“Oh, that’s one of my favorites!” I exclaimed. Mrs. Cook gave me a quick but genuine smile, and Amber looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Your favorite?” Her voice held all the skepticism in her eyes.
“Yeah, I kind of read these things for fun, sometimes…” I trailed off my voice, realizing in embarrassment how that made me sound. “Anyway, this one’s good, and it’ll be easy to translate.”
“Good,” Amber said, relief evident in her voice. Then she frowned, and I knew she was remembering that I was the enemy. I smothered a sigh and opened my book to find the sonnet.
We worked in relative silence for a while. I didn’t want to do all of it, but Amber was very reluctant to offer any of her own insight. I could feel her confusion and doubt doing battle. My frustration level made it even harder to avoid hearing her.
“So this line—‘Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope’—what do you think? What should we put down?” Amber shrugged, but her eyebrows were knit together, and I could see that she was at least trying.
She knows all this, why doesn’t she just tell me or write it down… not like I can figure it out anyway… stupid assignment… who needs this? Nell is gonna freak when I tell her. Or if someone else tells her… so scared when she’s angry, like she’s not the same person… don’t want her to get mad before the dance with them… going to be a wonderful night, if Nell’s happy.
I gave in as much for my own sanity as for Amber’s. “Do you think it could be… I don’t know, something like, ‘wishing I had the talents that my friends do’?”
Her eyes cleared and the lines in her forehead smoothed. “Ohh… okay. I think I get that.” She ventured a quick glance at me, still not quite meeting my eyes. “How do you know this stuff? It’s impossible for me.”
I smiled at her. “I moved around a lot all my life, and I haven’t made many friends. So I had a lot of free time for reading. I know it sounds weird, but I actually enjoy Shakespeare.”
Amber shook her head, amazed. “It just doesn’t make any sense to me.” She ducked her head shyly. “But I do like to read. Just not this—whatever it is. I like other kinds of books.”
“Really? What do you read?” I felt as though I was on the verge of a breakthrough here. If Amber realized that I wasn’t the monster Nell had painted me to be, maybe she’d feel more comfortable confiding in me.
“Mostly fantasy—you know, what they call science fiction, sometimes. I like the futuristic books and even some of the space ones.” Her eyes lit up, and I thought in surprise that she really was quite pretty.
“Books are easier than people, aren’t they?” I observed.
Amber frowned, and her eyes lost the glow. “Sometimes. When you don’t have anyone to talk to, you know you can always count on the characters in books to be there for you.”
“When you’re lonely, it can be a lifesaver,” I said softly.
Suddenly Amber seemed to remember who I was. “I’m not lonely, not anymore,” she retorted. “And it doesn’t look like you are, either. Not many people can come into a school and be dating the most popular boy within a week or so.” She looked at me meaningfully. “So I guess you’re not reading that much Shakespeare these days.”
“What happened when I moved here doesn’t make all the other years of being alone go away,” I returned. “I still read plenty of Shakespeare. Finding friends shouldn’t change who you are. It should make you even more of that person.”
Now her eyes blazed, and I could hardly hear her spoken words for the thoughts that were shouting from her head. “If you’re talking about Nell, you have no idea. I haven’t changed, except the parts that I should have lost long ago. Nell has helped me become stronger and more powerful than you’ll ever know—” and if she knows I’m talking to you about her, she’ll be so angry. And she always knows. Somehow she always knows. Sometimes I think she can hear me even when she’s not here. She scares me but she’s my friend, and I haven’t had a friend in so long. You could never know.
“Powerful?” I interrupted, trying hard to ignore her thoughts and only answer what she said out loud. “What do you mean? That’s an odd thing to say.”
Amber flushed. “I just mean, more sure of myself. That’s all. What else would I mean?”
The temptation to tip my hand and tell Amber what I knew was strong, but I realized that it was much too dangerous. While I didn’t think that Nell had any real power, the idea that Amber was under some sort of spell didn’t feel that far-fetched right now. Her loyalty to the girl who used to make her life miserable was perplexing.
