Win, Lose, or Die

by Diane Hoh

  “Lock the door,” Nicki said curtly, hurrying over to sit down on Pat’s bed. She told them, quickly and breathlessly, what had happened. She had just reached the part about the security guard’s office being empty when Ginnie leaned forward, into the light, and Nicki noticed with shock the bruise on her face. It was new, just beginning to swell, and covered half her left cheek.

  Nicki broke off her story to say, “Ginnie, what happened to your face?”

  Ginnie laughed self-consciously, reaching up to gently touch her purplish cheek. “Nothing as dramatic as what happened to you. No big deal. Go on with your story.”

  “No. I want to hear what happened to you.” And suddenly, Nicki very much wanted to hear what had happened to Ginnie’s face. Because that bruise on her cheek looked like it could very easily have been made by a metal door slamming backward into her face.

  “Well,” Ginnie said, her hand gently rubbing the bruise, “you won’t believe this, but I fell. I just fell. When we got to the mall, John said he was too busy to go eat. He said maybe later, so I decided to shop while I was waiting for him, but Pat didn’t want to, so she went back to campus. When I went to the candy store to buy some jelly beans, I slipped on something gooey and fell, like someone in a cartoon. It really hurt when my cheek slapped against the tile. So I decided not to wait for John. I just came home. But that’s nothing compared to what happened to you, Nicki. Are you okay?”

  Nicki was quiet for a moment studying Ginnie. Had she really fallen at the mall? … Maybe she hadn’t. And maybe her name wasn’t really Ginnie. Maybe it was Teresa Virginia Gideon.

  No, that couldn’t be. Because Ginnie played tennis. So she couldn’t possibly have only partial vision. How could she keep track of the ball if she only had sight in one eye?

  She couldn’t. Ridiculous to even think it.

  Nicki had never been so tired in her life. Tired of trying to figure things out, tired of being scared, tired of not trusting anyone. All she wanted to do was sleep and sleep and sleep.

  But first, she called security.

  The security guard kept them up for a long time, asking questions.

  When he was finished, promising to check out the locker room, they all fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Nicki dreamed that she was lying on her back in a long, cold, metal box with a door that wouldn’t open no matter how hard she kicked and pounded against it.

  Her legs were still thrashing violently in her sleeping bag when she awoke, drenched with cold sweat, late the following morning.

  Chapter 17

  PAT AND GINNIE HAD already left when Nicki awoke. The cluttered, sunny room was empty, and she felt a sudden pang of abandonment. Sunny or not, daylight or not, she didn’t want to be alone.

  She wasn’t alone for long. She had dressed, and rolled her sleeping bag up into a bundle which she thrust under Ginnie’s bed, when a sharp rap on the door halted her movements.

  She stood motionless in the middle of the room, unwilling to answer the knock. It might be the security guard … but it might not. It didn’t have to be dark outside for evil to come knocking at your door. Acts of violence took place during the day, too. If the security guard had been successful in finding the person who had attacked her, she’d have heard by now. He would have called.

  No one had.

  “Nicki?” It was Deacon.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Mel’s back,” he said after a few moments of silence. “She was down by the river. Nicki, answer me!”

  Now was the time to get some answers. “Did she drive there?” Nicki asked. If Mel drove, if she had a driver’s license, she couldn’t be Terry Gideon. And that would mean that Deacon wasn’t involved, either, wouldn’t it? She already knew that he drove, and therefore couldn’t possibly have partial vision.

  “Mel? Drive?” Deacon laughed. “Mel doesn’t drive. She regards cars as the ultimate polluter, although she’s perfectly happy to ride in one when she has somewhere to go,”

  Nicki’s heart sank. If Mel was the Gideon child, Deacon almost had to be helping her. They were such good friends. How could Mel possibly have done the things she did to Nicki without Deacon knowing?

  Neither of them played tennis.

  “I’m glad you found Mel,” Nicki said, not moving toward the door. “But I have a terrible headache, Deacon. I’m cutting class today. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  His voice was softer, gentler as he said from beyond the door, “Is that a promise? Pat told me what happened last night, Nicki. I don’t like it at all. I don’t think you should be alone.”

  What a coincidence, she thought. Neither do I.

  But I have to be careful about the company I keep. Very careful.

