Moby Clique (6 page)

They have a shared history—Parker was once best friends with Ryan’s ex-girlfriend, Rebecca, the one that died in the car crash two years ago. That’s what got Ryan sent to Bard in the first place. He was the one driving, and it was rumored he had been drinking, even though he passed a Breathalyzer.

I don’t know the whole story because Rebecca is just a subject Ryan never talks about. To me, at least. Apparently, he talks about it with Parker a lot, according to her. I don’t know why he never felt comfortable confiding in me. Parker once told me it was because Ryan was still in love with Rebecca. I wonder if I’ll ever know.

My stomach tightens. I wish I didn’t care about him at all. I wonder if I can stand watching Parker put her moves on him.

Heathcliff sees me staring at Ryan and frowns.

“Do
you
miss
him
?” he asks me.

Touché. “I…” I pause. I guess I don’t know the answer to that question.

“Forget it,” Heathcliff says, peeved, gathering up his books and standing.

“But, wait…I just started the reading lesson,” I stammer stupidly.

“The lesson’s over for today,” Heathcliff says, storm clouds again darkening his features, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before I can say more, he’s turned and left me alone on the lawn.

Six

“So you’ve got boy troubles?
What
else
is new?” Blade asks me, shrugging. She, Hana, and I are all sitting together at dinner, pushing around unrecognizable mush on our plates. The cafeteria is dark and gloomy as usual, just like most of the rooms on campus. The lights above are dimly lit chandeliers with flickering bulbs. They give off about as much light as candles, and the ancient electrical wiring, always patchy at best, gives off little surges now and again.

The walls are all dark-paneled wood and the room is filled with long, wooden tables paired with benches that are bolted to the floor. All the furniture at Bard is bolted down, to prevent kids from stealing or throwing it.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about Heathcliff, anyway,” Blade says. “You know he’s only going to be here for another two years.”

Blade’s referring to the fact that Heathcliff has a three-year absence from
Wuthering Heights
and he’s already spent a year of it here. The faculty said he has to return after that period to keep the fictional world stable.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I say, fingering the locket around my neck. “And I can’t help it. There’s just something about him.”

“Are you girls pining over me again?” Samir asks, appearing with his tray and scooting in next to Hana. “You know, I’m always available for a quickie.”

“Shut up, Samir,” Hana says, giving him a nudge.

“Well, I’ve got something that will interest you,” he says, tossing a copy of the school paper down on the table. “It’s fresh from the presses.”

I look down at the headline, and see a story on the front page claiming that Robert Louis Stevenson based part of his book
Treasure Island
on Bard Academy’s Shipwreck Island. Apparently he visited it briefly during a trip to the United States. He found the legends about pirate treasure hidden at Whale Cove so fascinating that he decided to write about it.

“It says here that there might be ‘real buried treasure’ on this island,” Samir says. “If we found it, we could be rich.”

“You’re already rich,” Hana reminds him. Samir does come from a wealthy family, although his traditional Indian mother has arranged marriage in mind for him when he turns nineteen. His refusing to even consider marriage is what got him sent to Bard in the first place.

“Yeah, but I’m going to be written out of the will after what I pulled,” Samir says. “I should just run away now and save myself a lot of grief later.”

“I’d say pirates and buried treasure are definitely something the LITs should investigate,” Blade adds. The LITs—Literary Investigation Team—is something Blade invented last semester for our little circle. She even had T-shirts made, although none of us wear them.

“Why should the LITs, er, I mean, we, investigate pirates?” I ask. “They’re not literary.”

“Sure they are,” Samir says. “What about
Treasure Island
? That’s literary.”

I’m only half listening to the discussion about pirates and buried treasure. I’m scanning the cafeteria for any sign of Heathcliff. I want to apologize, or something, I don’t know. I see him hanging at the edge of the cafeteria line, grabbing a mystery dinner. I’m plotting how to get his attention when loud peals of laughter from the other side of the room grab my attention. It’s Parker Rodham’s table. The table is full of rich kids and her clones—girls who follow her around and worship her. Normally, I try to avoid that area of the cafeteria altogether, especially since Ryan has been known to sit there on occasion. But now they’re being so loud that it’s impossible not to look.

