Weave a Circle Round

by Kari Maaren

  “What for?” said Josiah. “These aren’t state secrets. Besides, I need some way of distracting myself from the unbearable excitement of rolling marbles down an inclined plane.”

  A textbook soared over Josiah’s shoulder and thumped onto the lab bench in front of him. He turned in time to see Ms. Treadwell smiling innocently as she handed Freddy her own book. “How brave of you to volunteer for the first presentation of the year,” she said to Josiah. “Due next Monday. Be sure there are marbles and an inclined plane in it somewhere. As for the rest … surprise me.”

  Freddy decided that she wanted to be Ms. Treadwell when she grew up. It was too bad about the chin.

  She thought Ms. Treadwell had found the key to dealing with Josiah. He didn’t say a word for the rest of the period, though he did cast their teacher the occasional respectful glance. It was possible Freddy was going to be able to get through the day without breaking camouflage again. No one could say it was her fault Josiah was sitting next to her.

  At the bell, she shot out into the hallway once more. She wasn’t fast enough this time. “I think you’re trying to avoid me,” said Josiah, who was taller than she was and could walk faster as well.

  “No,” Freddy lied.

  He cast his eyes to the heavens. “Yesterday, you were a duckling; I couldn’t get rid of you. Now I have the plague, do I? What’s changed?”

  Freddy quickened her pace as they headed up the stairs to the third floor. “Haven’t you ever been to high school before?”

  “Five or six hundred thousand times,” said Josiah.

  “Oh, obviously,” said Freddy, practically running out into the hallway once more. “Stop following me.”

  “I’m not,” said Josiah. “You’re following me.”

  “I’m not—” Freddy was starting when the hideous truth hit her. They came to a stop together at the door to their math classroom.

  “I think someone’s given me your schedule,” said Josiah. “It’s worrying.”

  She made sure to let him sit down first so she could take a seat on the other side of the classroom. She couldn’t look at him as she did. It’s not really his fault. He didn’t make me say that thing in English.

  Yes, he did, said another part of her brain. Freddy sometimes worried about the fact that her brain tended to argue with itself.

  No, he didn’t. You said it yourself, and now you’re taking it out on him, aren’t you? You weren’t falling all over yourself to hide from him yesterday.

  Yesterday wasn’t school, the rebellious bit of Freddy’s brain said in agony, and that really seemed to be it. All the rules were different at school.

  She liked math. It seemed unfair when Roland turned up in the class for the second year in a row, and even more unfair when Cathy came in behind him. Neither of them looked at her, though she noticed Roland cast Josiah a startled glance. She was a little surprised to see Roland pick a seat nearly as far from Josiah’s as hers was. It could have been that he was just looking for somewhere he and his interpreter could sit together, but she didn’t think so. There was plenty of space around Josiah.

  Ms. Liu was a new teacher; she looked almost too young to be out of high school herself. She stammered through her introductory remarks, then set them two pages of problems and went to hide behind her desk. The problems were basic algebra. Freddy found them so easy that she forgot to be cautious and finished them in ten minutes. Then she had to spend twenty more pretending she was still working. She didn’t want to be like Renata Williams, who got A’s in everything and was always waving her arm in the air whenever a teacher asked a question. The year before, Freddy had seen a bunch of boys trail Renata home from school, throwing pebbles at her and awarding themselves points when they hit her butt.

  “The last time I was in grade nine,” said Josiah, who had to have studied projection at some point, “we spent three blessed months on this nonsense. If that happens here, there’s going to be blood.”

  Everybody was looking at him. The giggling that had happened in English started again. A boy Freddy knew only as Jumbo Jim said, “The last time you were in grade nine?”

  “Metaphorically speaking.” Josiah flapped a hand wearily at the universe. “The worst bits of life are all metaphorically grade nine. Haven’t you people noticed you’re living in a nightmare? Freddy has, but she wants me to shut up about it. The first time I met her, she was wearing a hat.”

  Freddy hardly noticed the comment about the hat, which made no sense at all. What she was mainly feeling was an urge to punch Josiah very hard in the mouth and, with luck, silence him for good.

