In Memoriam

by Michael Beaulieu

  “I know,” Pete says, nervously cracking his knuckles.

  “You really don’t,” Jim says. “Why don’t you hang out with me and we’ll see if we can get your candy under control?”

  “Yeah, because he has a real sweet tooth,” I say and everyone laughs, dissolving the tension Spiked Hair had brought to the table.

  Do those guys have anything on us? Emma asks Pete. But so we can all hear.

  No, not really, Pete say, continuing to fidget with his hands.

  They know he’s a hacker, January says. That’s what they have in common.

  But they don’t know he hacked our way in here, do they? Emma asks.

  No, of course not, Pete says.

  January blows air out of her nose. Not that it takes a genius to figure it out.

  So, better to be friends with them than have them turn against us, Pete says.

  Maybe, January says. But you don’t know what the project he was referring to is, do you?

  Pete hesitates to answer. No. But I’m sure I can handle myself.

  Jim puts his hand on Pete’s shoulder. But, bro, do you actually like them?

  Yeah, I do, Pete says, straightening up. They’re the only ones I’ve ever met in person who get what I do.

  So, the frog thing? Shar asks loudly. Yes, even telepathically, you can tell if someone is whispering or screaming. It just sounds softer or louder in your head.

  It’s out of our hands, I say after a moment passes and nobody else says anything. All we can do is watch the dominos fall.

  Seriously? Beads of sweat are forming on Shar’s forehead and she’s looking pale.

  I don’t know what to say. What else can we do?

  Shar looks at Pete. Can you send out some kind of virus and delete the video from everyone’s phones?

  Pete shakes his head. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t matter. It’s all over Youtube and social media already. And there were 25 witnesses in class who’ve surely been telling people about it anyway.

  Just another mess we can’t put back in a box, Emma says.

  We’re so screwed, Shar says. She looks like she might cry so I reach over and hold her hand and she squeezes mine hard, like her life depends on it.

  Don’t forget the P.D.A. policy, Emma says.

  We continue holding hands for a good ten seconds longer, as if to prove we’re not going to let the school – or Emma – tell us what to do.

  “Nobody is going to figure out what happened,” Emma finally says aloud.

  “Yeah, it’ll be a mystery and that’s that,” I say.

  Shar starts looking at her phone. I reach for it, wanting to spare her from anything she might be about to see, but she pulls it away, looking very determined.

  “Don’t go on there and get yourself all worked up,” I plead.

  SHAR

  “I just need to see,” I say to Li. Usually, I take her advice – sometimes to a point that I feel smothered – but I need to see what people are saying about this.

  I go on Facebook. I don’t have hundreds of friends on here, but even among those I have, everyone is posting about it. Some of the updates:

  - The frogs rose at school today!

  - Someone played the prank of the year. Mad respect.

  - Biggest biology disaster ever. Couldn’t believe my eyes.

  - I don’t know what the hell happened, but it was wicked cool.

  - No way the senior prank can top this.

  Not too bad, I suppose. There are also tons of photos. One shows a frog moving with pins in it and someone wrote NOT DEAD YET below it. That one almost makes me chuckle.

  Li fidgets with her fingers. “So, is it good or bad?”

  “The reviews are great,” I say and let out a sigh of relief as I stick my phone back in my pocket. I almost hate admitting she was right. Another thing that can be frustrating at times is how she always has to get the last word. I love her though, warts and all.

  “Nobody suspects candy?” Em asks.

  “No,” I say. “Not yet.”

  “Well, someone is bound to say it’s magic eventually, but they’ll be referring to magic without a k,” Jim says. Out loud.

  By the way he winces, it’s obvious that Em has kicked him under the table.

  “Candy,” Em says. “At school we say candy.”

  Jim tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling for a second before he answers. “I know. But I wasn’t talking about our brand of candy.”

