by M. D. Archer
“Calliope?” She bit her lip and frowned. She almost looked unhappy to see me.
“You’re not scheduled to work today.”
“I, uh….” I wrung my hands. “I need to talk to you.”
“Actually, love, I need to talk to you too.” Her frown deepened. “Logan was here, and he had some worrying things to say. He said he’s caught you on two occasions sneaking around the health centre?” She shook her head. “What on earth, Calliope?”
For a moment, I was shocked into quiet, but then I found my voice.
“He said he caught me snooping on two occasions?”
“Yes. What do you have to say about that?”
“I, uh….”
“He said you took something from the centre. You stole something.”
It was obvious what was going on: Logan was trying to set me up.
“Calliope?”
“He’s lying.”
“Is he?” She pursed her lips. “Or are you?” she said sadly.
He was going to make me look like a liar and a flake so no one would believe me when I tried to tell people he was shady.
And it was going to work, because I’d given him all the ammunition he needed.
18
I hurried out of the office, unsure as to where I was going but desperate to get away.
As soon as I rounded the corner, I pulled up to an abrupt stop and pressed myself flat against the wall. Amanda was at the other end of the hall, right outside the office. Was she waiting for me? Her head was down—she was doing something on her phone—but it was only a matter of time before she looked up and saw me.
Backing up, I took slow steps to edge around the corner. I couldn’t deal with Amanda right now, I just couldn’t. I kept moving backward until I collided with something.
“Calliope?” Cole said from behind me.
Like, right behind me. I’d stumbled backward until I was pressed up against him, and oh, wow. His hands rested on my shoulders. Half of me wanted to stay there, intoxicated by the way he felt, but the rest of me felt like I was coming apart. I needed to put as much distance between the school and me as possible.
I turned to face him. Footsteps sounded down the hall.
“Cole,” I said. The footsteps were getting louder, closer. “That’s Amanda.” I gestured behind me. “Can you, um, delay her? Like….”
“Create a diversion?” Cole said, his brow wrinkling as he smiled.
“I’m not kidding,” I said, starting to move away.
The smile dropped off his face. “What’s up?”
“I can’t….”
I turned and ran and didn’t look back. Behind me I could hear Cole’s voice, then Amanda’s. As distractions went, Cole was a good one.
I ran all the way around to the other side, retrieved my push bike, and exited the school through the east gates. Once I got off campus, I felt better. But where to now?
***
I found myself at the dance studio.
There were no classes and it was locked, but I still had my keys. I let myself in and made my way to the changing room, scooping my hair up into a ponytail as I got to my locker. I had a spare set of backup dance gear, and I pulled it on. It was musty and kind of gross, but I didn’t care. I needed to clear my head.
With no one here to watch me and no expectations, no reason to do this except because I liked it, I could enjoy myself. The way the music ran through me. The breathlessness. I could let my muscles remember and just enjoy being present in my body. I focused on my breath and the music and the way my body felt, and after a while, everything started melting away.
When I stopped for water, I realized my cheeks were wet with tears. But I wasn’t crying because giving up dance was a mistake. It was relief. No matter what Mom wanted for me, I didn’t want to be a professional dancer. Simple as that.
I shook my head sadly and took another mouthful of water. Just then, there was a noise from beyond the room. A trickle of fear slid into my stomach. Had I locked the door? Had Amanda seen me after all? Did she follow me here?
“Hello?” I called. “Is someone out there?”
From the darkness came a shuffling sound, and I was looking for weapons of self-defence when Cole emerged into the light. “What… what are you doing here?”
Cole hesitated, rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry. I followed you. I—”
I waited for him to continue.
“I wanted to check you were okay.”
My heart lifted. He was worried about me.
“My younger sister was bullied,” Cole explained. A pang of disappointment shot through me. He thought of me as his little sister. “And it’s obvious that’s what’s going on with Amanda. But then when I got here and saw you… I didn’t want to interrupt.” He paused again and met my eyes. “Calliope, you’re amazing. I could watch you dance all day.”
A flush of pleasure washed through me. “Thanks. I’m actually really out of practice at the moment, but… thanks.”
“You’ve been doing this a while, obviously.”
“Since I was little. It helps clear my head. And when people like Amanda—”
“Forget her,” Cole said bluntly.
“I wish I could.”
His eyes were dark. “Are you finished here? Can I walk you home?”
I gulped, then nodded.
As I was letting us out, something in my peripheral vision made me turn back. In the office, past the waiting area, sat Ms. Spencer. She was on her own, looking at something on her desk, her profile illuminated by the light of one lamp. She must have been here the whole time, must have heard the music, so why didn’t she come into the studio? As I stared at her, she turned and our eyes met, but she didn’t react at all. She didn’t look surprised or wave or do anything. All she did was shake her head and turn away. It was as if… it felt as if she’d seen me dancing, and that was why she looked disappointed. But how could she blame me for being out of shape after an injury? And we had an all-day training session this Saturday to work on my technique. To get me back up to speed.
