by M. D. Archer
“Oh.” I fussed with them for a moment. “Doesn’t matter. Yeah, it’s crazy in Montrose at the moment. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to call me back.”
Isaac frowned. “Yeah. Sorry, got caught up with work and… super busy, sorry. Anyway… major incident, hey? You all good?”
Part of me crumbled. Super busy? Isaac’s supposedly best friend was exposed to possibly toxic fumes and he was too busy to call?
“Callie?” Isaac paused in front of the screen, squinting at me. “I heard something about you guys getting tested?”
“Um. Yeah. It was pretty intense, but we got the all-clear yesterday. The truck was carrying some sort of preservative, but it didn’t show up in anyone’s blood tests. And did you hear the driver, uh… died? He had a stroke.”
“Crazy,” Isaac shook his head, then paused, looking out to the left as his attention was drawn to something beyond his room. “Yeah, no worries. One sec,” he called, already stuffing papers and his laptop into a bag.
“Did you know that Emily is still in a coma?”
His mouth turned down. “Can’t believe it.” He shook his head, then turned away again. “I’m so sorry, Callie, but I really have to go.”
“Wait, Isaac. There’s so much to tell you. I… are you coming to visit this weekend?”
He grimaced. “Maybe? I’ve got so much on. Can I let you know?”
I stared at him. “Isaac. Things are…. The stuff going on and you’re like… barely interested.”
His shoulders dropped. “I am, it’s just… it’s hard to keep connected to Montrose when there’s so much going on here.”
“Like what?”
“School. The program. It’s incredible, but the workload?” His forehead creased. “Remember two years ago when you had a dance show and a dance competition in the same week, and you had to learn some crazy choreography and Ms. Spencer put you in lockdown for, like, a whole month training?”
I nodded. “How could I forget?”
“It’s kind of like that. Like, there’s not much space for anything else. At least not right now. They tell me it gets better,” he said with a grimace. “Apparently they push us this hard in the beginning to see who’s going to crack. And if you don’t crack, then you’ve got the goods to stay in the program.”
I gave him a shaky smile. “I get it. I totally get it.”
“How’s your foot, by the way? Must nearly be time for the boot to come off.”
“Uh.” I swallowed. “Any day now.”
“Let me know.” He smiled. “And we’ll talk later. I promise. But I gotta go, Callie.” He nodded once, and then the screen went blank.
My throat went tight as tears burned behind my eyes. I understood what he was going through, but the way he used dance as a comparison was like a twist of the knife. And how could I have just lied to him, to Isaac, about my injury? I was still lying to Mom, but there was a reason for that. I knew it was wrong, but what else could I do? I felt paralysed.
Mrs. Pemberton returned amongst a cacophony of jangling keys and a cloud of perfume, and with a huge smile on her face.
“Hey,” I said, trying to find a smile to return. As she plopped her bag down next to the desk, I shook my head and pushed back my shoulders.
“Ready to work? The blood drive is tomorrow, and we have to finish the schedule,” she said.
“Right, sure.”
This year, because of our fancy new health centre, they were going to do the blood drive donations at school. And since Mrs. Pemberton had me to help, we were organizing all the grade twelve students into donation sessions. Apparently, Ms. Michaels expected all of grade twelve to do it because it “set a good example” for the rest of the school, and as adults or near-adults, it was their “civic duty”. I would also be donating, because apparently donating blood was the admin office staff’s civic duty as well.
An hour later, we were all done. Mrs. Pemberton clapped her hands with pleasure and made herself a celebratory cup of tea.
“Could you be a dear and go over to the health centre? They need the forms and the official blood drive donation bags.”
I glanced out the window as my stomach fluttered. “Sure.”
Cole hadn’t been on campus since he did those tests, but he was here today—I’d finally spotted him after keeping vigil by the window for about two hours. He’d walked out of the health centre to make a call, standing there gesturing as he spoke, looking incredible in a form-fitting shirt and, well, form-fitting jeans. But my nervousness wasn’t really about Cole; Logan Kerry would probably be there too. I was sure Logan was super shady, but I didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t as if I had any proof, and when I imagined telling someone, all I could picture was me getting laughed out of town. Mrs. Pemberton would probably just tell me I was being theatrical.
“Calliope? The bags?”
“Yes.” I took the package from her. “I’ll take them now.”
The health centre doors slid open soundlessly to let me inside, but no one was at reception. I walked up to the front counter. “Um. Hello?” I called out. I cast my eyes around, noticing the desk was a lot messier than it was the other day.
As I set the box down, I spotted a clipboard sitting next to the phone. Reading upside down, I could see it was the grade twelve class list. I leaned over farther and adjusted it a little so I could see it more clearly. There were four columns at the top, headed Session, Photo, Test, and, finally, Type.
Logan appeared out of nowhere and snatched up the clipboard away from me. I sucked in a breath and went still. He held it to his chest with one hand, then brought the other hand up to waggle his index finger at me. “You’re quite the nosy one, aren’t you,” he said, his expression hardening. “Are you going to become a problem?”
