Don't Scream (9780307823526) (9 page)

In Algebra II, I had to think so hard it gave me a headache, so I was glad when my last class was finally over and I could head for the children's ward … and Ricky.

Mrs. Hopkins greeted me with a beaming smile. “Mrs. Emery told me about your plan, Jess. We're both overjoyed. There's some red tape we'll have to work our way through, but it can be done. Do you think you can get your volunteers together by the beginning of next month?”

“Even sooner,” I said. “I don't think I'll have any trouble getting kids to volunteer—especially those in my social problems class, so I'll just have to make a chart and fill in names.”

“Make a copy for me, too,” she said, “with monthly schedules that we can coordinate.”

“I'll have to get a list of possible substitutes, too.”

“Don't worry about that part,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “Volunteering is not like a salaried job. We aren't dependent on volunteers, so if someone can't show up, there's no problem.”

With a rush of relief I thought,
This is going to be easy!
“While I'm here could I play with Ricky?” I asked.

“Certainly,” she said. “Ricky's desperate for some attention. Tell Alice—she's the nurse with the gray hair—to show you how to wash up. Then put on one of the green scrub gowns.”

I did as she said and walked into the room where cribs were lined up against the wall.

Ricky was just waking from a late nap, so I picked him up and snuggled his warm, sleepy body against my own. Through the nearby window, frosted with golden late sunlight, I saw two bright red maple leaves drop from a nearby branch and spiral slowly to the ground. Peaceful little boy. Peaceful day. I was filled with joy.

But another reflection suddenly joined mine in the window glass.

I whirled to face Scott.

“I didn't know you were coming here,” I said.

“I didn't know either, until the last minute,” Scott responded. “I saw you leave school and knew from Lori this was where you were headed, so I followed you.”

“Why didn't you call out? I would have waited for you to catch up.”

“I had things to think about.”

“So you followed me? That's creepy,” I snapped. I thought about his eyes on me as I walked the eight long blocks to get here, and I enfolded Ricky even more tightly.

Scott frowned. “I didn't know it would bother you, Jess. Sorry.”

I was sorry, too. I didn't like being followed, or spied on, or lied to, and I was afraid of what Scott Alexander might think up next.

I ignored Scott and sat on the floor to play with Ricky. “Up you go,” I said as I grasped Ricky's chubby little hands and helped him stand.

“Up,” Ricky said, and gurgled happily at me.

“I'm going to look around,” Scott said, and ambled out of the room and down the hall.

“You said
up
,” I told Ricky. “Good for you! Can you say
Jess
?”

“Up,” Ricky said. His diaper-padded bottom dropped to the floor with a plop, and he laughed. “Up,” he said again.

“We'll work on the concept later, sweetie pie,” I told him, and helped him stand again while I tried to put Scott out of my mind.

Scott wasn't like any of the other guys I knew. Hiding from Lori and me in the woods and secretly following me here to the hospital—why? That was a weird way to behave, and if I'd had a choice, I'd have told Scott to get lost. But I couldn't. Lori liked Scott.

I sighed. There wasn't much I could do about Scott. I couldn't even tell Lori how I felt about him.

“Ricky,” I said as I lifted him onto my lap, “I'm going to teach you how to play patty-cake, and we're going to forget all about that guy and hope he doesn't come back here and bug us.”

“Who's bugging you?” Mark asked from the doorway. He crossed the room and squatted beside me. “Not me, I hope.”

I gave a start. “No, not you. You just surprised me. I didn't expect to see you here. I've had all sorts of surprises today.”

“I made an appointment with Mrs. Hopkins, but I'm almost ten minutes early,” Mark said.

“Why'd you do that?” I asked.

“Mrs. Emery said she'd talk to her about our volunteer program, but I thought it would help if she talked to the kids who want to help. She should hear our ideas straight from us.”

My backbone stiffened. “She's all for the project. You don't need to convince her. Anyhow, shouldn't this be a committee action—including Scott and me?”