  Cathy said, “Oh my God, Freddy, your boyfriend is a freak.” Cathy’s voice was nearly as penetrating as Josiah’s. Freddy once more put her head down on her desk.

  Fifteen minutes later, when Josiah strolled into the band room, Freddy had become resigned to the fact that he was going to be everywhere this year. It was with a dreamy sense of inevitability that she watched him demonstrate to Ms. Bains that he could play the trombone competently, if a bit mechanically. Freddy played the flute herself, along with seven other girls and Hubert. Hubert just sort of existed, though most of the school tried to pretend he didn’t.

  There were five minutes left in the class, and Freddy was thinking longingly of her bedroom and the dresser with which she intended to block the door to it, when a voice said into the pause left by the utter collapse of the music, “The only time I ever heard a less beautiful noise was in Russia at the bottom of a mine shaft, just before a mountain fell on my head. Of course, that sounded like the earth shrieking in unbearable agony.”

  Freddy wondered if she was going to have to invent a word for the bemused silence that tended to result every time Josiah opened his mouth. Chin, who sat next to Freddy, leaned over and whispered, “Who’s he?” Freddy shrugged and hoped her face hadn’t gone too red.

  “Oh, look at the time,” said Ms. Bains. “Pack up, everybody.” Freddy was sneakingly certain Ms. Bains was grateful to Josiah for bringing the class to a halt. She had heard last year that Ms. Bains had perfect pitch and talked a lot about wishing not to teach high school band classes any more.

  “My flute is a moustache. Look, guys, it’s a moustache. Look at my big silver moustache,” Hubert was saying off on another plane of reality. Freddy only dimly registered the moment he dropped the flute on the floor.

  On her way out of the classroom, Freddy saw Keith, who had grown so unexpectedly huge over the summer that he was threatening to dwarf his baritone tuba, bump into Josiah, sending him stumbling into the wall. It could have been an accident, but this was school. Freddy ducked her head and walked back to her locker without making eye contact with anybody.

  * * *

  She was halfway to the park on her way home from school when Josiah caught up with her. “You’re better at ditching people than anyone I’ve ever met,” he informed her, “and I live with Cuerva Lachance.”

  Freddy sighed, checked to make sure no one was watching, and said, “Well, you have no survival skills.”

  “I made it through the entire day without being hit or dunked in the toilet,” said Josiah. “That may be some sort of record.”

  She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “What do you want? Yesterday, you were pretending we didn’t exist. Why are you following me around?”

  “I didn’t write the course schedule.” Josiah waggled his fingers irritably. Now that she was no longer desperate to avoid him, she was noticing the accent again. French, she thought, then decided it wasn’t.

  “This isn’t on the course schedule,” said Freddy.

  “I’ve become resigned to my fate,” Josiah told her and continued on down the sidewalk, slouching in what seemed to be vastly exaggerated exhaustion. When he looked away from her, she felt as if a powerful searchlight had been switched off. There was something very uncomfortable about being looked at by Josiah. She hesitated for a moment, then went after him.

  Freddy said, “Why am I your fat
e?”

  “You just are,” said Josiah. “I’m doomed to associate with you. It doesn’t make me happy, believe me. If I hang around with you, am I going to have to learn never to have any fun? May I at least make vicious fun of your friends?”

  “Did I say you could hang around with me?”

  “No. Are you going to say I can’t hang around with you?”

  Freddy fully intended to reply, “Yes.” What came out was, “Not yet.”

  “Ducklings,” said Josiah. “Even when you’re trying not to be a duckling, your duckling-like qualities peep out and quack.”

  The sad thing, Freddy thought in exasperation, was that this was the friendliest conversation she’d had all day. Josiah was clearly insane, but he just as clearly knew that and had come to terms with it. It was possible that if she’d never had to go to school again, he would have made a decent friend. “I’ll stop being a duckling if you stop mentioning me loudly in front of crowds of people,” said Freddy.