I leaned closer to Amber and lowered my voice. “I don’t know, Amber. Why don’t you tell me? Is Nell messing with something she shouldn’t be?”
Amber jerked back. “You’re seriously deranged, you know that? I see what Nell means. Just leave us alone. You don’t have any idea about—about what all of us have together. People always make sick assumptions when girls can be friends and can be supportive to each other. You’re just jealous Nell didn’t want to be friends with you.”
Now that was actually amusing. “If that’s what you want to believe, be my guest. You’re wrong. But you should listen to me about this. You need to be careful, Amber. If something is frightening you, it probably isn’t a good idea. If you have doubts, you should take some time and think about what you’re doing.” That was as much as I could say without actually telling Amber what I’d heard. I was afraid that if she told Nell that I had warned her more specifically, it might push Nell to act earlier.
Now her mood had shifted from anger to fear. She looked at me wordlessly, her lips pressed together and her eyes wide. “I can’t,” she whispered, so quietly that I had to bend close to hear her. “She would never let me pull back now.” She sat very still, looking trapped and defeated.
Neither of us moved, and our eyes were locked. As the bell rang, Mrs. Cook raised her voice, telling us to finish the assignment for homework. I finally stood, closing my notebook and gathering my books, but keeping my gaze on Amber, who hadn’t moved at all. Before I left, I touched her shoulder lightly.
“There’s always a way out,” I murmured to her. “I’m here if you need to talk.” When I turned to leave the classroom, she was still sitting there.
I was later than usual to lunch, and as I went into the cafeteria, I saw Michael looking worriedly toward the door. His face cleared when he saw me. The lunch table was its normal noisy, chaotic place, and I tried to play along as usual, although my mind was still on Amber.
Jim caught my eye as I nibbled on some carrots. “Is your head feeling better?” he inquired. Michael turned to me, frowning.
“Do you have a headache? Are you okay?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. It was just a little one, and it passed after I left speech.”
Jim smirked at me. “Yeah, that class hurts my head, too. But you looked pretty out of it there at first.”
I gave him my finest shut-up look, disguised by a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Jim. I am fine.” I enunciated clearly, in case there was any doubt.
Michael was looking at me suspiciously, and I turned my smile to him. “We’ll talk later. Nothing to worry about,” I muttered, just loud enough to reach his ears. And then I heard him, quite clearly.
I hate that she’s getting mixed up in stuff that might not be safe. I hate that I don’t know what happened this morning. And I hate that I can’t hear what she’s thinking like I bet she’s hearing me right now.
I looked away, fast, trying to keep him from seeing the red in my face. I hadn’t been trying to hear him; it just happened the way it did so often these days.
Michael leaned over to bump up against my shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Nothing I wouldn’t have said to you anyway.”
“Sorry,” I said in the same tone. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. But I’m starting to realize when you’re listening. It’s a different look than when
you’re concentrating on not listening.”
“How is it different?” Our heads were very close, and to anyone sitting around us, it looked as though Michael was just leaning into me, playing idly with my hair.
“When you’re trying to block, you look almost… blank. Your face is nearly expressionless. When you’re listening, you’re intent. And you look—conflicted. Maybe almost guilty.”
My face warmed. “Hmmm, too bad,” I said, regretfully.
Michael leaned his forehead against mine. “How so?”
“Now that you’ve figured me out, I must eliminate you. Not that I won’t miss you, of course…”
“Of course…” he echoed. “Eat that grilled cheese, while you’re figuring out how to get rid of me.”
I sat up away from Michael and picked up the sandwich. People were meandering out of the cafeteria, and I saw that Brea had left. Dan was talking to Cara, I saw with satisfaction, and Jim was looking at Anne, who had her head bent over some last minute homework. The yearning in his eyes convinced me that I was right about his feelings toward Anne. Something had to be done there.
