by D. B. Green
No answer.
I tug open the truck door. The vanilla scent from the air freshener inside calms my nerves. I grab my flashlight and shine it on the backside of the house, near the rear garden gate. The sound came from that direction. I move past the frozen-over fountain and shine the flashlight across the side of the house, along the pale-yellow wooden wall. The windows glare as the light beam passes over them.
A spade lies on the gravel. That must have been what fell over and made the noise.
I throw the flashlight back inside the truck. Something brushes against my boots. It’s a cat. A black cat. It twists between my legs in a figure eight, rubbing its head against my jeans with every step.
“Did you knock that spade over?” I say, bending down. “Where did you come from? Was it you that set off the security lights when I looked out of my window?”
I pull off a soggy glove and stroke the cat’s head. It’s back arches as I move my hand over its fur.
“Are you doing your morning rounds?” I say. “I’d have stayed in bed, If I were you.”
The cat pauses and tilts its head before continuing to circle between my legs.
I take off my other glove and pick up the cat. “You know something, my little sister always said she wanted two black cats when she grew up,” I say, holding the cat close to my face. Its purring could give my chugging truck engine a run for its money. “Cassie was adamant. It had to be two black kittens. She even had the names already picked out. Pebble and Marble.” The cat stretches forward and rubs against my cold cheek, sending a little warmth across my face. “So, which name shall I call you? Pebble or Marble?” The cat shakes its head and a bell rings. I hadn’t noticed the red collar around its neck. It rubs against my cheek again and the cold metal of a name tag presses into my skin. I lift the cat away. “Looks like you’ve already got a name.” I focus on the engraved writing on the round golden disc.
Isabel
“Is that your name? Isabel?” The cat purrs louder and nibbles my cheek. “Hey, Izzy, careful with the love bites. We’ve only just met.” I lower her back to the ground and she circles between my legs again. “I need to get going, and I’m sure you’ve got a warm home to go back to.” Izzy tilts her head and then trots off across the lawn, disappearing into the morning mist.
My first new friend in Meridia Falls. “See you later, Izzy.”
I check the time on my new Rolex. It’s eight twenty-three. The watch is heavy on my wrist. I hold it up to the thin beam of early morning sunshine peeking through the trees. I’ll wear it for Anne’s sake. She seems genuinely happy I’m here. I’ve not had too many people happy to see me before. Well, not since before Cassie was taken anyway.
08:41 GMT-4
MERIDIA HIGH SCHOOL | MERIDIA FALLS
My truck fits well in the student car lot. There’s a good mix of cars, even another red GMC truck (albeit a newer model than mine) sits a few rows up. Several sports cars line up close to the school doors, while the lower-end cars, like my truck, fill out the spaces near the exit. Either there is a pecking order here or the super-rich get to school really early. My truck occupies one of these lower-end spaces, which suits me fine. Under the radar is my new mantra.
I lock the door and slip my keys into my pocket. Cassie’s worn, Wonder Woman keychain smiles back at me. I was lucky to save this before my mom threw out all her things. There’s healthy ways to cope with loss, and then there’s my mom’s way.
I stroll between the cars; their paint jobs transition from dull, worn colors on the ones in the back to bright, shiny primaries closer to the building. A red Porsche occupies the spot nearest the school doors. There’s a whole lot of money in this town.
A huge blue banner hangs over the entrance, spelling out a message.
Still unbeaten. Still the best.
I guess this refers to the school’s football team. The Meridia High Tridents. According the Meridia Falls Gazette, they will storm the new season. Not that I’m interested in the slightest.
A group of students gather in the school doorway. It’s like a mass of wooly hats and scarves blocking the entrance. Thankfully, I blend in well with my own hat and gloves. No one gives me a second glance as I head up the stone steps and through the main doors.
A huge marble statue of Poseidon dominates the entrance lobby. According to the admission pack, he’s the school mascot. At least some of the crap I read has actually sunk in – even if it is useless information.
