by Cody Wagner
“I know I’m not supposed to hate her,” Roze said. “But wow.”
All I could do was nod then shake my head. Last year, Tracey was super popular and hung out with Luke and Darrin. Naturally, she’d picked on Jimmy nonstop. That was all expected. Things took a turn for the insane when she sneaked into our room one night and tried to smother him with a pillow. It turns out she was controlled by the Siren. But none of the students knew, except for me, Roze, and Cassie. Hell, Tracey didn’t even know; she didn’t remember a thing. In the aftermath, though, she ended up leaving school.
But here she was, strutting toward Darrin and his friends.
Her face was perfect—straight, white teeth and flawless beach hair—just like the rest of the jocks. And I figured hugs and girly screeches were about to ensue.
Wrong.
The second he saw her, Darrin stepped backwards, crossed his arms, and started shaking his head at her. Tracey, who already had her arms up for a hug, froze. Everyone watched. I expected dramatic soap opera music to start playing.
After a few awkward seconds, Tracey dropped her arms and simply said, “Hey.” Her cheeks burned red.
Darrin held up a hand.
She took a step back.
In the moment, I envisioned a hundred different scenarios. Darrin hopping up onto a desk wasn’t one of them. Sure enough, though, he bounded onto the teacher’s desk and shouted, “Attention, everyone!”
We all stared; it was impossible to turn away.
He clasped his hands together like he was delivering a fancy speech. “I need to show you how to fashion a breathing ring.”
Some people made confused noises as Darrin leaned over and grabbed a sheet of paper. He quickly smashed it into a circle. I knew something awful was coming. Tracey must have sensed it, too, because she started backing away.
Darrin held the crude paper circle up to his face. “If Tracey Bridges comes to smother you, you need one of these breathing rings. Otherwise, you might not survive.”
At that, he started walking us through how to use his “Patented Breathing Ring.” He sounded like a flight attendant, dutifully going through the motions. I tuned him out and studied Tracey. Her normally rude-looking face was scared. All of Darrin’s friends laughed as he proceeded through his spiel. Most of the class laughed, too.
Tracey slowly inched sideways, away from the front of the room, like she was trying to get offstage. I glanced at Roze, who remained expressionless.
My insides burned with anger at Darrin. I guess I miraculously thought his bullying might stop after Jimmy’s death. But it’s like being cruel was in Darrin and his group’s blood. Admittedly, I had to give him credit: he was quick and mega-creative. His painting of Jimmy was just incredible. And people clearly loved his little “Patented Breathing Ring” bit.
But this side of him sucked. The students should have trusted Sanctuary had a good reason to let Tracy back. They should have let her try to blend back in. Or they could have just ignored her. Instead, Darrin blatantly drew attention to everything Tracey was trying to avoid. Less than one minute into our first day, he shoved her baggage right in the spotlight.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t just go telling everyone about the Siren, so there wasn’t a ton I could do. To all returning students, she appeared guilty of accosting Jimmy. Still, I felt I had to try something.
Before I could act, Roze stood up. “Tracey!” She didn’t just yell, she screamed. Her voice was screechy, and she drew Tracey’s name out for like five seconds. The entire room went silent. Even Darrin was stunned into silence.
Roze didn’t blush or anything. She didn’t care what people thought about her and I loved that. Ignoring everyone, she ran to Tracey and drew her into a hug.
Still shouting, she said, “It’s sooooooo good to see you! Blaize and I saved you a seat!”
Letting go of my self-consciousness for two seconds, I screamed, “Yay, Tracey! Come here, girl!”
Tracey’s face was just as confused as everyone else’s, but she walked over without protest.
Darrin clearly didn’t like being upstaged and he drew himself up for a comeback.
Before I could stop myself, I said, “A single painting of Jimmy doesn’t make up for this.”
A few people snickered, thinking the insult was lame. But Darrin froze. His face turned bright red. He stared at me but climbed down from the desk just before Ms. Meeks, our teacher, walked in. As he sat down, he hissed, “Big words from someone protecting the girl who tried to kill him.”
