Girl Incredible

by Larsen, Patti

  I might be a genius, but she’s totally lost me.

  “I know,” Tate whispers as we cross from the edge of the parking lot into the grass. “I’m sorry. But please, don’t ask anything until we’re out of earshot.”

  I wait longer than that, all the way to the park, steering toward it at the last minute. Seems we have a conversation pending and I can’t see us having it at my place. Or hers. When I sink into my favorite swing, she joins me, taking Clare’s. I try not to be offended, suddenly angry Tate’s traitor butt is in the place my sister’s usually occupies. Like that swing isn’t good enough for her.

  Tate’s hands are folded in her lap, two little blossoms curled in on each other, her blonde hair hanging down to hide her face. I’m getting ready to leap up and leave, working up the nerve to just go. I don’t care she’s saved me. I’m sure there’s an agenda tonight, too and I want nothing to do with it. But, just before I stand to stomp off, she looks up.

  Her face glitters with tears.

  “Kit, I’m sorry,” she says. “This is all my fault. I wish I’d never been born.” Her hands rise to cover her face and she sobs into them, shaking so hard the chains holding her swing rattle as her body convulses.

  My reaction is automatic, compassionate. I pat her shoulder and do my best to offer comfort.

  “It’s okay.” It’s really not. But what else am I going to say?

  Tate finally looks up again, wiping at her face. “You don’t know the whole story,” she whispers, hoarse and harsh with emotion. Her sleeve wipes over her running nose. I wish I had a tissue to give her. “No one does. No one except him.” I know exactly who she’s talking about. She says the word “him” with the same level of intensity and hate I have for Tom myself right about now.

  “If you hate him,” I say, “why are you helping him?”

  “Promise you won’t tell.” She holds out her phone again. “Promise, Kit. I’m sharing this with you because I know, of everyone I’ve met here, you’re the only one I can trust.” She bursts into tears again. “I know you shouldn’t ever trust me, and that I deserve it if you hate me, too, but I need to tell someone. He’s ruining everything.”

  I take her phone from her and nod. “You can trust me.” I mean every word. She settles down and leans against the chains.

  “I know,” she says. “Go ahead. First one. He sent it to me the day I arrived in Rimtree from my old town.”

  Her pictures are sparse, the first one easy to find. I swallow past the lump in my throat at the sight. Betsy’s picture is awful, but at least she seemed conscious. In Tate’s horrible things are happening I’m not ready to comprehend yet. It’s clear from her intoxicated and passed out state she’s not able to consent.

  I hand the phone back as Tate speaks, quiet and frail into the darkness.

  “I went to a party,” she says, dullness around the edges of her words, like she’s told this story too many times already. “I thought they liked me, the older kids. I even tried beer, because you know. My dad’s a cop and Mom’s a principal and that’s hard to live up to sometimes.” I didn’t know that. But, I guess it might be. “I woke up alone in a frat house. My phone was beside me and this photo was on it.” She swings a little, staring out into the night. “It made the rounds, to my school, to other schools in my town. Until everyone knew.”

  I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

  “The bullying started right away, telling me to kill myself, that I was a slut, a whore. All the awful stuff. I couldn’t get away from it. Dad was so mad, he had a detective investigate. They found the kid who took the picture originally, but he was a minor, a baseball player with a big future in college and I’m just… Tate.”

  My jaw jumps, sense of justice ready to leap into action. But there’s no one to attack, and my own willingness to fight has taken a huge beating lately.

  “We decided to move after… well, let’s just say when enough people tell you you’re worthless and you should just end it all, you start to believe it. And maybe give it a try.” She tried to…? I gulp down my own experience and embrace my gratitude for Grace Grant and Kitalia Ore. They saved me from such a fate.

  “Mom and Dad went to so much trouble and such huge expense to move us here.” It sounds like she’s repeating something she heard them say. “I thought I could escape it, Kit. But now, because of him, it’s starting all over again.” She physically retreats, smaller and smaller on the swing. “Mom and Dad don’t know. They can’t find out. They’ll never forgive me if we have to move again.”

