Souls in Peril (47 page)

“Izzy, no. Em didn
’
t do this. No way did she do this.” Max shook his head in disbelief.

“Only three people know about me,” she said, straightening and slapping her stomach. “You, me, and
her.
Did you tell anyone?”

He stepped back at
her
sneer. “No, I swear.”

“And I certainly didn
’
t tell anyone. That leaves only one person.” She took off again, going straight to the nurse
’
s office.

“Mrs. Ratched, I
’
m having my pains again. They
’
re really bad this time. I want to go home.” When Mrs. Ratched saw her tear stained face, she immediately took her in the back to lie down.

“JD, go to class,” she said.

“I
’
m at lunch,” he sa
id, trying to get back to Izzy.

“Jayden Miller, unless you have a magic wand you can use to help Isabelle feel better, please leave.” She pointed to the door.

Max left, but waited outside the door for her. The bell rang for his next class to start, and still he waited. Ten minutes into class,
she finally dashed
out.

“Izzy,” he called as she headed down the hall. He caught up with her right before she went through the gate to the parking lot. “Izzy, wait.”

“Wait for what? Wait for things to get better? Wait until I
’
m completely humiliated . . . oh yeah, that already happened. How am I ever going to face everyone again?” She handed the parking lot monitor a pass from the nurse and headed for her car. Max tried to follow.

“Sorry, no pass, no pass.” He grinned at his lame joke.

“But I need to talk to her, it
’
s important.”

“It always is.”

Max watched helplessly as Izzy tore out of the parking lot and drove away.

Chapter 2
6

“This is not good.” Max
’
s stomach tightened. If he lived to be a hundred, Max knew he
’
d never forget the
demoralized
expression on Izzy
’
s pale face. He worried she
’
d do something drastic. He could leave school. He debated it, but where would he go? Izzy
drove
in the opposite direction of her
house. She could be anywhere by now. He had no clue where to look.

He forced himself to his American history
class
, usually his favorite, only not today. Max heard nothing of the lecture on the War of 1812. When the bell rang, he bolted out the door and down the hall to find Em. He had to know if she was part of the horrible joke played on Izzy. No. That was a stupid thought. She wouldn
’
t.
But she might have some ideas as to who it was.

“Em.” He grabbed her arm in the crowded hall. She spun around.

“Oh, JD.” She flew into his arms. “Poor Izzy. Who would do something so mean?”

“I don
’
t know, Em. No one knew about the surgery but you and me, unless you told someone else.”

“No, I swear. I didn
’
t even tell my parents.” She stepped back. “Is she alright? I don
’
t think I
’
ll ever forget her face when she saw all those bags of dog poop.” She shuddered.

“It was dog poop?”

“Yes. Well, Jeff thought it looked like the poop his
yellow lab
leaves
all over his yard.
He
helped me clean it up
,
although he
didn
’
t understand why someone gave Izzy dog poo
p
, but like I promised, I didn
’
t say a word.”

“I
’
m sick with worry. I
’
m afraid she
’
ll do something drastic.” Max
dropped
against the wall and tipped his head back.

“I
’
d give you a ride, but my dad wouldn
’
t let me drive with this.” She pointed to her sling. “My mom
’
s picking me up in fifteen minutes for a doctor
’
s appointment. Do you want me to ask her if she
’
ll take us to Izzy
’
s afterward?”

“No. I
’
ll go over there from my bus stop. It will be faster.” Max just hoped it
’
d be soon enough.

“I
’
d better get going or I
’
ll be late,” she said,
checking
her watch. “Call me when you learn something.” Max nodded. “Oh, and I
’
m sorry about the way I acted yesterday.”

Max waved his hands in front of him. “No harm . . . done,” he said, stopping himself from using a very Max
Sánchez
expression.

Max
hurried
to his last class. When it ended
,
he ran to the bus and dropped into the front seat. He
’
d gotten there so early, it was ten minutes before another student showed up.

At his stop, he darted off the bus and ran to Izzy
’
s
,
only t
he car wasn
’
t there. He jogged to JD
’
s and called her, but it went straight to voicemail. Max paced around the house, calling her every fifteen minutes.

Em checked in with him, but he had nothing to tell her. “I
’
ll call and leave a message too. I don
’
t know if it will help, but at least she
’
ll know I
’
m thinking of her,” she said.

