Fly Away (4 page)

chapter seven

Emma visited us at practice on Monday. Everyone was so happy to see her. Her left arm was stuck in a funny position, supported by a steel post, and her whole shoulder was encased in plaster. The girls swarmed around her, asking questions.

“How can you sleep with that thing on?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Does it itch?”

“When does it come off?”

Emma laughed, accepting hug after hug with her good arm. She explained that her shoulder hadn't hurt much since the surgery, but that sleeping was tough, and her hand was always freezing from being up in the air like that. She congratulated me on making flyer.

I squeezed her good hand. “You'll be back soon, Emma. Don't worry. You are coming back, right?”

She nodded. “Of course. But not until, like, September or something.”

“Do we ever miss you,” said Shona pointedly.

I knew the comment was not really meant for Emma, but for me.

I didn't say anything, but when we split up into our stunt groups, I was determined to prove Shona wrong. “Let's practice that split throw,” I said to Priya.

“Are you sure?” she said. It was the throw I'd had so much trouble with at the previous practice.

“Of course, I'm sure,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I didn't feel sure at all. “I've been thinking about what might be going wrong. Could you try throwing me not quite so high? Then I won't have as much time to wobble. Once I'm steady, we'll work on height.”

Lucy shrugged. “Worth a try.”

For the first time that month, Liam and I actually made it to geek night. Eliza and the others were cool about our missed sessions.

“Just so you know,” I warned, “I have to miss another night. Two weeks from now.”

“Oh yeah?” Eliza asked. “Where are you going?”

“Toronto,” I told her. “With my cheerleading team. We're going to the Great Lakes Championship.”

“What sport?” asked Dave, one of the guys I didn't know very well.

“Cheerleading,” I repeated.

“Yeah, but for what? Basketball? Football?”

I shook my head. “Not cheering for a team. We're competing. Cheerleading is an independent sport, you know. It's like gymnastics and dance, all in one.”

“Dance is not a sport,” Dave said.

“Can you hold your right foot over your head with one hand, while your left foot is six feet above the ground, balanced on somebody's palm?” I asked.

Dave frowned, trying to picture a scorpion lift in his head.

“Well,” I said, “once you've mastered that stunt, we should chat about whether or not cheerleading is a sport.”

Going to Toronto was going to be awesome. Besides the cheer championship— which we were doing as a warm-up to Ontario provincials—we had plans to go shopping and out for dinner in Chinatown. Arielle was excited about visiting the North York Art Gallery. It was going to be a great time.

“I'll miss you when I'm in Toronto, Liam,” I told him as we rode home from Eliza's.

Liam shrugged. “You'll have more fun without me anyway.”

“That's not true,” I said, even though it was.

He laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“That wasn't very convincing.”

I took a deep breath. Was he asking for a fight? We'd needed to talk for ages, but there was always a reason we couldn't. He wasn't in the mood, or I was at practice, or we couldn't get any time alone. But now we were in the privacy of his car with twenty minutes of driving before we'd reach Stratford. I looked down at the buckle on my purse. “Well…,” I began, “you know I love you, Liam. But I don't know what's up with you lately.”

“Not you too, Marnie.”

“Me too what?” I tried to ignore the irritation in his voice.

“You know my mom's been hassling me lately. Saying I'm depressed and all that garbage. I don't need you jumping on the bandwagon.”

“But you did admit you're a bit depressed,” I reminded him. “You know, before Christmas. We talked about it.”

He stared at the road ahead. “It's winter. It gets dark at five thirty. Who isn't depressed this time of year?”

“You weren't depressed this time last year.”

He stayed silent.

“You can talk to me,” I told him gently.

“I've known you for so long…”

“And if there were an actual problem,” he said, “I would.”

“Well,” I said, “maybe the fact that your attitude is stressing me out counts as an ‘actual problem.' ”

He pulled the car over so hard that it fishtailed and then spun out, leaving us facing in the direction we had come from. It happened so fast that I didn't have a chance to scream. We'd been stopped for more than thirty seconds before I realized I'd been holding my breath.