I finished the grilled cheese in just enough time to rush off to class, with a quick promise to Michael that I’d see him after school.
I had decided to compromise with my mother on the issue of the upcoming dance and my hair. I didn’t want a fussy hairdo for that night, and my mom had agreed that a simpler style would suit the dress. However, she strongly suggested that at least I should have my hair trimmed before the big night. Since this was something I had been thinking about anyway, it was easy to give in.
I knew that Anne’s mother owned a hair salon in town, and so on Wednesday after school, Michael dropped both of us off at the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue. Anne had promised to stay with me and make sure nothing radical happened to my hair.
“My mom is pretty good about listening to people and what they want,” she promised. “But still, sometimes people get talking and get carried away… I’ll have your back.”
Second Avenue Rose was a small but quaint salon, tucked on a side street and bearing only a simple wooden sign over the door. Two operator chairs sat along the wall, and in the corner, a waiting area was furnished with small, overstuffed benches.
As we entered, a bell tinkled over the door, and a woman emerged from the back of the salon. She was an almost exact replica of Anne, only with smooth platinum blonde hair in place of her daughter’s darker curls. Her face lit up with a smile when she caught sight of us.
“Hello!” she called in greeting. “You must be Tasmyn. Anne has told me so much about you. Welcome to King—welcome to Second Avenue Rose!”
She was so bright and lively, I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Thanks, Mrs. Lewis. I appreciate you fitting me in at short notice.”
Mrs. Lewis brushed away my thanks with a wave of her hand. “No problem at all. Look at you—you’re just lovely. And this hair—” she held a length of my hair away from shoulder, “—why, it’s gorgeous. Such a pretty shade!”
I flushed. “It’s just brown, really,” I mumbled, embarrassed.
“Nonsense! I have customers who pay big money for this shade, and you can never exactly re-create it, no matter how expert a colorist you might be. See how the light picks up the golds, the reds… no,” she sighed, shaking her head, “Never could duplicate this. But I can help you out with a trim. Even beautiful, healthy hair needs a little pick-me-up now and then.”
In no time at all I was seated in one of the chairs, with my hair wet and streaming down my back and in front of my face. Mrs. Lewis was busily—and carefully, I hoped—snipping away at my split ends.
“So,” she said as she moved around me, “how are you liking King High School?”
“Oh, I like it,” I assured her. “I’ve made some good friends already. People have been nice, mostly.”
“Yes, you’ve made at least one pretty special friend, haven’t you?” she remarked meaningfully, raising her eyebrows.
I repressed a sigh. “Yes, Michael has made all the difference,” I agreed.
“He’s just the best. He and Anne have been friends for so long—I used to hope, I’ll admit, that maybe they’d be more—”
“Mom!” Anne, sitting in the other operator chair, rolled her eyes in protest.
“No, no, listen, it’s true, I did hope, but then I could see that they were only meant to be friends. And now he’s found you, and Anne tells me you’re perfect together.”
I was silent, not sure how to answer. But Mrs. Lewis didn’t wait for one.
“And how about classes? Do you like your teachers?”
Now here was an opening I could use. Since listening to my Chemistry teacher’s thoughts, I had been curious about her and how she had come to be at King High.
“Well, I like English and History,” I began. “Speech is not my favorite. I’m staying afloat in Math mostly thanks to Michael. And Chemistry—” I made a face. “I guess it’s okay, but the teacher is a little odd.”
“She has Ms. Lacusta,” Anne put in.
“Oh,” Mrs. Lewis nodded, understanding on her face. “Yes, I’ve heard she’s a little different. She hasn’t been here that long, you know. This past spring, Mr. Hennings got really sick. It came on him all of a sudden. So the school hired Ms. Lacusta. She’s from—where is it, Anne? One of those Eastern block countries…”
“Romania,” Anne supplied.
“That’s right. Romania. She did okay, I heard, but a couple of my customers said she was funny about the boys.”
