Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) (22 page)

They did as told, but
Glory
’s nostrils
were still
flar
ing
from the humiliation of getting
whooped in front of everybody
.
But the worst part was the realization she’d
acted just like h
er
father,
down to the falling on her face part
.

“Wow, you stood up to
the Empress of the School.
”
Clash
whispered, seeming awestruck at
Glory
’s boldness
.
Empress was their nickname for the high and might Mandy. Even the teachers bowed at her feet.

“Yeah, for about five seconds.”

“
The point is you didn’t back down
.
And y
ou cussed like
S
curvy
S
ailor
in Galactic Heroes, only
better
,
because you weren’t bleeped out by parent
al
controls
.
Since I
got it all on video
,
do
you want me to
network it?

“Are you crazy
?
Why would I want
the whole world to see
me
fall on my face?
”

“For evidence.”

“Evidence that I can’t hold my own against a skinny cheerleader
?
No thank you
.”

“
They’re plotting our doom you know
,
”
Clash
said, stealing
a glance over h
is
shoulder at Mandy and her cronies.
“Especially yours.”

“
I know,
I know,”
Glory
said
.

Under
ordinary
circumstances
,
she’d be more worried, but Mandy seemed like a fluffy
pink
bunny compared to Miss Cren
s
haw
.
“
I have
worse witches to
worry about right now, so j
ust leave me alone
?
”

“So
oorrr-ry
,”
Clash
said, acting offended
.

Glory
didn’t apologize
back
.
H
er
insides were twist
ing
apart
and s
he didn’t know how much more
s
he could take
.

A
t school
,
s
he
slip
ped
out of her pajamas and
i
nto
her
gym clothes, which consisted of a plain white T-shirt, gray sweatpants
,
and
smelly
bl
ue
sneakers
.
The welts had scabbed to her clothes, bringing tears to her eyes when she changed.
N
obody seemed to notice
.
Or care.
Math
class was a waste
. A
ll
s
he
did
was
silently
pray the
Alley
family would
still
be intact when
s
he got home
.

Language lessons
didn’t go much better.
A
stronomy
lost out to her
nervous bladder. She had to leave class twice to use the restroom.
By the time she returned to the star splattered dome
,
her nails were bitten to the quick
.

Most of the popular kids stayed after s
c
hool for sports, cheerleading, or some other social activity—so there were usually no hassles on the afternoon bus ride home.
Clash had stayed after school for
computer club,
leaving Glory to stew alone in
a cauldron of
dark thoughts.
S
he
star
ed
out the
bus window as the
y
passed the hospital where Mom
had
died
, then
at
the
fancy
houses
on the outskirts of town her family couldn’t afford
, then the fields whizzing by
in the country, and finally at Queen’s Mesa in the distance. It stood
like an omniscient sentry keeping watch over the whole world.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of it until the bus stopped in front of the driveway.

Slowly,
s
he
shuffled
toward the house,
watching her feet plow through loose gravel. A
pprehension
rolled through her
intestines w
ith a gurgle.

She s
tepp
ed
onto
the front porch
.
A
brand new screen door
hung
wh
ere
the
dilapidated
one had been this morning
.
What the heck
?
She rubbed her hands along its cool metal
handle
.
It’d been a long time since anything new came to roost at this address.
She stood in place on the front porch giving it a test open and close
.
Very smooth, but it didn’t quite click all the way into the frame
, s
o she
adjust
ed
the air cylinder until it closed properly
.
F
inally
, she
opened the battered old oak door behind it and stepped through into the foyer
.

The place smelled like mineral wax
. T
he floor of
the
main hallway was freshly polished
.
O
ld wallpaper had been torn down
.
P
atches of paper were still sticking here and there, but nothing a minor scraping and a touch of spackle couldn’t fix.
TV
was off and no sign of booze anywhere
.
Dad
stood
there
in
the living room
wearing an expression of
deep concentration
.

First
,
the screen door
—now
this? One home improvement was odd enough
.
Two in one day was practically a miracle
.

“Wow
, the new door looks great.”

“Tha
nks.”

“And you’re going to paint, too?
”
Glory
dared to ask.

“Yep.
We all are.”
Dad
held up
paint samples to the light. 
“What do you think of desert sand?”

“
G
ood color for hiding dirt.”

“
My
youngest
daughter
,
just like her mother
,
always
pragmatic
.
D
esert
S
a
nd
it is then.”

Dad
’s clothes were covered with old oil stains, but his face was clean-shaven and his eyes bright and clear
.
Had Miss Crenshaw’s visit scared him sober
?
Maybe
Mean
Dad
had gone on vacation never to return again
?
Glory
knew better, but couldn’t help to hope
.
She
danced around the questions that had been heavy on h
er
mind
.

“Uh, is
Patrice
home?”

“She’s at school.”

“Are you sure?
”

“O
f
course I’m sure
.
I drove her there myself.”

“What’s going to happen to her?
”
To us,
sh
e really wanted to know.

“I’m handling it so mind your own affairs,
Glory
.
What happened today is not to be spoken of again
.
Do you hear what I’m saying?”