Going Under (15 page)

Bullshit. Those pictures I saw told
otherwise, unless she was really good at faking it, and Lucy didn’t
come across as the type of girl who was good at faking anything.
That’s why I liked her.

“The Liberty was my specialty, though,” she
said. “I know you said you were good at basket tosses and not so
much the Liberty.” She thought for a moment then whispered, “I was
good at the Liberty.”

I saw the pain and anger deep within her
eyes, a hurt that’s only felt by someone who’s suffered a major
indignity. And I’m not talking about being called a nasty name or
having a rumor spread about you. I’m not talking about getting your
feelings hurt because someone or something didn’t live up to your
expectations. I’m talking about the kind of indignity that changes
you as a person, makes you withdraw, hide from the world because
suddenly it’s turned into something frightening—full of dark
corners and monsters.

“Wanna hang out after school?” I asked. “I
don’t have to work.”

Lucy looked at me confused.

“You know. Come to my house. Watch some TV
or whatever,” I said. I wish I wouldn’t have added the “whatever”
at the end. It made me sound indecisive, and I was not an
indecisive person.

“I guess,” she said, uncertain.

“It won’t be too bad,” I said, and winked at
her. She giggled.

“Sounds fun,” Lucy said, and the hurt
vanished from her eyes instantly.

***

I wanted so much to invade Lucy’s privacy. I
needed to know about Cal. I needed to know if she wished to do
anything about him or bury her pain for good. But Gretchen showed
up unannounced, so all of my well-planned questions had to
wait.

“I’m totally loving your name,” Gretchen
said to Lucy. “It’s adorable.”

Lucy shrugged. “I hate it, actually.
Everyone calls me the Narnia girl. It’s so stupid.”

“Whatever,” Gretchen said. “She was
adorable, too.”

“How do you know Brooke?” Lucy asked.

“Oh, she used to go to my high school,”
Gretchen said, and I shifted uncomfortably on my bed. I wasn’t sure
how much I wanted Lucy to know.

“Really?” Lucy asked, directing the question
to me.

I nodded.

“So why do you go to Charity Run?” Lucy
asked.

“My mom moved to California. It was either
go live in San Francisco or move in with my dad,” I said.

“Well, you may have made the right choice.
You’re kind of a hit with some boys at school,” Lucy said. “At
least that’s what I heard.”

“Hold up,” Gretchen said. “What’s this all
about?”

Lucy grinned. “There are some boys at school
who like Brooke. And they’re the nice ones.”

“What do you mean?” I jumped on that
comment.

“Just that not all the boys at school are
nice. But the ones I heard who like you are,” Lucy clarified.

“What boys aren’t nice?” I asked. I knew I
sounded too aggressive, and tried to ease up a bit. “I mean, so I
can stay away from them.”

Lucy thought for a moment. “Well, Cal for
one. You shouldn’t be hanging out with him. You shouldn’t even talk
to him, Brooke.”

Alarm bells were going off in my brain.
“Don’t blow it! Don’t blow it!”
they screamed, and I tried
to draw it out of her gently. I wished Gretchen weren’t here, but I
couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“Cal seems harmless to me,” I said. I
watched Lucy’s face carefully.

“Yeah, he seems like a lot of things. Good
student. Good guy,” she said. And then she stared off in the
direction of my closet.

Gretchen looked at me as if to say, “What’s
wrong with her?” and I shook my head.

I tried for lightness. “Lucy, anything you
wanna tell me about Cal?”

Lucy continued staring at the closet
door.

“Lucy?”

No response.

“Lucy!”

She jerked her head and looked at me.
“Huh?”

“I said is there anything you want to tell
me about Cal.”

Her stare penetrated me.

“Yeah. Stay away from him.”

***

I stood near the concession stand surveying
the home team’s bleachers. The wind whipped my hair about and
caused my eyes to tear up, making it difficult to spot him. I
wasn’t even sure he’d be at the game, but I assumed popular
students didn’t miss Homecoming.

