Awakening (Book One of The Geis) (12 page)

I scooted my desk next to Lucas. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Mr. Netty always let us work with a partner on Mondays. I had slipped in the door to physics just as the bell rang. The only empty seat was in the back, right next to Lucas. I couldn’t have planned it better.

Before class I’d hoped that physics would get over quickly, so Rourke could help me polish up my dances for the competition. Now I hoped the class would stretch on as long as the rest of my day had.

“Do you get this stuff?” Lucas asked. He opened his book. The hair on my arm rose where his elbow sat, inches from mine. We didn’t touch, but I could feel the warmth coming from his body. He studied the first problem, and then looked over at my unopened book.

My face flushed, and I knew that the bright pink rash would soon be spreading up my neck. I took a few quiet breaths to calm down, and flipped open to the correct page.

“Sort of. My dad is a math whiz, and he helps me with the homework.”

Lucas leaned over to look at my work, resting his forearm on my now-open book. I could smell the musky scent of his shampoo.

We worked together for a while, each of us tackling a problem, then comparing answers. I relaxed.

“How’s your kid brother?”

“Do you mean Benji?” I’d forgotten that Lucas saw me carrying my sleeping brother at the fair bonfire. The fact that he remembered made me flush even more. “He’s a great kid. It’s my sister who’s a handful.”

“I know what you mean,” Lucas said. I wondered how he could relate, being the youngest of a bunch of boys. “My brothers all say that I’m a pain in the butt.” Lucas laughed, causing a few looks from other students.

I looked up to see Lucas studying my face. This close, I could see a few freckles sprinkled across his nose. I swallowed hard and focused on my math book.

He leaned forward in a half-whisper. “You doing anything this weekend?”

“No.” I swallowed.

Lucas turned his body to face me, one arm on the back of his chair and the other resting on his desk, inches from my hand.

“Do you want to go see a movie?”

I stared at Lucas. Was he asking me on a date?

“Me?” I stammered.

“Unless you already have plans.”

“What about— “ I stopped myself from blurting out Taminy’s name.

“Taminy’s not speaking to me right now.”

Never had I dared believe that Lucas would be interested in me. Now that he sat next to me, asking me on a date, I felt like I was watching this moment happen to someone else. The bell rang and a stream of people filed past us toward the door.

“No. I mean yes,” I croaked. “No, I don’t have plans. Yes, I would love to.”

Lucas smiled, and the little scar on his cheek dimpled. “Great. Saturday then?” he crammed his books into his backpack. “See you tomorrow.”

I hugged my math book and watched Lucas until he disappeared into the crowded hallway.

“You have to let me do your hair.” Christa turned me so that I faced out the car window, and swept my hair on top of my head. When I met Christa at her locker after school, she squealed so loud I worried that Lucas would hear her clear down the hallway. It was all we could do to keep quiet during dance. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Believe what?” Josh pulled out of the parking lot.

“Lucas asked McKayla out.” Christa said.

“Lucas Hyde?”

Christa ignored him, “Tell me what he said, every word.”

My hands still shook a little from my conversation with Lucas. I took a deep breath and tried to conceal a grin that kept surfacing.

“He asked me if I was busy this weekend. I said no, and then he asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with him.”

“I thought he had his eye on Taminy,” Christa said.

I shrugged, remembering the smug look on Taminy’s face after she’d emptied her water bottle on my costume. If only I could see the look on her face when she found out that Lucas took me on a date.

“Why would you want to go out with him?” Josh asked from the front seat.

I thought of the way my stomach flip-flopped when Lucas asked me.

Christa answered for me. “Lucas is hot, and McKayla’s only been dying for him to notice her.”

My face burned. I knuckled Christa’s knee. “He’s nice,” I said in a lame attempt to save face. Josh raised his eyebrows in the rear-view mirror. Why wouldn’t I have fun with Lucas? I imagined myself sitting in the movie theater alone with him, and my chest tightened with excitement.

“Are you going this weekend?” Christa’s eyes widened. “What about the feis?” It sounded like she was saying ‘fish’. The word still sounded foreign to me, even though I knew Christa was talking about the dance competition. I panicked, and then realized that Lucas asked me out for Saturday, not Friday.

“The feis is Friday, after school. Lucas is taking me out Saturday.” Saying it out loud made the date official. I grinned. It was going to be a weekend to remember.

