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Circle of Silence

Page 11

by Carol M. Tanzman


  “When will you find out?”

  I can’t hide my frustration. “How should I know?”

  She shakes her head, obviously disgusted with me. “What’s the point of having a sister on Campus News if you can’t ever figure anything out?”

  “Sorry to be such a disappointment!”

  She doesn’t respond. I decide it’s time to change the topic. “Bethany?”

  “What?”

  I’m about to pop “the boyfriend question,” but the words stick to my tongue. For the past several weeks, my sister’s gotten up early every day to wash her hair. She spends at least an hour the night before deciding what to wear. It’s the most…interested in anything I’ve seen her be since she discovered the Video Arcade a couple of summers ago. If that doesn’t spell B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D, I don’t know what does. But she has a different lunch period than me, so I don’t know who she eats with.

  “Never mind,” I say.

  With an annoyed huff, she turns to face the far side of the room. After a few minutes, my sister’s asleep. I, however, am wide-awake. Honestly. Even when Bethany isn’t trying, she makes me feel like a piece of crap. Gossip buzzes around WiHi like mosquitoes at a picnic. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a clue as to who’s pulling pranks all over the school. Any clue at all.

  As if my life isn’t lame enough, Marci’s been bugging me on almost a daily basis about Raul. “Boys are shy. If you keep treating him like just another guy on the team, he won’t step up.”

  It’s hard. I get that Raul’s cute. But whenever I close my eyes, the arms I imagine wrapped around me aren’t his. Not that Jagger’s said or done anything personal since the hug at my locker. Still, I can’t help what sticks in my mind. What I dream about.

  I’m absolutely pathetic.

  Outside the wind gusts, rattling the window. I brush my finger across the pane. The relentless storm has turned the glass ice-cold.

  14

  On Friday, everyone on the team, except for Jagger, is in a terrible mood. The rain hasn’t stopped for two days. Our most boring broadcast airs. Without an MP story, we’re just another dull news team.

  “Cheer up,” Jagger tells us. “MP will make a move soon.”

  “Did anyone consider the fact that if they hadn’t started doing all this stuff, we’d have been forced to find something good to report about a long time ago?” Marci shakes her head. “We’re coasting, guys. Waiting for MP to do something.”

  Jagger looks confident. “They will.”

  “How do you know?” Raul demands. “No one’s heard from them since the box disappeared.”

  “Think about it.” Jagger drops his tilted chair forward with a bang. “You don’t do all that stuff, get away with it and stop. You keep going. Come up with bigger ideas, take more chances.”

  Marci unwraps a cough drop. Like half the kids in school, she has a wicked cold. “You think they’re planning something creepier?”

  “Makes sense.”

  Intent, I lean foward. “Jagger, if you know something you’re not telling us, fess up right now!”

  “Okay, okay. I’m MP,” he says.

  Everyone stares. Not a single breath is taken. The silence around the table is so thick I feel like I’m at the bottom of a well.

  Jagger laughs. “Gotcha!”

  Henry blinks. Raul looks pissed.

  Omar shakes his head. “You really are an asshole! Cute—but an asshole just the same!”

  Before Marci seconds the opinion, I say, “Moving on. Does anyone have any ideas about how to get the story going? My sister, who barely talks to me, accused me of being stupid. We need to get back in the hunt!”

  “It’s what I’m trying to tell you. MP has the power right now, but once they start pulling new stunts, they’ll slip up. That’s how we track them down.” Jagger laughs. “Or not. Sitting around moping and making dumb accusations won’t do us any good. Instead, we should be setting stories for the next broadcast.”

  I push my notebook forward. “Go for it.”

  Jagger thinks a moment before accepting the challenge. “How about a Spotlight on Alicia Ruffino? I heard her talking in Trig. She’s choreographing the musical. Or starring in it. Something like that.”

  “Ali won’t be interviewed,” I tell him smugly. “I tried last year. She turned me down flat.”

  “Maybe you should have used a little more charm.”

  Marci scoffs. “Like you? Puh-leeze.”

  Henry, however, lights up. “I’ll go with you. Ali’s pretty.” He shoots a sidewise glance at Marci. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Is the kid trying to make her jealous?

  “Sure.” Jagger pats Henry on the shoulder. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Marci rolls her eyes and turns to me. “I haven’t directed yet and Omar’s only anchored once, so we’ll team. That leaves you with Raul.”

  I give her the look. “You have it all worked out.”

  “Don’t you want to be with me?” Raul asks with a mock-hurt expression. At least, I hope he’s faking it.

  “Of course I do,” I say hastily. “I love working with you. Seriously.”

  “Oooh….” Jagger mimics my voice fairly accurately. “Love working with you.”

  “Child! Can you be more annoying?” Honestly, the minute I think Jagger’s serious about Campus News, he proves me wrong. Unless that’s his reaction to Raul and me working together. Jagger won’t have me—but Raul can’t, either?

  Not fair, Jags. Not fair at all.

