Grim Hill: The Secret Deepens

by Linda DeMeulemeester

  “Cat, I don’t know you all that well, but I’m surprised by your utterly poor sportsmanship. Get out on that field and shake hands with the winning team.”

  Her anger shocked me, but I was more shocked at myself. She was right. I had my dignity, and that meant that even though I lost for the girls’ team, I had to hold my head up and shake the guys’ hands. Hurrying to get it over with, I dashed to the field and held out my hand.

  “You played impressively through the whole game,” Jasper said. “It wasn’t your fault Mitch squirted Clive in the face with a water bottle, just when you were about to kick the ball.” Jasper gripped my hand and gave it a firm shake. What he described wasn’t what I’d seen. I thought Clive had sabotaged me.

  “Good game,” Zach said to me, as if he was reciting the periodic table in science class. But then he stopped and said, “Really, you’re a great player. The girls’ team was awesome.”

  That was generous. I blinked hard to stop my eyes from stinging. Even Mitch, who was trying to trip some of the guys ahead of us, managed a brief smile and a sincere, “Good game.”

  When it was Clive’s turn, my heart sank to my soccer boots as he swaggered toward me. “What did I tell you,” he said. “You are …”

  What – not as good as boys? I lost it.

  Seriously.

  Instead of shaking his hand, I stuck my tongue out and quickly turned away. He looked surprised, but he just shrugged. There was a shrill blast of the whistle to get our attention. Mr. Morrows and Ms. Dreeble stood in the middle of the soccer field.

  “It has come to my attention that there was some kind of contest between the boys and girls over this match – something about the intramurals,” announced Mr. Morrows in his loud teacher-voice. “I don’t know who came up with that ridiculous idea.”

  A bunch of kids began to talk all at once. Fortunately, there was such a rumpus that the teachers probably didn’t hear my name repeated the most. Meanwhile, I tried to make myself invisible by ducking behind the goal net.

  “The students don’t decide who is eligible for the soccer intramurals. The teaching staff at Darkmont makes that decision. I need you all to listen!” Our history teacher bellowed over the clamor.

  A hush finally fell over the boys’ and girls’ teams.

  “Both soccer teams are outstanding. Both teams will be going to the intramurals,” Ms. Dreeble announced.

  There was a roar of cheers and shouts, and parents on the benches clapped. My spirits lifted higher, as if I had actually scored that last goal – well almost. We could all play soccer, and those boys had better watch out, because the girls’ team would bring back the intramural cup. We would kick their …

  “How can Darkmont afford to sponsor both teams?” a voice rang out from the crowd – a voice that made me flinch. It was Clive, of course.

  “Well,” Mr. Morrows cleared his throat. “That will be a challenge.”

  The boys began to mumble.

  “However,” said Ms. Dreeble. “We are currently looking into fundraising options. We’ll keep you posted.”

  Then a few parents began to murmur. But it didn’t matter – the girls were going to the intramurals! I floated off the field.

  “Caitlin Peters,” a cold voice summoned.

  There was that full version of my name again. Slowly, I turned. Ms. Dreeble stood in front of me with her arms crossed and a frown that managed to include her mouth, her eyes, and even her eyeglasses. I gulped.

  “I saw you stick out your tongue at Clive. We cannot have a team captain who is also a poor sport,” Ms. Dreeble scolded. “I’ve asked Emily to remain as team captain, and in light of her having less time for those duties, I’ve decided you will assist her.”

  “In what way?” I managed to utter. It felt as if a soccer ball had just hit me in the stomach.

  Ms. Dreeble adjusted her glasses on her nose and tightened the elastic on her blond ponytail. “Your duties will be to arrive early for every game and set up the soccer nets. You will also stay late for every game, take down the net, and gather all the balls. You will do this for the boys’ team as well. Be prepared to do this Monday through Thursday. And on Friday, you will be responsible for gathering the soccer jerseys, laundering them, and returning them to school neatly pressed for Monday morning.”

