Spell Check (11 page)

I hesitated. “Sure.” I handed Mia the camera and wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans.

“I push this button, right?”

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “Try to get a group scene with as many actors as possible on stage.”

Mia blinked yes and was off.

I sank into the chair, exhausted. My arm trembled as I clasped the talisman. I’d done it. I had taken the shot, lots of shots. Dad would have been proud.

I owed Salem. Big time.

Chapter Seventeen

The jeans on the blonde ahead of me in the girls’ bathroom were so long, they trailed on the ground and had become frayed and torn. Exactly how my nerves felt. Stepped on. Ragged. My momentary elation and relief at taking the photos morphed into a serious desire to curl up and nap. I didn’t want Mr. Esenberg to pick on me in Biology. And I didn’t want anyone to think I could take pictures now, just because I had managed to do it once.

I also didn’t want Jordan to think his lab partner had freaked out again, so I dashed on some Nearly Nude lipstick and dragged myself to class.

“Hey, Evie.” Jordan sounded casual, but I had a sparkly feeling he’d been watching for me.

“Hey.” I collapsed into the empty seat in front of him.

“Everything okay?”

I flashed him my best post-braces smile. “Sure.”

He scrunched up his face as if unconvinced. Luckily, Mr. Esenberg arrived, halting further communication.

About ten minutes into class, while Mr. Esenberg wrote on the board, I heard Jordan slide his feet under my desk. My breath wedged in my throat as the tips of his size nine high-performance sneakers nudged the heels of my shoes. Could the girl in front of me hear my heart thudding? Should I move my feet forward?

My feet tingled and refused to move. A blush blazed across my cheeks. I struggled to pay attention to Mr. Esenberg without making eye contact. Forty minutes passed, the bell blared, and I had no idea what had transpired. Hopefully, my notes will make sense. I think I took notes.

Jordan slid his feet back and thudded his book closed. We both bent down and reached for our backpacks. His leaned against mine. Our hands brushed and our heads were so close I could smell his herbal shampoo.

Students walked past us. I’m sure some of them were talking to each other or flipping open their cell phones. But it all faded away along with the smell of chalk, highlighters, and sweat. Everything receded except the warmth of Jordan’s skin, his cinnamon gum-scented breath, and the heart-stopping rush sprinting up my arm.

“Evie?”

We jerked apart. Seeing Parvani in the doorway looking hurt and shocked snapped my senses into hyper focus. Conversations sounded extra loud. Colors seemed too bright. It felt like a movie had started, full blast, in a hushed theater.

I grabbed my backpack, stood up, and tried to look innocent. “Hey,” I said, a little too loudly.

Parvani adjusted her designer frames further up her nose. “My mom just called. She’s going to pick me up and drive me to the hospital. We have to drop off the pillows I made.”

Parvani glanced at Jordan as he rose from his chair and stood beside me. I wondered if he knew she made heart-shaped pillows for women who’d had mastectomies. The pillows kept seatbelts from rubbing against the stitches, or something. I should think about building my résumé for college. Besides, I’ve heard helping others alleviates depression.

“Could you tell your mom I don’t need a ride?” I heard a definite edge to her voice.

“Sure.”

Jordan slung his backpack over his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

Parvani acted startled, like she had just noticed him. But her voice softened. “Oh. Hello, Jordan.” To me, she said, “Thank you. Goodbye.”

Unease spider-walked down my spine. I took a step toward her, trying to close the chasm that had sprung up between us. “Talk to you later.”

Parvani didn’t reply. She just left, her long black hair swinging across her shoulders.

Jordan fell into step behind me. “Did I miss something? Is she all right?”

He sounded like the old Jordan—the sensitive, pre-Smash Heads Jordan I had grown up with. Since I couldn’t give him the obvious and correct answer, I spun through possible alternatives.

Loud static from the school’s public address system blasted my eardrums, followed by the school secretary’s voice. “Evie O’Reilly. Please come to the office. Evie O’Reilly. Please come to the office.”

I froze. My flushed cheeks grew hotter. Every kid crossing the field had heard my name. Cold fear formed bricks in my stomach. What if something had happened to Mom?

“Maybe, like, Evan’s parents called the principal,” Jordan said.

The blood sluiced from head and pooled in my feet.

“Come on,” Jordan said. “I’ll walk with you.”