But it wasn’t that simple and I knew it, so did Ms. Spencer know it too?
“Everything okay?” Cole asked through the open door.
“Let’s go.”
***
As we walked, I was hyperaware of him, of the natural to–and–fro rhythm between us. It was as if there was some sort of magnetic charge pulling me toward him but propelling me back when I got too close. And even though I was nervous, the silence wasn’t awkward.
Outside the studio he’d picked up my bike, and now he pushed it with one hand, gracefully moving it along with us without even seeming to try.
“Your sister got bullied?” I said after a while.
“Yeah.” Cole studied the ground in front of him, kicked a stray pebble. “She had cerebral palsy.” His voice dropped a few decibels. “Relatively mild, but still, enough to be different. Enough for kids to pick on her.” When he looked up, his eyes flashed and something pinged in my chest.
“That must have been… hard.”
“She never got a chance to get through school, you know? Get to the other side.”
“She didn’t? Cole, did she…?”
“She died.” His voice was tight.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
His features twisted with grief, and it took everything to stop myself from wrapping my arms around him.
“I looked out for her, as best I could, but then she was gone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. None of us could.” Cole took a breath before continuing. “Mom took it pretty hard. I mean, we all did, but she… she thought she should be able to fix her, you know?”
“How did she…?”
“She drowned. It was… a normal swimming pool, but because of the CP….”
Tears pressed behind my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Cole.” I looked at him, this guy who I thought had it all and not a care in the world to go with it, but it wasn’t that simple. There was more to him
than that. His life was full of stress and loss and uncertainty too.
“It was a long time ago.” His voice hardened. “It’s life, you know?”
We kept walking, falling into silence again.
“Why aren’t you on any social media?” I said after a while.
“It’s weird, I know. But it can be a pretty bad place if you’re in the spotlight at all, and our family was, a while back. With my sister, and Mom… it wasn’t a friendly place for any of us, so I went offline, and I never went back on.”
“Huh. So… you didn’t see the video? Or the, uh, meme?”
Cole’s eyes flicked to mine. “No. I heard something about it, though.” A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
Oh, god. What something did he hear?
“And I get why you lied,” Cole continued. “You needed time, right? You felt kind of trapped.”
I nodded, dangerously emotional. “I’ve… I recently realized I don’t want to be a professional dancer, but I haven’t been able to tell Mom. I just can’t seem to do it.”
“I get it. When you think your parents’ expectations are going to end up deciding what you were going to be, to do? The feeling that you’re on an express train, speeding toward a destination, but you never even bought a ticket?”
I smiled. He totally got it.
In the silence, I lifted my gaze to his. He was staring off into the night, lost in thought, shadows darkening half his face, until he turned to me. “It’s really good talking to you.”
He was quiet for the rest of the way, and it was only after he’d said goodnight and turned to jog off into the darkness that I realized I’d missed another chance to ask him about Logan and those results.
So why hadn’t I?
***
As soon as I let myself inside the house, Mom called out, “Calliope?”
“Yes. It’s me. I’m here.” I stomped up the stairs.
“What happened to coming straight home?”
She was still in her room, so I couldn’t see her, but her voice was cold.
“I stopped at the dance studio.”
Mom popped her head out the door and eyed me.
I gestured at the Lycra leggings and tank I had on under my coat and said, “Is that all right with you?” I wiggled my hips and made a face.
“Yes.” Her voice was clipped.
Of course it was. She was happy if I was dancing. That was all she wanted me to do.
“Calliope,” she added, then sighed. “There’s spaghetti in the fridge.” She retreated into her bedroom and shut the door.
Fun times in the Laws household.
Inside my room, I waited for a few seconds to make sure Mom wasn’t coming back, then sat on my bed and slipped my patient file out of my bag. I went through the blood test results again and noticed a Post-it note saying Missing data - follow up. And then finally at the back, the last piece of paper had scrawled on it Flu symptoms after event.
I was confused for a moment, but then I remembered Mom had called the health centre when I got sick. I went back to the file. What was this note about missing data? I shook my head and closed the file. What could I do with this? And I still didn’t know what to do about Mitchell’s and Emily’s results. They gave us the all-clear, but Mitchell and Emily had this DcH stuff in their system and they’d both collapsed. It couldn’t be a coincidence. And what was DcH anyway?
I grabbed my laptop and opened up a browser. Feeling a little foolish, I typed DcH, then DcH-015 into a search engine. I got a bunch of totally random results. Of course. It wasn’t even a word. I sighed. What should I do? I needed to talk to someone about this, but the person I’d normally go to wasn’t talking to me.
My phone suddenly buzzed and I scooped it up hopefully, but it wasn’t Isaac.
It was Harvey.
Something definitely suss going on with Kade Liston. I can find time and cause of death, and basic info, but not much. It looks like something was deleted.
I stared at my phone. Did this mean I was right about the cover-up?
Thanks. O U 1.