  “I’ll wait for you after tennis practice,” he said, and then she heard his footsteps moving away, down the hall.

  She spent the rest of the day in a dim corner of the library, avoiding the light of day. Whatever she decided to do next, it seemed better to do it under cover of darkness.

  She did go to practice, because while the locker room itself was now haunted with the ghost of her attacker, she at least felt safe around the players. All she had to do was make absolutely sure she wasn’t left alone for a single second.

  Everyone had heard about the incident of the night before, and most of the team seemed genuinely concerned about Nicki’s safety. Even Libby said, in passing, “I thought our security was better than that”—although she didn’t ask Nicki if she was okay.

  Nicki relaxed slowly, and by the end of the session, was playing her best. It was easy to pretend that the ball was her attacker, and slam it back across the net with a fury she’d never before experienced.

  As her feet raced back and forth across the court, her mind raced, too.

  I didn’t mean to hurt anyone when I tossed that racket … Wham!

  I’ve been sorry ever since … Wham!

  I never did anything like that again … Wham!

  It was a long time ago. It’s not fair to come after me now, especially since I didn’t even know I hurt anyone … Wham, Wham!

  “Wow,” John said in admiration when she took a break and moved to the sidelines to grab a cup of water, “you’ve got some arm. Hope you never have to use it against me.”

  “Scaring you, am I?” she said grimly. “Good! If I look tough, maybe I’ll feel tough, and that’s what I need right now.”

  John nodded. “Yeah, I heard. You okay? Security find out anything?”

  “Yes, I’m okay, and no, they didn’t.” Nicki noticed Ginnie watching them from a distance. She wasn’t smiling. Nicki wasn’t even sure that Ginnie saw them. She seemed to be daydreaming, lost in a fog. “Listen, are you working tonight?” she asked John.

  “Sure, Why?”

  “Because I need a new racket. I could use your help picking one out.”

  “No problem. I’ll be the only one there tonight. It won’t be busy, and I promise I’ll devote myself totally to getting you exactly what you need. And deserve,” he added with a smile.

  “Thanks, John.”

  “Want me to come with you to the mall tonight?” Pat offered later. “Ginnie will come, too, I’m sure. She pretends she doesn’t have time for John, but I know she’s interested. This would give her a chance to see him.”

  Nicki didn’t really want to go to the mall alone. Didn’t want to go anywhere alone. But she wanted to take her time selecting a racket, and anyone who went with her would get bored waiting, unless they had tons of money to go shopping. Ginnie might, but Pat didn’t.

  Nicki didn’t want to point that out, so she said instead, “No, thanks. John’s offered to help me, so I’ll be fine. I’ll come up to your room when I get back and show you what I got.”

  Pat grinned. “And if we don’t like it, after John-the-expert has helped you pick it out, you’ll take it back?”

  “No.” Nicki returned the grin. “But I’ll thank you for your opinion.”

  “That’s wha
t I thought.”

  Nicki didn’t take her shower in the locker room. She pulled sweats on over her whites and hurried from the dome before anyone else.

  Deacon was, true to his word, waiting for her outside. He had apparently forgiven her for not helping him look for Mel. Mel wasn’t with him.

  “Is she still feeling down?” Nicki asked as he walked her back to Devereaux. She was glad to see Deacon, in spite of her doubts about him.

  “A little. She had to go to the mall, but she didn’t want me along. So I guess she’s not ready to rejoin the real world just yet. Soon, though. These moods of hers never last long.”

  “If I’d known she was going, I’d have asked her to wait for me. I have to go, too. But I guess she wouldn’t have wanted my company either, right?”

  “Right. I’ll drive you, though, if you want.”

  Alone in a car with Deacon when she couldn’t be sure that his good friend Mel wasn’t Terry Gideon? Not a good idea.

  “Oh, thanks, Deacon,” she said easily, “but you’d just be bored.”

  Deacon frowned. “Well, excuse me. No non-tennis-playing peasants allowed in Nicole Bledsoe’s life?”

  He sounded angry. Nicki moved away from him. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, Deacon, you know that. Don’t start giving me a hard time, okay?”

  “Why not?” His voice deepened, became harsher. “Isn’t that what you’ve been giving me? Maybe it’s time to decide who your friends really are, Nicki. Mel was there for you when the tennis crowd didn’t want you. Now that she could use some support, where are you?”