I jerked my head back. “No, uh—”
“The buzzer. Why isn’t it…?” He stalked around the counter toward the main doors. He stepped up, watched as they soundlessly slid open, then stepped back, letting them close, again soundlessly. “Amateurs,” he said under his breath as he pulled out his phone. “Yes. Customer service.”
Suddenly his face transformed from an angry squint into a smile. I was confused for a second until I realized he was looking at someone behind me. I turned to see that Gillian, the school nurse, had arrived.
“Just wait right here,” he said to me, that greasy smile now pasted on his face. “Someone will be with you shortly. Gillian, come with me.”
She flashed a grin at Logan and hurried past to follow him to the back.
How could no one else see how fake Logan was?
“Calliope?”
Cole had emerged from one of the clinical rooms and was walking toward me.
“Oh, hi.” My cheeks warmed.
His shoulders and torso swung a little as he walked—left, right, left right, almost as if he was walking to a beat.
“You’re dressed up,” I blurted, gesturing at his clothes.
“Formal thing later.” He stopped at the reception desk. “You okay out here?”
I hadn’t thought I noticed looks that much, but I couldn’t seem to stop noticing Cole’s. I searched my foggy brain for something to say.
“Blood drive,” I said eloquently, pointing at the stuff I’d brought over. “Mrs. Pemberton wanted me to drop these off. Forms and bags for blood donations.”
“Oh, right. I’m glad you’re helping out. Logan is being really intense about it.”
“He is?”
Maybe Logan wasn’t all smarmy smiles with Cole either; maybe Cole had seen the version of Logan I saw.
“But I guess that’s good, right? It’s his job to be on top of it,” Cole added, dashing my theory. His phone rang. He looked at the screen and shook his head—the tiniest gesture—then rejected the call. When he turned back, his brow was knitted with tension.
“Um… so, you volunteer here?” I said.
No, he just hangs out here a lot.
“Yeah, clinical
hours… pre-med.” He leaned forward so his elbows were resting on the counter right in front of me. Suddenly my brain was a ghost town and my mouth was so dry it was as if I’d stuffed twenty cotton balls in there. Maybe I needed a medical check-up.
“But you’re not, like, the doctor here?”
“No. An actual doctor comes in once or twice a week for appointments.” This time he smiled.
And I already knew that.
“But you don’t live here?”
Do I sound as if I’m fishing for information?
“No, I live in the city… but I might end up spending a bit of time here. There aren’t many distractions, so it’s pretty good for studying, you know.”
“Yeah, totally.” I nodded encouragingly.
His phone rang again. He checked the display and grimaced before turning away and heading back down the narrow corridor to take the call.
“What are you doing here?” someone said right behind me.
I jumped. Logan was right, they totally needed a buzzer on the door.
When I turned, Amanda stood there with one hand on her hip, eyeing me with suspicion. “You’re always here, or at the office.” She tilted her head. “It’s weird you’re not in any of my classes.”
My stomach contracted and I cleared my throat. “Why would I be in your class? I’m not a student.”
I was acting like she was mistaken, but I knew where she’d gotten this impression—from me, on the first day we met.
“What are you talking about?”
“I work in the admin office.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
I tried to lift my shoulders casually and shook my head.
She looked uncertain for a moment, a hint of red crossing her cheeks, but then shook her head and seemed to gather herself. “You’re trying to make me look stupid.”
“No, I—”
“That would be a mistake.”
She cast her eyes down to inspect her nails, currently a deep purple. They were incredible. Almost like a predatory feature. Designed to draw you in and mesmerize you, and before you knew it, you were in her clutches. She raised her eyes to mine, cold and hard, then let them travel over my hair, down my outfit, to my moonboot, and then up again. I folded my arms, feeling inadequate. How did she do that? How could such a simple gesture make me feel so vulnerable?
Behind Amanda, Theo Henderson entered the health centre. She turned and eyed him, her gaze taking in his chunky frame and his large T-shirt, which he was tugging at. She crossed her arms and said, “Yes?” As if she had every right to be at the health centre, but he didn’t.
“I have an appointment with the nurse,” he mumbled, trying to shuffle past.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Theo. Have you found Jenny?”
He looked uncertain. “Jenny who?”
“Jenny Craig?”
His face crumpled.
“They’re having a sale at the moment.” Amanda widened her smile, but her eyes were icy. “Or maybe get a treadmill? A home gym? At least try some self-control, Theo, really. Please. You’re grossing me out.”
Theo looked down, his shoulders slumping forward, and edged toward the seats in the waiting area. Amanda made an annoyed sound, as if he was being a buzzkill. I stared at him sitting there with his head hanging down until a surge of adrenaline propelled me around to face Amanda.
“That was super mean,” I said, my voice low.
She shrugged as if it was out of her control. “He needs some motivation.” Her eyes narrowed. “And careful who you call mean, Callie. You don’t want to find out what mean really is.”
I recoiled. Had I just waved a red flag in front of a bull?
Cole reappeared from the back, sliding his phone in his pocket. “Amanda, can I help you with something?”
“Hey, Cole.” Her smile was wide and flirtatious. She made a pouty face and held up one of her talons to her temple. “I have a throbbing headache. Could you help me?”