Everyone sat still, but a bubble of tension hung over the room. Normally, I might have been scared at the repercussions of crossing Darrin. But my love for Jimmy erased any fear and I glared right back at him.
Mrs. Meeks walked to the whiteboard and started writing her name down, oblivious to what had happened.
“Get your facts straight before ruining someone’s life.”
It was Roze. And she didn’t say it quietly.
Mrs. Meeks spun around. “What’s going on?”
No one spoke for a few seconds. I glanced at Tracy. She stared at her desk.
When it became clear no one was going to push the issue, Roze, still glaring at Darrin, said, “He’s nothing. I mean, it’s nothing. Ma’am. Sorry.”
Mrs. Meeks glanced around the room and let us sit in silence. Finally, after a good ten seconds, she crossed her arms. “If no one has anything they’d like to add, let’s talk about this semester’s syllabus.”
* * * * *
Early that afternoon, in the cafeteria, Roze, Cassie, and I sat huddled around slices of Purifying Pizza. Roze was still fuming over the Tracey incident.
“The first minute of our first day back and the jocks are already back at it.”
“You know their type.” That earned me a glare from Roze.
Last year, when I almost joined the Luke/Darrin clique, Roze kept saying she knew “their type.” In short, she was saying she knew they were jerks. I was kind of messing with her with my comment, but I stopped, pizza halfway to my mouth. Back at her old school, Roze’s group was probably like Darrin’s. That explained Roze’s anger. Tracey was going through exactly what Roze had. It made perfect sense and I apologized.
Roze nodded to herself. “I do know their type. And it’s only going to get worse.” She threw a napkin on the table. “It really sucks they think she tried to kill Jimmy.”
The three of us nodded and Cassie said, “It must have been really bad at home for Tracey to come back.”
Roze and I both stared at her. She was right. At any other school, Tracey wouldn’t have had an attempted murder hanging over her head. But she chose to come back here, anyway.
“Maybe her parents sent her back,” I said.
“That would be even worse,” Cassie said.
She was right again, as usual.
“That’s the one bad thing about Sanctuary,” Roze said.
“What?” I asked.
Roze took a giant bite of pizza. “The bullying.”
I nodded. Last year, I was surprised bullying existed here. But I guess it happened at all high schools. Sanctuary didn’t have enough teachers to monitor every single thing. Besides, I was sure their hands were full trying to deal with the Siren after Jimmy’s death.
The giant unspoken elephant in the room was the fact Tracey had encountered the Siren. I was sure I wasn’t the only one who’d thought of that. We desperately needed to question her about how she was controlled or ask if she remembered anything. But we had to avoid that topic for Tracey’s sake. At least for a little while. Once things calmed down a bit, we could stab that elephant and make gray shish kebabs that would probably be totally disgusting.
As if on cue, Tracey entered the cafeteria. Most of the room turned and stared. Everyone froze. It was just like in Geometry. A few newbies glanced around, confused. A group of teachers in the corner looked at each other as if deciding whether or not to intervene. Tracey’s eyes frantically scanned the room. Coach Adkins, m
y favorite teacher (and the hairiest person on the planet), stood up.
Before he could do anything, Roze began dancing. And not in the cool way. She purposely flailed her arms, sending French fries skittering across the table.
I admit I started laughing. Roze was drawing attention to herself to help Tracey. A huge grin spread across Tracey’s face and she came over. A few people kept staring, and other groups leaned in and began chatting away, but we ignored them and smiled at Tracey.
“Hey.” Tracey sat down so fast, the bench shook under her.
“Have you met Cassie?” Roze leaned back so they could look at each other.
Seeing mousy—and clearly not popular—Cassie, Tracey’s gaze faltered for just a second. She quickly caught herself, brightened, and said, “Nice to meet you.”
I’m sure Cassie noticed Tracey’s fakeness—she noticed everything—but she smiled pleasantly and stuck out a hand. Tracey shook it then placed her hands in front of her on the table.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
Tracey glanced at the food stations. People surrounded them, shoveling lunch onto their plates. Some were still watching us. Her eyes widened with apprehension. I knew she was wondering if she’d get harassed in line.