  What? Although I simply nodded, my ears rang from all the screaming inside my head of how unfair this was.

  “And for the future, the slightest display of poor sportsmanship will result in you being benched.” Ms. Dreeble leaned toward me. “Have I made myself clear?”

  Clear as a frozen night where the stars and moon glared cold and cruel. “Yes.” I nodded again, this time because my voice sounded all crumpled.

  Then Ms. Dreeble spun around on her gleaming white sneakers and strode away without looking back at me once. A low whistle sounded behind me. I turned. Clive had heard the whole thing. I stormed away before he could say a word.

  I’d learned my lesson. There was something about Clive that destroyed my judgment. It was for the best if I stayed away from him completely.

  For the next week, I worked extra hard. This improved my relationship with Ms. Dreeble somewhat; she grudgingly acknowledged I’d showed up every day before and after school to take care of the nets. Also, Monday morning the soccer jerseys arrived clean and pressed. That week I played the best soccer ever, and even Ms. Dreeble was forced to comment on my skills. For bonus points, I handed all my science homework in early. I figured it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe Ms. Dreeble would be so happy with my perfect behavior, she would relent and allow me to take my rightful place as team captain. I had to hang on to that hope.

  Yes, I was turning things around.

  If only there hadn’t been a new competition starting, I could have stayed away from Clive.

  … and a world of trouble!

  CHAPTER 12 The Magic Darkens

  “WE’VE ORGANIZED A fundraiser for the intramurals, and I’d like you to help, Cat.”

  Ms. Dreeble was the first one to mention Sookie’s school and its winterfest pageant. She had figured out even more work I could do on behalf of our soccer program.

  I nodded wearily, as it had been a long day beginning with an extra-early morning because I’d left washing the soccer jerseys until the last minute. That was followed by net setup, a load of schoolwork, and soccer practice after school. Now I was stuffing the last soccer ball into the gym utility closet.

  “What would you like me to do?” I asked Ms. Dreeble as politely as I could.

  “I need you to pitch in and help out with the Drearden talent show.”

  “Drearden’s what?” I asked.

  “Drearden Elementary School is having a pageant on December 19th, the day before winter break. Instead of the usual holiday sing, the school is inviting the elementary school children to hold a talent contest.”

  Why is this supposed to include me, I thought, but I didn’t ask. Not that I needed to ask, because Ms. Dreeble happily ticked off her expectations on her fingers.

  “One – our soccer teams will help out by selling tickets, and two – the show will be held in our gym because we have the biggest stage. Three – we’ll set up the concert chairs, four we’ll provide refreshments and we’ll sell baked goods. Five …” a satisfied smile spread across Ms. Dreeble’s face as she ticked off the last point on her pinky finger, “the elementary school will split all the proceeds with us in exchange.”

  I guess she thought this was an easy way to raise money for the intramural costs without bothering our parents. Every kid knows parents love school concerts.

  “So I can count on you, Cat, for supervising ticket sales, the bake sale, and the setup and take down of equipment.”

  Ms. Dreeble hadn’t exactly asked; she simply assumed. She didn’t even wait for my answer as she raced back to her classroom. I finished tucking the last soccer ball on the shelf and gathered up my coat, scarf, and gloves – after the soccer match, the weather turned cold aga
in. As I stepped carefully along the ice-covered sidewalks and crunched through a field of frozen grass, I grimly wondered how to squeeze these new talent show duties into my already-tight schedule. Plus, I’d have to hang around the whole evening of the talent show and watch a boring contest, which I was sure would be pretty sad. I could already picture the clunky tap dancing and screeching instruments. With a shudder, I slowly climbed the steps to my front porch, opened the door, and walked into the heat.

  Sookie squealed a quick hello while she danced up and down in the living room, unable to contain her glee. “Do you know what, Cat?” Her face dimpled and her eyes widened with excitement.

