Choker (3 page)

Cara resisted the temptation to lay her head on the scarred wood-veneer desk. Even after tea with honey last night and a Halls drop, her throat still felt shredded. As she entered the lobby this morning, some jerk had called out, “Good morning, Choker!” and a little giggle had rippled through the groups standing around. She heard it again on her way to homeroom—someone murmured “It’s Choker” as she brushed through the crowded hallways. Cara fixed her eyes straight ahead and concentrated on maintaining her neutral look. Nonchalance was exhausting.

She let her gaze travel around the sunny room. The discussion of
Catcher in the Rye
buzzed around her like static. Ten people were texting with their phones under their desks, four were reading for other classes, and two were sleeping. Dale Simmons was actually drooling a little. Up at the front of the room, Mr. Crawford tapped his marker on the whiteboard. “Think, folks. Who does Holden Caulfield truly admire? Dale, wake up.” Dale’s head jerked up. Mr. Crawford scanned the room. “Anybody? Alexis?”

One aisle over, Alexis slid her phone into her bag with a smooth flick of her wrist and offered Mr. Crawford a brilliant smile. A little silver butterfly clip gleamed in her blond hair. “Well, his little sister, right?”

“Right, very good.” Mr. Crawford wrote “Phoebe” on the board. Alexis sat back in her chair in a self-satisfied manner and crossed her tanned legs. She reached into her gigantic bag and took out a tube of lip gloss, running it over her mouth until her lips had achieved a sticky purple gleam. Cara could smell the sugary fake grape scent all the way across the aisle. Alexis glanced coolly around the room. Cara looked away, but not fast enough. Alexis leaned over. “What are you looking at?” she hissed, her voice piercing like a shard of ice. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”

Cara’s toes curled inside her battered running shoes. She felt the little muscle at the corner of her eye begin to twitch. Alexis saw it too. She opened her mouth to say something else, but just then, Mr. Crawford turned around. Alexis faced forward fast. Cara exhaled quietly and put her finger over the twitching muscle. She forced herself to take a deep breath and relax until the twitching stopped.

One row over and four up, Ethan stretched his muscular arms behind his head. Just yesterday, those arms were wrapped around her midsection. Cara let her fingers skate along the sore place over her ribs. What if the choking hadn’t happened in front of a million people? What if they’d been alone? Maybe he would have helped her to a chair and sat down with her, clasping one of her hands—

“—breakdown, Cara?”

“Huh?” She jumped, banging her knees on the underside of the desk. Her binder clattered to the floor, scattering a handful of papers across the aisles.

The class tittered, and a few people twisted around in their seats to look. Mr. Crawford stroked his scraggly beard patiently. “In your opinion, did Holden’s ‘phony’ parents contribute in some way to his breakdown?” His twinkly little eyes bore down on her from behind his glasses.

Cara could feel her face grow hot. She could sense the class listening. “Um, uh, well, yes?” she mumbled.

“Um, uh, well,
harr-acch
.” Alexis made a disgusting retching sound, just loud enough for everyone around them to hear. Next to her, Sydney snorted, and the laughter swelled. Cara’s ears flamed. She looked up at Mr. Crawford, hoping he would move on to someone else, but he just offered a sympathetic smile.

“Would you like to refer to your book, Cara?” he asked.

No. No, I most certainly would not like to refer to my book. But thanks for asking.
Cara bent her head and riffled through the crumbly yellowed pages in a white heat of embarrassment. The black letters swam together in front of her eyes. For an eternity, the room was silent save for the thud of her heart and Alexis and Sydney’s breathy snickers. Finally, she looked up at Mr. Crawford helplessly.

He nodded a little. “Anyone else?” he asked, his eyes sweeping the rest of the class. “Thoughts on Holden’s parents?”

Cara went limp. She leaned down and swept up a handful of her fallen papers, then slid down in her chair. Crossing her arms over her old green T-shirt, she stared fixedly at the maples outside. Just then, she saw it—the flash of movement in the trees. It looked like something . . .
someone
, darting behind one of the thick tree trunks. Cara blinked. The flash was gone.

The bell rang. Mr. Crawford raised his voice. “Chapters twelve through sixteen for Wednesday, everyone.” There was a general clattering and scraping of chairs. Cara slowly closed her binder. She wanted to make sure Alexis and Co. were out of the hallway before she left. As people filed past, she rummaged around in her messenger bag, pretending she was searching for something in the front pocket.