Another blue banner hangs around the statue’s neck and a poster of a football team is skewered to the trident in his hand. The next opponents of the football team, I presume. Great. Looks like jock mentality rules here.
As I head past the dominating statue, the school’s heating takes effect, and the wooly hats and scarves disappear, replaced by tight tops, hoodies and jeans. All the students now look like they’re ready for a model shoot. I’m gonna stick out now like pizza at a wedding reception. I whip off my hat and gloves and stash them in my rucksack before anyone notices.
The main reception is at the back of the lobby. I memorized the map from the admission pack. A plump woman in a dark-blue dress looks up as I approach the reception desk. She narrows her eyes and walks around to the front before I get there.
“Hi, I’m Logan Collins. I start here today.”
“Yes, I know.” Her voice is short and sharp. “Principal Dawson has assigned you a chaperone for your first day.” She pushes her half-rimmed glasses further up her pointy nose. “Aren’t you the lucky one?” She taps the desk. “Wait here. I’ll go and find her.”
A chaperone. This must be what Anne meant when she said the principal would look out for me.
Crap. First day here and I’m already getting special treatment. They might as well dangle flashing Christmas lights on me.
I move across to the trophy cabinet opposite the desk. It’s full of football and lacrosse trophies.
Another nugget of information my memory retained from the admission pack: as well as a successful football team, Meridia High’s also got a very successful girl’s lacrosse team, too. Various team photos of grinning faces stand behind several golden cups. Sometimes I hanker for a life like that. The life I could have had if my dad wasn’t a murderous psychopath.
Someone taps my shoulder. I spin around. It’s a girl in a wooly blue jumper and jeans. A pretty girl. A pretty girl with flowing blond hair and perfect makeup. The same pretty girl that I’m sure I’ve just seen on a lacrosse photo behind a trophy in the cabinet.
“Are you Logan?” Her voice is soft and a little husky.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
She narrows her eyes and yawns. “Well, it’s your lucky day, Newbie. You have the pleasure of my company… to show you around this hell hole.”
The receptionist coughs behind us as she slides back into her chair.
“I’m Marilyn. Maz, to my…” She pauses as a group of giggling girls walk past. “Let’s get you a locker,” she says, tucking her arm around mine.
We follow the group of girls down the corridor. Marilyn stops by the last block of lockers. “You’ll have to take a basement one.” She bends down and opens the door to locker three sixteen. “This one’s free under mine. Did you bring a padlock?”
I reach inside my bag and take out the heavy-duty lock I bought in town yesterday. “Thanks, Maz.”
“Woah there, Newbie. We’re not friends yet.”
I throw my hat and gloves into the locker and lock the door. “Thanks… Marilyn.”
She grins. “That’s better.”
The group of girls from earlier stand at the end of the corridor, blocking the way. The one at the center, a tall blonde girl turns to face us. It’s minus three outside, but she must think it’s summer, wearing a tight white top and short denim skirt on a day like this. Her long legs slot into a pair of fur-topped boots. At least there’s some sanity in her wardrobe. She’s pretty. Problem is, she knows it. Pink highlights weave through her straight blond hair as
it flicks across her cheek. Her lip curls into a smirk. You can always tell the leader of a pack. And she’s it.
The rest of her group all follow suit, turning with almost identical smirks. Then a laugh breaks out. Not a nice laugh. It sounds like a group of peacocks at the zoo. They huddle together, whispering as we squeeze past them.
“Don’t worry, it’s not you,” Marilyn says. “It’s me…” Her voice trails off as her bag slips from her hand. It thuds onto the floor; her books stream out over the polished tiles. A hushed silence fills the corridor as everyone stops to look.
“Are you OK?” I bend down and grab her fallen books. It’s like she’s in a trance. I follow her gaze. She’s staring at a display of glossy canvas prints from a school prom. The large, center print is defaced with graffiti. Jagged words scrawled in black marker cover the picture of the prom king and queen.
Die in hell you traitorous BITCH!
