Spark (21 page)

Abe raises his hand to wave at me, interrupting my suspicious appraisal of Pete. “How’s your hand?”

“My what?” I can’t concentrate with the unpredictable movement around us.

“The broken glass, the blood, the swooning in our buddy’s arms?” His grin widens.

“Oh, I um …”

“Swooning?” The Bishop leans in, his bushy blond eyebrows lifting as he makes the connections. “She’s blocked it out? No wonder. Jamie has no technique. Now, when The Bishop …” A crowd of ponytailed cheerleaders shimmy past, giggling, calling out greetings. Several of them notice Jamie and flirtatious smiles part glossy lips. Gil trails off like a child distracted by shiny things.

“I thought you were headed for Burton Central,” Abe says, still focusing on me.

I hitch my pack higher, struggling to remember the story we’d rehearsed, torn between keeping my eyes on Pete or on the cheerleaders ogling Jamie. “Um … just a change of plans, I guess.”

The Bishop swings back as the last of the short skirts flit away and he thunks his fist into Jamie’s bicep. “Crew tryouts next week, Skipper?”

I haven’t heard Jamie’s nickname in years.

Jamie shrugs. “I’m too out of shape.”

“Not likely.” The Bishop hooks his arm around Jamie’s neck, tugging up the hem of Jamie’s shirt revealing an eyeful of pale gold muscle. “Look at you, you gorgeous, rippling specimen.”

Jamie rams his elbow into Gil’s stomach. Gil buckles and chokes but comes up laughing. “Seriously,” Jamie says. “I haven’t been on the water for months. I wasn’t planning on …” he trails off at the blatant horror of his friends.

Even Pete looks up. “The sudden return to Gainsborough better not be a tease.”

“Joining crew would make up for missing California,” Gil says. “It could have been summer with the boys, like old times.”

Kitty groans.

Jamie shakes his head.

Gil reaches over to muss the crop of his hair. “Don’t be ashamed of your legendary past, brother.”

I’m not sure what all that means, but before I can decide that I don’t like it, Kitty scoops me out from between them. I have a brief parting glimpse of Jamie’s face and it warms me inside despite my anxiety. Kitty hauls me towards the main building and the guys rumble along behind us.

“Still no leads on Kitty’s guy?” Pete. I can tell by the edge of worry and impatience in his voice. The drop in volume indicates it isn’t for Kitty’s ears but I can hear clearly enough and it makes my skin prickle. He sounds too pushy for my liking.

“Nope,” Jamie says.

“Damn. That’s not right.” A deeper voice this time, more resonant. I attribute it to Abe. His concern doesn’t grate on me as much as Pete’s. “Is the governor still dicking you around?”

“He let us look at the security footage, not that it was any use.”

I can picture Jamie’s careful expression.

“What a psycho.” Definitely Gil, that time. I don’t know if he means the governor or Kitty’s attacker, but he produces a low growl that I can’t help but approve of.

“Not around Kitty,” Jamie says, cutting them off.

The subject changes, distracting me from measuring Jamie’s old friends for my list of suspects. I hear my name and some sniggering.

“She’s living in Burton?” Maybe Pete.

Jamie’s answer comes too low for me to hear.

“With you?” Gil hisses. “Hot damn! Well played, my friend. She is seriously …”

I can’t make out what I “seriously” am with my pulse pounding in my ears. Jamie mutters something corrective.

“But still,” Gil says, “under the same roof.”

There are whistles and guffaws. Hot with embarrassment, I consider blacklisting the lot of them. Kitty, however, rolls her eyes in a manner that implies the word “boys”, and I worry about how much she has heard. Re-looping my arm, she pulls me up the wide stone steps.

We cross beneath the lintel of the huge stone arch. There are crowds of students in the foyer and we attract some whispered attention; most of it centres on the twins and Kitty’s notoriety as assault victim. My hearing dims as I scan the faces in the crowd, noting any eyes that fix on Kitty. Someone jostles my arm and Jamie steps in front of me, arresting my focus. He puts his hand on my elbow and I tense, afraid he’ll kiss me in front of everyone.