  I guess he has a point, but I’m with Em. Not worth the risk of someone hearing us use that word. We shouldn’t even be doing magick at school. Well, I guess telepathy isn’t risky because normal humans can’t hear that. Even if they’re psychic, I think they’d also have to be witches to detect that we’re using it. I think I read that in one of the books I bought at George’s. Something about witches basically operating at a different psychic frequency. In any case, if anyone did detect that we’re using telepathy, they’d need to be very powerful to actually hear what we’re “saying.” Because we don’t send out our telepathic words or thoughts so that just anyone can hear. No, we send them directly to each other. So, it’s more like a phone call than a radio broadcast. For example, Em, Jim, Li and I can be sitting in a café and I can talk to Li telepathically without Em or Jim hearing. You simply “call” the person you want to hear your message with your mind.

  Of course, January can communicate with us telepathically even though she’s not a witch, but that must be because she’s psychic and she’s a supernatural being. Or maybe Hannashurie just gave her a special gift enabling her to do telepathy with us since she assigned her to protect us and it would suck if we were in a jam and could only “speak” that way.

  “So, what’s everyone doing after school?” January asks. “Besides my boyfriend, who we all know is otherwise committed.”

  “It’s one afternoon. And I’m trying to stay on their good side for all of us,” Pete says, getting flustered.

  “Jim’s taking me to his apartment for the first time,” Em says and looks at him wide-eyed, batting her lashes. From the dumbfounded look on his face, it’s clear that he wasn’t aware of this.

  “Right,” Jim says, suddenly straightening up in his seat. Bet she just kicked him under the table again. Em is always kicking people under the table. I’ve had bruises on my shins because of it.

  We should ask Jan to hang with us, I say to Li.

  That’s fine, Li says. I wanted to taste you, but I guess that can wait.

  I laugh, causing me to spit out the water I was about to swallow. Thank God, it only sprays on Li.

  Boy does she look pissed, though! “What the hell?”

  “You did that,” I say. “You and your dirty mind.”

  January raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Do tell.”

  “It’s private,” I say. “But we were wondering if you want to hang with me and Li after school?”

  Her face lights up like someone has just given her the best gift of her life. “Sure, sounds fun! What will we do?”

  Li looks at me, expecting me to answer.

  “Happy Accidents?” I suggest.

  “Sounds cool,” January says before Li can say anything.

  I turn to Li to get her opinion.

  She smiles at us, says, “Happy Accidents it is, then.”

  Em smiles at Jim. “Great. Now that we don’t have to give Janvier a ride we can go straight to your place after I go see about writing for the paper.”

  He only half-smiles back. “I wish I would’ve known this was happening yesterday so I could’ve done some cleaning beforehand.”

  “I promise I won’t complain.” She pretends to zip her mouth shut with her fingers.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SHAR

  One thing I’ve missed ever since we started at Noah’s Catholic is swimming. Freshmen and sophomore years at Berube Lowell High I was on the swim team. I wasn’t the fastest, but I certainly wasn’t the slowest either. And I was strong. My breaststrok
e was killer. I placed second for the 100 meter breaststroke at the state championship.

  Unfortunately, Noah’s Catholic didn’t have a body of water – or a boat, for that matter – so there was no swim team. And I haven’t been on one since we started junior year there. Fortunately, Greenmont has a huge pool so I might see if they have any openings after school before Li and I hang with January. That should be interesting, as we’ve never hung out with her without Em being present before. And she’s closer to Em than Li and I anyway.

  I used to frequent Bench & Swim, this really cool privately-owned gym. Li came with me about half the time, but I also went on my own. It was only about a mile from my house. Much of the time I’d just walk there and swim for an hour then walk home. That would be a two hour workout, no treadmill required. Not that I hate the treadmill. I just didn’t like the gym’s 20 minute time limit. I’ve never been someone who can just hop on and start jogging. My knees are always stiff at first. I need to start off at a moderate pace and gradually build up to it. At least the time limit didn’t apply when they weren’t busy. Not that any of this matters now because Platinum Star Gym opened a location another mile from my house and put them out of business with their 5 dollars a month deal. I haven’t gotten a membership there because it’s two miles from my house, which means I’d be exhausted by the time I got there and would need to save my energy to walk home. Of course, I could ride my bike, but they don’t have a pool, which was the main thing I liked about Bench & Swim. So, F you, Platinum Star Gym.