Only now I see it. The prom queen in the picture is Marilyn. A jagged black line zig-zags across her neck. Regardless of the graffiti, she looks beautiful in her flowing pink dress.
A popping noise breaks the silence. I spin around. The leader of the pack girl holds a thick black marker in her hand. She keeps popping off the cap. The noise echoes through the quiet corridor like someone knocking on a door. The peacock laugh rings out again.
“That’s Candy Steele,” Marilyn says, wiping her eyes. “Just ignore her.” She grabs her books from me and slips them in her bag. “Thanks.”
The first bell rings.
A short balding man in a beige coat rushes forward, shaking his head. “I only put up this display on Friday night.” He glances at Marilyn then plucks the canvas print of her from the wall. “Sorry you had to see that.” He walks fast down the corridor with the print tucked under his arm.
The group of girls all laugh again, then exaggerate wiping their eyes as they barge past us on their way to class.
Marilyn sniffs, trying to hide her tears. “My boyfriend’s dad is the Mountie detachment commander for Meridia Falls,” she says, rubbing her finger under her eyes. “Candy blames me for Mounties busting the after-prom party last semester.” She examines her mascara-covered finger. “I need to freshen up.”
We walk down the opposite corridor just as the national anthem starts to play through a crackling speaker on the wall. “Don’t worry, we can be late. It’s a chaperone perk.” She stops and holds out her arm. “Woah there, Newbie. Your personal tour doesn’t get that personal.” She yawns and points at the sign for the girls’ bathroom. “Wait for me outside.”
09:16 GMT-4
MERIDIA HIGH SCHOOL | MERIDIA FALLS
The second bell rings and two students run past, late for homeroom registration. Marilyn strolls out of the bathroom with no sign of the tears on her face. Her makeup is once again flawless.
I check the time. It’s nine sixteen. “I thought you’d climbed out of the window and bailed on me.”
“Believe me, I did think about it,” she says, tugging at the bottom of her jumper. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?”
She bites the bottom of her lip and glances up the corridor towards the prom display.
“You should tell someone about that bitch,” I say. “She had the marker in her hand and didn’t even try to hide it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Marilyn says. “They wouldn’t do anything anyway. Candy gets away with murder. Her… mom.” She pauses and presses her lips tightly together. “Her mother is the head of the PTA.”
“Well, in that case you should adopt an old saying of mine.”
“Which is?”
“Screw the lot of them,” I say.
She smiles. The same beautiful smile from the prom picture. Her eyes twinkle as her face lights up. No wonder she was prom queen.
“Beautiful smile…” My face suddenly tingles with the realization that I said that out loud.
She shakes her head and laughs. “Come on, Newb. I’d better get you settled into class. We can miss homeroom registration.” She smiles mischievously.” Another chaperone perk.”
“What’s the first class?”
“History, with Mr. Jefferson. He’s a dick. Most of the teachers in this school are dicks.”
“What, even the women?”
“Yeah, even the women.” She laughs. “You know what Newb, I think I’m gonna like having you around.” Grabbing my arm, she leads me back along the corridor and past the prom display, keeping her gaze focused ahead.
We stop outside a classroom. The door is ajar; lots of noise comes from inside. The sound of unsupervised students. “Jefferson must have stepped out for something. He always does that. I don’t think he likes our year. Well there are exceptions…” Her voice trails off and she waves at me. “Come over here.” She yanks my arm and pulls me over to the crack in the door. “See the girl in the back corner? The one with shoulder-length brown hair?”
The girl she points to is staring out of the window with her back to us.
“Do you know her?”
“The last time I was in this town, I was eleven months old,” I say. “My memory is good, but not that good.”
Marilyn pokes me in the ribs. “Don’t be funny, Newb. A simple yes or no would have done.” She leads me past the doorway.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because she wanted, begged me, to give her my chaperone duties. Even offered to do my assignments all week.” She leans against the wall. “That girl really wanted to show you around. It was like she knew you already.”