Homecoming. Packed bleachers. Wild fans.
Some painted. Black and red and white all over the place. We were
the Crusaders. Don’t ask how a public high school could get away
with that mascot considering the whole separation of church and
state thing. But no one seemed to have a problem with it,
evidently, because our mascot came tearing down the field before
the game, plastic sword in one hand, plastic shield in the other,
screaming about righteous retribution with a large red cross
slapped on his chest. It happened every game. Every year. I watched
him circle the field now, thinking absurdly that I fit right into
this school, though I had no plans to take out my righteous
retribution on the football players. I was more interested in the
swim team and exposing their secret sex club.

I knew it’d be difficult to spot Cal amidst
the fans. Football in the South was a pretty big deal. Everyone was
here, even people like me who could care less about the game.
Something about tradition draws even the most reluctant observers,
and I suspected that if they didn’t attend the game, they’d watch
it on the local TV channel.

My eyes moved up and down the bleachers
methodically until I found him. He was sitting with a group of
friends, Parker among them, and I almost squealed at my good
fortune. Not because Parker was there, but because there was an
empty seat a few spaces down from them, and if I moved now, it
could be mine.

I climbed the bleachers and started in on
their row. My plan was to fake trip into Cal, landing in his lap.
It was time to get my hands dirty. It was time to touch him and see
how he reacted. I figured I could seal my fate with a little bit of
clumsiness and good girl charm.

Things didn’t go quite according to plan,
however. As I made my way past Parker, I felt a foot shoot out,
catching my ankle, and sending me head first into Cal’s lap. I
grabbed his thighs on instinct, smacking my head against his
crotch. My right knee hit the metal bleachers with a smart crunch,
and I cried out in pain. Not the way I wanted to trip. I wanted to
be cute about it. This was awkward and embarrassing.

“Wow, you okay?” Cal asked, stifling a
laugh. He helped me off his lap, holding my hand until I was safely
sitting in the space beside him.

I rubbed my forehead. “I didn’t realize how
rough jeans fabric was.”

“Here, let me look,” Cal said, and pushed my
hand away from my face. He brushed my hair aside and studied my
forehead. “It’s a little red, but I think you’ll live.”

“Great,” I mumbled.

“That’s the second time I’ve watched you
smack your face, Brooke,” Cal said. “Better be careful. Don’t wanna
mess up all that pretty you got going on.”

I chuckled.

“Is your knee okay?” he asked, noticing me
rubbing it.

“I think so,” I replied, and leaned forward
to look down the row at Parker.

He smiled at me, a smug smile that ignited a
holy fire. Fitting, I thought, and wished I were the Crusader but
with real armor and a real sword. What would I do with the sword?
Simple. Run it through Parker. Or if I was feeling especially
generous, maybe just give him a few lacerations here and there. I
sat back and shook my head. What was it about these boys that made
me so violent?

“You here alone?” Cal asked.

“Yeah. I’m new, remember?” I said
lightly.

“Yeah, but it’s, like, the middle of
October. You haven’t made any friends yet?” Cal asked.

I hated the way he talked to me. There was
always an underlying note of accusation in his words. Just like
when he asked me months before if I had a medical condition. My
fault I fainted. My fault I had no friends.

Apparently he had forgotten that I
did
have friends, that I drove them home after Tanner’s
party months ago. I played to his forgetfulness.

“It’s hard making friends when you’re a
senior and you’re new,” I said.

Cal shrugged. “Didn’t come with your
dad?”

So he remembered my dad. Interesting.
Perhaps I made a bigger impression on him at registration than I
originally thought. I had an idea.

“He works a lot, which leaves me alone a
lot. I’m not that close to him.” I made it sound just the slightest
bit pitiful. I thought it couldn’t hurt to give the impression that
I was a lonely girl with no real connections to anyone. Maybe that
would make me a more attractive target. He could violate me
thinking I’d have no one to run to afterwards.

He slipped his arm around my waist, and I
jumped. His confidence unnerved me. Why did he think he had
permission to touch me so casually?

“Well, I’ll be your friend, Brooke,” he
said, pulling me into him. “Everyone should have at least one
friend.”

“You’re very generous,” I said, trying to
hide the sarcasm, but he heard.

“I’m not trying to be funny,” he replied. “I
really want to be your friend.”

