Unraveling Isobel (15 page)

“Do you want me to come?” My mom rested a cool hand on my arm.

“Come on, now. The girl is seventeen, not seven. There's no need to treat her like she's a baby,” Dick said. He ruffled my hair like I was a scrappy Irish setter. “She's all grown up.”

I wasn't sure if I wanted my mother to come or not, but I was sure I didn't want Dick making the decision.

Nathaniel's car pulled up in front of the house. Nicole and the rest of the group moved past me, mumbling their good-byes.

I realized I was still holding the piece of mirror that had been in my foot. The point was sharp, but the sides were dull. I turned it over in my hand, the light from the wall sconces bouncing off its surface. There was a perfect circle from a blood drop in the center. My thumb rubbed across it. I blinked. It looked like the reflective qualities of the glass must have been ruined somehow in the break; the surface looked almost smoky gray in parts. I lifted the shard closer and gasped. There was a black-and-white image in the glass, just a fragment, but I was sure it was part of the image of Evelyn's face I'd seen. It was as if a part of her image had imprinted itself like a photograph onto the glass.

Before I could think about it further, I slid the piece of mirror into my pocket and slipped out into the night to join Nathaniel.

Chapter 20

I
t was confirmed. There was no doubt about it now. I was crazy. Proof was staring at me in the mirror. I yanked down on the bottom of the cheerleading sweater, trying to force it to be longer, but as soon as I let go, it popped back up, exposing a two-inch gap between it and my skirt. That is, if you could call this a skirt. It looked more like a pleated scarf I had tied tightly around my waist. Also, in the interest of full disclosure, it wasn't really a gap between the sweater and the skirt: there was a distinct roll of flesh filling all available space. It was like a ring of raw Pillsbury biscuit dough circled my entire waist, squeezed up from the tight waistband of the skirt. What was this uniform anyway? A size zero?

I'd thought I was in shape before I'd squeezed into this outfit, which looked like it was tailored to fit a fifth grader, but now
I felt sick at the thought of wearing it anywhere. Suddenly I understood how people developed body issues. I normally like my curves, but now they seemed a bit too much. I tried to stand up straighter while holding my breath. That was better, except for the fact that sooner or later I was going to need air. I might have been crazy to think I could pull this look off, but at least it was the right kind of crazy. You never see crazy cheerleaders. Perky. Annoying. Occasionally slutty, but almost never clinically crazy.

I couldn't believe I'd let Nicole talk me into this. What was I thinking? There are cheerleader types. People who are genetically gifted since birth to look good in these outfits and who actually want to stand in front of groups of people and yell out things like:

We're the Cougars

And we can't be beat.

We've got the power

To knock you off your feet!

I am not one of the genetically chosen. Bad poetry yelled in an arena was still bad poetry. The past two weeks had done nothing but convince me I was cheerleader material. I didn't want to be a cheerleader, but I did want to have friends on this island, and so far Nicole was the only one who seemed interested. Nicole was the kind who associated friendship and cheerleading as pretty much the same thing. Having her as a friend was my ticket to surviving this year, and, without Anita, I desperately needed a friend. I wasn't
fooling myself. I knew Nicole was using me, but in fairness, I was using her to avoid leper status. It seemed a fairly even deal.

It had already been two weeks, and no one in the group had mentioned my slumber party. It was as if we had signed some sort of nondisclosure agreement or the event had never happened. In the end, I hadn't even needed stitches. The clinic had cleaned my foot and closed the wound with one of those butterfly Band-Aids. The piece of mirror was wrapped up in a sheet of paper and buried deep in the underwear drawer of my dresser.

I pulled on the sweater again and watched it creep upward. Maybe it didn't look as bad as I feared. I could kick myself for making fun when Anita bought Spanx. I told her we were too young to wear a girdle. I would give up my as-of-yet-unborn first child to have a girdle on hand now. I sighed. I looked stupid and I had no choice. I had to go to school like this. Ever since Nicole had taken me under her wing, suddenly I could do no wrong. When I walked into a classroom, there was always someone saving a seat for me. Random strangers complimented me on things like my hair. I might have been imagining it, but it seemed like even the teachers liked me better. If I raised my hand, they always called on me, and no matter what I said, they would always reply, “
What a great answer!
” Either I had gotten smarter (doubtful) or there was some sort of halo effect from being a part of the sacred circle. Yesterday after school it was made official. I was given my own uniform. I was a cheerleader. Just in time for the pep rally.

I went downstairs and paused just a moment outside the kitchen. I could hear everyone inside. I considered skipping breakfast, but I figured I might as well get it all over with at once. I pushed the door open and headed straight for the refrigerator without looking around.

“Well, look at you.” Dick gave a wolf whistle.

Uh. Creepy.

“Isobel?” My mom was holding the milk carton and staring at me in shock. She acted like I had wandered into the kitchen wearing a giant plush mouse costume or some other completely shocking ensemble.