When he hadn
’
t heard from Izzy by six, he hopped on his bike and went back to her house. This time he found the car parked in the driveway. He tossed the bike aside and ran up onto her porch, poun
ding on her front door. Slowly, it
opened.

“Hi, JD.” She stepped back
, her face still pale
,
and
signal
ed
him to come in.

“Are you okay?” He stood next to her as she closed the door.

She shrugged. “I
’
m okay.”

“It wasn
’
t Em. She told me it wasn
’
t her before I could even ask if it was. She swears she didn
’
t tell anyone and she doesn
’
t know who wrapped up the dog poop, either,” Max explained.

“Dog crap? I wondered what that was. Someone must have a big dog,” she laughed softly.

Her attitude disturbed Max. He expected her to be angry, at the very least upset. He didn
’
t expect this eerie calmness.

He bent over to put on her dad
’
s slippers. She sto
pped him. “Don
’
t worry about it
.”

“Won
’
t he get mad?”

“Ask me if I care.” She looped her arm in his and led him upstairs. “Come see the painting. I
redid the sky
right before you showed up so don
’
t touch, it
’
s still wet.”

He entered her bedroom.
A
small
tidy
pile of clothes and knickknacks along the far wall
caught his attention
. “Redecorating?” he teased, trying to make her smile.

“My mom and sister will be here
soon
. That
’
s stuff I won
’
t need any more. I
’
m separating it for my sister. As you can tell, cleaning is not my strong suit.”

They went directly to her
art
room
and
s
he
carefully
turned the canvas around
for him
. “Wow. That is so beautiful, Izzy.”  She
’
d painted in a sunset. You could still see the blue sky, only now it had bold streaks of reds and oranges
,
with
a touch of yellow running through it. “I thought you said the sky was bluer?”

“I changed my mind. I like this better.  It
’
s the perfect ending to a perfect day,” she beamed.

“You should try and sell it. I
’
ll bet you could get a lot,” he suggested.

“No, this one
’
s for my dad.” Grinning ear to ear, she turned it back around on the easel
,
unnerv
ing
him.

“Izzy, are you okay, I mean really okay?”

“Yes. Don
’
t I look okay? I
’
m not moping around all sad and miserable. Isn
’
t that a good thing?”

“Yes, but
I thought you
’
d be
upset after what happened, at the very least angry.” Max pressed her, wanting a reaction of some sort.

“I was mad at first. I drove around, screaming and crying, trying to figure out who
’
d
d
one
that to me.” She sat on a stool by her easel. “Then I decided it didn
’
t really matter. None of it matters. I
’
m never going back to
that
school. Those jerks will never hurt me again, JD. I took charge of my life.”

“Charge of your life?”  It sounded good, but
he still couldn
’
t get past his uneasy feelings
.

“Yes. I
’
m not going to be bullied any more. Not by the kids at school
,
and not by my perverted father. This is my life
,
and I
’
ll decide how it will play out.” She smiled. “JD, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel free and in charge of my life for the first time ever. It
’
s empowering.”

“But quitting school seems a little drastic. How will you graduate? And what about college? Certainly you want to learn more about painting. You have a gift, Izzy. These are beautiful.” He held up a small, eight
-
inch square painting of her sister Kelley he saw sitting on the desk.

“Thanks, JD. And so you know, college isn
’
t the only way for budding artists to learn their craft. There are apprenticeships too,” she pointed out. “Last month
,
my art teacher told us about one she did in Paris. Man, I wish I could go to Paris. Wouldn
’
t that be awesome?”

“Yes, but you want a high school diploma, don
’
t you?”

“Like I said, I
’
m not going back. I
’
m done. The end. Port Fare High is no longer a part of my life.” She shrugged.

“What does your dad have to say about you quitting high school? I
’
m sure he
’
s not thrilled
,
” Max said, carefully setting the canvas down.

“I haven
’
t told him, but to be honest, I really don
’
t care what he thinks. I
’
m taking charge of my life.”

“I have to admit, you do
seem
calmer than I
’
ve seen you in a long time.” Max followed her as she walked out of the room and down the stairs.

“I
’
m finally at peace. I guess I should thank Em . . . or whoever it was that gave me the dog crap.”

“It wasn
’
t Em, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said simply. She led him into the kitchen. “Hungry? I
’
m making up burritos, they
’
re my favorite.”

“You can eat burritos?”

“The docs said I could eat whatever I want, though it might give me gas. If you don
’
t mind listening to my baggie gurgling, you
’
re more than welcome to join me.”