As we headed toward the office, Jordan’s cell phone vibrated. He checked the phone number display then flipped it open. “Hey, Mom.” After listening a sec, he said, “I don’t know. We’re walking to the office right now.”

I chewed my thumbnail while he listened. I had already lost one parent. I couldn’t face losing another one. What if Mom had gotten into a car accident or something?

“Okay. I’ll tell Evie. See you in, like, five minutes.” He snapped the phone shut. “Mom heard the announcement while she was waiting in the car. She says she hopes everything is okay.”

“That was nice of her.” Great. Even the parents know something is wrong.

We rounded the corner. A few juniors milled about in front of the lockers across from the office. “Perfect. I have an audience.”

Jordan took my hand, sending a jolt of warmth and fresh shivers up my arm. “Come on.”

My heart swelled. I knew Jordan had to be somewhere before practice. His mom was waiting. And I was pretty sure rumors that we were a couple would scream through the eleventh grade by tomorrow morning. I just hoped it didn’t reach the ninth grade and Parvani.

Jordan released my hand and opened the door for me. Relief flooded every pore when I saw Mom. She stood in front of a boy who was taping an orange poster to the wall. It screamed Halloween Dance in black letters, dripping with what was supposed to be blood.

The vein at Mom’s temple throbbed and her arms were crossed. I didn’t care. She was okay. Nothing had happened to her. Which meant something was about to happen to me.

“Good luck,” Jordan said.

I nodded and watched him leave before going to Mom and giving her a quick hug.

“Mrs. O’Reilly? Evie?” Mrs. Scroggins sounded curt, like big trouble lay ahead. “This way please.” She led us back to a windowless office. Principal Sanders rose from his chair behind his battered desk, cutting off his conversation with Miss Gaya, who sat on a blue plastic chair next to Coach Willis.

I reached for the topaz in my pocket.

Principal Sanders extended his hand. “Mrs. O’Reilly, thank you for coming.” Mom shook his hand. He nodded to me. “Evie.”

“Hey, Principal Sanders.” I tried not to stare at his toupee.

He gestured toward Miss Gaya. “Mrs. O’Reilly, this is Grace Gaya, our school counselor.”

Mom nodded. “We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes,” Miss Gaya said.

“And Coach Willis.”

Mom and the coach shook hands.

“Evie, Mrs. O’Reilly, please sit down.”

We did as Principal Sanders commanded. He sat as well, flattening his maroon tie against his abs as he sat. “I understand there was an incident in P.E. today,” he said in a grave tone. “Coach Willis has already filled me in, but Evie, I’d like you to tell us about it.”

I’d rather go home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over my head. But everyone was watching me, so I said, “I didn’t mean to hurt Evan, but…” I told them about him grabbing me and refusing to let go. “So I stomped on his foot to get him to release me.”

The room fell silent. The only sound I heard over my heart tripping was Coach’s deep sigh. I sensed the tide rising against me. Desperate, I added, “It’s something my dad taught me to do in case I was ever attacked from behind.”

Mom squeezed my hand. Principal Sanders glanced at Miss Gaya. The counselor shifted in her seat and angled her body toward me.

Principal Sanders folded his hands on the desktop. “Evan’s father called me from the hospital. Evan has two broken bones in his foot.” Principal Sanders’s toothbrush-like eyebrows shot up.

“I’m so sorry.” Please don’t expel me.

The wall clock ticked. I hadn’t noticed it before. The room warmed and grew stuffy. Principal Sanders cocked his head. “Some might argue Evan is the injured party.”

I tightened my hold on Mom’s hand.

“Surely you don’t condone Evan’s actions,” Mom said. “My daughter acted in self-defense.”

“We can’t be sure Evan intended any real harm.”

“Of course he intended harm!” Heat exploded throughout my body. “I have witnesses.”

Mom leaned forward and cast her patented death stare at Principal Sanders. Her voice grew glacial. “Compare Evie’s school record to Evan’s and I’m sure it will become clear which child has the history of violence and bullying.”

“We do not endorse violence of any kind at Jefferson High,” Principal Sanders said. “Our bylaws require us to suspend any student who harms another…”

“He wouldn’t let go!” I shrieked.

“She was assaulted,” Mom protested.

