Westcott High

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Westcott High Page 14

by Sarah Mello


  “You clean up nicely,” I said, still scouting.

  He took a moment, then swallowed and spoke. “So do you.”

  Suddenly, Buckets coughed and glared at me. I read his expression.

  “Um, can you wait for me inside, Jacob?” I asked him. “I have to talk to the group for a minute.”

  “Sure.” He looked down and dragged his dress shoe across the concrete, his hands still in his pockets. “I’ll be right inside the door.”

  I watched him walk away—for longer than necessary.

  “You didn’t tell him about our plan, did you?” Buckets asked.

  “No, of course not,” I said, focusing my gaze on the clusters of our fellow classmates passing by.

  “So, when are we doing this?” Kyle asked.

  “I need to buy thirty minutes with Jacob,” I replied.

  “What? You didn’t inform us you’d come bearing a date. We’re supposed to have back sweat from anxiety for half an hour while you dance with Zorro?” Buckets looked at me while tapping his foot.

  “Would you relax?” I said. “We can’t disappear the second we walk inside. That’s too suspicious. We wait it out for thirty.”

  “You better hope you’ve thought this through,” Winston told me. “Your seat on the Chosen Ten is on the line.”

  Kyle rubbed his temples. “We’re all on the line. This could cost us everything.”

  I looked around the circle, into the faces of my friends, wondering if even I knew what I had gotten us all into.

  “Let’s move it.” Buckets shoveled us toward the gym’s double doors. “We all look suspicious.”

  The dances at Westcott High were unlike those at most schools, or so I’d heard. An established and reputable event planner came in to throw us the most decadent of parties. School dances were perhaps the only time we WH students felt like normal high schoolers. It was a time when we could loosen up and have some actual fun with one another—outside of double-crossing each other to climb the social and academic ladders.

  “Wow, I see they didn’t hold back this year,” Casey said, her voice barely audible over the thundering music.

  Our eyes slowly floated around the room. Blue-and-white balloon bunches covered the high ceiling, and cocktail tables—stacked with gourmet appetizers and desserts—surrounded us. Even the cupcakes looked rich.

  Winston slapped a massive cluster of shiny balloons out of his face. “Do they ever?”

  “You wanna go sit?” Jacob once again came from behind and grabbed my waist.

  I looked down at his hands, unsure of whether or not to move them or be moved.

  “Meet at the stairs in thirty,” I said to the group as Jacob led me away toward the lounge area.

  “I can’t thank you enough for being my date,” he said.

  I grabbed a drink off a waiter’s tray and rolled my eyes. “Happy to be here.”

  “I know I practically begged you to come with me,” said Jacob, “but just so you know, I hate school dances.”

  I scrunched my nose, attempting to digest the potent punch. “Then why did you want to come?”

  He leaned in toward the side of my face. “To spend time with you.”

  “Well, we could have done that anywhere,” I replied.

  “You’re right. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand and go back to my place.”

  “Wow.” I nodded. “You just keep getting cringier.”

  Jacob dropped his chin to his chest and laughed. “I’m the new kid. I can still be cringy until a clique decides to adopt me. Then I’ll need to adapt to my surroundings and become a replica of my new friends. Whoever they will be.”

  “Well, hopefully it’s not the brocks,” I replied, staring back and forth between Jacob and the room full of dancers.

  Jacob’s eyes slowly skimmed my body.

  I took notice.

  “What?” I tucked my hair behind my ear with my left hand, the glass of punch still in the right one.

  He skimmed some more and grinned. “Nothing.”

  “What is it?” I asked again.

  Jacob took a step back and stared down at the gym floor, then looked at me. “You’re just so beautiful.”

  I wasn’t sure why I could never respond to Jacob’s sweet comments, and why I always chose to stare at him in silence. Perhaps they always took me off guard. Or maybe they just always took the breath out of me.

