The Dream Where the Losers Go (11 page)

“It’s a list we came up with while we were supposed to be working in social studies,” said Ann. “Everything we could think of.”

Skey scanned the list of sex terms.
Crotchless panties, RU2BC4SEX, 69 rrr, big wanger
. Why did everyone think the girls in here were experts?

“Pretty good, huh?” snorted Ann.

“Yeah,” said Skey.

“You got any to add?” asked Ann.

“No,” said Skey. “I think you got them all.”

“You never done it or what?” demanded Ann.

Skey was rescued by staff. “Skey,” Janey called from the office. “Phone.”

The girls’ phone was in the entrance hall, but before she could pick it up, Janey called her into the office. “There’s
a guy on the phone,” she said. “Says his name is...” She paused, frowning slightly. “Lick.”

“Oh yeah.” Eagerly Skey moved toward the phone.

“He’s not on your approved phone list,” said Janey.

“We’re working on an assignment for English,” said Skey. “It’s about Shakespeare. Just a sec.” She ran to her room and brought back one of the thick books. “You think I’m lugging this around for fun?” she demanded.

“I’ll take his name and phone number and pass them on to Larry,” said Janey. “I’m sure he’ll check it out tomorrow. Then you can talk with him on the phone.”

“I talk to him all day at school!” said Skey.

“I’m sorry,” said Janey. “Those are the rules.”

Skey stood staring at Janey, her thoughts in a whirl. This was just about Lick, so why was she freaking? Jigger wasn’t on her approved list either—they had decided it would be better if staff didn’t know about him—but still, Skey couldn’t seem to stop herself from yelling.

“You can’t!” she shouted, her voice so loud it burned her throat. “You can’t stop me from talking to him!”

“It’s just until tomorrow,” said Janey, stepping closer. “Skey, are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right,” Skey shouted. Picking up the heavy book, she backed out of the office and fled to her room.

S
HE CRAWLED INTO
bed holding the rock and whispering to it, but it was the tunnel of light that moved in on her that night, invading her brain with its sped-up, ugly scream waves. Here, there was no one. In the grim harsh light, there was no one near. The boy had run from her into the safety of the dark and she had been banished—banished for
touching his hand, his fear. Now she was being punished with light—light without mercy, beginning or end.

In the extreme unending brilliance, she couldn’t see well enough to find a wall. Sobbing, she sank to the floor and began to crawl, looking for a tunnel mouth that would take her out of this place, any way that would take her out of herself.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

A
T BREAKFAST
, Viv sat with Skey and Ann. Immediately, Terry’s eyes zeroed in on them, but there was no need to worry. Viv had been through more institutions than Skey had heard of. She wasn’t about to advertise her gold mine. Her chitchat was all blah blah and directed mostly at Ann, but the message was clear. Skey had been accepted. Obedience was making her popular in all sorts of places. Making sure that she nodded at all the expected points in the conversation, Skey ate her usual half piece of toast, counting calories with every chew, and drank some orange juice.

“Gotta go,” she said, standing.

“Have a nice day,” said Viv.

Pulling on her knapsack, Skey followed Terry down the stairs to the lockup’s side door. Eyes narrowed, she watched Terry’s hand go into her pocket and come out with the key.

“So, what’s the color of the day?” asked Terry.

As the key slid into the lock and turned, Skey glanced at her own wrist. It had darkened to a purple-blue. “Grape,” she said.

The door opened onto the smell of sky and wind, the
rumble of staff cars entering the parking lot. It had begun to snow, tiny specks of white blowing by.

“Grape as in Kool Aid?” asked Terry.

“Grape as in gook,” said Skey, stepping out. “See ya.”

“Have a nice day.” As Terry started to close the door, Skey took a few steps forward, then paused. Clichés were not part of Terry’s usual lingo.

“Wait,” Skey called, turning back. “My tickets!”

The door opened and Terry stuck out her head. “Do you use these?” she demanded, her eyebrows raised.

Skey smiled angelically. “Please don’t make me walk,” she said.

Terry handed her the tickets.

“I’m getting good at begging,” said Skey.

“Comes in useful,” said Terry.

A
S
J
IGGER DROVE
into the student parking lot, Lick walked by, his head bent into the wind. Every bit of his exposed skin was as red as usual, this time from cold instead of heat. Leaning against Jigger, Skey watched Lick draw abreast her window and smiled to herself. That boy, Elwin Serkowski, had a lot of inner heat.