“Get out,” Liam said.

“Wh—what?” I stammered. “But it's dark—”

“You won't be waiting around long,” he said. “One of your stupid cheerleading friends will be right along to rescue you as usual.”

My hands shaking, I reached for my purse and lifted it onto my lap. I put my hand on the door latch. “What's the name of this road?” I asked, as calmly as I could.

“What?”

“The name of this road,” I repeated. “So I can explain where I am.”

He looked at me with an expression on his face I'd never seen before. “This would be the end of the road,” he said. “And by the way, Marnie, the reason I wasn't depressed the same time last year is that my life wasn't halfway down the frigging toilet then.”

“You mean the scholarship?” I asked, but he didn't hear me. He slammed the car door, spun the car around and sped off.

chapter eight

I called my dad, not Arielle, to pick me up. Liam had been so much of a jerk, leaving me out there in the cold, that I was almost embarrassed for him. I wasn't ready to deal with Arielle's outrage on my behalf.

My dad was so worried about me that he got there in less than ten minutes. I climbed, shivering, into his car.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head.

“What happened?”

I shrugged. “I don't even know. I don't even know what I did!”

“Forget him,” Dad said in a tone so firm that I knew the conversation was over. But when we drove past a farmhouse outside Brocksden, there was a car that looked like Liam's parked near the end of the driveway. After we passed it, the car pulled out and followed us, staying a long way behind. Liam had been watching to make sure someone came for me.

When we got back to our house, it was almost midnight. Too late to call Arielle. I dropped my coat over the back of the sofa and stumbled upstairs to my bedroom.

I needed to get into my room, sit down and pull myself together.

I climbed, fully dressed, onto the middle of my bed. I sat there in the dark for a long time, trying to decide whether or not to sneak back downstairs to the computer. I thought maybe Ari might be up and online. She'd been on the computer an awful lot lately.

I knew that Liam would not have wanted me to tell Arielle about his problems, but how could he expect me to cope with this all alone? I loved him, and I was afraid for him. He had always been the levelheaded one in our relationship. He was supposed to be the one looking out for me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I pressed my forehead against my knees.

When I opened my eyes again, it was morning. I was shivering. I'd slept in my clothes on top of the comforter. I climbed stiffly to my feet and started getting ready for school. With the Great Lakes Championship fast approaching, we had cheerleading practice again that night. Coach Saylor had explained that we had a lot of fine-tuning to do if we hoped to do well. She hadn't looked at me when she said it, which was kind. Using the expression “fine-tuning” to describe me figuring out how to ace a stunt more than fifty percent of the time was kind too. She'd already cut me all the slack that she could.

After dinner I scrambled to catch the early crosstown bus. I wanted to get to the cheer club as soon as I could, so Arielle and I would have time to talk before too many other girls got there. Ari could always be counted on to arrive early.

Except this time, she didn't. Everybody else trickled in and got changed. Eventually I had to move out into the studio with the rest of them. Coach Saylor announced that Arielle was sick and that she wasn't coming. I almost started to cry right there.

After warm-up, we split up into our stunt groups. I was so absorbed in my breakup with Liam and my disappointment over Arielle being away that I didn't notice at first that something was wrong. The first time I bobbled a lift, Amy Jo wouldn't look me in the eye. When I looked first at Priya, and then at Lucy, each girl gave me a weak little smile. The kind of smile you give a person who's about to be fired or kicked off an island or maybe cut from a team.

“What's up?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

“What do you mean?” Amy Jo answered in a voice that made it clear she was hiding something.

With Arielle away, Lucy was the closest thing I had to an ally. She was new, and I'd been nice to her. She'd gone with Arielle and me to Ashleigh's party. So I asked for her help putting the mats away, and I cornered her in the storeroom. “Lucy, I know something's going on. Amy Jo can't lie to save her life. What's up?”

