Circle of Silence

by Carol M. Tanzman

  “You had to talk to your sister first. I understand.” He blinks a few times. “I swear to God, Val, watching the dock collapse was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I was ready to jump in after you. If the cops hadn’t shown up…”

  “Let’s not go there.” I try a smile. “I’m not sure I thanked you. If you hadn’t called them when you did…”

  “You’re welcome,” he whispers.

  He leans over and kisses me. It’s so unexpected that I just sort of…let it happen. But even though Raul saved my life—he isn’t Jagger. As soon as that penetrates my still-confused state, I pull away.

  “Raul—”

  “Sorry, Val. I know. It’s not the right time.” He doesn’t look at me as he stands. “We should go. Your dad’s gonna worry.”

  “Wait!” Thinking about Jagger sparks a question. “Why did you text from the hospital? Did Mrs. Voorham recognize Bethany’s voice when you played her the tape?”

  He hesitates a bit too long.

  “Raul?” My voice catches. “Omigod, is it Jags? Is that why you called? Did something happen…?”

  His nod is practically imperceptible—but it’s there. My stomach drops in anticipation of the worst news of the night. With a reluctant breath, Raul releases the last of our kiss. The expression in his eyes isn’t sad as much as defeated. As if he knows he lost.

  “Jagger opened his eyes, Val. He woke up!”

  33

  Pushed off the southern edge of WiHi’s roof, I try to grab something. Ledge, window grate, flagpole. My fingers claw madly, but I’m moving too fast. The ground rises. Just before impact, I jerk awake.

  Breathing hard, I stare at the ceiling. It’s not only terror that overwhelms me. It’s this horrible feeling that I’ve missed something important.

  I glance at my cell. Damn! Almost ten. I’d set the alarm for nine just before collapsing into bed last night. I wanted to be at the hospital the instant visiting hours began. I don’t remember hearing the cell ring, let alone shutting it off.

  Lying in bed, Bethany stares at me. “The alarm woke me up.”

  “Sorry.” I throw the quilt to the side. “I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. You can go back to sleep when I’m gone.”

  “It woke me up!” she repeats, as if I didn’t hear, or understand, the first time.

  “I said I’m sorry!”

  Unbelievable! It’s like yesterday never happened. Just as I fell into the deepest sleep ever, it occurred to me that things would be different. That she’d change. That we’d change. Become better sisters, closer, despite MP—or because of it. But there she is, lying on her bed as if I’m the one who did something wrong.

  I don’t have the time, or the energy, to fight. Rising without a word, I cross to the door. The reflection in the dresser mirror stops me. Dark circles ring my eyes and an ugly bruise purples my cheek. I don’t remember hitting anything when I fell into the water. One of the broken wooden planks must have caught me on my way down. Or my face dragged against a rock as I was being pulled to safety.

  My hair’s a mess. Frizzed by icy water, I’d hooked it behind my ears at some point. There’s something about it that reminds me of Emily Purdue when she concentrates. It gives me a shiver. I vow to cut it as soon as I can.

  Behind me, Bethany’s started to sob in that really quiet way she has. She should cry—but it ought to be loud and clear.

  It’s the damn silences that nearly got us killed.

  That’s when a flash of recognition hits. I glance back into the mirror. Maybe I’m more like Emily Purdue than I know. Than I want to be. The real MP story was in front of me the whole time—and I never saw it.

  “Move over?” I climb into my sister’s bed and fix the quilt so that it covers us both. I hand her a tissue from the box on the nightstand, wait for the crying to stop.

  “It’s over, Bethany. I’m not mad.” She picks at the blanket. “Talk to me. Please.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Whatever you want. Tell me why you joined MP. Why you made me run all over the Heights instead of talking to me when it got bad.”

  A sly look crosses her face. “Got you, didn’t I? You had no idea it was me.”

  “No idea. Campus News was desperate to figure it out. We even gave a copy of the emails to a computer whiz at school, but she told us a hacker wrote them.”

  “She?”

  “Henry knows her. Toby—”

  “You showed them to her?” Bethany screeches.

  “Yeah. Why…”

  My sister’s voice turns hollow. “We called her Phantom.”

  “Hold on!” I stare at her. “Toby’s in MP?”

  “Was. She quit after the first initiation.”

  Holy shit! Wait until Henry finds out! My mind whirls for a moment, but then I think I understand how it all fits together. That’s how Arnold knew the footage on the school server had been deleted. He probably threatened Toby to get her to hack into the system.