At that moment Lick glanced up, caught her glance and stopped. Under the weight of Jigger’s arm, Skey watched him shuffle about in one spot, then lift his head and start trotting after the car. Instant panic gulped her. What the hell did Lick think he was doing? As Jigger turned into a parking spot, Lick came to a halt beside the driver’s door and knocked lightly on the window. Skey ducked slightly.

“
Who
is that?” Shutting off the ignition, Jigger stared through his window. “Looks like someone grabbed his neck and had a turkey pull.”

Pasting on a polite smile, Lick continued to take up space in Jigger’s window.

“It’s...um, Elwin,” Skey said and swallowed hard.

“Elwin,” Jigger singsonged softly, still staring at Lick. Without warning he erupted, shoving open his door, grabbing Lick’s jacket and slamming him against the car. Then he leaned into Lick, glaring into his face.

“Jesus, Jig,” said Skey. Tentatively she slid to the driver’s door and peered out.

“Shut up,” said Jigger, without looking at her.

Lick blinked rapidly, trying to hold Jigger’s gaze. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m not worth the effort.”

“Huh?” Jigger demanded. “

I’m part of the lowest order of beings,” said Lick. “Speck of dirt.”

“Tell me about it,” snapped Jigger. He jerked the speck of dirt, side to side.

“I mean, if evolution worked on me for another millennium,” said Lick, “I wouldn’t get close to your body type. It’s not like I’m running a challenge to the hierarchy of the species here.”

Jigger’s mouth twitched. “So?” he said.

“We’re working on a Shakespeare project,” said Lick. “She has to work with someone. Might as well be with a speck of dirt.”

Slowly Jigger relaxed his grip on Lick’s jacket. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s see your arm.”

Unzipping his jacket, Lick took it off. Then he rolled up his left sleeve. Goosepimpled with cold, the skin was clean, showing only a faint red smudge.

“The other one,” said Jigger.

It surfaced, also clean, pale and skinny. Jigger snorted.

“Get out of here,” he said.

Without sliding Skey another glance, Lick pulled on his jacket and left. Leaning against the car, Jigger watched until the nearest school door swallowed him. “What a
loser
,” he said.

Relief bloomed in Skey’s chest. “Exactly,” she said.

Jigger grinned down at her. “He probably doesn’t have anything in his pants,” he said. “Everything went into his head. You notice how lopsided it is? He’s an alien. You want an alien, Skey?” Diving into the car, he pushed her down onto the seat, and they kissed hard, an unexpected intensity flaring through them. “You think those pills work in school parking lots?” he murmured.

“I think Ms. Renfrew is watching,” Skey murmured back. “You want to go do it in the Counseling office?”

“You’re mine,” Jigger said. “Lunch and after school.”

“I’ve got tutoring at lunch,” said Skey.

“Shit,” Jigger hissed. Pulling his face out of her neck, he hovered over her, tracing her mouth with his fingertip. “Bring everything to your last class,” he said. “When the bell rings, head straight for my car. I brought blankets.”

W
HEN
S
KEY ENTERED
homeroom, she saw Lick draped all over his desk, so relaxed his body seemed fluid. Sliding into the seat in front of him, she turned around.

“You crazy?” she demanded.

“Certified,” Lick grinned, his face flushing its usual red. “It worked though, didn’t it? He’s assigned me as your official chaperone.”

“I’m surprised he let you out alive,” said Skey.

“I’m a speck of dirt,” Lick assured her. “Not worth the minor muscle power it’d take to pulverize me.”

“Yeah,” Skey grinned. “You mentioned that.”

“They’re calling my mom today to run the security check on me,” said Lick. “Think I’ll pass? I told mom to lie.”

“Are you a pimp?” asked Skey.

“Not that I noticed,” said Lick.

“Drug dealer?” asked Skey.

“I wish,” said Lick.

“Any unregistered weapons?” asked Skey.

Lick flushed. “Flesh-eating disease, remember?” he said.

Skey rolled her eyes. “At a very early age. Did you renew your rabies shot?”

Lick gasped. “Doggone it, you need that for a phone call?”

“This is a lockup,” said Skey sternly.

His eyes caught hers and held. Something lived in that emerald green—sadness, deep thought. Skey felt heat cross her face.
She
was blushing.

“I know,” he said quietly.