Someone stopped by her chair. Cara’s heart sank. If Alexis said one more thing, she might just break in two. Gingerly, she lifted her eyes an inch. She saw a large pair of boat shoes, one with a broken, knotted lace, and two masculine ankles. She looked up.

Ethan stood in front of her, holding out the rest of her escaped papers. “Hey, these were under my chair,” he said. Cara thought she was going to pass out just from the sound of his mellow baritone. His blue eyes seemed to pin her against the chair.

“Th—” Her throat closed up halfway through the word.
Oh my God, Cara, can’t you even say “thanks” without looking like an idiot?
She cleared her throat. “Thanks.” She stood up too fast, catching her thighs under the desk rim and almost knocking it over.

“Whoa.” Ethan reached out to steady the wobbling desk. “Hey, just wanted to see how your throat was feeling. You know, after yesterday.”

Cara flushed. “I’m okay,” she said in a low voice. She took the papers and held them awkwardly in both hands.

“Cool, that’s good. I thought I was going to break your ribs.” Ethan grinned. He paused. Cara stood frozen.
Say something!
This guy saved your life yesterday!
But all she could produce was a stupid little smile and a shrug. Ethan waited a second longer, fiddling idly with a leather band around his wrist.

“See you at practice.” He smiled at her and proceeded up the aisle. She watched him give Alexis a squeeze, then dis-appear into the hallway.

Cara stuffed the notes into her backpack and yanked the zipper closed, ignoring the wad of paper still sticking out of the side. With her head down, she trudged up the aisle and nodded good-bye to Mr. Crawford. As she rounded the corner into the hallway, someone bumped her hard from behind, almost sending her sprawling onto the battered linoleum floor.

Alexis and Sydney stood there, toothy grins spread across their faces. “Hey, it’s Choker!” Alexis declared for the whole hallway to hear. “How’s it going today—
arrgh!
Haach!
” She clutched her neck as horrible retching sounds issued from her mouth.

“Hooach! Rrack!”
Sydney joined in, opening her thick lips so wide Cara could see the fillings in her back teeth. She bulged her eyes out and rolled them around in her head, as if she were about to expire right there in the English wing.

Cara felt her pulse pound in her temples. She whipped around and began walking away, fast. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she zigzagged between people hurrying to class. Alexis and Sydney followed, making choking noises, every so often dissolving into giggles. “Cara! Cara! Wait!” Alexis called as she neared the lobby.

Cara stopped and turned around. “W-what?” She tried to sound bored, but it came out shaky.

A couple of sophomores stapling swim meet fliers to a bulletin board turned around. Some hairy stoners hurrying out to their cars to smoke actually stopped and watched.

Alexis’s eyes gleamed.
“Ooooohhhaack!”
She went into another paroxysm, her biggest so far. Hands at her throat, she twirled around in the middle of the lobby like a manic ballerina.

Cara willed herself to turn around again and keep walking, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her stomach was twisted in a painful knot. A crowed gathered around them.

Alexis stopped twirling. “It was really disgusting watching you snot all over yourself,” she told Cara conversationally. Cara felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Alexis peered at her. “Aw, Cara’s upset.” She took a tissue from her pocket. “I’m sorry, Cara,” she purred. “Here—don’t snot on yourself again.” She waved the tissue in Cara’s face.

“Get away from me!” Cara barked, knocking Alexis’s hand away. Her voice rang out in the now-still lobby. A little ripple of laughter went through the crowd. A few kids craned their necks for a better view.

Alexis offered a pearly white smile. “You know, Choker—oops, I mean, Cara—if you’d just chew your food like a normal person, we wouldn’t have to see you hark it up. I think that carrot is still there on the floor. Why don’t you clean up after yourself, Choker?”

Cara could feel the corner of her eye start twitching again. She could hardly see Alexis’s smooth, porcelain face in front of her. All of a sudden, her eyes were swimming with hot tears. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but no words came out.

Alexis’s green eyes narrowed. She bent toward Cara’s face. “What’s the matter with your eye, Choker?” she asked loudly. “It’s, like, jumping around like a spider.” She pointed as if noting an interesting medical phenomenon.

