Twisted

by Jo Gibson

  Jessica pulled out her notebook and began to write out a list. “Let’s see . . . we’ll need streamers, and party favors, and tickets. And if there’s enough money, we can even hire a live band.”

  “We could be starting a school tradition.” Amy began to smile again. “Hamilton High’s Valentine’s Day Dance could wind up being even bigger than the prom!”

  Tanya passed their table, just in time to hear the tail end of Amy’s comment. She stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at Amy. “What could be bigger than the prom?”

  Amy managed to put a friendly smile on her face, even though she didn’t like Tanya. As president of the senior class, she had an obligation to be friendly. “We thought it would be a good idea to hold a Valentine’s Day Dance.”

  “I’ll help.” Tanya pulled out a chair and sat down without being invited. “We’ll need to hold a contest for the King and Queen of Hearts. That’s the way they did it at my old school in California.”

  As the other girls began to discuss how they should vote for the King and Queen, Amy sat there, silently. She didn’t like the idea of a King and Queen of Hearts. It was simply a popularity contest, and someone always ended up with hurt feelings. She wanted to object, but if she did, Tanya would think it was because she was afraid of losing.

  “What’s the matter, Amy?” Colleen noticed Amy’s silence, and nudged her.

  Amy shrugged. And then it hit her, the perfect objection. “I don’t see how we can have a contest for the Queen and King of Hearts. The dance has to be a fund-raiser, and a contest won’t bring in any money for the book fund. I’m sorry, Tanya, but it just won’t work.”

  “Maybe it will.” Tanya looked thoughtful. “Hold on a second. I just thought of a way to turn the contest into a real moneymaker.”

  Amy watched as Tanya stood up and waved at the team table. “Brett? Come over here a second, will you? We need your advice.”

  Brett looked pleased as he walked over to their table. It was clear he liked the idea of being asked for advice. “What is it, Tanya?”

  “We’re planning a Valentine’s Day Dance, and we want to have a contest for the King and Queen of Hearts; but it’s got to be a fund-raiser. Do you think your father could print up some Valentine cards that we could sell for a profit?”

  Brett shrugged. “Sure. Just work up a design and I’ll find out how much it’ll cost.”

  “Good!” Tanya returned to her seat, leaned back and smiled at him. “Let’s keep it simple. How about a red heart on the front with two H’s in fancy lettering for Hamilton High?”

  “That’s easy. My dad can do that, no problem.”

  Tanya looked smug. “I knew we could count on you, Brett. We’ll sell the cards for votes. One vote for every card sold. The girls’ll vote for king, and the boys’ll vote for queen. And we’ll post the totals on the school bulletin board every day. If somebody’s favorite candidate is running behind, they’ll buy more cards.”

  “Brilliant!” Brett began to grin. “The team can help. We’ll sell the cards in the cafeteria. That’ll give us something to do during lunch.”

  “Do you think Coach Harvey will let you do it?” Colleen looked worried.

  “Sure. It’ll get him in good with Mr. Dorman. He’ll be all for it.”

  Tanya took charge again. “Okay. The team sells the cards, and the girls who have a free period after lunch can count the votes. Then we can post the standings before sixth period.”

  Just then, the bell rang for the end of lunch break, and Tanya pushed back her chair. “Come on, Brett. You can walk me to history class, and we’ll discuss the layout of those Valentine cards.”

  Amy frowned as Tanya took Brett’s arm and they walked off together. Tanya had a class after lunch, and so did Jessica, and Michele. And Gail and Colleen had student council business to do. She was the only girl who had fifth period free, and Tanya knew it. And Tanya had just stuck her with the task of totalling up the card sales and counting the votes!

  One

  Of course he’d heard about the Valentine’s Day Dance. Everyone was talking about it in the halls, and even during class. The dance, itself, sounded like a pretty good idea. Winter was a drag, and it would give them something to do. Although he didn’t really enjoy dances, he might go just to relieve the awful boredom.