“Nah,” she said. “I’ll just grab food later.”
I was going to offer to get her food when Cassie stood. “I’m heading there now for seconds. Want anything?”
I looked at Cassie’s tray. She didn’t eat all that much and her plate was still mostly full.
Tracey shrugged. “I guess I’ll have some pizza.”
Cassie nodded and went to the food stations.
The three of us sat in silence. The only topics that came to my mind were Sirens and Darrin, and somehow, I didn’t think they were the right things to bring up right now. Knowing my big mouth, I’d ask, Bought any Patented Breathing Rings lately?
“You think Adkins has The Bruiser up?” Roze said.
I saw Tracey perk up. I did as well. Coach Adkins set up an obstacle course in PE last year that consisted of all sorts of exhausting goodies. It was pretty cool. Actually, it was grueling, but I was good at it. So I liked it. Tracey and Roze had both done well, too.
“I hope so,” Tracey said. “I’m ready to sweat.”
“Whoever loses has to carry our bags,” Roze said. “Deal?”
“Do we all have gym next hour?” I asked.
They nodded.
“I’m in,” I said.
Tracey grinned. “Me too.”
Just then, Cassie returned. She had a separate plate loaded with food that she set in front of Tracey. She then returned to her own seat. To make Tracey think she really was getting seconds, Cassie had piled even more food on top of her already full plate. Mounds of tater tots fell off the top of Mount Buffet.
I covered a smile and saw Roze grinning behind her fries.
“Oh my god, did you see Ms. Meeks’s skirt this morning?” Tracey said.
I looked at Tracey. “No. Was it cool?”
She laughed. “Hardly. It was so long, I waited for her to trip and break a hip.” After taking a bite of pizza, she added, “Don’t be afraid to show a little ankle, Ms. Meeks.” She smiled and looked at us, clearly wanting us to join in. I gave a tiny smile. Roze and Cassie glanced at each other but didn’t saying anything.
During the next fifteen minutes, Tracey went on to make fun of just about everyone in the cafeteria. From clothes to hair to zits, she put on her Mean Girls hat and unleashed a tidal wave of insults.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Excluding today, Tracey had been horrible to everyone. But I guess I figured she’d drop the act when joining us. Man, was I oblivious. I guess trash-talking can become a habit when practiced for years.
Hearing Tracey ridicule a newbie’s flat butt for two minutes, I realized her ordeal with the Siren hadn’t changed her at all. I’d heard life-changing events make people different, and I expected to see a whole new Tracey. Guess not.
As she began talking about how a bigger girl standing at the closest food station “didn’t need more mashed potatoes,” I couldn’t take it anymore. Pointing at Tracey’s face, I said, “You have a giant piece of pepperoni in your teeth.”
She didn’t, but Roze and I spent the next few minutes “helping” her find the pepperoni and pretending she kept missing it. (“No, more to the left. Your other left. Yes! Oh wait. I think there’s two pieces now.”). We found it funny, but Cassie didn’t like practical jokes and she glared at us. She probably thought we weren’t being any nicer than Tracey. But we were just teasing our new friend.
Too bad we had no idea how much havoc Tracey would wreak on us in the coming months.
Six
Lights, Camera, Action!
The first few days at Sanctuary were surprisingly uneventful. Except for a bunch of stupid homework. I ended up getting a history paper assigned, which sucked. An essay in the first week? It was inhuman. I decided I never wanted to be a teacher because I figured I’d always consider homework a rights violation.
Instead of actually working on the paper—it wasn’t due for a month—I forced myself to focus on a different school activity, one that made my stomach hurt. It’s something I’d been pushing to the back of my brain and avoiding all week. Honestly, I’d talked myself out of it a hundred times. But, in the end, I decided to audition for Sanctuary’s Fall play. I had to. For Jimmy.
The idea hit when I saw this sign taped to the Classroom Center door our second day back:
What Goes Around
A Play By Darrin Winborne
Auditions: Thursday, Sept. 8th @ 7:00PM
Last year, Jimmy landed the lead role in the spring show, Too Many Secrets. Cassie, Roze, and I had helped him prepare for the part and he was absolutely incredible, like a whole other person onstage.