  “Tate.” I leap out of my swing, turning to face her, wanting to shake her. “This isn’t your fault.” It’s Tom’s.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She’s crying again. “He owns me and he knows it.”

  “What does he want from you?”

  “You have to be kidding right?” She coughs out a bitter laugh. “My mom’s the principal and my dad’s a cop. The possibilities are endless. As far as he’s concerned, I can get him anything he wants.”

  Is that so? I know I should be feeling worse, probably hugging her or something, but my heart is soaring and I can’t, just can’t, bring myself to be sad. Not when I know one thing for certain.

  I’m back. Because now I know how to bring Tom Brown to his knees.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Tate stares up at me like I’ve lost my mind instead of just finding it again. The invigoration pouring through me makes me want to bounce up and down, optimism at an all-time high. You know, I might just keep this part of me after all. I really love how it feels.

  “What are you going to do?” She sounds hesitant, but at least she hasn’t run away, just watching me with hurt eyes.

  “I’m going to show Tom Brown that his methods can be turned against him.” Because, acting smarter and not harder is Grace Grant’s greatest strength. How could I have forgotten that?

  Tate sighs into the cooling air, her breath puffing faintly from her lips as she gives in completely. “I’m so tired of being afraid all the time.” She wipes at one more tear. “I’m so sorry I did any of this for him, especially to you, Kit.”

  I pull her to her feet and hug her. It takes her a few seconds to respond, but she finally hugs me back.

  “We need to talk to your mom and dad.”

  She flinches, pulls away. “No, I can’t.”

  I smile, trying to show her it’s okay with just that expression. “Don’t worry. They’ll be so proud of you for bringing him down, they’ll think you’re super brave.”

  Tate seems skeptical. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” Because I think she is. After all the horrible stuff she’s lived through, she survived. I can’t let her cave now.

  “I don’t know.” She rubs her upper arms, just a t-shirt between her and the late September evening. But, I doubt it’s the temperature that raises those goose bumps on her skin. “They couldn’t do anything last time.” How must that have felt?

  I know how it feels, at least to a degree. No, I never went so far as to try to end everything. Or did I? Maybe I had, but in a different way. Didn’t I recreate myself so I’d be safe? I silently thank Clare for giving me that book on the cold and rainy morning she found me crying yet again.

  “This time we know exactly who is behind it,” I say. “And, while he might think he runs our school, there can’t be many people who actually like him.” The more I ponder it, the better this feels. “In fact, they must hate him for blackmailing them, right?”

  Tate nods, color coming back to her face. “At least half the school,” she says. “But, they are afraid, too.”

  “They won’t be,” I say, pulling her along beside me, heading for my house, “if everyone is in on this together. Power in numbers, Tate. He can’t stand against all of us.” Kitalia stirs inside me but I push her down for now. This is my show. For once, I’m doing this on my own.

  We find my parents in the living room. Startled, then horrified, they lis
ten as Tate tells them everything. But, before they can reach for the phone or say a word, I hold up one hand.

  “Do you trust me?”

  They both nod.

  “Then here’s what I need you to do.”

  ***

  I wait in a dark and stinking alley behind a strip club in the dangerous downtown, keeping my head low and my body tucked into shadow. The black leather jacket helps shield me from prying eyes so I don’t have to use power for the cause. I’ll need every ounce of my ability in the next little while and I don’t want to waste it.

  She emerges from the back door, hesitant steps tapping on concrete, her spiked heels rattling over a tin can. A muffled curse reaches me as I prod her gently with my mind. Tatiana turns, totters to my side, relief on her face. I smirk behind one hand, grateful it was she who volunteered for this particular assignment. While I know I’d rock the micromini skirt and barely there bra-top, I prefer my jeans and jacket.

