From Bad to Cursed (18 page)

Totally and completely gone was Zoe.

After school Tuesday, he drove Kasey, Lydia, and me to our house. My sister and Lydia went inside, and I stayed in the car.

“Call me later?” he said.

I tilted my head. “I might not have time.”

“Then I’ll call you,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, taken aback. “If you want to.”

As I reached for the door handle, he leaned over and took my hand.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, gazing into my eyes. “Have I told you that yet today?”

“Yes,” I said, pulling gently on my hand. “Three times.”

But he didn’t let go right away. He got in a little more gazing first.

I looked away. There was something about the adoring stare that made me uneasy. I mean, yes, I wanted things to work out with Carter and me. Yes, he was being the ideal boyfriend.

But to be completely honest—I could see it getting a little dull.

“I really have to go,” I said, snaking my hand away and hopping out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. Talk to you later, maybe.”

For a second, he looked confused, and then that dreamy, veiled look overtook his face again. “I’ll miss you.”

I went inside without waving good-bye.

Lydia and Kasey were in the kitchen, their voices echoing in a start-and-stop conversation. No denying that Kasey was making a real effort to show her devotion to Aralt. But it was obvious to me that where everyone else was cheerful and confident, she was stressed and anxious. She tried too hard, and the things she tried to add to our conversations rang just a little off to my ear.

As I walked by, Lydia looked up. “You guys are so cute together,” she said. “I should get a boyfriend.”

“Go for it,” I said.

“There’s nobody I really like,” she said. “But Nicholas Freeman is cute.”

“I think he’s dating someone,” I said.

“So?” She gave me an amused look, her pink lips smiling mischievously against her creamy skin.

“Good point,” I said. If she decided to pull them apart, the other girl stood zero chance. Lydia was as tiny and perfect as a little porcelain doll.

And possibly just as dangerous.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, Megan had cheerleading practice before the Sunshine Club meeting. I waited for her on the bleachers, browsing the fashion magazines we traded at lunch.

Carter was really amping up the chivalry—trying to carry my bag, meeting me outside my classes, even when they were nowhere near his own. He came to my locker after school and offered to drive me home, but I didn’t mind watching Megan at cheer practice. It was like being allowed into a secret world that had been forbidden to me for the first sixteen years of my life.

Kasey walked home and said she’d walk to the meeting. No one questioned her—they just assumed she had homework. She was carving out an identity as our little academic poster child. And she’d bought another few days of approval with her revamped hair.

But everyone knew there was something off about a Sunshine Club girl who didn’t want to spend as much time as possible with her sisters. Secretly I suspected that, even with her new hair, she still wasn’t truly committed to Aralt. Not that I was worried. At some point she would need to rearrange her priorities, that was all. Or have them rearranged for her.

As the practice should have been winding down, I heard a cry of pain.

Megan hurried across the gym toward a clump of cheerleaders all gathered around someone on the floor. After a few seconds, a girl got to her feet and hopped away, leaning on the shoulders of the coach and a spotter.

Megan walked over to me, eyes clouded with worry. “We’re going to run long tonight. I might have to miss the meeting. Sydney just ate it on a basket toss, and we have to rework the whole routine.” She looked around helplessly. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. She and Jessica are the only ones who can do the halftime tumbling sequence.”

I watched her searching the other girls, trying to figure out who could fill in for Sydney. She was biting her lip, and I knew she was remembering that it used to be
her
tumbling sequence.

I glanced down at my finger. At the flawless skin where there used to be a gash.

“Megan,” I said, “how’s your knee feeling?”

She stared at me for a second, trying to digest what I was suggesting. “No way.” She spoke in a hushed voice. “Lex, after that fall at your house—I can’t afford to take any chances.”

“But that didn’t actually
hurt
you, did it?” I said. “You haven’t been limping. Have you had any pain at all?”

If I was wrong, I could be costing my best friend the ability to walk.

But I knew I wasn’t wrong. “Start small,” I suggested. “Do a cartwheel.”

Megan gave me a wary look and handed me her notebook. Then she tucked her T-shirt into the front of her shorts and turned an effortless cartwheel. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Lex, it’s
hard
, and it’s been a year since I did anything remotely like that.” Without thinking, she reached back and redid her ponytail. When she could see I didn’t believe her, she said, “Hey, Jess!”

One of the cheerleaders bounced up to us. “Yeah?”

Staring right at me, Megan said, “Could you please demonstrate the tumbling run from the top of the halftime routine?”

Jessica nodded, walked a few feet away, and took a springy running start. Then she went through a series of flips and handsprings and landed perfectly, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Thank you,” Megan said sweetly. “That’s all.” She gave me an expectant look.

“You can do it,” I said, though her set jaw told me she wasn’t convinced. “Adrienne doesn’t even use her cane anymore.”

