly hate her, but Sammi didn’t have that cold a heart. As much as it hurt her the way they’d defriended her, she missed them.

  The flow of hallway traffic carried her toward her locker. She moved toward the wall on the left side of the corridor, slipping past a couple of basketball boys who nodded to her as she passed. Her locker was just ahead, right after the entrance to the girls’ bathroom.

  Hands grabbed her arms and pressed against her back, driving her to the left. Before Sammi could say a word, they crashed her into the bathroom door. It banged open, and they pushed her inside. She staggered, barely able to keep herself from tripping over her own feet, and then they shoved her and she couldn’t stop herself. Arms pinwheeling, she went down hard on the tile, her books flying from her hands and sliding across the floor.

  “What the hell is wrong with—?” she began.

  Her words cut off when she looked up to see the three girls standing beyond the sinks and stalls, silhouetted by the light coming through the windows. The tall girl in the middle had long, curly brown hair with red highlights. Sammi knew her, but not well. Her name was Marisol, and when Teri Gomes had graduated the year before, she’d become leader of Las Reinas. They all listened to her.

  The other two were faces she knew, but Sammi couldn’t remember their names.

  She climbed slowly to her feet, turning to see the two girls standing by the bathroom door—the two who had shoved her into the bathroom from the hall. Jesenia and Cori. A twinge of sadness touched her. She knew these two well; they had always been friendly to her.

  “Cori—”

  “Don’t talk to her. Talk to me,” Marisol said.

  The words, and the hard edge of her voice, made the fog of surprise clear from Sammi’s mind. She understood, now. Trouble had found her. She turned to face Marisol.

  “Okay, then you tell me. What’s your problem?”

  Marisol blinked, and her eyes grew stormy. “You might wanna rethink your tone with me, girl.”

  Sammi held up both hands. “Look, you guys know me. Or some of you, anyway. Cori and Jesenia, they know me. Some of your other friends, too. All I’m saying is, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to drag me in here.”

  Marisol smiled, eyes twinkling with malice. “Who says we wanted to talk to you?”

  Sammi’s breath caught in her throat as she felt fear blossom in her chest. She glanced back at Jesenia and Cori, who both looked away. All Sammi could do was shake her head and stare at Marisol.

  “What the hell’s this about?”

  Marisol leaned back against the windowsill. The sunlight washed through the opaque glass and blurred around her, so she seemed like some kind of ghost or angel.

  “Your friends didn’t show up for school today. You could take a lesson from them, Sammi. None of ’em are here. Really, we wanted Caryn Adams in here with us today, and Letty, too. But since they’re not here, we might as well start with you.”

  Sammi shook her head. “Caryn? Why do you…”

  Her words trailed off. She squeezed her eyes shut, one hand coming up to touch her forehead as she realized what had brought this trouble down on her today.

  “This is about Rafe, isn’t it?”

  One of the girls with Marisol swore under her breath. The words were a harsh whisper, and Sammi couldn’t make them out, but their intent was clear.

  “There you go,” Marisol said. “Now at least you’ll know why this happened to you.”

  She nodded, and the two girls on either side of her moved away from the window. At the bathroom door, Jesenia took a couple of steps toward Sammi as well. Desperate, Sammi glanced at the stalls, hoping someone might be in there, but then it struck her that they would not be that stupid. They’d have cleared the room first. This would not be the first time Las Reinas had given a little payback in this bathroom.

  Cori braced herself against the door to prevent any intrusion.

  Sammi focused on Marisol. Again she shook her head.

  “You’ve got it all wrong. I saw what happened, but I wasn’t involved. Rafe grabbed Letty and then Caryn hit him. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

  Marisol almost looked sympathetic, but she didn’t say a word.

  Sammi put her hands up to protect herself, and one of the girls slapped her. The other grabbed her hair, then her throat, and slammed her against the frame between two toilet stalls.

  Sammi got pissed. She shoved out one hand, grabbed the girl by the face, and pushed her away. The girl stumbled, but still had a fistful of her hair, and Sammi cried out in pain as she was dragged forward. By instinct she grabbed the girl’s wrist and shoved her thumb into the pressure point there, forcing her to let go.

  Jesenia grabbed her arm. Sammi tried to hit her, but Jesenia grabbed the other arm as well, and they faced off.

  “What are you doing?” she said, staring into Jesenia’s eyes. “We were friends?”

  Jesenia shook her head. “I like you, Sam. Doesn’t make us friends.”