“Hey, Jess, I didn't mean to steal any of your glory. I know how busy you are, so I was just trying to help.”

I said, “Let's get one thing straight, Mark, I'm not doing this for ‘the glory.' ”

“But it will look great on your high-school record and on college applications. It should impress anyone who checks up on you.”

“I'm not trying to impress anyone. That's not my reason.” I kept hugging Ricky, who was content to snuggle against me.

I could tell from the twitch at the corners of Mark's mouth that he didn't believe me.

“You wanted to head this thing,” he said. “I could give more time than you in setting it all up and running it smoothly.”

My patience was almost gone. “If you remember, I agreed with you when you said you wanted to be in charge,” I told him. “But Mrs. Emery insisted—”

“I know, I know. It doesn't matter. It ended up the way you wanted it to, didn't it?”

I could hear anger prowling through Mark's words.

Ricky reached up and patted my face. I forced myself to calm down for his sake. I stroked the soft, fine hair back from his forehead and smiled at him. To Mark I said, “There are children here who need attention. Since you're here today, why don't you ask one of the nurses to find a scrub gown for you and play with one of the children?”

“I'm not interested in playing with kids,” Mark said. “I'm not good with diapers or runny noses or kids at all. They're like cats or dogs. They want so much, and what do they give back? I would have been great at keeping records, making assignments, all the executive work.”

I stared at him. I was shocked by his words, and I hoped he was saying them just to bug me. “From now on you're my number one assistant,” I said.
“You can give yourself any title you want. Call yourself Honorable Grand Dork, or Esteemed Noble Excellency, or whatever will impress people who'll want to see your high-school records! Just don't give me any more grief about this committee!” I shook my head. “I can't believe you don't even like kids. Why'd you get into all this?”

Mark's voice was sorrowful as he said, “You just don't understand. I only want to help you, Jess. You're the only real friend I have here in Oakberry.”

“I'm sorry, Mark.” I reached out a hand, but Mark let it slide from his arm as he got to his feet. “I didn't mean to blow off steam,” I told him.

He looked at his watch. “I'll keep my appointment with Mrs. Hopkins—that is, if I have your permission.”

“Mark …”

“Jess, you're going to do a great job. I'm glad I'm going to be part of your committee,” he said. “Are we friends again?” His smile was warm.

“Of course we're friends,” I answered, bewildered because I couldn't understand how quickly he went from anger to sorrow to friendship.

“Great! I'll see you later,” he said.

I didn't see Mark again, but half an hour later Mrs. Hopkins came to tell me that the trays from the kitchen were on their way and it was almost time to feed the children.

“I'll help,” I offered.

She took Ricky from my arms and said, “Thank you, Jess, but we'd better wait until we have the final word on rules and regulations from the hospital's
legal department concerning what volunteers are and are not allowed to do.”

As I picked up my backpack, Mrs. Hopkins added, “I'm so pleased with the ideas you and those young men came up with. Providing toys and books for the children will be wonderful.”

I looked up in surprise. “Toys and books?”

“Yes,” she said. “The polite young man with the dark brown hair mentioned it.”

Mark. Why didn't he say something to me?
Guiltily I realized that he might have wanted to, but I hadn't given him a chance. If only he hadn't been such a pain.

Mrs. Hopkins smiled knowingly. “I could feel a bit of tension between the two boys. Could it be they're rivals where you're concerned?”

“Oh, no!” I said, blushing in spite of myself. “There's nothing romantic involved. In fact, Scott has been seeing my best friend, and Mark … well, we're just next-door neighbors.”

“Bad guess on my part,” Mrs. Hopkins said, and laughed. “I just thought that since you're a very pretty girl, and they both arrived here when you did, and …” She broke off and laughed. “I guess I read too many romance novels.”

On my walk home from the hospital I thought about all that Mrs. Hopkins had said. When had she seen the tension between Scott and Mark? I had felt it, but I didn't understand why it existed. Did they both want to make points with university selection committees? Was that all the volunteer work in the children's ward meant?