  “Hi, Sonny,” Dean said as he drew near, interrupting Jacob’s and my mutual gaze. He wore a fitted black T-shirt and dark jeans, with his faded black bomber jacket.

  Something about him caught my eye in a way it never had before. He looked refreshed. Like he’d taken a long, meaningful shower and washed away all that life had thrown at him.

  “We match,” I said.

  Dean grabbed his jacket and opened it; he looked down at his shirt. “So we do.” He nodded. “Great minds.”

  “You know, I heard that’s a myth,” I replied.

  He pulled his head back. “Really?”

  “I think it just stems from society’s need to find consensus. There’s no way two totally separate minds could think the same thing, the same way.”

  “Unless they’re twins,” Dean replied. “I hear most twins are telepathic.”

  “What about conjoined twins?” I asked. “That share the same brain?”

  Dean’s eyes danced across my face. “Is that a thing?”

  “I think it’s a thing.” I nodded. “They must be able to think alike.”

  “I don’t think I’d want to know what my conjoined twin was thinking all the time,” Dean said.

  “Or would it be you thinking it?”

  We stared into each other’s eyes as smiles slowly emerged on our faces.

  Jacob’s eyes bounced back and forth between Dean and me. “I’m Jacob.” He went in for a handshake. “I saw you at tryouts.”

  “Dean,” he replied, his hands remaining tucked into his bomber-jacket pockets.

  I caught a glimpse of their egoistic power struggle over the side of my cup as I tried to wash down my uneasiness.

  “You getting ready for the big scrimmage?” asked Dean, swaying back and forth before finding a stance.

  Jacob put his hand back into his pocket. “I have to make the team first.”

  “Think you’ll make it?” Dean looked Jacob up and down, folding his arms in front of him.

  “I think so,” Jacob replied.

  Dean nodded. “I think it’s too early to tell.”

  Jacob ran his thumb over his bottom lip before crossing his arms. “I think I’ll worry about me, and you can worry about you.”

  “That might be difficult,” Dean said. “Considering I’m the captain.”

  “I’m sure we can make it work.” Jacob widened his stance.

  “What do you need, Dean?” I asked, hoping to bring an end to the heated exchange.

  “I just came over to say hi.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me in toward him. He gently removed my black mask from my face and placed it in my hands. “I miss you,” he said, wiping the loose glitter off my cheeks.

  Our eyes met, and although I knew it wasn’t true, I was somehow convinced we were the only two in the room. It was the first time I’d felt his touch in months. I almost forgot how much I needed it.

  “Where’s your date?” Jacob asked Dean, his voice competing with the music.

  Dean kept eye contact with me, dismissing Jacob’s question entirely. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

  My heart skipped a beat, or twenty, as I watched him walk away.

  Jacob suddenly turned toward me, cutting my gaze short. “What are you doing with this guy, Sonny? Just tell me what it is about him. I don’t get it.”

  “He’s a good person,” I said.

  He tugged at his sweater and shifted his weight from leg to leg. “He’s a cocky little shit.”

  “Jacob—”

  “No, Sonny! You can do better than him.”

  “You don’
t know him, Jacob.”

  “I know he doesn’t deserve you.” Jacob’s forehead glistened in the light of the mirrored disco ball spinning from the gymnasium’s ceiling.

  I gave him a sad, shameful stare—one that implied he was wrong, and in the same breath, one that suggested he may be right.

  Just then, I spotted JC on the other side of the room. He was sitting alone on a sizable white couch. His elbows dug into his knees, and his hands cupped around his mouth.

  I wrapped my fingers around Jacob’s bicep and gave it a tiny squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  “Where are you going now?” he asked.

  “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  “Who am I supposed to dance with?”

  “I told you—I don’t dance.” I took a few steps in the opposite direction, then turned back around to face Jacob. “Try Norah!”

  He dropped his head and sighed. “I don’t—”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah.” He paused. “I’ll do that.”

  I could feel Jacob’s eyes on my back as I walked toward JC. I eventually plopped down on the sofa—accepting defeat.