  Sammi’s nostrils flared as she fought a terrible nausea that churned in her belly. It would have been easy to think of this as just the latest in a series of betrayals, but that wasn’t true. This wasn’t about Jesenia or Marisol, and it wasn’t about Sammi Holland.

  “Just listen to me for a second!” she snapped, and she shook Jesenia off and backed up, nearly against the stall
s again. Sammi looked desperately around at Las Reinas, her breath coming hard, her whole body coiled and ready to fight or run, knowing how it would end if she had to do either.

  “They’re not my friends anymore,” Sammi said, and she winced at the pain of speaking the words aloud. She bit her lower lip and felt tears welling in her eyes, and that only made her angrier. “They blew me off, okay? You got a problem with them, take it to them. They don’t want anything to do with me anymore, and the feeling’s totally mutual.”

  Marisol blinked, and for the first time Sammi saw hesitation in her eyes.

  This time, when Sammi looked at Cori, standing by the door, the girl did not look away.

  “Cori, maybe we’re not friends, but you know me. Ask around today. Anyone who was at lunch with us on Monday saw them get up and leave me sitting there. They’re treating me like something nasty they stepped in. Caryn and Letty embarrassed the hell out of Rafe. I don’t know why you’re looking for payback instead of him, but I don’t care. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

  Sammi felt a chill spider-walk up her spine as she put down her hands and locked eyes with Marisol. “If you’re gonna do something to me, I can’t stop you. But if you’re doing it to get at Letty and Caryn, they’re just gonna laugh. They won’t lose any sleep over it.”

  Her cheek stung where she’d been slapped and her scalp burned from having her hair yanked, but telling these girls the truth about the way her friends had humiliated and abandoned her was much worse.

  Marisol glanced over at Cori.

  “It’d be easy to check. But for what it’s worth, I believe her,” Cori said. “Sammi’s not stupid. She knows there isn’t anywhere to run.”

  With Cori distracted, the door swung open six inches before she tried to stop it. The girl coming into the bathroom looked annoyed and shoved it open.

  “Do you mind?” she said, pushing past Cori.

  Then she saw the other Reinas and her gaze darted to Sammi, the one person in the room who didn’t belong, and she paused.

  “Sorry,” she said, unsure now. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Marisol shook her head. “Nah. You’re not interrupting anything. We all got classes to go to, right, Sammi?”

  Sammi stared at her without answering.

  “Better pick up your books,” Jesenia said. “That was a bad spill you took.”

  Cori helped her pick up the books even as the other Reinas departed. Sammi kept silent until the newcomer—a sophomore girl she vaguely recognized—went into a toilet stall. Then she looked at Cori.

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice low.

  Glancing away, Cori shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry. Just the way things are.”

  “I don’t get it, though,” Sammi whispered. “Why—”

  “Rafe’s gotta act like it didn’t mean anything. If he did anything himself, he’d look even worse. But Marisol can’t let it go. It’s an insult to all of us.”

  Sammi thought about Las Reinas and the way they always stuck together—not just them, but the Puerto Rican boys, too. In the cafeteria, they always sat in clusters, the same way some of the black students and the Dominicans did. They weren’t gangs; she’d realized that a long time ago. But they shared culture and heritage and often neighborhoods as well. These were the kids they’d grown up with. But they were no strangers to violence, so sometimes in order to get their point across, they got reacquainted with it.

  “I still don’t get it, but it’s not my problem.”

  “No,” Cori agreed. “You got other problems. You’re all on your own now, huh?”

  Lips pressed grimly together, Sammi nodded.

  “Sometimes that’s better,” Cori told her, handing her the last of her books.

  The toilet flushed. Sammi looked in the mirror at the red mark on her face from where she’d been slapped. She set her books on a ledge by the window and washed her hands. When Cori left, she said nothing, and when the girl came out of the stall—looking as if she might want to ask what had happened—Sammi kept her gaze straight ahead.

  She grabbed her books and left the bathroom just as the bell rang for class. It seemed incredible to her that the confrontation with Las Reinas had taken only a few minutes. Now, though, she had to dump her books in her locker and get the notebook for her next class.

  When she opened her locker, she found that her hands were trembling.

  More than anything, she hated the temptation she felt to call Caryn and warn her that trouble was on the way. Sammi wanted to protect them, if she could. No matter what they’d done to her. Crazy as she knew it was, she realized that she felt responsible for everything that was happening. They were being totally irrational, but if she’d just gotten the tattoo, none of this would have happened.