I frowned, perplexed. “Boys? What do you mean?”
“She didn’t seem to like boys in her classes. One of the women who comes in here said her son complained she never called on him, wouldn’t answer his questions, either. When the mom complained to the principal, Ms. Lacusta claimed the boys weren’t letting the girls participate, and she was just trying to keep things fair. Most of the boys ended up transferring out of her class.”
“That’s strange,” I mused. “You know, there’s only two boys in my chem. class, and I don’t think they participate much, either.”
“She gives me the heebie-jeebies,” Anne said. “And I’m not the only one. You remember me telling you about Nell Massler and her boyfriend Kyle? She broke up with him because he didn’t like Ms. Lacusta, said there something strange about her.”
“Hmmm…” I was thoughtful. We were all three quiet for a time, and then Mrs. Lewis pulled out the blow dryer, effectively ending conversation while she moved around the chair, twirling her brush through my hair.
“Voila!” she finally announced, spinning the chair to face the mirror. I smiled as I examined my head from one angle and then another. “It’s perfect, Mrs. Lewis! Thanks so much.”
“I had good material,” she replied.
As I paid for the haircut, she asked, “What are you girls up to now?”
“I’m going to walk home with Tasmyn, if it’s okay. We’re going to try out new makeup for Friday night.”
“And I’ll drive Anne home afterward,” I added.
“Well, have a good time, girls. Tasmyn, you come back any time.”
I thanked her again, and we left the salon.
“I love your mom,” I told Anne.
She laughed. “She can be a little much sometimes, but she’s got a good heart. I think she’s happy to see me back with all my friends. She worried when all that was going on last year with Nick.”
That reminded me of something else. I knew it was meddling, but...
“Anne,” I ventured as we crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk, “what do you think about Jim?”
An odd expression crossed her face, and then she glanced at me sideways. “He’s a friend. He’s one of us. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I just noticed…” I bit my lower lip, considering. “Did you know some days at lunch, he can’t take his eyes off you?”
Anne’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? He’s staring
at me?”
“Well, not exactly. He tries not to let you catch him at it. But I’ve seen him. And the way he looks… I think he has more than friendship in mind.”
Her face pinked, and I hid a smile. “He never really forgave me for last year, though,” she murmured. “He hardly talks to me anymore.”
“I don’t think it’s about forgiving you,” I said slowly. “I think it might have been more that he was worried about you with Nick, and then when it happened like he thought it would, he was hurting because you were hurting. And now, he’s just waiting for you to be over Nick…”
“Wait.” Anne wheeled around to face me and stopped walking. “Did he tell you all this? Did he put you up to talking to me?”
“No!” My denial was horrified and honest. “No, he doesn’t have any idea I even know how he feels. And maybe ‘know’ is too strong a word. I’m just guessing, really.” I hadn’t realized how close I was to saying too much of what I’d sensed in Jim. The line between observation and supernatural hearing was very fuzzy, even when I hadn’t actually listened to Jim’s thoughts.
“Those are pretty specific guesses.” Anne was still suspicious.
“Look, I’m really good at intuiting what people are feeling. All those years of moving and having to size people up—it’s paid off, I guess, because I get a good sense of what others are thinking.” That was putting it mildly. “You could ask anyone else who sits with us at lunch, and I bet they’d tell you the same thing. It’s pretty obvious how Jim feels about you.”
We had resumed walking, and I could feel Anne considering, rolling this new possibility around in her head.
“Could you—do you have any feelings for Jim?” I ventured finally.
Anne knit her brows together. “It’s hard,” she said. “I’ve always known him, as long as I’ve known all the others. And it made me so sad this year, when he didn’t seem to take me back the way everyone else did. It’s been like a hole in my life. I used to think—back, before Nick—that maybe Jim and I could have something together—but he never made a move. So I figured he didn’t feel the same way I did.”
King Series Box Set Page 21