“Is this the right place?” Mom checked her smart phone’s navigation system again. The hour-and-a-half drive to Jackson dragged on forever, with Zoey talking non-stop all the way. Mom and I both sighed in relief when we got to the competition in Jackson.

I patted my hair comb to make sure it was secure. The blue aquamarine didn’t really match my beginner’s costume and I thought about leaving it at home while I competed, but the thought put me on edge. I made it my lucky talisman.

“It says Jackson Hole High School, so I guess this is it.” I got out of the car and shook my legs.

“Are you sure you want to do this, honey?” Mom pulled my dance bag out of the backseat and handed it to me. “You look a little green.”

“Aren’t all beginners considered green?” I tried to laugh at my own joke, but it came out sounding unsure. “I really want to do this mom.”

“I know.” Mom put her hand on my back as we went in.

Once inside, I squared my shoulders and pretended that I knew exactly where to go. The hallway was teaming with dancers and their families. A jolt of excitement surged through me. This was only the second time that I had been to a competition, and the first time only by accident. This time I would be a part of it.

“Where do we register?” Mom stopped a girl who carried a wig in one hand and a dress bag in the other. She glanced at me, and pointed down the hallway of the school where a crowd gathered around two folding tables.

I smoothed the front of the white, buttoned shirt that identified me as a beginner. Rourke had encouraged me to find out everything I could about competing. An online guide had been a lifesaver, including a first-timer’s guide on what to wear and how long my hornpipe should be.

“I need to go to the bathroom, right now.” Zoey pulled on my hand. I pulled away.

“Leave McKayla alone, for now.” Mom said, holding out her own hand to Zoey. “We’ll be quick,” she told me.

I tried to look confident as I stood alone in line at the check-in table. The dancers in front of me were given a competitor number and a program of events.

“Are you competing today?” The dancer in front of me set down one of the many bags she was holding. Her wig bounced as she stood back up.

“Yeah, this is my first feis. I’m doing the hornpipe.”

“Your teacher lets you start with hard shoe? Lucky.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Emily, from Boise.”

“McKayla.” Her comment made me nervous. I didn’t think it mattered what dance you did at a competition. “I like your hair,” I said. “What are you competing in?”

“Hard shoe and soft shoe. I’ve only ever done soft shoe, so this is the first time I’ll be doing all seven dances, plus a team dance.”

“Seven dances? How do you remember them?” I asked.

“It’s not as hard as you think.” She moved to the front of the line. “What school are you with?”

“My teacher is in Star Valley.”

“Really? I heard that there used to be a school there, but I thought it closed.”

I opened my mouth to ask her more, but she stepped up to the registration desk.

“Good luck,” Emily said, gathering up her bags from the floor.

“Thanks, I hope you remember all of your dances.” I stepped up to the table where a woman sat behind a box labeled ‘M-Z’.

“What’s your name?” The woman asked.

“McKayla McCleery.”

She rifled pages. I noticed a box of safety pins and picked one out, grateful, because I hadn’t known that I would need a competitor number. I hoped there wouldn’t be any more surprises.

“Did you say McCleery?” the woman said, going through the box a second time.

“Yes.”

“Are you looking for your tutu?” A familiar voice came from behind. I turned around to see Taminy joining the line, her pink solo dress hanging from one hand. She had a painted smile on her face, but the friendliness didn’t extend to her eyes. I had known that I would see Taminy here, but I didn’t want a repeat of what happened at the last feis.

“Hello Taminy,” I acknowledged her, and turned back to the table.

“I don’t have you down on my list.” The woman picked up another box and rifled through it. “What school are you from?”

Technically, I didn’t go to a dance school. I could feel Taminy’s self-satisfied smile boring into the back of my head. Leaning forward, I whispered, “I don’t attend a school.”

Eyebrows furrowing, the receptionist reached across the table to where another woman handed out registration information to last names A-L.

“Marilyn, I need your help with this one,” she said. While she waited for Marilyn to finish, she ran her finger down a printed list in front of her. “How on earth did you register if you don’t belong to a school?”

Before I could reply, Marilyn leaned over to help.

“This girl says that she doesn’t dance with a school. Can she still compete?” The receptionist asked.