  I’m doing all of this thinking in seventh period study, which is about halfway over already. I suppose I should tell the girls that I’m thinking about trying out for the swim team. I think I’m going to inquire about joining the swim team real quick after school.

  Li rubs the back of her neck. Your mind is made up?

  My leg is shaking because I’m so worried that she’s going to get pissed at me. Yes. And I’m sorry if it means we can’t spend quite so much time together, but I haven’t been to a gym, or even swam once, since all of this witch shit. And you know how much I enjoyed being on the team at Berube High.

  Em gives me a warm smile. More power to you. I’m going to see about writing for the school paper as soon as this period is over. That is, if it ever ends.

  I smile back. Yeah, it certainly doesn’t feel like it will.

  A smile finally forms on Li’s face. If it’s going to make you happy, you should go for it. Your breaststroke was legendary. I’m lucky that we have art class most days so I get to do what I love during school, but if you guys have to sign up for after school shit to do what you’re passionate about then I think I can support that.

  You think you can? I can’t believe she said that. But she’s such a wise ass and I know her so well that I know she’s joking.

  Em smirks at Li. What she meant to say is that she’ll be your biggest cheerleader.

  Yeah, that, Li says. But if this interferes with our sex life I can’t promise I won’t bitch about it.

  I glare at her. You better watch out I don’t make a frog fall on your head.

  Em giggles. Now, that would be funny.

  Of course, having heard her giggling, Mr. Larde looks up from his desk and gives Em the evil eye. Meanwhile, Li looks up to be sure there isn’t a frog above her.

  A smirk forms on my face. You know what would be even funnier? If a frog fell on Mr. Larde’s head.

  Do you really want that to happen? Li asks, looking at the front of the room.

  Good question. Do I or don’t I? Yeah, you know what? I think I do.

  Cool, Li and Em say at once.

  I glance over at Mr. Larde and then my eyes rise until I see the clock on the wall behind him, which now has a frog sitting on top of it.

  You? I ask Li.

  A shit-eating grin forms on her face.

  Em is smiling and trying not to laugh.

  I look back at the frog just as it leaps off the clock and onto Mr. Larde’s bald spot.

  Students immediately erupt with laughter, some pointing it out to others before Mr. Larde reaches for it and cautiously removes it from his head. The grossed out expression on his now devil red face is priceless.

  I spy a girl in the front row recording it with her phone. Since the cat is out of the bag already, I’ll have to have her send me a copy, or a link if she posts it on Youtube, which she totally should. Mr. Larde takes himself way too seriously.

  The frog squeezes its way out of Mr. Larde’s hand, leaping onto whatever book he was reading at his desk. The hilarious thing is that Mr. Larde backs up in his seat until the chair and the back of his head slam into the wall. Of course, this triggers even more laughter.

  Mr. Larde gets up, rubbing the back of his head.

  I do feel a little bad because he’s going to have one hell of a headache and we’ve humiliated him. But he gives out senseless detentions more than we use candy, so that only goes so far.

  “Quiet!” he yells. A primal scream if ever I’ve heard one.

  But the bell rings and people just keep on laughing as they pack up and we head out into the hallway.

  “So, I’ll see you outside shortly?” Li asks me.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Wait,” Em says, looking at me.

  My jaw drops halfway. “What?”

  “How are you going to get out of gym if you join the swim team?”

  That’s a good question. One I hadn’t considered before. But I really, really want to swim. “Then I guess I’ll just have to take gym then.”

  “Just don’t expect me to take it,” Li says. “I hate, hate, hate gym.”