  “She’s coming.” Tatiana tucks in next to me while a second woman joins us, pushing the door closed behind her. She at least looks the part, her giant hair dyed purple with makeup to match, her tall, slim body swaying as she joins us. The pinched, aged look of her face behind all the powder makes me wince. So does the way her finger bones stand out in her too-thin hands when she thumbs a lighter and sparks her dangling cigarette.

  I wave away the smoke drifting in my direction. “You’re Ninnia?”

  She nods, spits a tiny flake of tobacco to one side, before cocking her hip. But, her attitude is all show. I can see it in the way her face sags under the pressure of stress.

  “He killed my brother.” I know who he is. Everyone who speaks of T.B. uses the exact same tone. “He thinks he owns me. But I’m ready for this to be over.”

  Tatiana nods to me while I let my mind trickle past Ninnia’s thoughts. A cesspool of activities I’d never consider and some I had no idea were possible. But, she is telling the truth.

  Phase One can commence.

  ***

  Nina gulps when I finish speaking, leaning away a moment, her face pale. Tate is watching the library door to make sure no one sees us together. We can’t use electronics at this point to pass the word, it’s just too dangerous. And we have to make sure we’re careful who we share the plan with first. Can’t have Tom finding out early what we’re up to.

  She finally nods, leaning in again. “I’m so tired of this hanging over my head.”

  A familiar song sung by yet another bird he holds trapped in his cage of evil. I almost grin. Kitalia is close to the surface, but I have work to do.

  “If you want this to pan out,” she says in a hoarse whisper, “you need to pin down Donnelly Holler.” I’m already working on that. “If you can turn him, you can turn anyone.”

  I pat her hand. “Are you in or not? Can we count on you?”

  Tate whistles softly and disappears out the library door. Nina is on her feet, hurrying for the back of the stacks without answering. But, just before she disappears around the corner of the History section, she nods to me.

  Excellent. My plan is coming together.

  It’s Betsy Bearston who finally gives me what I need to move forward with Phase Two. When I see the image she managed to dig up on her own, I understand at last the chain of wretchedness Tom Brown has created, one disgusting and offensive link at a time.

  Donnelly is in his back yard when I show up at his house, alone. Funny how moms seem to have no problem letting girls in when they claim they are friends with their sons. He looks up, startled, then wary, as I approach with a smile and hold out my phone.

  He turns pale as a sheet and has to sit down when he sees what I’ve uncovered.

  “You can’t tell anyone.” I’ve never heard so much desperation in someone’s voice, and yet I’ve heard a great deal of that in the last two days. Odd how hearing of it makes me feel stronger and stronger each time another student begs me to keep their secret. But, it’s the fear that controls them, not the secret itself.

  “Donnelly,” I say, sitting next to him. “It’s not so bad.” I look at the obese kid in the photo. The way he smiles, seems happy, double chin tucking adorably over his collar. Unlike the wretched expression on his face now. “What’s wrong with who you were?”

  “Are you insane?” He leaps to his feet, muscles flexing. He’s sweaty, evidently lifting weights from the scattered equipment on the patio stones, chest bare in the cool September evening. Five faint, tiny scars mar the surface of his stomach. The only outward sign of his gastric surgery. “No one can know I used to be that fat kid.” So much disgust about himself. What a shame. There are so many worse things in life to be afraid or ashamed of. But I can feel his fear, it hovers in the air around him, washing across me as sweat stands out on his brow. He sinks back down, a smile on his handsome face, pleading and entreating. “You can’t tell. You won’t will you, Kit?”

  I smile back, sadly. “You’ve been satisfying your need to bully others because you hate who you used to be,” I say. “Why shouldn’t I punish you for being so cruel to all those girls you drugged and photographed?”

  He shushes me halfway through my speech, looking at the patio door in fear, but I don’t lower my voice and part of me feels gross for even considering letting him off. I’m right, he’s taken great pleasure from the pain of others. But I’m after a bigger target and he is the only one who can deliver what I need.