At first I was disappointed and just a little bit
hurt. Then I told myself,
Mark and Scott's problems are no concern of mine. All that counts is that we give the kids in the children's ward what they need to make them happy.

I quickened my steps and walked the last three blocks home humming.

A
S
I
TURNED
the corner, Mrs. Malik was hoisting a heavy bag of groceries from the trunk of their car into her arms. I could see other bags of groceries crowded into the trunk, so I jogged toward her and said, “I'll help you carry those.”

“Thanks,” she answered. Sweat beads dotted her forehead, which was plastered with sticky, damp strands of hair.

I dropped my backpack on the ground and picked up two bags of groceries, following Mrs. Malik into their house. There was no sign of Mark or Mr. Malik, so we made another trip to the car and carried the rest of the groceries into the kitchen, lining them up on the counter near the refrigerator.

Mrs. Malik leaned against the counter and wiped at her face with the back of one hand. She looked awful. Her skin had a yellow cast, and her eyelids drooped at the outer corners.

“Would you like me to help you with something else?” I asked.

“No. I need something cold to drink.” She pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “Want a glass?” she asked me.

“Yes, thanks,” I said. I'd never seen anything
like her iced tea pitcher before. The glass formed a green-and-gold parrot, its curved yellow beak the spout. “That's a neat pitcher,” I told her.

“Thanks,” Mrs. Malik said. “It's a souvenir from a trip to Miami years ago.” She put ice into two glasses and handed one to me, but she didn't ask me to sit down. She just leaned against the counter again and noisily gulped down at least half of the tea in her glass.

She held the cold glass to her forehead and sighed with pleasure. “I don't know when I'll ever get used to this heat,” she said. “There had to be other, cooler places to live.”

“Mark said you and your husband were transferred here.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“You have a long drive from the MaxiMart at the Gulfgate Mall.”

Her glance was wary. “What are you getting at?”

“I just mean that you look awfully hot. Isn't your car air-conditioned?”

“Sure, but it's broken. Would it hurt anybody if we drove a little newer car?”

Her accent threw me. I had to decipher what she had said before I could completely understand it. “Are you looking for a new car?” I asked.

“Me? Ha! I should be so lucky.” She took another long swallow of tea, and it seemed to make her feel better, because she said, “Your mother was kind to send over that cake. I should thank her. I guess I'm not much of a neighbor. I've never been one for visiting back and forth. I'm not sure how
to accept all the food that's come over. Somebody brought a pot roast. Somebody from one of the churches in town came over with a peach pie. We don't even know them.”

“Just enjoy the food,” I said. “They're welcoming you to the neighborhood. It's a custom around here.”

“I'd just as soon it wasn't. It makes it hard to keep to yourself.”

“It also makes it easier to make friends.”

“Friends?” Mrs. Malik lifted the hair at the back of her neck. “No thanks. I like to pick and choose my own friends.”

I took another sip of iced tea and put my glass down on the counter. “I'd better get home,” I told her. “It's almost time for dinner.”

“Thanks for lending me a hand,” she said, but she didn't move from where she was standing.

“I was glad to,” I said. I walked down the hallway to the front door and let myself out.

As I picked up my backpack, I remembered what I'd thought of Mark's parents the first time I'd met them. I hadn't changed my opinion. They were truly weird.

As I walked into our kitchen, Mom was stirring something in a kettle. I dropped my backpack into the nearest kitchen chair, as usual, and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Yum! Spaghetti,” I said.

Mom hugged me. “I went grocery shopping after work. You told me you'd make cheese enchiladas tomorrow, when it's your turn to cook, so I got all the ingredients. Is that all right?”

“It's great,” I said. “I haven't made enchiladas for months.”

Mom sighed. “I know that nowadays we're only supposed to eat broiled chicken and fish, but then I read that pasta is good for you, and even some red meat … except in the paper this morning some doctor said not to eat red meat … but I don't really think cheese enchiladas will be that bad for us if we don't eat them too often, do you?”