  “Let me guess,” I said with a less than enthusiastic sigh. “Your magic act is going public. The Queen of Mystery is about to gain a bigger audience.”

  Sookie gasped in surprise. “How do you know?”

  “You’re looking at your roadie,” I sighed again.

  “What does that mean?”

  “A roadie is a person who does all the grunt work, setting up and taking down equipment for an event.” I did a little bow. “That will be me, the force behind the Drearden talent contest.”

  Sookie said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Cat. That doesn’t sound very fun.”

  “Hey, it’s probably for the best.” I slumped in the wingback chair. I’d started getting into the idea that my sister could probably win the talent contest. All the kids loved her magic act. And I could help her. I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as being her new assistant or anything, but I could help her set up and learn new tricks.

  “I’ll do extra work for your magic act, Sookie. You’re the talented one in the family. This will be your time to shine.”

  “You’re talented,” argued Sookie.

  “Are you kidding?” I laughed. “Except for playing soccer, I can’t dance, or sing, or paint, or even hold a poem in my head for more than one minute. Like I said, you’re the talented one.” The phone rang at that moment. Sookie usually raced to answer it, but now she didn’t budge.

  “Cat,” she said earnestly, “don’t you understand you have a very special talent?”

  “And that would be … ” I was feeling less like joking now. I had a ton of homework, and I wanted to do well in my ongoing campaign to convince Ms. Dreeble I had reformed and was now truly a good sport – and an aspiring good student.

  “Sookie,” Mom called from the kitchen. “It’s Skeeter.”

  That was too much temptation for Sookie. She ran off to answer the phone. Mom wandered into the living room,

  asking how my day was.

  “Great,” I said, like always.

  A tiny frown tugged the corners of her mouth. “These days, Cat, you never have much to tell me. You know I’m interested in what’s going on in your life.”

  I understood she wanted more detail. But what could I say? Well, Mom, in addition to working off the biggest detention I’ve ever had, my teacher has found a new way to torture me with additional work. I’ll never get to be captain of my soccer team, or be as popular as I was in my old town. Oh, and if I mess up once, I may not be able to play in the intramurals.

  Instead I said, “Really great.”

  Mom shook her head. She looked as if she was about to say something else, but just then our furnace let out a little burp, then a chug, and then a loud bang, as if someone had lit a firecracker in the basement. The curtains that had been fluttering steadily with the blow of constant heat suddenly wilted. Immediately a chilling draft swept across the room.

  “Oh no.” Mom’s face crumpled. “Our furnace can’t give out now – not in this freezing cold weather.”

  She didn’t know it, but at night when I came downstairs for a glass of water, I could see her hunched over her desk, fretting over the bills. Last week she’d muttered out loud over our gas bill being “twice as high” as she’d expected because of the “bizarre winter weather.” I knew there was no way we could afford furnace repairs on top of everything else.

  “Grab a flashlight, Cat.” Mom rushed toward the furnace room, which was in the cellar.

  I reminded myself that I’m not afraid of the dark. But I’m not a big fan of it, or of damp, creepy places underground

  where spiders, or mice, or nasty secret things lurked – especially since I’d had to go down a stone staircase once – deep underground. I’d seen things then that still haunted my dreams. Dark, damp, and creepy – that was basically our cellar. I dug the flashlight out of the closet and followed my mom down the rickety stairs under the back porch. I should have put my jacket on, or at least my scarf, as the cold wind stabbed through my shirt and made my ears ache.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Mom pulled the chain on the lightbulb that dangled from the ceiling. With a click of the chain, the inky black faded to the corners of the cellar, and a weak yellow light beamed down. I aimed the flashlight at the far wall, and Mom got to work, checking the pilot light.

  “Cat, I need you to aim the flashlight right here below the furnace. I have to re-light the pilot. A draft must have blown it out.”

