A Little Help From My Friends (Miracle Girls Book 3)

by Anne Dayton

  “I’m not suggesting we sail it.” Dean flops down and pats the space next to him on the tarp. “Just some innocent stargazing.”

  I glance up at the sky and see a thousand tiny pinpricks twinkling back at me. A new moon is the best time for looking at the heavens. Ed used to love to go out on the back deck with his old telescope and point out constellations to me.

  “You swear we won’t go anywhere?”

  Dean draws an x over his heart, and I can’t help but notice the subtle outline of his chest through the beat-up old sweater he threw on.

  I gulp and take a few steps forward. Really, it’s not fair to do this to a girl. The stars, the sound of the water lapping against the boat . . . he knows what he’s doing to me. He knows I can’t say no, even if he did convince me to sail to Bora Bora with him, which is kind of scary and kind of thrilling all at once.

  “Okay, but if you make any sudden, nautical movements, I’m out of here.” I can’t be afraid of love. It’s dangerous, it’s reckless, but it’s everything. I have to go for it. No chickening out now.

  I sit down on the edge of the dock and grip the boards tightly. The boat has drifted away, so I’m going to have to make a leap for it.

  Dean holds out his hand and raises an eyebrow. “Avast, ye’ve come to yer senses.”

  I slowly reach out for him, and his hand is cool to the touch. Suddenly all my troubles with Dreamy and Ed, Marcus, and Ms. Moore feel so far away.

  Dean eases me onto the boat, and it instantly starts rocking under my land-loving feet.

  “EEEK!” I double over and grab the spongy tarp with my hands, wrapping my fingers around the lacing.

  “Eeek? There’s no eeek at sea.” Dean laughs and plops down without any trouble, even though I’m rocking the boat. “Pop a squat and you’ll be fine.”

  I grip the lacing even tighter and slowly lower my butt down. The instant it reaches the tarp, the rocking slows down.

  “I take it you never got your junior skipper’s license?” A small cloud of air puffs out of his lips when he speaks.

  I blow into my hands. It’s colder down here.

  “Oh.” Dean opens his messenger bag and pulls out the blanket. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I wrap it over my shoulders and hesitate. Am I supposed to share this with him? But I can’t. That’s . . . too personal. On the other hand, it is cold. Is it up to me to offer it? No, he’s going to have to ask for it. I can’t bear to offer it to him or even draw any attention at all to the blanket. I pull it tighter around my body.

  Dean leans back on the tarp and pats the space next to him. “New rule. You’re not allowed to hog the blanket and sit clear across the boat from me.”

  I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. I’m not used to a guy who says what he wants. With Marcus I had to read his subtle clues and figure out what they meant.

  “Zoe, I’m not going to bite you.” He props himself up on his elbows. “Come share the tramp with me. The blanket can be all yours, I promise.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I say, and he smirks. I scoot over to his side of the boat and lie next to him with the blanket wrapped tightly around me. I inhale, and it smells like salt and Dean, an earthy aroma mixed with some kind of clean-scented cologne.

  Dean laces his fingers behind his head so that I’m eye level with his chest. I watch it rise and fall for a moment, then inch my body closer.

  “You shouldn’t tell anyone else you have a sailboat.” I meant it to come off as a joke, but instead my voice got choked up and I whispered it, giving my words a gravity I didn’t intend. The whole world seems to have faded away and all that matters is Dean, and me, and the deep blue sea.

  “Why?” He touches my hair lightly and whispers back.

  “So not rock and roll.” I slide over on my side and prop my head in my hand. He rolls over too, and we stare at each other. No one says anything, and somewhere, far off in the distance, I hear a foghorn blowing.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Dean turns his head and looks up at the sky. “Once you get away from the city lights, there are all these stars you can’t see otherwise.”

  I nod and try to remember not to stare at him. But up close, his face is so beautiful that I have to fight the urge to study its every contour and shape.

  “I like that,” he says, smiling, “knowing there’s stuff out there you can’t see.”