Miss Gaya uncrossed her legs and made a placating motion with her hand. “Mrs. O’Reilly…”

Principal Sanders cut her off. “I realize there were mitigating circumstances. Evan will be suspended for one week. Unfortunately, we must also suspend Evie. But”—he held up his hand like a stop sign again—“just for the rest of the week, two days. Consider it a cooling off period.”

“Which will appease the school board and the MacDonalds,” Coach added under his breath. “Though I’m still short a defensive lineman.”

A dangerous edge crept into Mom’s voice. “I don’t care about appeasing the MacDonalds. Their son is a bully. It’s outrageous to suspend Evie for defending herself.”

I stood up. “Everyone saves face this way, Mom. I’m fine with it.”

“It will go on your permanent record,” Mom argued. “It could harm your chances of getting into college.”

“I’ll submit a letter in your favor, Evie.” Miss Gaya glanced at Principal Sanders, daring him to stop her. “I’ll explain the circumstances.”

“Thank you, Miss Gaya.” Mom rose. “If Evan or Tommy Deitch cross the line again, I’ll sue the school for placing my daughter in harm’s way. I don’t care if the boys are two of your star athletes. You’re supposed to provide a safe environment.”

Principal Sanders stood up. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” I said to the room in general. My gaze met Miss Gaya’s. She nodded.

Mom and I fled out the door. We were halfway across the field when Mom stopped. “Where’s Parvani?”

“Her mother picked her up. They had to drop off some pillows.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

I slipped my hand in Mom’s. Dad’s emerald sparkled. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

“You, too. And when I calm down about Evan, you can tell me about the lipstick you’re wearing.”

Chapter Eighteen

When we got home, I wiped off my lipstick and hid all the tubes, except Nearly Nude. I figured better to offer a token sacrifice than to lose my entire stash. Then I waited for Mom to call me on it.

Baby kept running to the front door, then coming back to my room and nudging me. Wallowing in worry and depression didn’t fly in Dog World. I gave up and grabbed her leash, and we took off. We got two blocks from home when the sky darkened into an ominous gray and it started to sprinkle. I dragged Baby home.

I had just crawled onto my bed when the phone rang. I debated letting it go unanswered. But, just in case it was Jordan, I followed the noise to my desk. Miraculously, the receiver rested in its cradle for a change.

“Hello?”

“I told you to throw a glamour, not get busted.”

“Hey, Sal— Sarah.”

“Hey. What happened?”

“I broke Evan MacDonald’s foot in Gym.”

“Are you serious?”

“’Fraid so. I feel awful about it. Plus, I got a two-day suspension.”

“O’Reilly, you rock! Can you take out Tommy as well?”

I laughed. “I’ll think about it.” The beanbag chair squished as it engulfed me. “I took some photos in Yearbook today.”

“No way!”

“Your talisman helped. So thanks. I owe you.”

“Cool.”

The line went quiet. I thought maybe she was calling from a cell phone and I had lost her. Then her voice came back, sort of hesitant and nervous. “I could use a favor.”

I sat up straighter, every cell wary. “What?”

“You know the test we’re supposed to have in English tomorrow?”

My shoulders relaxed as I remembered her quiz score. It reminded me way too much of my math woes. “Want to study together?”

“For real?” She sounded relieved. “That would be great.”

“Come over. Maybe if you’re here, Mom will forget to confiscate the lipstick she caught me wearing.”

“Dude! When you get busted, everything hits the fan.”

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll call my mom, then walk over.”

“Okay. See ya.” I hung up and surveyed the remnants of my spell casting. The magic circle resembled a kiddie party thanks to the troll and tiara. I stuffed them on a shelf in my wicker hutch, then carried the poppy plate to the kitchen.

Salem arrived about fifteen minutes later, appearing windblown and hunched under the weight of her backpack. “I suck at English.”

“I suck worse at math.” It seemed to put her at ease. “We can work in my room if you don’t mind the mess.”

“Lead on, soldier.” Salem saluted, then, when I gave her a puzzled look, she pointed to Dad’s camouflage hat.

“Oh, right.” I saluted back, but when we got to my room, I did something I never do. I took off the hat.

Salem squinted at my strawberry “outgrowth,” as Mom calls it. “Major roots.”

“I know. I need to see a colorist.”

“My cousin is in cosmetology school. She needs the practice. I could ask her, if you’d like.”

“Awesome. That would be great.”