Pumpkin Run

by Mary-Kate Thomas

  With a quick cut of her eyes at me, she turned to my stepmother. “What’s going on? I just got here for practice and we can’t get inside the building.”

  “Some delinquent from Cici’s Saturday detention set a fire and triggered the alarms and sprinklers,” my stepmother said, waving her fingers in the air. “Water and smoke damage, that’s all.” Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “The real news is that I am going to be on Channel 5 tonight.” She paused, then added with a toss of her head and a haughty laugh, “I mean, on Channel 5 again. I was just on last year with the gala, remember? When she saw me here, Vicky Lewis practically cornered me and demanded to interview me.”

  With a sigh, my stepmother reached out to tuck a stray piece of Stacie’s hair behind her ear. “It can be so hard to have a famous face in this town.”

  Stacie nodded while she listened, eyes wide. “Wow! I can’t wait to see it!” Then she looked back over at me, a mean look wrinkling her face. Stacie had my stepmother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but didn’t share any other similarities. Where my stepmother’s features were balanced and delicate, Stacie’s were just a little off: eyes a little too close together; nose a little too long; ears a little too big.

  With a sneer, Stacie poked me in the shoulder. “So which one of your new loser friends set the fire?” She laughed, and a boy who was walking up from the track, sweaty and red-faced, turned to look.

  With a sinking feeling, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the rest of the cross-country team moving our way. Practice was over.

  “I don’t know who did it, Stacie,” I said, my eyes scanning the faces coming up toward the school until I found Deke’s. Stacie followed my gaze.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute... you’re not crushing on the hot new guy, are you?” I kept my face blank, but it was too late. “Oh my gosh, you loser, you are.” Laughing, Stacie poked me again in the shoulder and my stepmother leaned closer.

  “New guy?” she whispered to Stacie. “Who?”

  Stacie pointed to Coach Z at the back of the group. Deke was trailing the rest of the runners, talking to Coach Z as the two of them carried up the team water cooler. “That one,” Stacie whispered back. “His name’s Deke Encantador. He’s from some other country, I can’t remember the name.”

  “Encantador, Encantador,” my stepmother repeated softly to herself, fingernails tapping her pouting lips as she paused, thinking. Her eyes widened slightly, and she murmured to herself. “So that’s him.“

  Whirling, my stepmother faced Stacie. Her eyes were gleaming. “And why is this the first time I’m hearing about your interesting new classmate?” my stepmother asked. Before Stacie could answer, Coach Z and Deke walked closer, and my stepmother waved to both of them, smiling brightly. Deke looked over at us, his face puzzled as his eyes lit on our group, then lingered on me for a second. I Iooked away, not wanting to give Stacie any more ammo she could use against me.

  My eyes down, I risked a quick glance up at Deke as he walked past. He wasn’t looking at me anymore and my heart sank. His face was blank as he said nothing, but gave my stepmother a polite smile in reply. Coach Z simply stared for a moment, then nodded at my stepmother as he and Deke hauled the cooler up the slope toward school.

  “Well, well, well,” said my stepmother, her voice breathless with barely suppressed excitement. She turned to Stacie. “Tell me, do you have any classes with Deke? Does Drew?”

  “He’s in my art class,” Stacie said, “And maybe one of Drew’s classes. Why?”

  Wrapping an arm around Stacie’s shoulders, my stepmother pulled her forward, talking quickly in her ear as they walked away from me toward the parking lot.

  “You know, the Harvest Ball is coming up. You and Drew both need to start thinking about what lucky boys will get to be your dates. I’ve heard some interesting things about this Encantador boy...,” My stepmother’s voice trailed off as she and Stacie walked out of earshot.

  Watching them go, I looked up and saw Mr. Walinksi near the front of the building, carrying his briefcase in one hand and holding a sheet of paper in his other. I hurried up the slope and across the front drive, catching up to him on the sidewalk.