“Oh honey, you can’t compete in a feis here if you don’t have a certified teacher. Who do you take lessons from?” Marilyn spoke to me like I was in a kindergarten classroom.

I realized that I didn’t even know Rourke’s last name. I glanced down the hall. Mom sat waiting with Zoey on a bench against the wall. What should I do? I wondered if I should have Mom come over.

“McKayla is a ballerina, not an Irish dancer.” Taminy’s honeyed voice came from behind me.

I had been nervous before, but now I panicked. The online guide didn’t say anything about having to pre-register. How could they prevent me from dancing? And what made a teacher certifiable? I scratched at my neck, the telltale splotchy rash proclaimed my embarrassment.

“I am a ballet dancer, but I do Irish, too.” I couldn’t bear the looks of pity given by the women who I knew were only trying to help.

Taminy joined me at the table, raising her eyebrows in mock sympathy. “How nice of you to travel all the way up here to watch me dance.”

“Oh, that’s right, Lucas mentioned that you would be dancing today.” I knew I shouldn’t bring up Lucas, but I couldn’t help myself.

Taminy’s eyes flashed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s room for more than one person on the dance floor.”

“Can I get you checked in?” Marilyn interrupted.

Taminy narrowed her eyes at me. She flipped her wigged head around, and gave Marilyn her name.

Dazed, I walked to where Mom and Zoey were waiting. Zoey’s mouth was going a mile a minute.

“I can’t dance,” I told mom. Zoey chattered on, but Mom ignored her. My confidence deflated.

“What? Is there some mix-up?” Mom said, shushing Zoey with her finger.

“No, there’s a rule that I can’t dance if I don’t have a certified teacher. And I should have registered before we came.”

“Can we talk to someone who’s in charge?” Mom’s face still looked pinched from the long drive.

I shook my head. “No Mom, I just didn’t know.” I looked toward the front doors to where people were streaming in for the competition.

Mom followed my eyes, “We might as well stay and watch for a while. I saw some vendors down the hall. Let’s go see if there’s something to eat.”

I sat on the bleachers between Mom and Zoey. All around us, dancers were stretching and getting ready to perform. I zipped up my jacket in an attempt to hide my beginner costume from curious eyes.

The crowd rose for the National Anthem, followed by a solo sung in Gaelic that was announced as the Irish National Anthem. The crowd was a blur of faces and sparkling sequins. The energy flowing from the crowd pulsed like a shot of adrenaline in my veins. I saw Emily surrounded by a group of girls who wore the exact same dress. That must be the “team” she had been talking about.

I felt like I did when I was a kid and my mom wouldn’t buy me a sucker. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to complain, to tell someone that I could dance if I wanted to. Mom kept sneaking glances at me. I knew she wanted to talk about the feis, but I didn’t know what to say.

My mind raced with questions for Rourke. Would he know what it meant to be a certified teacher? Could Rourke be a certified teacher? I thought of the phone number Ms. Slannon had given me, determined to call her friend again. Maybe she would know.

The soloist continued her song in Gaelic. In the bleachers, dancers sat next to their families, putting on last-minute lipstick and securing their wigs with pins. My eyes stopped when I saw a familiar face. Lucas sat near the front, a glazed expression on his face. A shot of excitement raced through me, and I thought about going down to sit by him, until I saw who sat next to him. Taminy stretched next to her mother, whose hair looked like she had spent the morning in the salon. Taminy met my eye and raised her chin.

The song ended and a polite applause filled the gymnasium.

A woman in a medieval costume stood by the door, clapping for the soloist. She wore a green dress of velvet that draped to her ankles, interrupted by a golden cord that accentuated her small waist. A cape of drab grey covered her dress. I wondered if she had dressed up for the feis, like the die-hards at renaissance fairs.

The woman ran her fingers through white-blonde hair that hung in sheets around her face, hiding the delicate nose and striking eyes that scanned the crowd. A jolt of recognition hit me. Mrs. Saddlebury.

Mrs. Saddlebury’s eyes met and held mine. Her fingers stopped moving, and she clutched the strands of hair she had been combing. The room around us faded. Intensity drew me to her, as if she had tightened a rope around my chest to reel me in.

Her eyes widened before she continued to search the crowd, pulling through the knots in her hair. An icy sensation crept up the back of my neck. I looked down to where tiny goose bumps had raised the hair on my arms. Mrs. Saddlebury spun around in the doorway, her long skirt following her out into the hall.