  Across the room, Mr. Carleton calls out, “Everything okay?”

  Jagger waves him off. “We’re oh so excited to get to work.”

  Mr. Carleton peers over his glasses. “Glad to hear it! Too many of you just sitting around…”

  Raul starts to toss out ideas. Henry and Jagger begin to fill out a fresh Question Sheet. They’ll probably get that interview with Ali and make it kick-ass just to prove me wrong.

  Raul nudges my arm. “Which story do you like better?”

  Startled, I turn. I haven’t heard a single thing he said.

  * * *

  It takes another couple of days before the storm pushes past Brooklyn. Rain-slicked streets, bare branches and a bitter wind are all that remain. The official start of winter is more than a month away, but the weather is an unruly toddler who can’t read a calendar.

  I stay late to work on a piece about Academic Decathlon. Passing Tony’s Pizzeria on the way home, I notice Jagger and Henry sitting at a window table. Henry sees me at the same time and waves me in. Curious, I stop at the counter to get the special before making my way over to them. Jagger’s got his legs sprawled across his side of the booth. I couldn’t sit beside him even if I wanted to.

  I slide next to Henry. “How’s it going?”

  “We’re celebrating. We got an interview with Ali. Plus, she let us shoot rehearsal.”

  “Really?”

  “Really!”

  Jagger watches us quietly.

  “Good for you,” I say. “Did you remember to return the camera?”

  Henry pats his backpack. “Tomorrow.”

  Jagger glances out the window. “Maybe you should get home before it’s too late. You don’t want to be walking in the dark with expensive equipment in your backpack.”

  For someone so smart, Henry’s eating out of Jagger’s hand. “Good thinking, Jags. See you guys tomorrow.”

  I wait until he’s out the door. “I’m
asking nicely, Voorham. Don’t corrupt the kid.”

  Jagger grabs Henry’s leftover crust. “I’m not. But he’s a senior like the rest of us. You all treat him like a Chia Pet.”

  I keep a straight face. “If he were a Chia Pet, he’d get a haircut once in a while.”

  Jagger laughs. “You stay late to edit?”

  “No ESP points. I’m predictable. It’s you that’s the shock. You actually hung around after the bell to work on a class project?”

  He shrugs. “Ali invited me to rehearsal. And—”

  “She’s soooo pretty,” I say.

  His eyes crinkle. “Do I detect a bit of jealousy?”

  I take a bite of my pizza. “None whatsoever.”

  He gets a satisfied I don’t believe you look. All I can think is Please don’t do this. I can’t go through it again. The way my insides melted whenever you looked at me. Waiting on pins and needles for your call. Insane happiness when it happened. Horrible numb feeling if it didn’t….

  Jagger slurps my lemonade.

  “Hey!”

  “I left you some.” Jagger gives me the cup and his hand brushes mine. “I— Damn.” He glances at the tacky Leaning Tower of Pisa clock on the wall. “Gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  He’s out the door in less than twenty seconds. Without glancing over his shoulder, Jagger waves, arrogantly certain I’m watching. Disgusted with myself, I sink into the booth, staring out the window. The gray day has morphed into a surprisingly soft evening. Colors splash across the still-wet asphalt: stoplight-red, neon purple, fruity-orange. People exit the subway wearing slickers with a rubbery sheen. Brooklyn Heights, now a watercolor painting, pulls me deep into thought.

  Why can’t I figure him out? Every time it seems like Jagger’s about to apologize, or explain or maybe beg forgiveness, he cuts it off. He was the one who pushed me away—but lately it’s like he’s not sure that’s what he wants.

  Except I can’t go back. I never, ever want to feel so hurt again….

  The insistent wail of an ambulance jolts me into the present. The emergency vehicle flies down Montague, heading urgently toward the Promenade. The light atop the roof flashes garishly. I take it as a sign from whoever runs the universe, telling me that staying away, keeping my distance from Jagger, is the right thing to do.

  Power is pleasure; and pleasure sweetens pain.

  William Hazlitt

  MP LOG

  Yeah, man, this is what I’m talking about. The world is a swirling mass of energy, all boxed up. Once you let it out, you can’t control it. You never know what’s going to happen, but it’ll definitely be better than what came before.

  The initiation was an easy ten out of ten. When you hit that high mark the first time out, man, there’s nothing like it in the world.

  We found a spot on the Promenade where a rock wall curves down from the street above. It’s a couple stories high. We told the new girl to get there first and stare at Manhattan across the river. Then we snuck out from our hiding places and warned her not to turn around. I brought my camera and started snapping pics while one of the chicks blindfolded her. The new girl took the oath of silence, stood on the wall and then, just like we planned, Frankenstein told her to start walking down.

  The rain ended about an hour before, so no one got wet. I kept snapping pics, following her. I leaned in close. Then boom, pow, her foot slipped—and she flew over the wall. A cracking sound echoed as she hit the ground.

  In that moment, it became crystal clear to me. The alignment of our power is almost complete. It cannot be stopped.