  But she thought again about the way they’d defriended her and their bizarre behavior the day before. Caryn and Letty had brought trouble on themselves. They were just going to have to deal with it.

  The Merrimack River Walk usually had mobs of people strolling back and forth, streaming in and out of stores. That night shoppers were scarce. The crowds of teenagers that would have thronged the area in front of the movie theater and the Starbucks on Friday or Saturday night had other things to do on Wednesdays.

  Sammi didn’t mind. In fact, she preferred it that way. She had never spent much time at the River Walk, shopping at Old Navy and Borders and Abercrombie. Even tonight she would normally have been at home, but both of her parents were there. In a million years she would never have imagined wishing her father would take a business trip, but the way things were going in her house she wanted him to be anywhere but home. When her mother had come home from the bank, Sammi had felt as if she had to hold her breath. At any moment, it seemed, the place might explode.

  She had called Adam, not patient enough to text.

  Now she stood leaning against a lamppost near a small tree set into the concrete sidewalk as she watched the parking lot for his car. The sky had started to darken, but night had not fallen quite yet when the Borders sign flickered to life. When a fortyish couple went past her and opened the door, she could smell fresh coffee brewing inside and craved a mochaccino. But she wasn’t moving from this spot.

  When Adam drove past her, searching for a parking space, he waved to her. That simple act lightened her mood incredibly and she waved back.

  He parked the car, and she watched as he crossed the lot toward her, admiring him. His unruly hair made him appear to have just rolled out of bed, but she liked that about him. Adam wore a short-sleeved, open-collared shirt, and black jeans with black shoes to match.

  “You look nice,” she said as he stepped up onto the sidewalk.

  “You too,” Adam said.

  Sammi had taken her time getting dressed. She knew girls who wore nothing but flip-flops, but that look just seemed sloppy to her. She’d put on a pair of tank tops—one black and one burgundy—and dark jeans with her sandals. She’d spent time on her hair and makeup, too. The more time she’d spent getting ready, the less time she had to be with her mother. And when her father had come home, she’d met him in the driveway and asked for a ride to the River Walk. He’d complied without complaint. Neither of her parents had balked when she’d told them she was going out. Maybe they understood.

  “So, where do you want to eat? Bertucci’s?” Adam asked.

  “Sounds good. But can we just walk a little first?”

  “Sure.”

  He took her hand—which Sammi liked very much—and they wandered along the River Walk, looking in store windows. Bertucci’s was behind them, but that was all right because Sammi wanted to drag Adam into the bookstore before dinner.

  “So, I guess I kind of showed my hand, huh?” Sammi said. “Calling you today, I mean. Just saw you on Friday night, and now I’m, like, dragging you out to dinner. Blew my cover.”

  Adam laughed. “You’re cute when you babble.”

  “Which is good, considering how often it happens.”


  “Yeah, it’s just, what are you talking about?”

  Sammi felt her face flush with heat and knew her cheeks must be turning red. “Well, I had the whole aloof thing going, kind of. Now I didn’t even wait till the weekend to see you. Kind of putting my cards on the table, right? Embarrassing.”

  Adam squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you called. And I’m not very good at card games. Or any other kind of games, really.”

  She smiled and started to reply.

  He kissed her into silence.

  Sammi held him close. Adam traced his fingers along the sides of her face, and they lingered in the midst of that kiss so long that when at last they separated, she had to catch her breath. All her tension and fear and sadness had evaporated for the moment.

  With a look of pure mischief, Adam took her hand, and they walked on as though nothing had happened.

  “So, you want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?” he asked after a minute.

  She laughed softly. “I’d think that’d be pretty obvious.”

  When she glanced at him, she saw that his expression had turned serious.

  “You know what I mean. I’m glad you called. But my ego isn’t so big that I couldn’t tell it was more about getting out of the house than hanging out with me.”

  Sammi shot him a sharp look. “That’s not true.”

  “What, about my ego?”

  In spite of herself, she smiled.

  “Talk to me, Sammi.”

  She didn’t look at him. Now that she had Adam there, Sammi found that what she really wanted was for him to make her forget her troubles, not to talk them out. But he had made the trip down to meet her and he deserved an answer.

  “Let’s turn around. I want to hit the bookstore before dinner.”

  Adam obliged her but kept casting expectant looks in her direction.

  “You just met me,” Sammi said. “I don’t want to scare you off.”

  “Sammi…”

  “Okay. All right.” She took a deep breath. “You were right. I needed to get out of there. Turns out my parents are trying to figure out if they want to still be married to each other.”