A murmur went through the onlookers. “Where?”

“What’s her eye doing?”

“Move, I can’t see.”

People clustered closer. Cara looked around wildly. She could feel the twitching getting faster. She clapped one hand over her eye and, spinning around, shoved her way through the crowd.

She ran down the hallway, the laughter behind her echoing in her ears. The gray bathroom door loomed ahead. Cara shoved it open without slowing down. She bolted into one of the dented metal stalls, leaned over the toilet, and puked.

Gasping, Cara straightened up and slowly wiped her mouth with some toilet paper. At the sink, she buried her hands in slimy pink soap as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The harsh fluorescent lights cut dark circles under her eyes, which were sunken like pits in her head. The edges of her nostrils were pink-rimmed, and her brown hair hung in limp strands to her shoulders.

Cara shuddered. Slowly, she slid her back down the tiled wall until she was sitting on the floor. The bathroom was utterly silent except for an echo-y
tink-tink
drip of water from one of the faucets. She tilted her head back against the wall and drew her knees against her chest. She closed her eyes and went to a quiet place in her head.

Chapter 3

C
ARA’S HEAD WAS POUNDING BY THE TIME SHE FINALLY
got home at seven o’clock. Practice had been brutal, and now all she wanted was a hot shower and a giant carton of Ben & Jerry’s. “Hi,” she called as she opened the front door. There was no answer. The spacious foyer was dim and shadowy, the house chilly from being closed up all day.

On the hall chair, her mother’s tabby cat, Samson, was curled up on her favorite fleece jacket. “Move, Samson.” Cara swatted at him. He rose slowly and gave her a bored feline stare. “Ick.” She yanked the jacket out from under him and wiped at the gray hairs stuck all over it. He ignored her and licked his belly.

A pile of mail lay scattered across the floor near the mail slot. Cara switched on the hall lamp and dumped the mail in the already heaping basket on the foyer table. The rest of the table was cluttered with a random collection of sunglasses, bowls of change, and a pile of Christmas cards from nine months ago, coated with a thick layer of dust.

“Mom?” Cara called, wandering into the kitchen. The last of the evening light was filtering through the windows, illuminating the dirty dishes on the counter as if in a still life. Days of newspapers and law journals were heaped on the marble countertops. There was a note taped to the table.

Car—Late meeting. Stew in Crock-Pot. Love you! Mom

She lifted the lid of the Crock-Pot on the counter and gazed at the raw meat and vegetables inside. Mom had forgotten to turn it on again. Cara was hardly surprised; her parents were both attorneys and had always worked long hours, even when she was little. She’d spent most of her childhood with a babysitter or a nanny. There had been a time, though, when they’d first moved here after fifth grade, when they really felt like a family. She always thought of it as the “good period.” They went grocery shopping together; they took day trips on the weekends; there was actual conversation at the dinner table. And then as Cara finished middle school, her parents started working more and more, and like a spell wearing off, the “good period” slowly came to an end. Now they were up to seventy-plus hours a week again, just like when she was little.

She was used to the silent house, though, and tonight at least, it was a relief not to have to talk to anyone. It was so quiet, she could hear the furnace click on and off. She slung her bag onto one of the antique ladder-back chairs and collapsed at the table. She let her forearms rest on her sweat-sticky thighs and her hands dangle between her legs. Her head throbbed.

Cara raised her head at the sound of a key at the front door. She heard rustling and the tap of high heels. Her mother breezed in, Burberry trench draped over one arm, her gray hair swept into a disheveled bun. A pair of reading glasses was pushed onto the top of her head, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She set her bulging alligator briefcase on the floor near the doorway and jumped when she saw her daughter sitting in the half-shadows at the table. “Oh! Cara, I didn’t realize you were home.”

“I thought you weren’t going to be back until later.” Cara heaved herself up from the table and went over to the fridge. She opened the door, letting the chilly white light bathe her face.

“I actually made it out of court early, can you believe that?” Her mother brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. “Judge Haney was about to keep us, but then the opposing counsel’s client didn’t show, so I told him—” She broke off as Samson came mewing into the room, twining himself around her ankles. “Hi, baby!” she cooed. She scooped the cat into her arms and kissed him on the nose.