  “I didn’t take you for a wallflower kind of guy.” I stared out into the crowd with JC, offering him my company—if not much more.

  JC laughed under his breath, but I could tell he was in no mood for my jokes.

  “She looks happy.” JC watched Piper engage in casual conversations from across the way. “At least more so than usual.”

  “Doesn’t everyone? Look happy?” I sighed, inconvenienced by my own polemicist ways.

  JC shook his head and let out a short breath. “Why do you always do that? Come up with these alternative options as to what things could be or might mean?”

  “That’s what good writers do,” I replied.

  “Yeah.” JC bowed his head and nodded. “I guess you have always been that—a good writer.”

  “She’ll come around and come clean.” I tilted my head toward him. “I don’t know why Piper did this, but I know she loves you.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “Because I know love.” I paused. “Sure, love can do a lot of things to throw you off. But I know what it looks like, and what it doesn’t. I know when it’s dead, and I know when it’s not.”

  JC dropped his face into his cupped hands and rubbed his fingers up and down. I couldn’t begin to understand the torture that comes with despising the person you’re despondently in love with. Perhaps not even Jeremy Coleman could wrestle with those kinds of demons.

  “You seem to know a whole lot about love for someone who can’t see it when it’s slapping them in the face,” he said, still rubbing his head all over.

  I looked over at JC, my eyes expressing confusion.

  “Jacob likes you, Carter.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said.

  “I know that,” JC replied swiftly. “He’s been practically undressing you with his eyes since you walked in.”

  “Jacob likes Norah,” I countered.

  “I can tell by the way he asks me questions about you when we shoot hoops together.”

  “We’re friends,” I said.

  “Friends.” JC leaned back, resting his forearms on the back of the couch. He grinned at me and nodded. “Okay, Carter.”

  I quickly looked away. My eyes locked in with Casey’s as she motioned me to come over. My heart sank, knowing the evening’s adventure was ready to meet me. “Looks like it’s time.” I reluctantly pushed myself off the couch and stood to my feet.

  “Sonny . . .” JC stopped me before I could walk off.

  I stood in front of him and stared, my arms dropped by my side.

  “Be careful with Ballinger,” he said. “Love can lie too.”

  Suddenly, Casey walked up behind me and pulled me away.

  I gazed at JC until I could no longer see him, unable to break away from his haunting statement.

  “We have to come up with a plan B,” Casey said as we walked toward the others. “Piper’s been eyeing us since we walked in. She’s definitely on to us.”

  My feet were moving, but my mind was still on the couch with JC, and my heart was still bouncing back and forth between Dean and Jacob. Beautiful dresses and colorful masks swirled around me as I pushed through the crowded gymnasium.

  “We can’t all leave at once,” Buckets said as Casey and I approached the stairs. “It’ll be too obvious.”

  I put my mask back on. “Then I’ll go alone.”

  “No way in hell,” Kyle interjected. “I’m going with you.”

  “Then go now,” Winston said, glancing behind him toward Piper. “Before she realizes something’s up.”

  “Come on.” Kyle grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit.

  “Clemmons is standing at the doors,” Buckets said. “You’ll have to go around the back.”

  We stopped in our tracks and took a sharp right turn.

  “Keep your phones on in case I text you,” Kyle shouted as he looked at the group.

  “Man! I was just about to turn mine off!” Winston’s sarcasm sliced through the thick air.

  We turned the corner toward the back of the school where the classrooms were and immediately slowed our pace. I had never seen the hallway so dark, and metaphorically speaking, that was saying something. I placed my hand out in front of me, moving it from side to side in a futile attempt to push the heavy shadows out of my path. The stillness was uncanny.

  “Did you feel the temperature drop?” I grabbed my arms.

  Kyle took off his expensive jean jacket and placed it around my shoulders, giving them a quick rub before letting go. “Here.”

  “They must keep the air on over the weekend,” I said.