“That’s different,” she said. “Walking can’t break your knees.”

“Or maybe…” I said, “Adrienne just has more trust?”

Her face fell. “That isn’t fair, Lex.”

“I’m just saying,” I said. “You’re the one who told me to let go. Do you have faith in Aralt or not?”

She pursed her lips and glared into the corner of the gym—because glaring at your sisters was a total no-no. Without saying a word, she walked away, got a running start, and did the whole thing flawlessly. She even added an extra handspring at the end.

The cheerleaders let out a collective squeal and converged on us. “I didn’t know you could cheer again!” Jessica crowed. They enveloped her in a huge hug.

After a minute, Megan came back to me. There was something in her eyes—wonder. Shock.

“I guess we won’t run late,” Megan said. “I have plenty of time to run through the routine before Friday.”

“How does your knee feel?” I asked.

“It’s…fine,” she said, a bewildered smile blooming on her lips. “It’s great.”

“Sorry for the drama,” I said. “I just thought you needed a reminder.”

“No,” she said, her eyes shimmering. “You were right. I did need it.”

We grabbed our bags and started for the door. I paused in front of Coach Neidorf, who kept stealing glances at Megan.

Mrs. Wiley really doesn’t need to know about this. It’s just a one-time thing, and it’s for the good of the whole squad.

“Mrs. Wiley really doesn’t need to know about this,” I said, and the coach’s eyes jerked to meet mine. “It’s just a one-time thing, and it’s for the good of the whole squad, don’t you think?”

She looked from me to Megan and then down at her notebook like she couldn’t remember what we were talking about.

“No,” she said. “No, of course not.”

Megan gave her a radiant smile. “Thanks, Coach. You’re the best!”

The meeting was great. We had two new girls. And best of all?

Kasey called someone out in Betterment. And then she contributed as much as anyone else, coming up with recruiting ideas and taking the affirmative in our debate against ever wearing athletic shoes at a non-athletic event.

Thursday and Friday at school, she was bubbly, happy. She practically glowed.

She was finally, finally committing to Aralt.

I was so proud I could hardly stop smiling.

* * *

Friday afternoon, we all went home to change before the game. As I was getting ready to do my makeup, my phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Alexis?”

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“Jared Elkins. We met at the, uh, party the other night.”

“Oh, right,” I said, wedging the phone between my cheek and shoulder and starting to work on my eye shadow. “Tricycle Boy.”

“The one and only. Listen, I have a huge favor to ask you. The final two interviews were scheduled for next Thursday, but I’m going to be out of town. They said they’d move them if you could make it Wednesday instead.”

“Final interviews?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, man,” he said. “Spoiler alert. I suck. We’re the final two. Didn’t they call you?”

I laughed. “I haven’t checked my voicemail for a couple of days.”

“Listen, if you can’t do it, that’s okay.”

“Wednesday’s fine,” I said. “It’s great. Congratulations.”

“You too,” he said. “I don’t think I would have been satisfied with anyone else as my opponent.”

That made me smile at myself in the mirror.

“In fact, I’ve been wanting to ask you,” he said. “Do you remember what film you used for the car picture? I love the grain.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “It’s just T-Max. That’s pretty much all I use.”

“Really?” he said.

“It was probably four hundred ISO.…”

We went on talking for a few minutes, and then said our good-byes and hung up. A pleasant enough conversation, but I didn’t give Jared another thought the whole night.

C
OMBINE A THOUSAND
keyed-up teenagers, a couple hundred over-involved parents, a bunch of teachers bitter about having to work on Friday night, and the smell of churros. What do you get?

A Surrey Eagles football game.

Friday night was the first home game of the season, and the Sunshine Club planned to sit together, unified, showing off our school spirit. I noticed that, as a rule, we put more effort into
showing
how much we cared about football than actually caring about the outcome of the game.

We met outside of the gym before the game. Everyone was wearing Surrey High colors—red and white—and there was a dazzling energy in the air that I had never noticed before. The sun was setting behind the gymnasium, and I stood and listened to the happy buzz of the sounds around me, the idyllic way the kids pulled into the parking lot and poured out of their cars, coming together in excited groups.

Every blessing I could ask for was laid at my feet. I was young and beautiful, and I had loyal friends and a boyfriend and a happy sister and parents who loved me and a future that was as bright as I dared to let it be. The breeze wove gently through our hair and set our skirts undulating around us like flags from some precious, golden memory.

Megan, in her cheer uniform, came over to say hi and folded herself into the group, and I could hardly breathe for the sharp, intense beauty of the moment. It was like I was nostalgic for my own youth, while I was still living it. If I hadn’t gotten so good at not letting myself cry, I might have felt tears well up. But I held it in—stayed sunny.