  At the bottom level, a metal fence separates the Promenade walkway from the rock wall. In between the two, there’s a group of bushes. That’s where she landed.

  Phantom climbed the fence and took off the blindfold. The new girl was crying, saying, “It hurts so bad.” Without asking anyone, Phantom called 911. That’s when the new chick stopped for a minute and said, “I won’t tell what happened. I took the oath. I still want to be in the group, so can I?”

  I said, “Hell yes, if you say you were by yourself when you fell.” She nodded. I said to the rest, “Get going. Phantom, you have to stay because you called the cops. When the ambulance shows up, just keep saying like you did on the phone that you were taking a walk and found her.”

  Just before I left, I snapped a couple of pictures of her leg. The bone stuck out and there was all sorts of blood. When I got home I blew up the photos on my computer.

  Best pics I ever took.

  15

  Mom’s on the phone when I get home. She waves me into the kitchen and tells the caller, “Val just got in. Call when you’re on your way.” She disconnects. “There you are!”

  “Here I am. Stayed late to work on something for Campus News.” It occurs to me that the house is unusually silent. “Where is everyone?”

  Mom runs a hand through her hair. “I got stuck on the train for more than an hour. Some kind of stall ahead of us. Dad’ll be late, too.”

  I’m confused. “Where are the twins?”

  “That’s the problem. I texted Connie as soon as I had reception. Asked her to pick up the boys when she got Robby from after-school. If you get them from her place, I’ll start dinner.”

  “Why do I have to? I’m not the only teenager in this house, you know.”

  Mom throws an apron over her navy blue power suit and starts to chop an onion with short, quick motions. “Bethany’s sick. Oh, that reminds me, I need to find the thermometer—”

  “If she gives me that disgusting cold going around, I’ll never speak to her again. Marci coughed so much at lunch, green crap came out of her mouth.”

  “Valerie!” Mom stops midchop. “The boys?”

  With my fist, I pound the counter. “Just once, I wish Bethany would do something around here besides complain! Or get sick at the most inconvenient times. I’ve got homework!”

  I stomp into the hall, shrug back into my coat. Honestly, the kid gets out of doing everything. In my next life, I plan to be the youngest. Or an only child.

  It’s not quite six o’clock, but already the night has that damp chill that settles deep into your bones. Connie and her son live four blocks south. I scurry down the sidewalk, dodging peeing dogs and their impatient owners, as well as pedestrians carrying grocery bags and briefcases. I’m checking building numbers when something makes me glance across the street. I stop so fast that the woman behind me literally bangs into my rear.

  “Sorry,” she says.

  “My fault.” Ducking my head, I slip into the shadows of a doorway. After a few seconds, I peek out.

  Jagger’s across the street, talking to a girl. When she laughs, her face shifts slightly. Ali Ruffino! The chick choreographing the musical.

  Great. He leaves me flat at the pizzeria to meet her! My cheeks burn with anger. I don’t have to text Marci to know what she’ll say.

  Once a flirty jerk, always a flirty jerk.

  Fear is maintained by a never failing dread of punishment.

  Machiavelli

  MP LOG

  I called an emergency meeting. We had to get together because of what happened with the new girl.

  We sat in a circle like always. The chicks started in right away, not even waiting for the oath. They’re scared they’ll get in trouble. They think the new girl will tell someone what really happened. I said, “Smarten up. It’s been three days. You would have been called to the office by n
ow if that’s what she was going to do.” I looked around. “Any of you been summoned?”

  Heads shake. “See? You really don’t understand how powerful we are. She wants to be part of us. She knows she can’t if she tells. End of story.”

  After a bunch of grudging nods of agreement, I shifted the conversation. “Since we’re here, we might as well get started on the next prank.”

  Out of the blue, Phantom said, “I quit. I don’t like how this is going. When that girl fell, one of us was awfully close to her.”

  Everyone turned to me, but I know my circle. I understood the look in their eyes. They’re scared but not about the new girl anymore. They’re worried I’m going to flip out or say, “Okay, no more group” because they know Phantom and I started MP together.

  None of them wants MP to end.

  I laughed, which is not what anyone expected. In situations like this, it’s always better to do the unexpected, to keep everyone off balance. I said, “I don’t care if you quit. Go ahead, but you can’t tell anyone about us.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Phantom said. “I took the blood oath, so you don’t have to worry about me snitching or anything.”

  I have these two sharp teeth and if I open my lips a certain way, I look like a wolf. I gave the group my Canis lupus smile. “I got another reason you won’t tell, Phantom. Why no one will tell.” Like a magician with a hat full of rabbit, I pulled out the pictures from the initiation and fanned them across the floor. “Every one of you is in at least two of these pictures with the new girl. But not me. So if anyone says anything, I’m going to send these to Wilkins. Anonymously.”

  Phantom looked at me with eyes full of fear—and respect—and then said, “I told you, I’m not gonna tell and I won’t, but I’m outta here. If the rest of you have any brains at all, you’ll follow.”

 

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