  “Done,” said Josiah, “but you won’t stop being a duckling. Notice how you’re tamely tagging after me as I walk around the park instead of across it, as you usually do. I don’t want to end up ankle-deep in mud, but you’re just waggling your fluffy little wings and scurrying along in my wake. Trundle along, duckling. We’ll be forced into each other’s company soon enough.” He made shooing motions at her until she stopped in place; then he continued rather primly along the sidewalk. Freddy stood and stared until Josiah rounded the corner, and the spell broke. How’d he know I usually walk across the park? thought Freddy. There didn’t seem much chance of an answer. More slowly than usual, she headed for home.

  4

  The knock on the kitchen door came as Freddy was just crossing the threshold into the hallway. She sighed. Ten seconds more and she would have been safely in her room. Mel would have had to abandon the regular Sunday assault on the Pleasure-Dome of Ixior or wherever and deal with whoever this was. Trying to shut out the yells of Marcus, who had just rolled a two and was not happy about it, Freddy opened the door.

  Josiah was glaring at her out of two black eyes. The searchlight effect was slightly dampened, but only just. “I need to borrow some marbles,” he said.

  Freddy stared at him. Someone in the other room let out a scream of what may have been delight.

  “Marbles,” said Josiah. “You know … little round glass things? I don’t have any.”

  “Why do you need them?” asked Freddy, reasonably enough, she thought.

  “Science,” said Josiah. “It turns out that Ms. Treadwell wasn’t just being sarcastic. I have to do a presentation about rolling marbles down an inclined plane tomorrow.”

  She regarded him thoughtfully. Josiah’s appearance had changed in the past five days. Freddy wasn’t sure what had made the most difference: the ambush behind the school on Wednesday afternoon, the encounter with Keith in the hallway on Thursday, or the incident in PE on Friday. She wasn’t even sure he had got both black eyes at the same time. She hadn’t really had much to do with him at school so far, though sometimes she found herself wondering why. It wasn’t as if she had anyone else to talk to. She hadn’t even eaten with Rochelle and Cathy since Tuesday. Rochelle had been giving her these looks every once in a while, but that was all. Hanging around with an obnoxious new kid who had no social skills was beginning to seem attractive to her.

  “I think there are some in the rec room,” said Freddy at last.

  “I’m breathless with anticipation,” said Josiah.

  He followed her through to the basement stairs, though she hadn’t really invited him in. He acts as if he’s known me for years, she thought, and she blinked. It was something about him that had been gnawing at her since she’d met him, but she hadn’t realised until just now what the problem was. She’d first seen him less than a week ago, but he’d treated her all along as if they were old friends, or … well, maybe not friends. Old acquaintances? She tried to remember if he’d been like that with anybody else, but she couldn’t, possibly because most of the times she’d witnessed him interacting with other people, he’d been insulting somebody or getting beaten up.

  There was a trunk in the rec room that held all the toys Freddy and Mel pretended they didn’t use any more. Freddy had thought Jordan might be downstairs watching TV, but he wasn’t. She vaguely remembered hearing the car pull out of the driveway earlier. Surprise, surprise. She opened the trunk and started tossing around the contents, turning up dolls with missing limbs, half-constructed Lego spaceships, and a baseball bat with what looked like a bite out of it.

  “You have two black eyes,” remarked Freddy, primarily for something to say.

  “If you hadn’t told me, I never would have guessed,” said Josiah.

  Holding up half a plastic train set and shaking it in the hopes that a marble or two might fall out, Freddy said, “Why don’t you just keep your stupid mouth shut?”

  “I can’t.” Josiah’s words were heavy with an aura of gloom that had to have been almost entirely put on. “Your classmates are mindless automatons, and they infuriate me.”

  Freddy didn’t know what an automaton was, but she could guess. “Okay, but you cause chaos everywhere you go.”

  Josiah let out a yelp that made her ears buzz. “What?”

  “Well,” said Freddy, “you do.”

  “I never,” said Josiah. “That’s heinous slander. Find the damn marbles.”

  The damn marbles were, as it turned out, all together in a small net bag, which was inside a larger bag containing a random assortment of rubber balls. Freddy tossed the marbles to Josiah, who evidently couldn’t see out of his eyes well enough to catch them. They slipped through his fingers and landed on his foot. “And now you’re physically assaulting me,” said Josiah. “All I really needed was yet another bruise.”