Then the ticket-takers got in place and the gates opened. The kids around us went inside. But we stayed out until the last second, because we weren’t done saying our hellos, and we knew we would find the best seats vacant no matter how long we waited.

Then we were moving together—not quite in formation, but in a well-defined group, an army of the prettiest, brightest, best girls—and we came around the side of the bleachers like a school of sharks: glamorous and dangerous and sleek, stepping in time to a beat only we could hear.

The beating of Aralt’s heart,
I thought.

The hum in the stands dipped slightly as people noticed us, admired us, wished they could be like us.

I soaked it in. My hair was perfect, my clothes were perfect, my best friend and my sister walked perfectly at my side.

Everything was perfect, and I was right in the center of it all.

The thought was in my head before I could stop it:
I would rather die than give this up
.

With our dresses and skirts, sweaters and full makeup, it was like a little time machine had perched itself on the edge of the bleachers and the class of 1965 had popped in for the night.

Someone passed out little flags, which we flapped along with the crowd. A wave came through; we stood and sat with it. It came back, and we stood again and sat again.

“Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” I said to Kasey.

“It’s kind of fun…I guess,” Kasey said.

I laughed. “You look completely miserable.”

“Do I?” She waved her flag in my face.

It was so easy to get along with her now that she was making an effort. Overcome by a rush of affection, I pulled her into a sideways hug.

A few minutes later, the loudspeaker blared, welcoming the opposing team. Across the field, their ragged group of fans filled only a couple rows of the bleachers.

Then it was time for the cheerleaders’ entrance.

I didn’t
plan
to get excited, but it was easy to get caught up in the crowd’s whooping and clapping as the girls came running out. Megan was in the middle of them, looking like the queen again—her ponytail held back by a white ribbon, pom-poms hoisted high in the air.

Then the football team came barreling out, ripping through their big paper sign, and the game started. Kasey and I watched the field in utter confusion, cheering when the people around us cheered but otherwise having no idea what was happening.

“Lex?” I looked up to see Carter standing over me, smiling.

Kasey and I shifted over, and he squeezed himself onto the bench next to me.

“Are you excited about your speech?” I asked him.

He nodded and showed us a small stack of note cards. “I’ve been practicing for hours.”

Something exciting happened on the field, and the people around us began hooting and stomping their feet. Carter grabbed my hand and held it.

Like a wave pulling back to sea, the crowd went quiet.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

“And do what?” I asked.

“Whatever you want.” He was wriggly and giddy, like a piglet.

I didn’t respond. Carter and I had never been
I don’t know, what do you want to do
? people. We had interests. Hobbies.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I kind of need to go shopping. At the mall.”

Carter and the mall went together like a bucket of nails and a bucket of water balloons. If absolutely forced to go, he spent the whole time whining and checking his watch.

“Sounds great!” he replied. “What time should I pick you up?”

My heart sank a little. I let my eyes drift back to the game, hoping I looked wrapped up in what was going on.

Carter touched my arm and pulled me close, his mouth next to my ear. “I have something to tell you tonight.”

I heard people shouting
“Touchdown!”
and everyone around us leaped to their feet. I jumped up, away from Carter, and cheered along with the crowd. The band played a few jubilant notes, the cheerleaders started chanting, and everything slid together to form a discordant roar.

When everyone else sat down, I had no choice but to rejoin Carter on the bench.

“Aren’t you curious?” Carter asked, his words almost lost in the noise around us. He said something else, but the crowd let out a giant shout, and I missed it.

“What?” I yelled back.

Then the crowd was quiet again, finished with their celebration, finding their seats.

Carter leaned toward me, holding me in a tight embrace.

“I said,” he went on, the words gauzy in my ear, “you’re a really incredible girl, and I have something important to say.”

I sat up, dazed, staring at him. Our hands were in a death grip between us.

He was going to tell me he loved me.

Of all the times I’d imagined we’d say those words—of all the places, all the situations…

“No,” I said, almost pleading, twisting my body to get free of his arms. “Not here, Carter.”

“What do you mean?”

My heart seemed well on its way to pounding right through my skin. Saliva filled the back of my throat. I needed to stop him. At least stall him.

Carter’s eyes searched my face, like a lost kid looking for someone in a crowd. “Lex, you don’t even know what I’m going to say!” he protested. “I just wanted you to know that I—”

You know you’re really special to me.

“You know you’re really special to me,” I said.

Maybe later tonight we can have a really serious talk.

“Maybe later tonight…we can have a really serious talk?”

He smiled, a little confused, and dropped my hand. But as quickly as the hurt reached his eyes, it was wiped away, replaced by blankness.

“Yes, of course. Later,” he said.

Like a counterweight to our emotions, the crowd was up on their feet again, shrieking with glee. Carter looked like he’d been dropped out of the sky into a strange, crowded place.