  “Tate’s father will be delighted to have proof against someone,” I say. “You know what Tom has against her?”

  Donnelly flinches, shrugs. “I don’t go that far. I swear.”

  Regardless. I feel so powerful right now, as though Kitalia is real, as if all the make believe has been of benefit after all.

  “I’ll keep your secret,” I say, “and I’ll even speak in your defense about the photos you took. But you have to give me Tom.”

  Donnelly’s face twists, body slumping. “He’ll destroy us all.”

  “No,” I say, leaning forward to take his hand. He squeezes back faintly. “He won’t. Not if we’re all willing to expose him together. Don’t you see? Everyone has secrets. But if we’re all open to share those secrets, he’s powerless.”

  Donnelly flinches, turns away. “You said you’d keep mine.”

  “I will. It’s not mine to share.” I stand up, confident he at least won’t tell the enemy. “Are you in? Donnelly, are you ready to be free?”

  He turns and looks up at me, eyes moist. And nods. “Tell me what you need.”

  Victory tastes better than anything.

  I fill him in quickly before smiling and waving my way out of his house. While I’m fairly confident Donnelly won’t betray us, I have to move fast now. The plan is in place and everyone knows their part. Time to act.

  The thrill of finally doing something sweeps me up into euphoria like I’ve never known. I’m giddy and giggling, skipping down the street, as I prepare for my final battle.

  I just can’t wait.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty

  It’s hard to keep my head down, to pretend nothing is happening while the message passes from student to student. Subtle nods come my way all day, a few with tears behind them, more with the relief someone is finally doing something.

  I feel like I’m who I’m supposed to be at last.

  Of course, this could all go wrong if anyone lets the plan slip. All it will take is one fearful victim to run to Tom and spill the beans. But, as the day goes on and my careful surveillance of him shows no reaction outside the normal, I begin to believe this will actually work.

  Mind you, it will, regardless. Tate’s father is in on it, after all, and I have faith in law enforcement, even if she doesn’t. Sure, he wasn’t able to help her last time, but she has me on her side—and the bulk of a school tired of being blackmailed and bullied.

  Yes, things are going to end badly for Tom very soon. It’s just that I’d love for my plan to pan out. Because it will mean not only his comp
lete end, but a retaking of power for each and every student involved.

  That’s more important than Tom being brought to justice.

  It helps we have Officer and Principal Cradle on our side. When Mom agreed to call them and have a meeting in our kitchen, it gave weight to the story Tate and I had to tell last night. It was hard to watch Tate sit there and grieve while her mother cried, but when she hugged her terrified daughter, Officer Cradle’s lower lip trembling, I knew it was going to be all right.

  “No,” I said when her dad asked. “We don’t have proof of the drug thefts, or who specifically ordered the druggings.”

  Tate shrugged. “My word against his,” she said, sounding defeated. She’d been here before.

  “But we can connect Tom Brown to the photos.” I nodded officially, because yo. “That has to be enough.”

  “To bring him in for questioning,” Officer Cradle’s grim reply made me glad it was Tom in trouble, “absolutely. And, if he’s truly behind everything you girls say he is, we’ll get him on all of it.” He squeezed his daughter’s hand. “I promise this time.”

  Tate’s return smile was so brave I wanted to clap my hands and squeal.

  They fought me on my plan, wanting to act immediately. But, it was Tate who convinced them to listen.

  “If he has any warning, this is over.” She stood tall, shoulders back, her determination making me proud. “Just like last time. I want him to go down, Mom, Dad. Not just for me. For every kid at school he’s ever bullied.”

  And so, they finally agreed. After all, we weren’t doing anything illegal.

  “Promise me.” Officer Cradle ran one big hand over his mouth, staring at me. “Promise me you won’t break the law. This has to stick.”

  “Don’t worry.” I shook my head, smiling at him. “Everything I do from here on in will be with permission from an adult.”

  And that was the most amazing part of all, wasn’t it?