  “That’s why you wrote those notes!” I say. “You were afraid if you sent the initiation information by computer, she might find out.”

  Bethany refuses to look at me. “I didn’t want to take extra chances. I’m smart, Val, smarter than you think.”

  “I never said you aren’t.”

  “You don’t have to say it,” she tells me, pouting.

  “I know you’re smart. You get better grades than I do. Besides, it’s not like you care what I think. What anyone thinks.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Is that why you joined? Because you think I don’t care?”

  “I did it because… I don’t know why, okay?” She swings her legs over the bed.

  “Wait!” I reach out to stop her. “Don’t get mad. Please! I’m just trying to understand.”

  Bethany hesitates, and then she slumps morosely into the bed.

  Some walls are invisible.

  The declaration painted across the Red Hook mural finally makes sense. Why couldn’t I see that Bethany’s darkness was her very own wall? Built day by day, brick by brick to shield her loneliness?

  Skeletor saw it. That’s the power he had—and the prize he dangled.

  He met them all at the Video Arcade. Loners who hate being alone. He offered each the chance to join MP. To be a part of something. To be someone.

  “Listen, Bethany.” Gently, I put an arm around my sister. “There is one good thing that happened yesterday. Jagger woke up.”

  Eyes red, nose runny, she turns. “He did? When?”

  “Sometime in the afternoon. That’s why Raul kept trying to get hold of me. And why I set the alarm this morning. I want to get to the hospital as soon as I can.”

  “Can I go—” She interrupts herself, not quite able to face him. “Will you tell Jagger I’m sorry? Please! I’m so, so sorry about everything….”

  “Of course. And when I get back, we need to start trying to be better sisters. To help each other even if it’s hard. It might take a while, but we have to find a way.”

  * * *

  By the time I shower, get dressed and take the two trains to the hospital, it’s lunchtime. Luckily Jagger’s mom isn’t there. As I slip into the room, my heart races. I’m not sure who I’ll find. Sarcastic Voorham? Confident Jags? Or a Jagger damaged in ways that can never be fixed?

  He’s propped up on the pillows, eyes closed. Oh so gently, I place my hand over his. Behind pale lids, his
eyes flutter. He struggles, blinks and manages to swim to the surface.

  “Hey,” I say quietly. “You’re up.”

  He doesn’t recognize me. The thudding in my chest threatens to knock me over. “It’s me, Jags. Valerie.”

  Another long moment and then…a smile. My heart lifts, a hot air balloon released from its mooring. Jagger wets his lips, tries to speak. Not a single sound comes out.

  “It’s okay, Jags. I got you where I want you. No back talk.”

  He blinks. It’s not a regular blink but a long, purposeful one.

  Immediately, I’m on my feet. “Water? The nurse?”

  He shakes his head. Tries to say something, but words refuse to come. Frustrated, he lifts a hand to his cheek.

  “Oh! The bruises.” I sink back into the chair. “I’m okay. We caught them. You caught them. It was the camera….”

  Quickly, I give him the highlights. His eyes widen when I tell him that Bethany left the notes.

  “She feels terrible. She blames herself for what happened.”

  He shakes his head.

  “You want me to tell her it’s okay?” I ask. “That you’re not mad?”

  A brief nod.

  “Omigod, Jagger, she’ll be so happy. I’m so happy. You can’t imagine how worried we all were.”

  My voice catches. Jagger wets his lips, glances at the nightstand.

  “Water?”

  He nods. Carefully, I place the straw in his mouth. When he’s done sipping, I resettle the glass. Jagger looks at me. Even though he can’t speak, there’s no mistaking the message.

  The kiss isn’t long. But in those few moments, every bad thought I’ve ever had about him dissolves. Joy pulses between us. It’s real and honest and we had to go through hell to get here.

  From the look on Jagger’s face, he feels it, too.

  EPILOGUE

  May

  The award, in all its shiny glory, arrives in a plain white box. Mr. Carleton spends most of first period pulling everything from the shelf above his desk. Methodically, he dusts and puts it all back, making sure there’s space in the center. Both Campus News teams admire the trophy before he sets it in the place of honor.

  The plaque on the front reads Student Emmy Award, Public Service Reporting: Dangers of Pass Out. Producers: Scott Jenkins and Hailey Manussian. T. Carleton, Adviser.