He smirks and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Relax. Kitty’s safe. You can do this.” His breath warms my neck and over his shoulder I see people watching us. “You look very beautiful, by the way.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m building up your tolerance.” He strokes the side of my arm, a quick light brush of his knuckle before stepping back. “See you at recess.” He winks and walks away, leaving me dizzy.

Kitty sighs. “Come on, heartbreaker.”

I follow her past a group of gawking girls, none of them looked too pleased with me. I ignore my burning ears and keep my face impassive. I’m not there to make friends – which should make me sad. But it doesn’t.

My school in Pennsylvania had yellowed linoleum, battered grey lockers and fluorescent strip lighting attached to watermarked ceiling panels. At Gainsborough there are highly polished hardwood floors, the lockers are burnished oak and pendant lights hang from bronze chains affixed to ornate plaster rosettes. High windows let in the sun and everything seems gilded. Kitty leads us to where the locker numbers match those on her list. She stops and hands me my code. Dazed by the atmosphere, the clamour of students and the static in my head, my fingers move numbly over the keypad. Kitty loads textbooks into her locker and I catch a flash of her journal.

I frown. “You brought that here?”

She lifts her chin. “Where I go, it goes.”

“Kitty!” Three high-pitched voices break in and I swivel so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. Lila, the petite round-faced girl with almond eyes and jet black hair, leads the eager group. I grip the locker behind my back and gulp as they swamp Kitty. They talk over each other, equal parts admiring how good she looks (even in a neck brace), bemoaning that she missed the road trip, berating the police for failing to identify her assailant and wondering what on earth has she done in New Hampshire without them.

Imogen, the tall girl, stands at the back, rail thin with soft auburn curls and freckled complexion. She smiles at me, a shy, toe-in-the-water test of a smile, but my response comes too slowly and she falters. The third girl I recognise as Richard Dean’s date, Kaylee.

It surprises me to see her at school, but what had I expected? She’d refused to lay charges. Only the attack on Kitty had received any press. Maybe no one at school, beyond Kaylee’s close circle of friends, had any clue what Richard did to her. Her brown eyes run over me in open suspicion, as if she senses the vein of my thoughts. I try to smile, but she looks away, her lips compressing like she tastes something sour.

I know I’m giving off a misfit vibe, but I don’t have the energy to be on point and play nicey-nicey at the same time, especially with someone so overtly hostile.

Kitty turns to include me in the huddle with a look that says,
please
try. “Told you about Evie boarding with us this year.” She keeps to the script she laboured in her text messages and emails. “Kept me sane, stuck at home without you lot.”

I nod mechanically and try to smile. None of them seem convinced.

“You know Lila and Imogen, but I don’t think you’ve met Kaylee.” She places her hand on the gorgeous, caramel-skinned girl. Kaylee swings her hair over her shoulder, nods brusquely and I nod back.

Lila, however, gives me a genuine smile. “You into debating, Evie?”

My brain blanks.

“Crumbs.” Kitty laughs. “Give the newbie five minutes to acclimatise.”

Lila grins. “I already signed you up, Kit.”

“Typical,” Kitty says.

I hadn’t given any thought to Kitty’s compulsive need to join clubs, committees and teams. “Are you sure you want to be making commitments?”

Kitty glares at me. Lila frowns. Kaylee scowls and Imogen stares.

“I think my commitments will be just fine,” Kitty says, her smile as stiff as wood.

We make our way up to a laboratory on the second storey of the north wing, the home of advanced placement chemistry. I hitch my book bag up my shoulder, wrinkling my nose at the faint whiff of ammonia. My pins and needles zap at the chemical scent and I scan the room, ready to pin guilt on anyone who looks at Kitty twice.

“Come on.” Kitty nudges me, and I realise too late she’s heading for the first row. Kaylee takes the stool by the window and diplomatic Kitty sits in the middle. It leaves me with the aisle seat. Not good. I would have much preferred the back row for the best vantage point.

“Do we have to sit here?”

The desks further back are already filling. It will be awkward swapping now, but I hate the idea of people sitting behind us, out of my line of sight.