  The contest for the King and Queen of Hearts was another matter. He was all for fund-raising, but this contest could cause a lot of trouble in the halls of Hamilton High. Everyone knew who the king would be. The queen was a toss-up, though, and any one of the girls could win. It all depended on how much money a guy was willing to spend on his favorite girl.

  That made him think of Karen, and he clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Karen might have been queen if she were still alive. She’d been the head cheerleader, the editor of the school paper, and the president of the student council. Karen had always been very popular, until the girls had decided to gang up on her.

  He swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat. He really missed Karen, and it was hard not to think about her. He knew he had to accept what had happened, but he still half-expected to see Karen in the halls at school, opening her locker to take out her books, or cheerleading at one of the games, or sitting at a table in the lunchroom, surrounded by a crowd of friends.

  He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He had to hang on to reality. Karen was dead, and there was an empty place in his heart that no one else could fill. There would never be another girl like Karen, and he had blown it. If he’d known what was going to happen, he would have saved her somehow. But she was gone, and he hadn’t even had the chance to tell her how much he loved her.

  There was a frown on his face as his thoughts turned to the King and Queen of Hearts. Karen would have loved the contest, and he would have made sure that she won. Karen would have been the one to sit on the throne with a silver crown on her lovely black hair. The other girls weren’t worthy enough to be queen.

  But Karen was dead, and it made him furious to think that one of the other girls would be queen, especially after the way they’d treated her. They’d gossiped about her, and criticized her for things she hadn’t done. Karen had told him all about it, and it still made him smolder with anger.

  Karen had caught the flu last summer, and Tanya, the new girl in town, had seemed very glad to see her when she’d recovered enough to join their usual table at the Hungry Burger. Since Tanya had seemed interested, Karen had told her all about how she’d been unable to eat anything except saltine crackers and dry toast. And then Karen had left the table to order a Coke, and Tanya had seized the opportunity to start the vicious gossip that Karen had overheard.

  Wasn’t it odd that Karen Thomas had caught the flu when no one else in Clearwater was sick? What if it wasn’t the flu? What if Karen had another, more serious problem?

  The other girls had been shocked. What was Tanya implying? Did she think that Karen was pregnant!? Tanya had laughed. It was possible, wasn’t it? After all, there could be a reason why Karen was so popular with the boys.

  Amy had tried to stop the gossip, but no one had listened to Amy’s advice about how much harm gossip could do. The rumors had flown, thick and fast, and soon Karen had been the subject of every whispered conversation. It had been too much for Karen to bear. The girls she’d thought were her friends, had been spreading rumors about her, behind her back.

  He clenched his fists, and took a deep breath to keep from exploding. He knew that Karen’s fatal car accident had been the girls’ fault. Oh, they hadn’t killed her directly, and there was no way to prove that they were to blame. But he knew, in his heart, that they’d killed her just as surely as if one of them had stabbed her, or shot her, or pushed her over a cliff. Their cruel gossip had distracted Karen so much, she hadn’t been concentrating on her driving. And that was why she’d spun out on the old gravel road to the lake, and plunged down the embankment to her death.

  Karen had died instantly. Her neck ha
d snapped. But Karen’s tormentors were still alive, giggling in the halls, gossiping in the cafeteria, and planning their stupid king and queen contest.

  He began to smile then, as he thought of a perfect way to do one last favor for Karen. She would want him to make certain that the Queen of Hearts was worthy of the honor.

  It was time to live up to the private nickname Karen had given him. She’d called him “Cat,” and cats were cunning and clever animals.

  He’d devise a test, and if the girl failed, he’d make sure that she wouldn’t be elected. Cat would eliminate her from the contest in the same way that they’d eliminated Karen from his life.

  Permanently.

  After all, there was no way that they could elect a dead girl as Valentine’s Day Queen.

  Two

  It was another typical winter day. The mercury in the thermometer was stuck firmly on the zero mark, and the skies were a dull gray that reminded Amy of the battleship pictures in her American history book. At least the wind wasn’t blowing. That was a plus. But the local weatherman had warned that gusty winds and snow flurries could arrive before the end of the day.