“I'm on the cheerleading squad.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn't look at Nathaniel. Could he tell I was one deep breath away from busting out of the seams, or was the sweater tight enough that my boobs had finally caught his attention?

“Really? For the school?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom. I'm a cheerleader for the local animal shelter.
Go neuter!
Of course for the school.”

“All the popular girls are on the squad,” Nathaniel added. The three of us looked at him. He popped the rest of his slice of toast into his mouth. “Least, that's what I've heard,” he added with a slight spray of crumbs.

“This is wonderful.” Mom crossed the kitchen and gave me a hug. She was acting like I'd found a cure for some sort of deforming disease. I hadn't seen her this happy since Dick gave her the baseball-size diamond ring.

“It's not a big deal.” I grabbed the orange juice and poured myself a glass. “I still can't do a decent cartwheel. I only got on the squad because my friend Nicole is the captain.”

“Don't underestimate yourself. Wickhams are winners,” Dick said.

“I'm not a Wickham,” I pointed out, tossing back the OJ like it was a shot of tequila.

“I was a cheerleader in high school,” my mom said, her voice all dreamy. “Some of my favorite memories are from that time.”

“We'll have to get Isobel to lend you her outfit. I'd love to see you as a cheerleader,” Dick said with a leer.

Nathaniel and I shared a look of disgust. I could have gone my entire life without the image of my mom and Dick engaged in a sexual role-playing game. Especially in
my
clothes.

“You're terrible, Richard.” My mom giggled and whacked Dick with a dish towel. I would have whacked him harder with the cutting board, but that was just my preference. She turned her attention back to me. “I'm proud of you, honey. This is a positive thing to have in your life. I'm glad to see you moving in the right direction.”

I frowned. “I wasn't aware I was going in the wrong direction.”

“Don't get all bristly. All I meant is that cheerleading is better for you than art.”

“You think art's bad for me?”

“I think spending all your time on your own isn't good for you. Art is solitary, all that time spent in your head. It's important,
given your family history, for you to make nice, healthy social relationships.”

I could see Nathaniel raise an eyebrow at her comment. I slammed my juice glass down in the sink. I whirled around and bolted out of the room. I made it outside before my mom caught up to me. She grabbed me by the elbow.

“What in the world is wrong with you?”

“I can't believe you said that. My ‘family history'? Did you tell Dick about my dad?”

“Richard's my husband. I don't have secrets from him.”

“He's nothing to
me
.” I could hear the tears in my voice, and at the same time, I was so angry I could barely speak. “He has no right to know my personal business.”

She touched my arm. “Honey, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. Richard cares about you. You don't need to be embarrassed; he's your family now too.”

“Just because you married him doesn't make him my family,” I pointed out.

“I do not understand your irrational dislike of him. Tell me one thing he's done to you.”

I couldn't explain why I didn't like Dick. There wasn't something I could point to, but he felt slick to me, like a politician. Someone who shook your hand and smiled, not because he liked you, but because he had something to gain.

Mom tapped her foot impatiently. “Blaming Richard because you didn't want to move isn't fair to him. Blaming me
for talking with him about my concerns also isn't fair.”

I felt like screaming in frustration. “What about being fair to me? If you're concerned, why don't you talk to me about it?”

“I do talk to you. You simply don't want to listen. Ever since we moved here you've been moody, having these wild dreams, talking about all these conspiracy theories with murder and family curses.”

“I'm not going crazy.”

“You should know that is exactly what Dick says when I tell him I'm worried. He says all of this is just a normal teenage response to all this change.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. I hated that Dick was sticking up for me. “So I suppose Nathaniel knows too? Maybe you could take an ad out in the
Nairne News
and tell the whole world that I'm on the edge.”

“The only person I've talked to is Richard, and I talk with him because I care. These mood swings you have concern me.” She tried to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but I brushed her hand away.

“I'm having mood swings because you picked me up and moved me here to the middle of nowhere so you could have what
you
wanted. I
never
wanted the same things you wanted. I couldn't care less about this big house, or Dick's money, or this stupid cheerleading skirt. Just because you don't understand my perspective, don't act like what I want is crazy.”

“What do you want from me, Isobel?” My mom's lower lip was shaking, but I refused to feel sorry for her. She created this situation, and now I was supposed to believe I was the bad guy?

“I want you to leave me alone.” I didn't wait to see what else she had to say. I turned around and walked away.

Chapter 21

M
y goal was to get through the assembly without throwing up, falling over, or forgetting the words to our routine. I just wanted the whole thing to be over. Our football team, the mighty Cougars, was leaving on the next ferry for a game, and it was our job to appropriately pump them up for the upcoming battle. The rest of the squad would go with them to the game, but as the official alternate I didn't merit a ticket off the island, just to the humiliation of the pep rally.

We were in the gym. The students in the bleachers were giving at least a halfhearted effort to look like they were infused with school spirit, because assembly was at least marginally better than sitting in class. Principal Hoffman cleared his throat and gripped the sides of the lectern. He was at least six and half feet tall and as bald as Mr. Clean.