“Sure. Just a sec.” Cole turned to Theo. “You okay there?”
“I have a nurse’s appointment,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Come through and take a seat in room B. Gillian will be right with you.” Once he’d let Theo through, Cole looked to me. “Calliope, did you need anything else? Did you want me to take a look at your foot?”
“No,” I blurted, “but thanks.”
“Cole,” Amanda said impatiently. “It’s turning into a migraine.” She turned to me to hiss under her breath, “You’re getting a lot of mileage out of that injury.”
Cole opened the small door again. “Come through, Amanda,” he said. She walked through but turned back to deliver a shrewd look in my direction. “Let me know if you change your mind about your foot,” Cole said with an easy smile, then led Amanda through to the back.
I glanced down at my moonboot. Instead of worrying about two-faced Logan, I should probably be a little more focused on this situation. I felt as if I had a ticking time bomb strapped to my foot, and I was no closer to figuring out how to disarm it.
But later that day, I found out I’d taken too long.
***
Mom pounced on me as soon as I got home.
“Oh, lamb, I’m on my way to work and I can’t stop, but I had to tell you.” Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm. Something vice-like gripped my stomach. She only got this excited about one thing. “You’re in. You got into The Byron Academy and Troupe,” she squealed, taking both my hands in hers, then pulling me into a hug. “Even though you injured yourself, they’ve seen enough to know they want to take you.”
“What?” Icy tentacles gripped my stomach.
“I know,” Mom said, her voice high with excitement. “I’ve already transferred the money for your tuition. Well, only the deposit, but they needed it straight away to hold your place.”
“You did?” I whispered.
“And I’ve already started looking at apartments in the city.” She beamed.
I couldn’t breathe.
bella
Bella Chen could still remember her first proper shopping trip.
She’d been eight years old, and it had been a reward for coming in first in the junior science competition. Her mother had taken her and her best friend at the time, Maggie Tennison, to the Eaton Centre in the city, and they’d spent a thrilling afternoon walking around the bright glittery stores, drinking slushies, and even getting their nails done. Bella had been allowed to choose not one but two brand-new outfits.
She’d felt a rush of excitement as the bags were handed over to her, and it continued at home when she tried them on and danced around in front of the mirror.
The spark was reignited with every shopping trip she went on.
Each time Bella won an award or achieved something her parents thought was worth rewarding, a shopping trip was always her trophy. At first with her mother, then with friends, and then alone with cash from her parents.
The rush had never gone away.
She lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply, returning to her screen as she exhaled the smoke out her bedroom window and held up the small handheld, battery-powered fan to encourage the smoke to disperse into the night air.
Click, scroll, repeat.
Her parents were idiots if they thought changing the Wi-Fi password and taking away her phone would change anything. She had a second phone; she’d had it for nearly a year now. Bella immediately felt bad for thinking of her parents as idiots. They weren’t so awful, not really, but they couldn’t know everything about her. They had such a narrow, microscopic view of the world. They didn’t and wouldn’t understand. She needed to have her own life, her own secrets, her own wishes and desires. Her own personality. Not just their idea of her.
She stopped scrolling when she saw a Matrix-style black coat. Yes. Click. And those. She added the black faux-leather pants. Bella smiled as she carried on scrolling for another couple of minutes, then went to her shopping c
art. She finished the transaction and sat still for a moment, enjoying the sensation of anticipation.
She switched from the online shopping site to her file folder and opened up the photo she’d downloaded a couple of months back. Steph and Dean at some random party over the summer. Their arms were slung over each other’s shoulders as they grinned at the camera. They looked so good, both of them. Were they together? She couldn’t work it out from social media, and she wasn’t brave enough to ask. Dean flirted with everyone. And what about Steph? She was an unknown. Bella wasn’t sure about Steph, but she wanted to know.
Her phone beeped, and an email notification popped up. A new article from the New England Journal of Medicine. She hesitated, wondering whether to read it now, or stay online. After a moment and another drag on her cigarette, she opened another tab to look at high-necked shirts that would go with the faux-leather pants. Another item for her mother’s second credit card. The one she didn’t think Bella knew about. Bella smiled to herself, but it slipped off her face immediately.
What was going on with her?
She didn’t want to think about it, but it was getting hard to ignore.
11
I washed my hair twice, as if that could solve anything, then wrapped myself in my bathrobe and trudged down the stairs to make coffee. I wasn’t due at work until eleven because now that the blood drive was over and things had ‘settled down’, as Mrs. Pemberton said, I could start a little later.
But things felt anything but settled.
I was no closer to figuring out what to do about the Mom and dance situation; Emily was still in hospital—the image of her freaking out was playing in my head like some sort of real-life GIF—and now I had two more disturbing images in my brain.
Nikki De Luca and Randall Clark.
Yesterday, I’d cut across the athletic field on my way to work because I was late, and I’d seen Montrose’s resident running champ from a distance, jogging on the spot and wind-milling her arms. It wasn’t until I’d gotten a little closer and saw Nikki properly that I’d stopped and sucked in a breath. She was thin. Like, really thin. Her ‘stretch’ workout pants were baggy, and I could see every tendon and muscle in her arms. When had that happened?