  My throat is dry, and I can’t seem to peel my eyes from his. I want to reach out and touch his hand, but I can’t be the one who crosses the chasm between us. Even though with every beat my heart is saying, “Do it, do it, do it,” I stay still.

  “So? Things are good?” Dean says quietly.

  I don’t know what he’s really asking, so I shrug. “Ed’s been picking up a few jobs. And Dreamy’s thinking of enrolling in night school, which kind of scares me. Like she’s really moving on now.” I try to make my voice sound normal, as though we’re just two people having a conversation together.

  He studies my face, running his eyes from my hair, to my eyes, to my lips, to my quivering chin.

  “It’s a good thing, you know?” He stares at my lips, and I roll them in self-consciously. “No matter what happens with your parents, it’ll be good for her.”

  I nod slowly. “She thinks she wants to become a paralegal.” I look up and my eyes rest on a star not twinkling like the others. Ed once said that meant it was a planet. “That’s what’s so sick about the whole thing. All this . . .” I take a deep breath. I still can’t say the d word without bursting into tears, “legal stuff has made her realize she’s good with documents and contracts and laws. Have you ever heard anything more perverse in your life?” I laugh bitterly, not sounding like myself at all. I sound like an adult, someone who has seen things and been places.

  “Yeah, I have.” Dean moves closer, grabs the edge of the blanket, and pulls it over him. My arm becomes aware of itself, the skin going wild with longing. His arm must be only a few inches from me under the blanket. He could reach out and touch me if he wanted to. Dean leans his face close to mine, and we are just inches from each other, too close to really focus. He brings his lips to my ear, and I study the stubble on his cheek. “Growing up, the only thing I ever wanted was my own room . . . and then one day I got it.” His voice breaks with an aching sadness at the end.

  He stays where he is, his warm breath soothing my cold ear. Here we are, two sad, broken people who have seen and lived through horrible, life-altering events, wishing we could take things back, return to simpler times. But we can’t, and life is still rolling forward, and together, it’s beautiful again.

  I find myself breathing in rhythm with him, unable to resist the urge to be in sync with his every move.

  “Zoe,” he says, with something like longing in his voice.

  I move my head, shut my eyes, and lean toward him.

  “I’m still with Grace,” he whispers.

  It takes a second for his words to break through the fog surrounding my brain.

  “What?!” I bolt up, and the sailboat rocks wildly.

  “Please. Stop.” He reaches for my hand but I jerk it away.

  I grab at the mast desperately as the blanket drops around my feet. This whole time he’s been with Grace?

  Dean helps steady me. “Please listen for a second.”

  Not only did he lead me on, but now I’m complicit in hurting her. I’m the other woman.

  “Look, it’s simple.” I cling to the mast with one hand and reach for the dock with the other. “Are you with her? Yes or no?”

  “Well, yes, but . . .” He grabs my waist to help me as I let go of the pole and reach for the dock’s edge.

  Somehow, sheer adrenaline probably, I grab the dock and pull myself up. Tears begin to sting my eyes. Didn’t he feel this too? Doesn’t he see that this doesn’t happen every day? It’s special and rare.

  “Zoe, wait up.” Dean hustles back to grab the blanket. “I’ll give you a ride home.”“Don’t bot
her.” I hear his footsteps behind me, but I don’t look back as I scurry through the maze of piers. I can’t believe I don’t have a stupid car. I need to start saving double time. I pull out my phone and call Riley. She promises to be here as fast as the speed limit will allow.

  38

  “Look at this one. It was taped underneath my table at lunch!” Emily Mack unrolls one of my flyers and shows it to Liam Knight. He reads it, and his eyes go wide while I sink lower in my seat.

  “There was one taped above every urinal in the guy’s bathroom.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Lovchuck didn’t think to look in there.”

  I bore my eyes into my desk and focus hard on disappearing. Lovchuck and the other teachers got most of the posters down before the students arrived, but I never really stopped to think how I would feel once people started finding our flyers tucked into every corner of the school. Thankfully, no one knows who’s responsible. This whole thing will blow over soon, and then Ms. Moore will be back at Marina Vista, and it will have all been worth it.