Shit. Does she know about my past? “That’s… strange.” The back of my neck tingles. “What’s her name?”
“Penny… Penny Summers,” Marilyn says. “I got paired with her in biology last semester. She’s a loner. A bit weird. Runs a freaky fanzine. I’d stay away from her.”
A small cough comes from behind us. A middle-aged man in a tweed jacket and red bow tie pushes open the classroom door. Gray flecks run through his brown hair and neatly trimmed beard, betraying his attempts to hide his age. A stack of brown folders hang precariously under his arm.
“Ah yes, the new guy.” He holds out his hand, struggling to keep the folders under control. “Mr. Collins, I presume. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Anne again. I shake his hand.
He narrows his eyes and nods at Marilyn. “I believe one of your chaperone duties is to show Mr. Collins to his class, which means to his seat.” He hisses the last word.
She pushes past him and heads to two free desks in the second row, but her nemesis, Candy, sits there. She scowls and shakes her head, flicking her pink highlights across her face.
“There’s two free at the back,” I say.
“Go on, follow your pet dog,” Candy whispers, under her breath.
Marilyn slams her hand down on the table. The noise echoes around the classroom. “Ignore her,” I say, half-dragging her to the free desks.
“Is everything OK?” Jefferson asks, as he closes the door.
“Yes, Mr. Jefferson,” Candy says. “I was just helping the new guy.”
Jefferson leans against his desk. “I thought you were his chaperone, Miss Moreau.” His eyes narrow.
I sit down at my desk. We’re two rows up from Penny, the girl Marilyn pointed out. She’s looking straight at me with big, bright green eyes. Big, bright, familiar green eyes. My stomach tingles and my heart races like a car in a mile drag race. It’s her. The girl from my dream. I close my eyes and the forest fills my mind. Her soft hand, holding mine tight as she leads me through the trees. Dew on the leaves, pollen in the air and the distant smell of burning ash. A strange happiness.
Her mouth curls into a small smile. It’s like she knows what I’m thinking. She runs her slender fingers through her hair. Purple polished nails dance through the silky strands, like inviting berries, drawing me in. I just can’t resist staring at her. Penny Summers is completely alluring.
A screwed-up piece of paper suddenly hits me in t
he chest, taking my attention. I turn around and grab it from the desk. It’s a note.
If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from her.
There’s no sign of the sender, all eyes look to the front of the classroom as Jefferson sorts through his pile of folders. Who does it refer to? Marilyn or Penny? I stash the note in my rucksack and slide it under the desk. I’ve never given in to threats and I’m not gonna start now.
A ringtone chimes at the front of the classroom. Jefferson plucks a phone out of a dark-haired guy’s hand. “You know the rules about cell phones in class, Mr. Cook.” He takes the phone to his desk. “You can collect this at the end of the day.” The guy groans as Jefferson puts the phone in a drawer. He slams it shut and perches on the edge of his desk. “For anyone else tempted to use their cell phones in class.” He pauses and points at the CCTV camera above the door. “If I don’t catch you…”
“Big brother will.” Several members of the class mutter in unison.
Jefferson smirks and his eyes settle on me. “I’m sure you will have all noticed someone new joining us today.” He points straight at me. Everyone turns and stares. A blond-haired jock on the front row blows a chewing gum bubble, which pops over his mouth.
Great. Center of attention again.
“This is Mr. Logan Collins, who has the pleasure of my history class being his first here at Meridia High. What a privilege for him.” Jefferson smirks as a low laugh echoes around the room like a distant rumble of thunder. “Do you have any words you’d like to share with the class? Maybe tell us about yourself?”
Crap.
Jefferson sniggers. “Don’t look so scared, Mr. Collins. I was just yanking your chain. It’s not show and tell at kindergarten.” A full-on laugh rings out in the classroom.
I turn to Marilyn. She nods and mouths the word ‘dick’.
“Right then, class. New assignments. It’s your lucky day! You get the chance to join in with the Meridia Falls Census Project.”