Ryan is, as I guessed, sitting next to Parker. Parker, in turn, has ordered one of her clones to get up on the table.

The clone scrambles up, standing tall, wearing her Bard Academy uniform just like Parker Rodham’s (skirt cut three inches shorter, white leggings that go down to midcalf, and blouse unbuttoned low enough to reveal cleavage). She’s got her hair dyed exactly the same color as Parker’s, and wearing the same high pony-tail and the same too-dark eye shadow and glossy lips. But there’s something about
this
clone, though, that looks strangely familiar. Too familiar.

With sinking horror, it dawns on me that the clone is not just any Parker clone,
that
girl is my sister.

“Oh my
God,
” I manage to squeak, even as it feels like someone has kicked me in the stomach. My sister has gotten a Parker Rodham makeover! My sister is now officially a Parker clone, slave to the girl I call my mortal enemy.

“Hey, isn’t that…?” Blade says.

“It sure looks like…” Hana says.

“Your sister!” Samir finishes.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” the table starts chanting to Lindsay, banging their fists on the top so loudly that they bounce plates and silverware. Ryan, I notice, is the only one not chanting. He’s got a worried look on his face.

Just then, my sister starts belting out “Yankee Doodle Dandy” while doing high kicks on the table. Food and dishes fly everywhere, even as Parker and her cronies start laughing hysterically. Lindsay, only encouraged by their attention, acts even more outrageous, and starts doing her own version of the cancan, not caring that Parker is laughing
at
her and not
with
her. Or that she is showing half the school her underwear. I glance over at Heathcliff, who is watching the whole scene with a disapproving scowl. Heathcliff is no fan of Parker, and he’s no fan of anyone who’d make a fool of themselves to try to impress her. After a minute, he turns, disgusted, and leaves the cafeteria.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my entire life.

“She’s going to get in trouble,” Hana says, worried. She nods to the Guardians—Bard’s versions of mall security—at the corners of the cafeteria. They’re starting to take notice of the ruckus. If she doesn’t quit, and soon, Lindsay is going to have a one-way trip to the headmaster’s office. I remember what Ms. W told me about my dad’s threats to send us to juvie if either of us gets in trouble. I’ve got to stop her.

“Lindsay!” I shout, jumping up and heading toward her. I reach her before the Guardians do, and nearly have to step over Ryan to get to her. I ignore him for now, even as I feel him looking straight at me. I have bigger problems at the moment.

“Lindsay, you’re going to get in trouble,
stop
it,” I tell her, pulling on her wrist. “Get down,
now
.”

“Leave me alone,” she barks at me.

And then, a wayward gravy-drenched roll hits me in the face and tumbles down my chest, leaving an oily smudge down the front of my Bard Academy uniform. Parker, or one of her clones, threw it.

“Booo!” they hiss at me.

“Guys! Cut it out,” Ryan says, annoyed. He stands and holds out his hand. “Lindsay, come on, that’s enough.”

She looks at him and smiles, and then hops off the table and back into her seat. The Guardians stop their forward momentum, resuming their posts at the edges of the tables. Crisis averted—for now. I wipe congealed gravy from my forehead and flick it on the ground.

“Miranda…” Ryan lifts up his hand as if to help me. But what can he do? Besides, this isn’t exactly how I pictured our first conversation since the “let’s be friends” speech last semester. I never imagined that the first time he’d see me close up again I’d be covered in gravy. My face feels hot, and if that’s not enough, I feel hot tears prick at my eyes. Don’t cry. Do
not
cry, I order myself. I pray the floor opens up and swallows me whole. It’s Bard. It could happen.

But it doesn’t.

“Forget it,” I say, wiping more gravy off my face and turning away from the table. As I walk away, I hear Parker tell Ryan, “Let the little baby go cry it out,” and it’s all I can do not to burst into tears right there.

Seven

“I will so put a hex on Parker,”
Blade tells me the next day in study hall.

“What about my sister?”