I exited out of the message thread, even more uneasy than I had been a moment ago. I opened another search on my laptop and typed in Kade Liston. I scrolled through the handful of results from before he was found dead in the park, then sat back. Kade had been reported missing by a social worker, and his death had only been visible because of Brie’s story on the park. Kade didn’t seem to have a family, or at least one that cared. Kade was the kind of person who no one was going to ask questions about. An uncomfortable lump appeared in my throat. I needed to talk to someone about this, I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore.
I went back to my phone and saw that Isaac was online. I stared at his avatar. His cheeky grin filled me with a wistfulness that bordered on painful. How did we go from being best friends to not speaking? I couldn’t do this without him. Even if he’d left Montrose, I still needed him in my life. But he’d obviously found out I hadn’t been truthful with him, and he was probably mad at me for that. So I had to make it right. Nervous waves cascading through my stomach, I composed a new message to him.
Hey… I messed up and I don’t know what to say except… I need you, Isaac.
I sat back, my chest tight. I could see he’d gotten the message, but he wasn’t typing anything back. I gulped back tears. Were we over? But suddenly my phone was ringing—a video call. My shoulders dropped and a smile spread across my face.
“You need me, huh?” Isaac said, his face filling the screen. He gave me a small smile, and it was so good to see him that I almost lost it right then and there.
I bit my lip and got myself under control.
In the silence, Isaac frowned into the camera. “Callie. Your hair is different. Again. What is up with you?”
“Really? You don’t know?”
He blew out a gust of air and looked down. When his eyes met mine again, they were sad. “Why did you tell me your foot hadn’t healed?” He scratched his head and changed position. He was in his room, lying on his bed.
“Because… I didn’t know what else to do. It just kind of happened. I wasn’t ready to face up to the decision I’d made.”
“What decision?” Isaac’s voice was soft. “That… you don’t want to be a dancer?”
“You knew?”
“I only just put it together. I mean, I could tell something was up, but….” He shook his head. “When I found out all this stuff from someone else, someone who didn’t even know you, I felt like an idiot. I felt like, you were some stranger or something. I guess I thought you would tell me about the majors in your life.”
“But you stopped talking to me.”
“Hey, that’s not true. I might have been kind of busy, but cut me some slack. College is intense.”
“I know. It’s… it’s just really sucked with you gone, Isaac. I’ve felt so lost, and I don’t know… it was like you abandoned me. But I know you didn’t,” I added quickly.
The silence hung for a moment until he said, “Hey, would a weekend in the city with your best friend help?”
With a gigantic grin and happy tears welling in my eyes, I nodded. “Can you spare the time?”
“I’ll pick you up Saturday.”
After we ended the call, I lay back on my bed, my heart racing. I was supposed to be training with Ms. Spencer this weekend, but I already knew I couldn’t bring myself to go. I couldn’t spend a whole day pretending it was what I wanted. I needed to see Isaac, to hang with my best friend.
And I needed to talk to somebody about what was going on in Montrose.
liam
Liam turned off the shower and grabbed a towel.
It hadn’t always been this bad, had it? Now it consumed him. Feverish thoughts, urges. He almost couldn’t think of anything else. That and punching. Why did he want to punch everyone all the time? Even Justin. Maybe Justin the most.
But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. They’d already fought and Justin had won, and
that was that. The whole thing had been surreal. They’d both known they had to do it, somehow, but why now? After years jostling each other for top dog position, why had they both suddenly needed to have the deciding fight? It was like an unspoken agreement, a conversation they never had.
Whatever. It was done.
Liam went downstairs to the dining room. His father sat at the table; his mother long gone. Nine years ago a travelling salesman had come through their diner. He’d been served by her and that was that. Stolen right from under her husband’s nose. Literally. He’d been flipping burgers at the grill; she’d been out on the floor serving coffee—and a little something extra, apparently. Had she met the man already, Liam had always wanted to know. Maybe they’d loved each other for years. Or maybe she’d known instantly he could offer her something better and left without a second thought for her husband or her son. Liam couldn’t ask his father. He’d tried once and it hadn’t gone very well.
“Hey.” Liam dropped into his seat and grabbed a piece of toast from the pile.
Liam’s father, Big Mike, grunted his reply, taking a break from reading the newspaper to lift his eyes and regard his son warily. “What are you benching these days?”
Liam shrugged even though he knew the answer. He wanted to make this harder for him, but he didn’t know why.
“We need to talk about scholarships. Spoke to Coach, you have a shot.”
Liam made a noncommittal noise. He wanted it too; he wanted college, that life, but he just couldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing enthusiasm.
Again, he didn’t know why.
“This weekend. You and me. At the gym. We’ll work it out.”
Liam felt something surge in his stomach. But what? Pleasure or dread?
19
Saturday, Isaac showed up at my door over an hour late.
“Morning,” he said brightly, holding out a large takeout coffee and offering me a sheepish grin.
I eyed the coffee, aware it was an apology, and accepted it. He’d come to pick me up, after all. Plus, I always factored in a generous time window for Isaac, so according to my calculations, he was right on schedule.