  “Mr. Walinski!” I called, and he turned, squinting slightly over the tops of his glasses at me.

  “Oh, yes, Cecelia,” he said, glancing down at the paper. “You are the last one I needed to account for.” Putting his briefcase down, he pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to me along with the piece of paper. “Please sign out for the day. Given the circumstances, Saturday detention has been cut short for the day. Lucky you,” he added, as I handed the pen and paper back.

  “Enjoy the rest of your Saturday, Cecelia,” he said, picking up his briefcase. “Don’t be late next week.”

  As he shuffled off to his car, I headed down the sidewalk along the driveway into school, my damp backpack thumping against my ribs. My stepmother and Stacie had disappeared while I was talking to Walinski; even if I spotted them, I didn’t think I could stomach asking either of them for a ride home. Stacie would only give me a ride because it would give her another opportunity to torment me; my stepmother would just spend the ten minutes giving me a list of extra chores to do.

  I had just reached the end of the drive where the stop sign for the turn onto Main Street loomed, flashing lights blinking around the edge of the red octagon, when I heard Deke call my name.

  “Cici!” Wait up!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Part of me wanted to just turn away and keep walking, but I stopped. Deke had already seen me, and to be honest, a bigger part of me wanted to talk to him again.

  Trotting, he caught up to me. He was still in his practice shorts, but he’d swapped out his spikes for running shoes and had pulled a hoodie on over his t-shirt. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he smiled as he came to a stop.

  “That was crazy today,” Deke said, his thumb pointing back toward school. Cars were still streaming out of the parking lot and down the entrance road, all of them slowing as they reached the stop sign at the corner where we stood on the sidewalk. Drivers and passengers peered out their windows at us. My eyes scanned the line of cars, looking for my stepmother’s and Stacie’s.

  “Does this kind of stuff happen alot here?” Deke asked.

  I looked over at him, my voice nervous as I answered. “No, never.” Back at the end of the line of cars, I spotted Stacie’s little white convertible flashing in the sun. Squeezing the straps of my backpack, I started walking fast, heading right on Main Street, Deke walking side-by-side with me.

  “Are you ok?” he asked, matching his pace to mine. “You were inside when it happened, right?” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, saw you talking to the news about it. With your mom.”

  “She’s not my mom,” I said. I walked faster and Deke stretched his legs to keep up.

  “Oh, I, uh, I just thought... I didn’t know,” he said, his voice trailing off. We walked in silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. “So, is she your stepmom?”

  I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to talk; I was afraid if I started talking, I might tell him everything - from my dad marrying her to my dad dying and my new and horrible life as the orphaned stepdaughter. Cars zoomed past us going south on Main street, but we were hidden from their view, under the deep shade of the canopy of old maple trees that lined the streets. Some of the tension drained from my body and I slowed down, breathing easier.

  “Cici,” Deke said, stopping. “Look,” he said, pausing as he reached out a hand and gently touched my arm. “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing just now. I was just hoping we could walk, maybe talk a bit?” His face was open, eyes earnest as I met his gaze. Every nerve in my arm tingled as he dropped his hand away, his fingertips brushing against my skin.

  “Talk about what?” I heard myself ask as I watched Main Street for Stacie or my stepmother.

  “Well,” he started, fumbling for words. “I mean, I know you’re not doing cross-country right
now, but are you still going to do the Pumpkin Run? Sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll be there,” I finally said. “Just walking, though.”

  “Great!” Deke said, “I mean, that stinks that you can’t run, but I’m glad you’ll be there.”

  I started walking again and Deke fell into stride next to me.

  “So... um, you want to grab a bite to eat or something?”

  YES! I screamed inside my head, but who was I kidding? I had to face reality: as long as my stepmother controlled my life, there was no way I had a chance with Deke. She would happily find a way to ruin everything. And Drew and Stacie would just as happily help her.

  Without looking up, I swallowed hard, and forced myself to shake my head no.