“Oh.” Kitty swivels, trying to find a compromise.

Kaylee flares her nostrils like I’ve fouled the air.

I look her square in the face. “Can I sit there?” I know it came out more like, “move it, now” but I don’t care.

When she realises I’m not about to explain, she purses her lips, tucks her chin back and gets to her feet, edging past me like I have leprosy.

Kitty makes a meal of pulling out her textbooks, letting her hair swing past to hide her furious pink face. I catch her eye, mouth “sorry”, and take the empty stool. I know I’ve just blown it with Kaylee, but with my back to the window I can see everybody and still take notes. Though I hate causing even a low-scale scene, the vantage point makes it worth it. I can live without popularity.

As we wait for the teacher, several more students come to lean on the desk and chat with Kitty or worse still, hug her. They ask if she remembers anything from the attack and whether the police have made any progress and Kitty supplies the same generic answers, no and not really. I sit strung like a bow, prickling with static while Kitty makes a point of not introducing me. I pretend not to notice, flipping blindly through my textbook, ignoring the whispered speculation about who I am and how I know her.

Chemistry depresses me almost as much as social suicide. By nature, I gravitate more towards the arts but my new subject list, advanced placement everything – all Kitty’s classes – has only two redeeming features: English and phys. ed. Even the brief introduction given by the charming old chemistry teacher has me breaking out in a cold sweat. When class finishes, I trail behind Kitty and Kaylee, feeling seasick.

“Miss Everton.”

I stop in front of the whiteboard. “Mr Thomas?”

Kitty says something I don’t catch as she heads to the door and Mr Thomas shuffles out from behind his desk. The top of his head barely reaches my shoulder and I try not to look at the long wisps of his eyebrows. “I just wanted to welcome you properly.” His smile congests the grooves of his face. “You must belong to either April or Miriam Everton.”

It’s like tripping into a freezing pool. “Um, April, yeah.”

He chuckles. “Of course, of course. April and Kitty’s mother … Barbara what was she then? Dearbourne! That’s right. What a twosome.”

I pray he doesn’t know about Mom’s illness, and that he won’t ask how she is.

“Forgive me,” he says, “but the likeness is quite something. You have her eyes.”

I don’t know what to say, pressure building in my chest.

“Well, my dear. If you’re anything like your mother, I expect we’ll enjoy an excellent year together.”

My stomach sinks, knowing I’ll disappoint him. I doubt that being a year ahead at a middle-of-the-road state school will help me be a high achiever at Gainsborough Collegiate. I wish my mutant DNA would fast track the “getting smarter” part that Miriam mentioned.

Mr Thomas returns to his desk. “Come and see me if you need help with anything.”

“Um, thanks, sir.” Eyes stinging, I stumble out into the corridor and freeze in the flow of traffic. I can’t see her. More terrifying than that, I can’t feel her. I’ve lost the tether. A chill grips me and my hearing dims.

Please don’t let this be happening now
.

How can I possibly lose her already? I’m useless – worse than useless. I clutch my watch. Should I push the alert? I imagine the terror I’d cause and move through the crowd, pins and needles spiking with every bump and brush of elbow or shoulder. The end of the corridor opens onto another identical corridor. Almost hyperventilating, I stand at the T-section, scanning each direction, lost without the tether to anchor me.

“Evie, right?” The voice comes from around knee level. A dark-haired boy crouches on the floor, looking harried as he gathers books and folders, rescuing them from passing feet. The helpful guy from the Governor’s Ball. He squints up at me with his startling hazel eyes. “You lost?”

“Oh, hey.”
His name? Andrew? Adam?
“Aiden! Yeah – no – can’t find Kitty. She’s supposed to be showing me round.” I search the crowd, digging my nails into the strap of my shoulder bag, the muscles in my legs pinching. Delayed social cues kick in and I realise I should help and I get down beside him to grab a sheaf of notes before they’re crushed.

“Thanks.” He adds them to the stack and stands up, shuffling the chaotic heap, then nods past my shoulder. “She went into the girls’ restroom with Kaylee. You okay?”