  Amy glanced in the mirror and forced a smile. She’d dressed in her most colorful blouse this morning, a bright yellow background printed with red and pink and orange flowers with bright green leaves. The blouse reminded her of the hot summer days she wished were here, and it went very well with her favorite dark brown slacks and matching blazer. Amy was trying her best to be cheerful this morning, but it just wasn’t working. She was just as depressed as she’d been yesterday.

  It took only a moment to brush her hair. Amy pulled it back and fastened it with the hammered gold barrette that Colleen had given her for her last birthday. She’d have to do it all over again when she got to school. The hood of her parka messed up any hairstyle she fashioned at home; but she had a mirror in her locker, and it was easy to redo. She gave one final glance in the mirror, and nodded. She wasn’t beautiful, but she looked her best. Then she slipped into a pair of brown loafers and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “How’s my favorite flower child?” Amy’s father looked up from his newspaper. “That blouse is a real eye-popper.”

  “Thanks, Dad . . . I think.” Amy grinned at him. There was no way she wanted her mother to know how depressed she was. Then she’d ask a lot of questions and worry herself sick.

  Amy’s mom was what Amy called a “P.M.W.” That stood for “Professional Mother and Wife.” Dorothy Hunter had given up her career as a court recorder when she was pregnant with Amy, and she’d devoted herself to making a perfect home for her daughter and husband. Amy’s mom was always reading articles in women’s magazines about warning signs. She was constantly on the alert for the six danger signs of teenage drug addiction, and the five warning signals of anorexia, and the nine probable indicators of potential teenage suicide. Dorothy Hunter would never believe that the weather was responsible for her daughter’s depression, even though it was perfectly true.

  Amy’s mother smiled as she set a bowl of hot cereal in front of Amy. “I think you look very nice, honey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Amy stared down at her cereal, and sighed. She hated oatmeal, but her mother insisted that it was a good breakfast, even though Amy had shown her several studies claiming that oatmeal had no more nutritional value than Pop Tarts.

  Amy’s dad pushed back his chair. “I have to run. We’ve got a big meeting this morning, down at the plant. Do you want a ride to school, Amy?”

  “Definitely.” Amy grinned and took several mouthfuls of her oatmeal, just enough so that her mother wouldn’t feel hurt. She swallowed, hating the taste which always seemed slimy to her, and then she pushed back her chair.

  “That’s all you’re going to eat?” Amy’s mother looked very worried.

  “I had enough, Mom. It’s a big bowl, and I’m not really that hungry.” Amy thought fast as she noticed her mother’s concern. “We’re having beef stew for lunch at school, and it’s my favorite. But thanks for making my breakfast. It was delicious.”

  “You’re welcome, honey.” Amy’s mother looked pleased. “Do you want me to pick you up after school?”

  “No, thanks.” Amy carried her bowl to the counter and washed it out before her mother could see that she hadn’t eaten very much. “I’ll catch a ride with one of the kids. And don’t worry, Mom . . . I’ll come straight home. I have to finish my homework before the basketball game tonight.”

  Amy watched while her dad kissed her mom good-bye. It was a ritual they went through every morning, and Amy thought it was sweet. Her father never left the house without giving her mother a hug and a kiss.

  “Come on, flower child . . . let’s go.” Amy’s dad picked up his briefcase and his keys and motioned to her. “You’d better put on full survival gear. It’s cold out there.”

  Amy nodded and took her parka out of the closet. She slipped it on, stuffed her shoes in her tote bag, and pulled on her bulky warm boots. Then she picked up her book bag and turned to smile at her parents. “I’m ready, Dad. Bye, Mom. See you after school.”

  Amy’s dad waited until they pulled out of the driveway, and then he turned to grin at her. “Dunkin’ Donuts?”

  “Yes!” Amy grinned back. “I’ll run in if you park in front. What do you want?”

  “A cinnamon bun that’s full of carbohydrates and cholesterol.”

  Amy nodded. “I noticed Mom was reading a health magazine the other day. She’s got you on a diet again . . . right?”

  “Right. She gave me one piece of whole grain toast, no butter. And a two-egg-white omelette with chopped broccoli.”