  “What is wrong with you guys today?” Mrs. Narveson shakes her head. We’re divided into small groups, working on the latest project, which is an in-class game about turn-of-the-century imperialism. It’s basically like a running game of Risk, only you get armies by scoring well on quizzes, and everyone has the same goal: take over as many territories as you can to make your country the biggest. “Normally you’re quietly trying to take over the world. Today you won’t stop gossiping like a bunch of busybodies.”

  I glance at Dean and Kayleen, hunched over the continent of Asia and plotting some sort of move for their army, and say a silent prayer of thanks that I didn’t mention anything to him about the school break-in last night. I obviously can’t trust him.

  The classroom door bangs open, and we all swivel at the sound. Ms. Lovchuck is standing in the doorway, her face beet red.

  “Zoe Fairchild and Christine Lee.” She scans the room with her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. When she sees me, she rips them off and lets the chain around her neck catch them. “Let’s go.”

  A few people “woo” and snicker.

  Christine starts packing up, but I feel frozen in place as my heart races in my chest. I’m being called out of class? Is this actually happening? Maybe it’s not about . . . but why would she need Christine too?

  “Now!” Ms. Lovchuck glares at me. “And get your things, Miss Fairchild. You won’t be coming back.”

  I swallow and will my hands to move. My fingers are numb, my hands are shaky, and the whole world is blurry. I knock my pencil off my desk as I try to stuff things into my backpack, and I decide to leave it behind. Everyone in the class is watching us. Christine holds her head high, puts a smirk on her face, and stalks over to the door as if leaving in the middle of history class was all her idea, come to think of it.

  Somehow I get everything in my bag, even as the whispers grow. Dean crosses his arms over his chest and smiles as I walk past him, but I pretend I don’t notice.

  Once outside the classroom, we follow behind Lovchuck. We don’t dare utter even a syllable to each other, and I keep my eyes on the cement. Maybe this is all a bad dream.

  But when I walk into the front office and see both of my parents, sitting together, I know that this is very real. Neither of them says a word as I sit down next to Ed.

  “Christine!” I turn at the sound of Candace’s voice as she rushes in the front office door. The round mound of her pregnant belly bulges out in front of her. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She grabs Christine in a hug, and Christine screws up her face, but she goes along with it, if a bit stiffly.

  I crane my neck and try to spot Ms. Lovchuck. After depositing us in the waiting area she disappeared down a long hallway, no doubt to cackle in delight that she caught us. But how? Ashley? She wouldn’t, would she?

  “You weren’t thinking.” Mrs. Dominguez’s voice rises above the thrum in the lobby. She and Ana are huddled by the counter, and Mrs. Dominguez is shaking her head and flaring her nostrils. “That’s the problem. Do you realize this will go on your permanent record?”

  “Mom, I’m sure nothing is going on—” Ana’s voice stops short. I turn to see what startled her.

  Ashley and Dr. Anderson appear in the doorway. Ashley lifts her chin higher and walks away from her father. He chases after her, hissing under his breath.

  “I can’t believe you did this to me.” Dr. Anderson grabs her arms. Ashley shirks away and gives him a withering look.

  The others don’t seem to notice. Riley and her mom sit with their arms crossed in the exact same way, ignoring one another. Ana and Mrs. Dominguez are locked in a hushed argument. Christine reaches out and silently hands her iPhone over to Candace.

  “Maybe I’m not like you. Did you ever think of that?” Ashley makes a point to level her eyes at her father. “I know right from wrong, and I’m not afraid to stand up for what’s right.”

  “Okay.” Ms. Lovchuck reappears out of thin air. “I’ll meet with each family, one by one. We’ll start with the Fairchilds.” Dreamy clenches her jaw, then smiles from ear to ear. “Please, follow me.”

  “Stand firm, Zoe,” Ashley yells as I stand up. Her dad glowers at her, but Christine gives me a thumbs-up just before I step into the hallway. Ed’s work boots sound on the tile floor, but no one says anything until we get to the big office at the very end. Ms. Lovchuck walks in and sits behind her huge desk, then motions at the three chairs in front of her. Even my parents seem intimidated by her sharp nose, scowling, pinched face, and meager frame.