“Her, too, if you want,” Blade says. “All I need is some of their hair, some chicken livers, and garlic powder.”

“Oooh, I love garlic, what are we making?” Samir asks, sliding into the seat next to Blade.

“We’re making curses,” I say.

“Hexes, technically,” Blade tells him.

“What’s the difference?” Samir asks.

“For one, you need liver, for the other, chicken blood,” Blade says.

“Sorry I asked,” Samir says, wrinkling his nose.

“I just can’t believe my sister is a Parker clone,” I say, shaking my head. “That girl can never think for herself.”

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” Blade says. “Like when I was once a prep for a week.”

“
You
were a prep for a week?” Samir asks, amazed.

“Yeah, there are lots of things you don’t know about me,” Blade says and winks at him. Blade, who once had a crush on Samir, seems to be taking an interest again. Hana won’t be happy about that. She’s had a secret crush on Samir since I’ve known her. Of course, it’s so secret that she won’t even admit it to me.

Before I can ponder this further, outside the main bell tower tolls three times in short bursts.

“What was that? Is study hall over already?”

“No, that’s the signal that someone’s run away again,” Blade says. “They just started ringing the bell when it happens, or so I heard. Then they send Kujo after them.”

Outside a nearby window we see Guardians scramble toward the woods, as if looking for someone. They all have dogs on leashes. At the head of the pack is Coach H.

“What’s he doing with the goon squad?” Blade asks.

“He must’ve done something to tick off Headmaster B,” Samir says. “But why do they even need the search-and-rescue team? I thought it was impossible to escape from this place.”

“It is,” I say, thinking back to when I tried to run away my first night at Bard a year ago. I got lost in the woods and then ended up circling right back to campus like I’d never left. The woods were definitely a spooky place, and nearly impossible to find your way in or out of.

“Maybe they’re not trying to prevent them from running away,” Blade says. “Maybe they’re trying to protect them from what’s
in
the forest.”

Samir looks at me, and I look back. We’re both remembering that last year William Blake’s tiger was on the loose in the forest. That was not a good semester.

“What do you know that you’re not telling us?” Samir demands, turning to Blade. He looks worried. He is not the bravest of our little circle of friends. “If that tiger is back, I’m transferring, I swear to God.”

“No tiger,” Blade says. “Some of my friends said they saw some dudes hanging out in the forest.”

“Dudes?”

“Yeah, dudes, with long hair. I dunno. They didn’t get a good look at ’em.” Blade shrugs. Very little scares Blade.

“I guess that’s slightly better than a tiger,” Samir says. “So I
guess
I’m not transferring.” He pauses. “Yet,” he adds.

“Well, maybe we should investigate,” Blade says. “This sounds like a case for the LITs.”

“Man, you are
really
pushing the LITs this semester,” Samir says, shaking his head.

“What? I’m just waiting for it to catch on.”

“Well, keep waiting,” Samir says. “I don’t understand why everything that happens on this campus is always
our
problem. Why can’t someone else battle whatever crazy fictional disaster is on the loose
this
time?”

“You’re overlooking the fact that not everything at this school happens for a supernatural reason,” I say, watching as Parker enters the library, followed by two of her clones, and my sister. Parker orders my sister off to get some books for her. Lindsay happily trots off to the research section. She’s already writing Parker’s papers, no doubt. The thought makes me want to break something.

“Sometimes there’s a reasonable explanation,” Samir adds.

“Yes, like Parker Rodham,” I say, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Parker is planning something evil for Lindsay. I just don’t know what.

For the next several days, I see plenty of Lindsay. I see her fetching Parker’s books. I see her cleaning off Parker’s tray in the cafeteria. I see her scrambling to pick up anything Parker accidentally drops. And Parker always manages to send me a nice, smug smile, to be sure that I know that
she
knows this is driving me crazy.

Of course, Lindsay won’t listen to reason. In fact, she won’t listen to me at all. I catch her as she’s heading out of homeroom one morning. We’re standing in Austen Hall, between rows of lockers, as students mill past us.

I decide to get right to the point.

“Lindsay, you have to be careful with Parker. She’s a backstabber and can’t be trusted.”