  “She must have heard that broccoli was a cancer preventative.” Amy grinned at him.

  “I guess so. I used to like broccoli, but we’ve been having it every day for the past week. Make sure that cinnamon bun’s dripping with gooey frosting, Amy. I wouldn’t want to go to work feeling deprived.”

  Amy laughed and hopped out when her dad pulled up to the Dunkin’ Donuts shop. The inside of the shop was steamy, and it smelled incredibly good.

  “Hi, Amy.” Mrs. Beeseman, who was working behind the counter, gave Amy a smile. “Has your mother got your dad on another one of those health-food diets?”

  Amy nodded. “Broccoli, egg whites, and dry whole grain toast. He wants the usual, Mrs. Beeseman, and so do I.”

  Mrs. Beeseman flipped open a small pink cardboard box and put a cinnamon bun and a maple bar inside. Then she took the money Amy handed her, and gave back her change. “See you tomorrow morning?”

  “Probably.” Amy nodded. “Mom’s diets usually last for at least two weeks.”

  It was only a few blocks to the school, but Amy and her dad had finished their goodies by the time they pulled up in front. Amy gathered up her book bag and her shoes, and gave her dad a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride, Dad. And thanks for the carbohydrates and cholesterol.”

  “Anytime, kiddo. And don’t tell your mom. See you tonight.”

  Amy waved good-bye as her dad drove away, and then she walked up the sidewalk. Even though her dad had dropped her off right in front of the school, she was shivering as she pushed open the heavy double doors at Hamilton High and stepped into the semiwarmth of the entryway. She stamped the snow off her boots on the rubber grid that was provided especially for that purpose, and opened the inner door that led into the school, itself. The moment she stepped inside, Amy took her shoes from her tote bag, removed her boots, and slipped on her shoes. Then she headed up the stairway to her locker, carrying her boots with one hand. Boots weren’t allowed on the wooden floors of Hamilton High hallways. Students were required to carry them up to their lockers, and leave them there until it was time to go home.

  “Hey, Amy.” Colleen, who had the locker next to Amy, greeted her with a smile. “How about this weather? It’s supposed to warm up to above zero today.”

  Amy nodded. “I heard that. But then it’ll be warm enough to snow agai
n. You just can’t win in the winter.”

  “You’re a regular prophet of doom. Lighten up, Amy. Aren’t you glad that Mr. Dorman gave us permission to hold the Valentine’s Day Dance?”

  “Yes. Of course I am. But I probably won’t have a date.”

  “Come on, Amy.” Colleen’s frown deepened. “I just can’t take all this doom and gloom first thing in the morning. Isn’t there anything that’ll make you happy?”

  Amy began to grin. “Sure. If Tanya Ellison slipped on the ice and sprained her ankle, it would definitely cheer me up.”

  “I get it.” Colleen began to grin, too. “Then she wouldn’t be able to go to the dance, and you’d ask Brett. Is that right?”

  Amy nodded. “That’s the general idea. Of course I don’t wish her any permanent injury . . . that wouldn’t be nice. I’ll settle for a little sprain that’ll keep her out of action for—oh, my God!”

  “What?” Colleen looked puzzled. Amy’s face had gone pasty white.

  “It’s . . . it’s Tanya!”

  Colleen swiveled around to see. And then she gasped, too. Tanya was standing at her locker, and she was leaning on two crutches.

  “Oh-oh!” Amy looked very guilty. “You don’t suppose?”

  Colleen shook her head. “No way. Things don’t happen just because you want them to.”

  “I know. But, Colleen . . . I said it, and then it happened!”

  “Wrong.” Colleen looked very serious. “It happened before you said it. Tanya must have sprained her ankle last night. She’s already got the crutches.”

  “That’s true, but I still feel guilty. I was wishing that something would happen so she couldn’t go to the dance.”

  “Hi, girls. What’s up?”

  Amy turned around to find Brett standing directly behind her, carrying a large box. How much had he heard? Amy did her best to maintain her composure; but her cheeks began to feel hot, and she knew she was blushing.