  “Oh, right, you probably already have plans,” Deke said in a rush, and I just nodded, looking down at my blue Chucks. Tears pushed at the corners of my eyes, but I bit the inside of my cheek to keep them from spilling over.

  Next to me, Deke cleared his throat and stopped as we reached the next intersection. “I, just remembered, I uh, promised my mom I’d get home to cut the grass after practice. See you later.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned and trotted back in the direction of school.

  I watched him go through blurry eyes as my tears finally came, then turned and crossed the street. It’s better this way, I told myself, trying to forget the hurt look in his eyes.

  It didn’t feel better. It hurt. I pushed myself to walk faster, fighting the urge to run after him and tell him I wasn’t busy, to ask him if he still wanted to get a bite to eat.

  Even if he does really like you, it doesn’t matter, I thought. Your stepmother will never let you be happy or normal or free. She’d ruin it, just like she’s ruined everything good in your life. And she’d never sit back and let the hot new guy date her stepdaughter, not if she could maneuver him into taking out either Stacie or Drew.

  And that was bound to happen, I realized, thinking of her and Stacie and their whispered plotting. My heart felt like a lead weight in my chest and I walked the rest of the way home, sniffling back the tears that brimmed and spilled without warning. Trying to focus on what I did have left to look forward to, I did the math again, repeating over and over the number of days left until I could leave Castlewood behind forever.

  But no matter how many times I repeated it, how many ways I divided it - into weeks or months or seasons - it sounded like an eternity.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next few weeks slid by in a blur. My shoulders ached constantly from carrying all my books with me just so I didn’t have to use my locker. I discovered corners in the school where I could hide away during lunch and eat my soggy sandwich; I tried to hug the walls in the hallway between classes, eyes down, hurrying from one room to the next. Avoiding Deke at all costs was the only solution I had to try to keep myself from thinking about him.

  I hadn’t been able to avoid Emma, though, but it didn’t matter since she pointedly ignored me the few times we’d seen each other in the hall or the girls’ bathroom.

  Luckily for me, both Stacie and Drew had book reports and science projects due, so I was extra busy with my three sets of homework every night after I’d finished my daily housemaid duties. I reported for the next two Saturday detentions, only to be sent by Walinksi to what was left of the media center where Coach Z waited. The water damage turned out to be a blessing in disguise for me; nearly all of the books in the media center were ruined, and I only had to sort out the storage rooms, one each Saturday.

  When the final Saturday detention rolled around on the first weekend of October, I woke up late, exhausted from the grind of so many long days, one after the other. I’d finally fixed the tires on my bike again, so I sped up to school, sliding into the desk in the front row of Walinski’s classroom with just a minute to spare. He looked pointedly at the clock before fixing me with a dull stare, then cleared his throat.

  “I have a few announcements. Today is our last Saturday together for most of you.” He looked at me again before looking past me. “I should stress most of you. There are a few special students who will be spending the majority of their Saturdays with me for the near future.”

  He stopped, staring at the back corner where a few of the other kids were whispering and laughing. Walinski shook his head. He flipped through his papers and sighed again. “Another announcement. Castlewood High Academic Team will be offering tutoring help to anyone in need of help in any of their core subjects. Please see the sign up in the main office.”

  Shuffling his papers once more, he laid them down on the podium. “Last, as a well-intentioned attempt to steer some of you in a better direction, the Academic Team will be sending a volunteer in today to speak on -”

  Here he stopped, rifling through the papers once more. “Ah, there it is,” Walinski muttered to himself, then louder, “To speak to you on the topic of ‘The Power of Positive Choices for Teens.’”

  As the back corner of the room broke out into laughter and snorting, he sighed again and glared over the top of his glasses until there was silence. “I would remind all of you that the student code of conduct as well as the simple concept of basic human decency demands that you politely listen to our speaker today and give her your full attention without interruption. Am I clear?”

  “Sure.” “Ok.” Voices muttered from the back of the room. Walinski stepped toward the door but stopped when he saw my raised hand.