His words, his demeanor—the whole thing felt
weird. Suddenly I wanted to be home with my dad, watching bad TV
and talking with him about his nonexistent love life.

“Okay” was the only thing I could think to
say. “So who are your friends here?”

Cal looked over at the boys sitting in a
long line taking up most of the row.

“Well, you know Parker down there. And
that’s Mike, Tim, Hunter, and this here is Aaron,” Cal said,
pointing to the boy sitting beside him.

“Hi,” I said, addressing Aaron.

“What’s up?”

“Are you all on the swim team together?” I
asked.

“Yeah,” Aaron replied. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, I just took a guess. I know Cal swims.
And Parker, too,” I said.

“None as good as me, though,” Aaron said,
and Cal shook his head.

“Whatever, man.”

We fell into an easy conversation, Aaron
jabbering for most of it. He didn’t seem like a predator, but then
there was a lot about Cal that suggested he wasn’t. I realized I
needed to look at evil in an entirely different light. Most bad
guys weren’t walking around with eyes bugged out. Most bad guys
didn’t come across freaky and frightening, hiding in shadowed
corners with insane grins plastered across their faces. Most bad
guys were your normal, everyday guys moving through life like
anyone else. Going to school. Going to work. Going to church, even.
They were hard to spot, and that’s what made them so good at being
bad. They were sneaky. They could get away with it, and they knew
it.

Cal bought me a hot chocolate and walked me
through the game as our team crushed the competition. I tried to
ask him questions here and there, but he avoided most. He wasn’t
interested in talking about himself. He was interested in football.
Unfortunately, I learned more about that tonight than Cal. I
realized I’d have to secure information in other ways, but I wasn’t
sure how.

***

I was cleaning my station for the evening
when Terry approached me.

“Hey, wanna make out in the back seat of my
car when you get finished?” he asked, sliding into a chair.

I grinned. “Every girl’s fantasy,” I said,
filling the last of my ketchup bottles. “How old are you anyway?
Fifty?”

“I’m thirty-six,” Terry answered.

“Gross.”

He chuckled. “Seriously, what are you doing
later?”

“It’s eleven. I’m going home. To bed.” I
wiped down the bottles and placed them in the caddy.

“You’re so boring, Wright,” Terry said. “Why
don’t you have a little fun?”

“Oh, I had fun. A few weeks ago when I had
to look after my drunk girlfriends,” I said. “Will you please move
your feet?”

Terry lifted his feet while I swept
underneath him.

“I’m not talking about going to a party or
anything. And you wouldn’t have to take care of anyone,” he
said.

“Forget it,” I replied.

“Well, you’re gonna miss out big time,”
Terry said. “I’m the funnest person to hang with.”

“That would be ‘most fun.’ You’re the most
fun to hang with,” I corrected, putting the broom aside.

He smirked. “I’m not going to school for an
English degree, Wright.”

“You’re going to school?” I asked. I was
shocked. I thought Terry made being head chef at Patricia’s Diner
his career choice. He
was
thirty-six, after all.

“You’re such a brat. I’m going to school for
computer programming,” he replied. “What? You thought I had plans
to work at a diner for the rest of my life?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You make one hell
of a pie.”

“Whatevs. I don’t need this place. Once I’m
through with school I’ll be rolling in the dough.” He laughed at
his own pun.

Suddenly I had a thought. “So I guess you’re
pretty savvy with computers and all.”

“Duh.”

“And I’m assuming most of your classmates
are pretty savvy, too?”

“Most people go to school for what they’re
good at,” Terry replied patiently.

I tried for casualness. “Know any
hackers?”

“Huh?”

I thought better. “Um, never mind,” and went
back to wiping down the table.

“No, not ‘never mind’. Why do you need a
hacker?” He leaned into the table, eyes glittering with mischief.
“So there
is
a little bad girl in you after all.”

My face flushed crimson, and he saw.

“Okay, Wright. Spill it. Who do you wanna
spy on?”

“Nobody.”

“Bullshit. What if I told you I
did
know a hacker?”

“Are you messing with me?” I asked.

“No.”

“Okay, who is it?”

Terry leaned back in his chair and placed
his hands behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling. “Yours
truly.”