Shaking, I turned to my mom. “Let’s go.”

“They are about to start. Look, the girls are lining up.”

A violinist played what I now recognized as a reel. Dancers lined up across the stage. I found Taminy’s pink sparkle dress. Lucas still sat next to Taminy’s mother, playing a game on his phone.

“I want to go right now.”

Mom searched my face, and nodded. She turned to gather Zoey, but she wasn’t there.

“Where did that child go?” Mom said. “I can’t even take my eyes off of her for a moment.”

“She probably went to the bathroom again,” I said. “I’ll go check.”

Unease carved a pit in my stomach. I dodged the spectators who gathered around the door, and darted into the hall.

A quick check of the bathroom increased my anxiety. Zoey wasn’t there.

When I came out of the bathroom, a flash of green caught my eye. I whipped around to see Mrs. Saddlebury pulling Zoey toward the double doors that led outside. Zoey was straining against the woman, and when she saw me, she called out. People walking past watched with little interest what must look to them like a temper tantrum.

“Zoey!”

Adrenaline pushed me forward. I sprinted down the hall. The feeling of dread knotted and contorted in my stomach.

“Stop! Let go of her,” I yelled.

Some dancers walking past me looked to where Mrs. Saddlebury struggled to get Zoey out the door. Zoey was crying, and Mrs. Saddlebury had her eyes trained on me, cold and devious.

“That’s my sister, she’s taking my sister away.” I looked around for help.

The group of dancers hesitated, not knowing what to do, but Marilyn from the front desk rushed over. Mrs. Saddlebury stopped at the door.

I covered the distance to them. Mrs. Saddlebury relaxed her hold on Zoey, but didn’t let go. I pulled Zoey to me, wrapping my arms protectively around her. Zoey clung to me and we faced Mrs. Saddlebury.

“Is there something wrong?” Marilyn asked.

I took a shaky breath. “This woman tried to take my sister out of the school.”

Marilyn started to answer, but Mrs. Saddlebury knelt in front of Zoey and took her hand. I tried to pull Zoey away, but she put her small hand out and looked at Mrs. Saddlebury with wide eyes.

“Is this your sister, honey?” Zoey nodded. Mrs. Saddlebury stood and looked at me, her gaze intense. “It’s nice to see you again, McKayla.”

Her face was full of concern, and I wondered if I had made a mistake. “Zoey lost her way when she went to the restroom. We were going to look outside and see if we could find her mother.”

“Zoey, there you are.” Mom came down the hall behind us, taking Zoey by the hand. “I’m glad you found her, McKayla.”

“That’s settled then.” Marilyn seemed pleased to have the incident taken care of. “Thank you for your help,” she told Mrs. Saddlebury. She resumed her position at the registration table and lifted a finger toward me. “You should think carefully before accusing others who are trying to help.”

I swallowed, curling my arms around my stomach.

Mom scrunched her nose as if she smelled something unpleasant. She looked from Marilyn to me. “What happened?”

Accusing Mrs. Saddlebury of taking Zoey only made me look ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Saddlebury,” I said. “Thank you for helping Zoey.” I needed to talk to Aunt Avril about this, right away.

Mrs. Saddlebury gave me a sympathetic look and put her hand on my shoulder. I shrank from her touch. “No harm done,” she said.

Leaves blew across the sidewalk and gathered in the gutters of the parking lot. Zoey tried to crunch each one she passed, but Mom had her hand in a vise.

“I don’t like that old lady.” Zoey pouted.

“Zoey, you can’t wander off like that,” Mom held tightly to Zoey’s hand.

Even in the cool weather, a wave of heat washed over me. I looked back at the school. Mrs. Saddlebury stood inside the door. She looked beautiful in the costume, her face a peaceful mask that hid the emotions that rolled across the parking lot to me.

I flinched at the anger that clawed its way into my own ruffled emotions. Combined with the embarrassment of not being able to dance and the panic of losing Zoey, the anger bubbled up inside my chest.

Movement caught my eye, and I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. Behind Mrs. Saddlebury crouched Rourke’s lizard, his blue tail coiling out behind him.

“Are you coming, McKayla?” Mom’s words pulled me away from the scene. When I looked back, the entryway was empty.