  “Mr. Walinski - “ I started to ask, but he shook his head.

  “You are required to stay, too, Cecelia. You’ll just have to suffer through it like the rest of us.”

  I sighed and sank back against my chair. I didn’t know who was on the Academic Team, but I recognized the girl who walked into the room, a smile pasted to her face: Bronwyn Clancy. She was in my science class last year. I wasn’t surprised to learn she was part of the Academic Team; our teacher had nicknamed her, “The Curvebuster,” and she’d never looked nervous before a test. Today, though, she looked like she was about to throw up.

  “Good morning!” Her voice was chipper and the smile on her face stayed put even as the back corner snorted and laughed in reply. She walked up to the podium and nodded to Walinski. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time today.”

  Walinski looked up from his newspaper and stared at her, his glasses slipping down his nose “My time today is scheduled for glorified babysitting, not instruction, Bronwyn. You may take all the minutes you need.”

  “Ok, um...well I’ll just get started then,” Bronwyn said, blinking once before turning to the podium. “Well, anyways, thanks for having me. If you don’t know me, I’m Bronwyn Clancy. I’m a junior here at Castlewood,” she nodded at me, a puzzled look on her face. I sank down even lower in my chair. “And I recognize a few of you here today in Saturday detention.”

  More guffaws floated up from the back corner, with a whispered, “No, you do it!”

  “Gentlemen!” Walinksi said, his voice booming from where he sat bent over his desk, eyes scanning the newspaper. “Be quiet. NOW.” He peered up at them, raising a file folder. “Or I will sign you up for Saturday detention until winter break. Do I make myself clear?”

  A chorus of mumbled yeses followed and Walinski looked up at Bronwyn who looked a few shades paler under her smile. “Continue, Ms. Clancy.”

  “Um, yeah, ok, so,” Bronwyn stammered, visibly shaken, her fingers gripping the sides of the podium. “Well, I’m here as a student volunteer for the Castlewood High Redirection Project. Basically, I want to share with all of you ways you could get involved in the school or the community instead of, um, well...” Her voice trailed off and her smile slipped.

  A chair scraped in the back and I saw Bronwyn’s eyes open wide. I glanced over my shoulder and saw one of the boys sitting up straight, waving his hand in the air.

  “Um - yes?” Bronwyn said, pointing at him. Her voice was shaky.

  “Instead of being
juvenile delinquents, right?” he asked.

  Laughter broke out but quickly died down when Walkinski held up the folder and said, “Final warning.”

  “Um, well, I guess... I mean, not really... um,” Bronwyn stammered again, her eyes casting between me and Walinski who hadn’t lifted his head from his paper. His shoulders heaved with another audible sigh. Bronwyn caught my eyes again, hers panicked. I nodded, giving her a tiny thumbs up. As smart as she was, she’d been quiet in class; this was the most I’d ever heard her talk.

  “So, as I was saying, there are lots of ways to get involved here at Castlewood High, from things you might already know about, like sports and drama to other clubs and teams that you might not know about, like the Disc Golf club or the Cooking club, or the one I’m a part of, the Academic Team.” Her smile was faltering. She took a deep breath and finished.

  “There’s really something for everyone here at Castlewood High and if you want to do something outside of school, there’s a lot of different ways and places where you can volunteer in the community, too. Which is nice, because sometimes those volunteer positions lead to real jobs.”

  Bronwyn gathered her index cards and clutched them in her hands. Her voice took on a fevered pace as she rushed through to the end of her speech. “If you’re interested in finding out more, you can ask me or any of the other student volunteers in the Castlewood High Redirection Project any questions. One of us is in the main office every day before school starts and we would really like to help you connect to a student group that interests you.”

  Stepping away from the podium, she nodded at Walinski. “Thank you again,” she said, then nodded at me before turning on her heel and grabbing the doorknob. She practically jumped into the hallway, the door slamming behind her.