  I laugh at Li. “How do you feel about it again?”

  She gives me the evil eye, making Em laugh.

  “Later girlfriends,” I say and head off in the direction of the gym.

  I head down to the girls’ locker room. That’s what it says on the door, girls, not women. The thing is, I kind of like that because I always feel like people are trying to age me 10 years when they call me a woman instead of a girl.

  I’m about to go inside when two girls approach the door and cut right in front of me. They don’t even look at me. I have to take a step back to avoid getting knocked over. What bitches. I almost wish for them to fall down but stop short because with the way today is going they’d blame me for it. Say I tripped them.

  I head into the locker room where girls are already changing, some into swim wear, others into basketball uniforms. I look around, searching for someone old enough to be a coach, but everyone appears to be a teenager.

  “Hey dyke, quit checking us out or we’ll tell your girlfriend,” some girl says, raising her voice.

  “I’m just looking for the swim coach,” I say.

  “That would be me,” says an Asian woman who just walked into the locker room. “I’m coach Otsuka.” She looks all of 23, but she’s wearing a whistle and holding a clipboard so I guess she’s just the youngest swim coach ever.

  “Awesome,” I say.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you’re looking for someone. For the swim team.”

  One of her eyebrows shifts upwards as she looks me up and down. “As a matter of fact we are.”

  “Seriously?” It sounds too good to be true.

  She nods. “Do you have any experience?”

  “I came in second for the 100 meter breaststroke at the state championship last year. Third for the 200 meter freestyle the year before.”

  “That’s impressive. But you’ll have to try out.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “Got a swimsuit on you?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t think you’d ask me to try out today.”

  “I suppose we could see how you look in one of our team uniforms.”

  I hate to disappoint her, but I need to babysit January with Li. “Actually, I can’t right now. My ride is here.”

  Her forehead wrinkles. “Then how abou
t after school tomorrow?”

  “I could try out, but I wouldn’t be able to stay after because I have a memorial for a good friend and it’s down in Salem, but my afternoons are wide open after that.”

  “What about weekends?”

  I give her a big smile. “Not a problem.”

  “Then we’ll see you after school tomorrow.” Her forehead relaxes as she gives me an inkling of a grin.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EMMA

  After school. I head to the bulletin board outside the office where people advertise clubs, dances, fairs and other things school related. I’m trying to find something from the school paper that might tell me what room they meet in and when. I’m not finding it when that girl Wendy appears at my side, her head level with my shoulder because she’s shorter than I am. I don’t mean that in a negative way, though. It’s actually kind of cute. I’m just saying it because it’s a fact.

  Her words tumble out rapid-fire. “If you’re looking for the paper it’s called The Green Pages. But we don’t have anything posted right now. However, if you’ll follow me, we can go ask Miss Rose if you can write for us. I already know she loves you girls and wants me to interview you, but I won’t ask you about that again yet because I don’t want to be a pest.”

  She’s already a pest, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

  As I’m following her, she asks me what it was like being in the room with the frogs.

  “Um, I’m glad we didn’t have to play Operation with their insides, but they were kind of gross.” [I’m an exceptional liar.] When I have to be.

  During the rest of the way to the language wing – right up until we walk into the double-sized English classroom – she tells me all about how she used to catch frogs and toads up until a year ago. Newts and snakes, too. And she tells me the names she gave every single one of them. Ribbit, Tongue Lash, Ernie, Disco, Spots, Humpy, Cameron... The list goes on and on. I suppose some of the names are funny, but all I can think about is my date with Jim and how I want to get this done and over already. [I can’t wait to fuck him in his apartment!] I’m tempted to ask Wendy if she’ll shut the fuck up if I agree to do the interview, but I can’t do that since I still have to check with Lia and Shar and see if they’d mind. Plus, I want to be 100% sure our parents aren’t still considering a stupid lawsuit against Noah’s Catholic.