  Freddy said, “Stop complaining. You’ve got your marbles.”

  “Right,” said Josiah. “I need to borrow an inclined plane.”

  They stared at each other for what was probably quite a long time.

  “I think you’re supposed to make one yourself,” said Freddy when it became clear that Josiah was not going to give in first.

  “Then I need to borrow a small saw, a hammer, some nails, and several pieces of timber,” said Josiah.

  “Isn’t your mum supposed to buy you stuff for science projects?”

  “If you call her my mum again, I’ll bite out both your eyes,” said Josiah. “All I need is something to roll marbles down. It’s not as if I plan on putting any effort into this. Don’t you have any particularly angular dolls in there?”

  Freddy bit her tongue—hard—and rooted through the box until she’d pulled out a sloping plastic piece that belonged to the train set, a wedge of blue Styrofoam she didn’t remember ever seeing before, and the roof of a broken doll’s house.

  “Perfect,” said Josiah. “All three scream ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass about this project, but I’m certainly going to pretend I’m trying.’”

  He picked up everything and dropped the roof on the same foot Freddy had hit with the marbles. “I can carry that one,” said Freddy. The noise from upstairs was becoming unbearable again. An excuse to go next door was not a bad thing.

  “Quack,” said Josiah, but he let her carry the roof.

  They ducked into the living room on the way out. The game was in its usual state of incomprehensibility. As Freddy and Josiah entered the room, Marcus was screaming, “Ooh. Ooh! Twenty! I kill all the monsters forever!” Unlike his friends, Marcus had some hearing. He signed, too, but in Freddy’s experience, he shouted a lot and never listened to or looked at what anybody else was saying. Mel was signing hugely and unsuccessfully at him while Roland was saying, “No, Marcus, a twenty is not a magic bullet in this situation. There are fourteen tentacles,” though he was almost drowned out by Todd’s indignant yell of, “That’s my die! You rolled that twenty with my die! You’ve stolen one of my twenties!” which was very unusual for the normal
ly nonverbal Todd and may have led to the usual midgame fistfight if Roland hadn’t tried to sign something to Mel while simultaneously talking loudly to Marcus, in the process knocking the coffee table over so violently that it narrowly missed taking Mel’s head off. Marcus dissolved into screaming laughter while Mel muttered something about tentacles and boys and how she wished she were revolutionising physics with her friend Clara. Roland tripped over the upended coffee table and sat down hard, scattering dice and scraps of paper. “Weave a circle round him thrice,” Mel intoned, pointing solemnly at Roland. Freddy clenched her teeth. None of this was unusual for a weekend afternoon at her house.

  Eventually, both Mel and Roland turned to look at Freddy, then let their eyes slide to Josiah. The expression on Roland’s face almost brought her up short. He was … what was he? Baffled? Wary? Angry? Well, he was often angry when Freddy was around. But she wasn’t sure he was watching her specifically.

  “Going out.” Freddy turned away from the game so no one but Mel would be able to understand her. “Back eventually.”

  They were halfway across the yard when Mel caught up, puffing like a small locomotive. Freddy said, “What?”

  “We’re on a break.” Mel was making her eyes big and round. “I’m coming along because there are boys everywhere. Oh, those terrible, terrible boys.”

  “She wants to snoop inside our house,” said Josiah without turning around. “I wish there were a pond out back so you two could have a swim while you were over.”

  * * *

  The house on Grosvenor Street was … different now. Freddy and Mel stood in the middle of the living room and stared. There was no way all this stuff had been in the moving van. The van would have had to be about half a block long.

  Chairs were everywhere. It was the first thing Freddy noticed, mainly because it was impossible not to; there were so many chairs that it was difficult to find somewhere to stand. Freddy counted six identical squashy green armchairs, two maroon recliners, seven carved wooden chairs with faded orange cushions, five blue woven chairs, a wicker chair, six folding chairs, and ten stools of various sizes. Four of the folding chairs were perched on top of the grand piano, which was the second thing Freddy noticed. There had not been a grand piano in the van. The six standing lamps and the giant urn with a picture of a flautist and two soppy-looking young people on it seemed to be new as well.