To honor his memory, I decided to get involved in theater this year. But the idea horrified me. First, the experience would remind me of Jimmy and I wasn’t sure how I’d take that. Just staring at the audition notice sent sadness up my spine. On top of that, I was apparently a terrible actor. Any time I tried one of Jimmy’s monologues last year, I either got griped at, yelled at, or laughed at. I don’t know how someone could be that bad, but there you go.
You’re not even auditioning for a role, I told myself, after staring at the notice for what felt like hours.
That was true, and the thought relaxed me a bit. I just wanted a behind-the-scenes job. Handling props or feeding lines to the actors sounded bearable, so that’s what I was shooting for. Still, the whole theater world intimidated me.
I managed to keep my nerves under control over the next couple days, but by dinnertime the night of the audition, Roze noticed me shifting around like I had butt rash. A low-level dread had erupted in my stomach and I couldn’t focus on anything around me.
Flicking a piece of ice at me, she said, “What?”
I should probably mention Roze and Cassie didn’t know about my theater plan. It felt like a private thing between me and Jimmy.
That’s why I said, “Huh?”
“You haven’t been listening for the last half hour,” she replied. “And I’ve said some pretty amazing stuff.”
I smiled. “Sorry. Just thinking about my paper on Edison.”
She squinted. “Don’t you have weeks for that?”
I took a bite of an enchilada. “I just know I’ll do that thing where I put it off, then end up staying up all night.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Good for you,” Cassie said, before staring off into space.
She seemed distracted, too, but no one gave her any grief. Of course, she’d had her first call home to Mrs. Cooke, so it was understandable. I didn’t have an excuse.
“Your zoned-out face is weird,” Tracey said. She spread her nostrils and let her mouth hang open, apparently mimicking me.
If Roze had said it, the statement would have come off as joking. And I’d have made fun of h
er scrunched-up studying face. But from Tracey, the comment sounded mean.
“Your face is weird,” Roze said to Tracey.
I laughed. Now that was funny. Roze had taken to throwing Tracey’s comments back at her. I think she was trying to let Tracey know how often she talked crap on people. Roze had said, “Your blank is blank,”—filling in the blanks with just about anything—at least seventy-two thousand times this week. But Tracey just kept throwing out nasty comments.
I glanced at the clock. 6:55.
“Whoa!” I stood up.
“Your paper?” Roze said, her voice full of sarcasm.
“Yes.” I grabbed my tray and scooted off before she could say anything else. I’m pretty sure she thought I was making an excuse to bail on Tracey. And that was OK. I just didn’t want them to know what I was really doing.
Throwing the cafeteria door open, I rushed outside. The sun was barely visible on the horizon, but the air was still warm. Nervous, I rubbed my hands on my pants and whispered, “What’s the worst that can happen?” over and over as I made my way to the Classroom Center.
The doors to the theater stood wide open as I approached the west side of the Classroom Center. It looked like a giant mouth ready to suck me inside its horrible fanged digestive tract. I closed my eyes as I entered. My hands shook as I opened them, walked down the hallway, and inched into the black box theater.
Every wall in the theater was painted black. A stage, surrounded on three sides by chairs, jutted out. About a third of the chairs in the small theater were full. Students sat in the audience, running through lines. Mouthing along with them, I went to the sign-up sheet on a podium next to the stage. After throwing my name down—and writing BACKSTAGE ONLY! —I went to the back of the room and sat. Memories of the play last year filtered through my head. I could practically see Jimmy on the stage. It gave me a bit of resolve, but my chest hurt as I pictured him walking back and forth, larger than life.
I took a deep breath and tried focusing on the present.
That’s when Timothy Howeth entered the room and all thoughts of the past flew out of my head. Actually, every thought in the universe flew out of my head. Timothy was the reason I’d ended up at Sanctuary. Last summer, he’d watched some jerks back in Pamata giving me crap about my sexuality, and long story short, he’d landed me here. So, in a way, he was kind of my savior.