  While we were down there, I used the flashlight to check out the heating ducts. I remembered that I had thought Sookie and Skeeter had shoved things down the heat register when the audience wasn’t looking and I was sure that’s how they made things disappear. But there were no signs of broken egg shell or a coin. Still there had to be a logical explanation for why my sister was so good at making things disappear – right?

  “Cat, I need the light over here.”

  I directed the flashlight while Mom relit the furnace. With a big gush of air, the furnace suddenly began to chug away, and Mom’s relief was clear, even in the dim shadows of the cellar. But I thought the furnace still didn’t sound very healthy.

  When Mom and I got back to the kitchen, Sookie was crying at the table.

  “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Buddy?” I asked.

  “No, he’s still hibernating.” Sookie sniffed. “I’m upset because Skeeter just phoned to tell me he can’t be my assistant anymore.”

  “Oh? Why not?” asked Mom in the cheery voice she often used to calm things down.

  “Because he says he has to be in a rock band for Drearden’s talent contest. His brother is making him play with sixth-and seventh-graders who have a really cool band. Clive told them Skeeter was a great guitar player.”

  Everyone who watches TV knows that rock groups always win the talent contest. Plus, for the first time, I considered that Sookie’s magic act required close-up attention from her audience. In a small room my sister made it look as if objects were disappearing. It was hard to see how Sookie would manage that kind of trick with an adult audience sitting farther away from a big stage. And she used such tiny props like eggs and coins; no one would see that. Besides, it would be especially difficult for her quiet act to compete with a rock band.

  It was one thing for Clive to ruin my success. There was no way I could let him wreck Sookie’s time to shine. My sister was going to win the Drearden contest.

  I was going to help any way I could.

  CHAPTER 13 Conjuring Trouble

  SOOKIE WAS GOING to have to pull off an amazing illusion for the talent show. I went to the computer and Googled “Magic Tricks for Kids” and printed off a bunch of pages.

  “Check this out,” I said with enthusiasm as I handed her the sheets. Sookie shuffled through the paper, but she didn’t seem as excited as I was.

  “Are you ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work?” I encouraged her. Funny, it was much easier to be an overachiever on my sister’s behalf.

  “Cat, I already have an idea for a great trick.”

  So Sookie didn’t need my help. Maybe that was for the best because some of the tricks I’d printed out looked kind of difficult. I had no idea how my sister, who was just a little kid, managed to pull off her illusions. Clearly magic wasn’t my talent. But I felt I knew what it took to win, so I gave her advice anyway.

  “Make sure it’s
a mind-blowing trick. It’s got to look good in front of a large audience. A disappearing egg won’t cut it this time. You have to go for a big illusion that will show up well on a stage.”

  “My idea will be impressive, Cat. It’s just that – ”

  “Don’t get discouraged – you can do it.” I tried saying what Mom might tell her.

  Then getting completely off topic, Sookie said, “It’s

  a really bad winter. Buddy will have to keep hibernating, won’t he?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, wanting to get back to coaching Sookie’s magic act so she’d blast Clive’s – I mean, Skeeter’s – rock group off the stage. “Sure, that makes sense he’ll sleep through all this cold weather.” “That’s the only reason he’s still asleep, right, Cat?” Why was Sookie suddenly concerned about Buddy again? We’d kept a close watch on her hamster. He didn’t wake up, but he wasn’t getting worse. I thought she’d accepted his condition.

  “Yes. He’s hibernating.” I said this firmly so my sister would get back on track. There’s no winning without completely focusing on the goal.

  Sookie let her breath out between her teeth, almost hissing like a cat. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Do what? What trick are you going to do?”

  “Conjuring,” Sookie said with a sly smile.

  “Conjuring what?”

  “That’s a magician’s secret.” My sister wouldn’t say another word to me.

  Instead, she called up a few of her classmates and asked if they were interested in auditioning to be her new assistant. Sookie wasn’t about to pine for Skeeter, although she clearly missed him. All the kids she phoned were excited about trying out for the assistant’s position.