  The irony doesn’t escape any of us. After all that happened, it’s the almost-an-afterthought story A Team submitted that won. To be fair, it was well done and delivered an important message. I keep a bright smile on my face as we high-five all around. I mean it when I tell them, “Great job!”

  The bell rings. Raul and Hailey continue their conversation as they walk out. I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up going to prom together. From what I saw at Halloween, Hailey can certainly keep up with him on the dance floor.

  Omar practically floats out of the room. He’s been on an incredible high since he got into Cooper Union, his life about to change in ways he once only dreamed about. Henry’s wait-listed for Yale, with offers from half a dozen other schools. The rest of us have at least one decent acceptance—even if it’s not first choice.

  I hang back for a moment. Jagger stands behind me, arms circling my waist. “Tell the truth, Val.”

  His larynx, bruised by the rope, has all but healed. The rasp in his voice is just about gone. So is his arrogance. Jagger has plenty of saucy comebacks, but they’re no longer mean. It makes everyone, including Marci, love him so much more.

  “Tell the truth about what?”

  He gestures toward the trophy. “You’re not the least bit jealous?”

  It takes a moment to sort through the rush of feelings.

  “Maybe a little.” He squeezes me. “Okay! A lot.”

  Jagger laughs. “I might be more sympathetic if I hadn’t heard there’s other news to cheer about.”

  I whirl around. “Who told you?”

  “Who do you think?”

  I pull the email from my pocket. I’ve read it so many times since printing it out this morning that the page is already crinkled. “Bethany’s almost more excited than I am! I was planning to tell you at lunch, so we’d have a little more time to…celebrate.”

  He extends an arm, takes the paper and reads the words I prayed so often to hear. “Congratulations! The Syracuse University Admissions committee is pleased to offer you…”

  Jagger lifts me up and swirls me around. “I am so proud of you, Val!”

  In that moment, it’s triumph, as well as understanding, that shines through. It doesn’t matter whose names are on the trophy. It never did. Jagger and I, along with the rest of our team, did more than break a story. We broke through the barriers that trapped us all.

  If some walls are invisible, so are some masks.

  The actual masks MP wore weren’t all that different from the ones we hid behind. Reporter, Slacker, Queen of the Sloths… We all had our roles and we played them well. They protected us from feeling adrift in hallways and classrooms—but they also kept us apart.

  If Bethany had come to me—or I to her—she never would have had anything to do with the ugliness of MP. Marci and I should have invited my sister to Tony’s for pizza; we could have hung out with her at the Video Arcade.

  Instead, my sister found her own place to belong—until it all came crashing down. After the night on the dock, everyone in MP blamed everyone else. It wasn’t until the police confiscated Arnold’s journal that the court understood: Bethany and the rest were pawns in Arnold’s increasingly sick game. Months of community service are a lot better than the time he’s spending in juvenile hall awaiting sentencing.

  And then there’s Jagger. Hiding behind arrogance was his way of protecting himself—until even he grew sick of it. If he hadn’t tried, and tried some more, to knock down walls and make amends, we would never have gotten here. The lessons learned, the love found.

  Second period is about to begin. The students taking Mr. Carleton’s Intro class swarm into the room. There will always be stories to report and deadlines to meet. For now, however, I don’t want to think about anything except the warm hand holding tight to mine.

  Acknowledgments

  My sincere thanks to Sally Nemeth and C. Leigh Purtill, YA writers who have kept me out of the weeds too many times to count. Dr. Marilyn Mehlmauer made sure my characters were properly diagnosed. Zack Blatt, John McGorty and Robert Leventer were my skater/fireman/legal consultants. Genna Rosenberg, along with Adam Wilson, Janis Van Tine and Stephanie Carroll, helped in myriad ways. The Cashin-Maeby-Tanzman families provided spaces on the East Coast for quiet writing time. At Harlequin Teen, T. S. Ferguson did the heavy editorial lifting, for which I am extremely grateful; Natashya Wilson’s keen eye made an impact throughout the writing process. Erin Craig and Tara Scarcello created the sophisticated art design and are among many on the Harlequin Teen team who helped guide the book throughout its journey. As always, fellow writers Jack and Liana Maeby managed to provide just the right advice, as well as laughter, when it was most needed.

  * * * * *

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  ISBN: 9781459234642

  Copyright © 2012 by Carol M. Tanzman

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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