“I should go get ready,” he said, standing up and excusing himself down the aisle.

Kasey sat down, waving her flag. “I think I’m starting to get it,” she said. “Their guy dropped the ball, and we picked it up and that’s called a—where’s Carter going?”

“To read his speech,” I said.

She gave me a weird look and went back to watching the game.

Just sitting there was starting to feel like suffocating. “I think I might go take some pictures,” I said, reaching for my camera. “Watch my bag?”

I roamed the edge of the field while the football players scrambled around as meaninglessly as a bunch of field mice. I got some good shots—I’d never tried action shots before, due to my stinginess with film and darkroom time. But now, I knew, if I needed more film, I could get it from Farrin. If I needed darkroom time, all I had to do was breathe half of a hint, and she’d offer it up.

When halftime came, the cheerleaders’ music came piping through the loudspeakers, and then Megan and Jessica bounced across the field, landing in flawless unison.

I zoomed in and took as many photos as I could. Their intense expressions, their sweaty, muscular limbs, the vibrant red and white of their uniforms, all stood out against the black night sky and the vivid green of the field.

Megan’s face lit up as they went through the routine. She kicked, jumped, got tossed into the air, and balanced on somebody’s shoulder. As they finished, I lowered my camera and applauded, feeling almost as breathless as the cheerleaders were. Monday morning, I’d ask if I could attend some of the practices, shoot some more. The motion and energy were addictive.

“And now,” the announcer boomed, “please give a warm welcome to our newly elected student body president, Carter Blume!”

School politics didn’t merit quite the same level of cheering as football, but Carter got a decent amount of applause. He took his place on a little makeshift stage, his golden hair glinting under the stadium lights. In his slim gray pants and white button-down shirt, he looked tall, powerful, and charismatic, like some 1940s movie heartthrob.

There was something different about him, though.

I raised my camera and took a few shots.

Just before he started speaking, he caught sight of me and gave me a quick smile.

That’s when I realized what was different.

In the stands, he’d been wearing a long-sleeved black sweater over his shirt. Now he’d taken it off.

And rolled his sleeves up, almost to his elbows.

Since the day we’d met, he’d never let anyone but his parents and me see the scars on his bare wrists. Now they were exposed for the whole school to see.

My eyes wandered up to meet his, to see his face, his confident master-of-the-universe grin.

For a split second, I was paralyzed.

I couldn’t see any trace of Carter behind that smile.

Just emptiness. A reaction where there had once been action.

Oh my God.

This can’t be happening
.

I totally stole my boyfriend’s soul.

“People say,” he began, his voice strong, “that high school is the best four years of your life. And tonight is”—his voice was all clanging metallic sounds; did anyone else hear it?—“the culmination of that for me.”

I looked around for an escape, but I was basically
on
the field. Standing still, I didn’t attract attention, but to move would have been like shining a spotlight on myself. Carter went on, talking about how great his years at Surrey had been and how excited he was to have a chance to give back to the school that had given him so much.

“Not only steadfast friends,” he said, “and top-notch academic opportunities. But a well-developed extracurricular program, the best technological resources in the county, and a caring staff and faculty.”

A polite smattering of applause.

“So I’d like to dedicate this year to all of you, and to all of the students who came before me and will come after me,” he said. “But most of all—”

He was staring right at me.

I raised my camera, not wanting to look him in the eye, not knowing what else to do.

“I want to dedicate this win to the most incredible girl I’ve ever met and probably will ever meet in my life—”

My finger kept hitting the shutter button, like I could pretend I was just an observer, not even there.

“My girlfriend, Alexis Warren.”

The crowd said,
“Awww.”

“Lex,” Carter said, laughing. “Put the camera down.”

I had no choice.

He looked straight at me. And then he said:

“Alexis
…I love you.”

The words rushed at me over the painted stripes of the field. They hit the school building in the distance and echoed back.

I was surrounded. Helpless.

It was the kind of public horror show that you’d see in some awful romantic comedy, not on the football field of Surrey High. The crowd went crazy, whooping and whistling and catcalling. I stood there, staring at his big, bright, oblivious grin.

And then I ran.

The throngs of people around me blurred together as I fought my way through, pushing to the sidelines, trying to escape into the night. People talked to me, laughed at me, exclaimed in surprise as I shoved them out of my way, past the front of the bleachers, toward the exit.

“Alexis? Are you okay?” Miss Nagesh called out as I ran by, but I didn’t stop.

“Lexi!” Ahead of me, my sister clambered down the stairs, carrying my bag. “Lexi!”

Our paths intersected. Kasey grabbed my hand and ran, pulling me around the back of the bleachers, where the speakers could only throw muffled sound instead of bladelike words.