T
AMMY WAS EATING
. As Skey entered the small room off the Counseling office lobby, a rich smell settled heavily into her nostrils. Immediately her stomach let out a loud growl and she dropped her books onto the table to cover the noise.

“Where’s your lunch?” asked Tammy, eyeing her.

“I’m not hungry,” said Skey.

“That’s not what your stomach’s saying,” said Tammy.

“I don’t eat lunch,” said Skey. Sitting down, she crossed her arms over her stomach.

“You don’t eat lunch?” Tammy stared at her.

“Eating doesn’t interest me,” said Skey.

Tammy blinked. “What does interest you?” she asked.

“Not much.” Skey pointed at the books lying in a toppled heap in front of her. “This sure doesn’t.”

“That’s because you don’t eat,” said Tammy emphatically. “Half a person’s brains are in their head. The other half are in their stomach. You’ve got to eat to think.”

“I think,” snapped Skey, tightening her arms over her stomach.

“No, you don’t,” said Tammy. “You hover.”

“What d’you mean, I hover!” demanded Skey.

“You’re like a pale dainty creature that floats above the rest of us,” said Tammy, pointing upward. “In a pale dainty air current. You float up there and watch.”

“That’s racist,” said Skey, “calling me pale.”

Tammy leaned forward, her breath thick with vitamins and protein. “It’s not your skin,” she said dramatically. “It’s your spirit. You’re losing yourself, Skey. You’re going somewhere, I don’t know where, but it’s getting farther and farther away.”

“Fuck off.” Startled tears prickled Skey’s eyes. Why could this girl see what no one else did? Skey didn’t even
like
her. Looking down, she bit hard on her lower lip.

“Eat this,” ordered Tammy, pushing an unfamiliar food concoction across the table. The aroma that rose from it was loaded. “Your soul is in here,” she said grimly. “You eat it and you’ll get it back.”

The gate to Skey’s stomach swung wide.
You’ll get fat
, her mind argued, but her hands were already moving toward the morsel of life. Eagerly her teeth tore into the creamy texture, and her mouth filled with a spicy taste. She tore out another bite and another. From across the table, Tammy pushed some orange juice toward her. Skey gulped it down.

“That’s better,” said Tammy.

Skey was flushed, her eyes brimming. “This is so good,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

“Uh-huh,” agreed Tammy.

The last bit of food disappeared down Skey’s throat. With a sigh, she swallowed the orange juice dregs, then leaned back. The gaping hole in her abdomen had disappeared. She felt solid, connected. Whole.

“D’you want me to bring you another one on Monday?” asked Tammy.

“Yes, please,” said Skey.

“See, you’re thinking better already.” Tammy smiled.

A
LL AFTERNOON THE
food sat in her stomach like a gift, anchoring her. What Tammy said was true; when she ate enough, there was less of the hovering feeling. Her arm felt like bone and muscle instead of a dragonfly wing.

The burps were something else though—onions, spices and flavors Skey couldn’t even identify. Then a couple of farts she could definitely identify. They certainly added texture to the class read-a-loud of
The Merchant of Venice
. Brenda was too polite to comment, but at the end of class, Skey grabbed her jacket and books and headed straight for the door. Halfway down the hall, Lick caught up to her.

“You want me to call you this weekend?” he asked breathlessly.

“About what?” asked Skey, her eyes on the school entrance at the end of the hall.

“Shakespeare,” said Lick. “We have an assignment due Wednesday, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Eyes still on the door, Skey slowed. “Visiting hours are Sunday, two to four,” she said quickly. “We could work then. It’s noisy in the visitor’s lounge, but...”

“Sure!” Lick beamed enthusiastically, then added, “I’ll bring Mom’s laptop.”

“You have to be on the approved list,” Skey warned.

“I called Mom at lunch,” said Lick. “She said your social worker called her at work and I passed inspection.”

Skey felt another fart coming on. “Great,” she said, “see you Sunday,” and fled.

J
IGGER HAD PARKED
in a nearby alley where they could avoid student parking lot traffic and make a quick getaway. Turning into the dirt road, Skey maneuvered an overturned garbage can. Ahead, she heard voices and some giggling. A girl was laughing, protesting that it was cold. Frowning slightly, Skey passed a leafless elm and watched Jigger’s car come into view, Rosie lying on her back on the trunk, Balfour holding down her arms while Jigger edged up her shirt. Rosie gave a spurt of laughter as Jigger paused at the bottom of her bra, then slid her shirt up to her neck.