  “No, I don’t think they do,” he replied, adding to the bone-chilling feeling jolting through my body.

  “Why aren’t you wearing a mask?” I asked him.

  Kyle rolled his eyes to the right, silently answering my question.

  Suddenly, a shadow appeared just before we reached Mrs. Penn’s classroom door. “What are you up to?”

  We jumped back in horror. “Jesus!” we yelled in sync.

  “I hope you’re praying,” Principal Winchester said, his arms crossed.

  “What the hell are you doing lurking in the dark hallway?” Kyle shined his cell phone light in his dad’s face.

  Principal Winchester’s eyes nearly closed as he held up his hands to block the brightness. “Language, please,” he said. “And I could ask you two the same question.” He stepped forward, squinting. “Kyle?”

  “I, uh, I forgot something in Mrs. Penn’s room.”

  “What did you forget?”

  “My gym bag. I left it in there by accident.”

  I was impressed by Kyle’s ability to lie on cue.

  “And you?” Principal Winchester said, pointing at me.

  I slowly removed my mask, placing it on the top of my head like sunglasses.

  “I’m just tagging along, sir,” I said.

  He gave us a stern look.

  Mr. Winchester’s presence was intimidating. He was tall, powerful, and stone cold—not the type of man to stand around listening to teenagers offer nonsensical explanations.

  Principal Winchester turned around. “You have one minute,” he said as he took out his keys.

  The gold key ring caught my eye as he shoved the master key into the lock on Mrs. Penn’s classroom door. The sound it made was deafening.

  We waited until he was out of sight before attempting to move.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, running toward the exit door and into the parking lot. Kyle followed closely behind me.

  “We’ll take my car,” he said as we walked quickly toward his white Range Rover.

  He opened the passenger-side door for me, and I crawled inside. The moonlight beamed through the windows and bounced off the dashboard, barely providing enough brightness to see. Kyle opened the driver’s
side door and jumped in, then cranked the car and backed out of his parking spot with intention.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I said.

  “Really? I swear it was your idea.” Kyle’s sarcasm rolled off my shoulders as we pulled onto the main road.

  “Just hurry,” I said, checking my cell phone every second for a text from the others.

  Kyle ran a red light.

  “This is illegal, right?” My sweaty palms reached for my seat belt.

  “Very,” he said, making a sharp left turn.

  “Kind of like that time we broke into your neighborhood pool after closing?” I asked.

  “Kind of,” he replied. “Except not at all. Besides, you broke in. All I did was hold your foot and propel you over the gate so you could unlock it for me.”

  “Nice.” I nodded. “Is that how you plan to respond if we’re caught tonight?”

  Kyle reached into his cup holder. “Gum?” he asked, holding a pack of chewing gum toward my face.

  I grabbed a stick, unwrapped it, and tossed the crumpled-up wrapper at Kyle’s head.

  We drove for another minute before approaching the entrance to Piper’s neighborhood. As we passed by the looming mansions, I was nearly gasping for breath.

  “On second thought, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said.

  Kyle cautiously approached Piper’s home. He parked along the curb and unbuckled his seat belt. “Too late,” he said as he unbuckled mine too. “Let’s go.”

  I reluctantly got out of the car, and Kyle met me on the curb. We walked toward the house, looking around on the dark street with every step we took. I could almost hear Kyle’s heart beating. Or perhaps it was my own.

  Piper’s home resembled a castle. The taupe brick went higher than my eyes could see. There were arched windows upon nearly every foot of the home, and the white columns stretched twenty feet high. The striped grass was perfectly executed, and yard lanterns lit the way as we walked along the stone driveway toward the garage.

  “I didn’t know Piper lived at Hogwarts,” I whispered.

  Kyle looked up toward the sky. “Even the trees seem taller than normal.”

  We approached the garage door.

  “Are you sure they don’t have cameras?” he asked. “This would seem like the type of house to have them. We definitely do.”

 

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