“It's Shona,” she said. “She's going around talking to everyone about you.”

“What's she saying?”

She gave me a sympathetic look. “She's trying to convince them to talk to Coach Saylor. As a group. About replacing you.”

I felt a lightness at the pit of my stomach, like I was on an elevator dropping too fast.

“Don't worry,” Lucy said. “A lot of the girls stood up for you. Most of them. All of the ones in our group. Including Amy Jo.”

I considered asking her which girls hadn't stood up for me. But what difference did it make? They were right. I was awful.

Lucy hugged me, quickly, as if she was afraid someone might see us. “It's okay, Marnie. You're going to get up to speed. We could practice on the weekend again, if you want.”

I nodded. “I'd like that.”

“So what are you going to do about Shona?” she asked as we walked away from the club.

I shrugged. “I don't know. I guess maybe I should talk to her.” I would deal with things directly. I wouldn't go behind her back, the way Shona did to me.

I didn't have to wait long for my opportunity. Without Arielle to drive me, I had to take the bus home. Shona was waiting too.

Unlike Amy Jo, Shona had no problem looking me in the eye. When I walked down the steps, she moved toward me. She stood right next to me under the roof overhang, like we were old friends.

“Hi,” I said casually.

“Hi, Marnie,” she answered.

We stood in silence for a couple of minutes.

This is stupid, I thought. She's just a kid. Talk to her.

I took a deep breath. “So, Shona,” I asked, “why wouldn't you come to me, if you have a problem with me?”

She turned toward me, her face framed by the pink fur trim of her parka. I could tell she was thinking about what to say. To her credit, she hadn't done what I'd expected her to do, which was deny she had trash-talked me behind my back.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “I didn't think there was anything you could do about it.”

“About what?”

She shrugged. “Your stunts. Either you can get them right, or you can't.”

“And you think I can't.”

She didn't answer. She just smiled a little fake-sympathetic smile.

“I only took Emma's place two weeks ago,” I said. “I need time to get up to speed. I can't believe you're already trying to get Coach to replace me.”

She gave me a funny look, but said nothing.

“What?” I asked, running out of patience.

“Well,” she said, “were you ever any good? Like, the last time you were a flyer?” She looked at me, her blue eyes wide. “Which was, what, two years ago?”

I frowned. “As a matter of fact,” I said, “I was. Very good.”

“Then why didn't Coach keep you as a flyer when you made level five?”

I could feel the blood pounding in my ears. I wanted to punch her in the face. I'd never felt so angry with anyone in my whole life.

I heard the rumble of the bus as it made its way up the street, and I knew I didn't want to be on the same bus as Shona Bart. I took two steps backward.

“Even if you were good once,” she said, moving toward the bus, “it doesn't mean you're any good now. You're holding us all back, Marnie,” she said. She stepped onto the bus, and the doors closed behind her, leaving me in the cold and the deepening dark.

chapter nine

I called my mom to tell her I'd be late. Then I got on the east-end bus instead of my own. I had to speak with Arielle. My whole life was falling to pieces, and she was my best friend. Even though she was sick, I knew I could count on her to make me feel better. I certainly couldn't feel any worse. To keep from crying in front of the people on the bus, I stared out the window at the gray February streets.

When I got to Arielle's house, her mom ushered me in. I always knock on the front door instead of Arielle's side door after dark. I don't want to startle her parents by setting off the security lights.

“How's Arielle feeling?” I asked.

Mrs. Kuypers looked momentarily confused. “Feeling? Oh yes. She did say something about a headache. But go on in.”

I took off my wet boots and walked down the hall to Arielle's suite.

“Hmm?” she answered when I knocked on the door.

I let myself in. “Hi,” I said.

Arielle was hunched over her laptop, typing.

“Oh, hey, Marnie,” she said without turning around.