  She takes a deep breath and then exhales. “Zoe, did you think the school didn’t have security cameras?” I keep my eyes on the gurgling fish tank in the corner.

  “I . . .” My face flushes, and my ears begin to burn. I don’t think the school doesn’t have any security cameras. I know it doesn’t. I have never, ever seen one. “I’ve never seen any.”

  “They’re in the light fixtures.” Ms. Lovchuck grabs the reading glasses from around her neck, puts them on the end of her nose, and opens a manila folder with my name on the tab. “We had them installed last summer after some,” she clears her throat, “problems with vandalism.”

  The light fixtures! Marina Vista has chemistry lab equipment left over from the Cold War and serves government cheese on its tacos. There’s no way we have state-of-the-art security cameras. But then how else would they have known? It’s just like 1984, that weird book Ms. Moore made us read where “Big Brother” was always watching you.

  “Now, Zoe has always been an exemplary student,” Ms. Lovchuck says.

  “She’s never been in trouble before,” Dreamy says, nodding.

  “And I must say, Mrs. Fairchild—”

  “Dreamy.” She gives old Lovchuck a big smile, the one she uses when she’s trying to win people over.

  “Dreamy, then.” She leans back in her high-backed, executive-style office chair. “I was shocked to see Zoe on the tape.”

  “We are as shocked as you are,” Ed says, but I see the corner of his lips turning up a bit.

  “You understand that this is a very serious offense.”

  I kick my feet under my seat. How did this happen? I only wanted to help, and now I’ve gotten everyone I care about in trouble.

  “We understand,” Dreamy says quickly. My ears prick. They’ve been using the singular for so long that “we” sounds funny. “You can rest assured she will be punished.” She clears her throat and her jaw tightens. “At home.”

  Ms. Lovchuck finally peers over the edge of the folder and bores her steely gray eyes into Dreamy’s.

  “Home.” Lovchuck studies Dreamy’s face, then Ed’s. “Actually, I wondered if that was part of the problem.” She holds up the manila folder and shakes it. “I have access to Zoe’s school records since kindergarten, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you they’re flawless.”

  “She’s always been very dedicated to her studies,” Dreamy says, even though we
all know this isn’t true. I’m an average student on my best days. Still, Ed nods in agreement. I think it may be the first time I’ve seen them agree on anything in months.

  “Usually when a child begins to act out very suddenly, it means there’s trouble at home.”

  Dreamy shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Listen, I—”

  Ms. Lovchuck stands, interrupting her. “I have decided that all the girls will be suspended from school for one week and must do three months of community service. And I warn you that the police may get involved.”

  “What?!” I choke out. Suspension goes on my permanent record! Not to sound like Mrs. Dominguez here, but that’s pretty serious. And the police? Was does she mean by that?

  “Miss Fairchild.” Ms. Lovchuck puts her hands on her desk and leans across it. I angle backward to dodge her piercing stare. “What you did was very serious. Breaking and entering. Defacement of school property.” She pulls her lips into a tight thread on her face. “Someone could have been seriously injured. . . .”

  “But no one was,” Dreamy says quickly.

  “. . . And the entire act shows a distinct lack of respect for authority. The fact of the matter is, our hands are tied.” She pantomimes tying a knot. “We valued Ms. Moore too, Zoe, both as a teacher and a friend.” Ms. Lovchuck’s voice softens. “But unless,” she raises her eyebrows, “the plaintiff drops the case, we can’t change anything.”

  Dreamy and Ed don’t move. They exchange a glance, and Ed sighs as if he’s exhausted.

  “We understand,” he says finally.

  Ms. Lovchuck walks across her large, cold, orderly office and opens the door. “Thank you for your time.”

  I glance back to see if Dreamy and Ed are following me, but they’re still sitting in their chairs. Dreamy’s head is bowed, and Ed puts his hands around her shoulders to help her up.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Ms. Lovchuck says in a darkly chipper tone.

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