  “You said yourself she didn’t want to be around anyone, not even you!” Nicki responded hotly. The accusation seemed unfair. “Why would she want me around?”

  “Because,” he said firmly, “you’re a girl. It might be easier for her to talk to you. I know there are a lot of things Mel hasn’t told me.”

  Maybe. Or, maybe Deacon was lying, and Mel had told him everything. Every single depressing little thing. In which case, what Deacon was trying to do right now was get Nicki to go searching for Mel at the mall. He could be setting a trap. Maybe the plan was, Nicki would find Mel, and then something terrible would happen to Nicki Bledsoe at the Twin Falls mall. Like something terrible had happened to Barb.

  So, ignoring what could either be hurt or anger in Deacon’s dark eyes, she said, “I’ve got to go. Thanks for walking me back. Talk to you later,” and hurried inside the dorm.

  Chapter 18

  THERE WAS A NOTE on Nicki’s door from the security guard. It read:

  “Gideon’s in Hawaii. Unavailable. But Terry Gideon’s former high school says Gideon now student at Salem. Principal there unaware of any name change. Call this office.”

  Nicki sagged against the door frame, the note crumpled in her hand. Why hadn’t he said what gender the Gideon child was? She needed to know that. It was important. At least then she’d know which segment of the student population to completely steer clear of. All girls? Or all boys?

  Unless Terry Gideon had a really awesome disguise, she thought wryly.

  She called the security office immediately, but got no answer.

  She showered, dressed in wool slacks and a heavy sweater and boots, and left the room. Going to the mall might not be safe, but since she couldn’t think of any place that was, maybe buying a new tennis racket would at least lift her spirits.

  At the last minute, Nicki decided to take the small yellow shuttle bus instead of driving. The thought of walking into a dark parking lot to get her car made her skin crawl. There would be other people on the shuttle bus. She’d be safer there.

  During the ride into town, Nicki watched the white, barren landscape float by the windows and thought about leaving Salem. She could go back to State. She wished she could leave right now, tomorrow. She knew the kids there, knew the tennis team, wouldn’t have to start all over again. It wasn’t as if she’d been at Salem that long. There wouldn’t be that awful, painful wrench if she left.

  She’d be safe at State.

  But for how long? her reflection in the bus window asked her. Someone wants to kill you, Nicki. Do you really think he couldn’t find you at State? It’s not that far away.

  Which brought her to another question. Her acceptance at State had made the sports pages last summer. If Gideon was looking for her, why hadn’t he or she looked for her at State instead of waiting until she got to Salem? If you were that full of hate and the need for revenge, wouldn’t you go just about anywhere to get satisfaction? Why had her tormentor matriculated at Salem instead of State if he—or she—wanted to get at Nicki Bledsoe? Whoever it was couldn’t have known that she’d be transferring to Salem.

  Nicki leaned her head wearily against the window. How could she possibly know what was going on in the mind of someone so twisted and sick?

  She remembered the note from the security guard. Maybe she’d have some answers soon. Maybe then it would all come to an end.

  And she realized then that she didn’t want to leave Salem. Yes, arriving had been difficult, playing tennis had been difficult, none of it had been easy. And then the terrible things had started happening. She should want to leave.

  But she didn’t. She just didn’t.

  John seemed glad to see her when she got to the mall. “It’s been really dead,” he said. As he led her to the rackets. I’ve finished restocking the shelves and I even read two chapters of my chem book.”

  She tested a dozen rackets before coming up with the one that felt right. It wasn’t the same brand as her old one, but it was one of the better brands, and when she swung it half a dozen times, testing, she knew it was the one she wanted.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, smiling up at him. “Perfect! Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem. Need anything else? Socks, shoes, headband, wristband?”

  “No, thanks. This was all I wanted.”

  A couple came in, looking around expectantly.

  “You go ahead and wait on them,” Nicki urged, still swinging the racket. “I’m going to keep playing around with this, just to make sure. I’m not in any hurry.” That was certainly true enough. She felt comfortable there, a feeling that would quickly disappear, she knew, when she left the store.

  “Nicki?”

  Nicki’s arm stopped, mid-swing. Mel’s voice, right behind her. “Buying a new racket? I heard what happened to your old one. Too bad.”

  Nicki turned around. Mel looked pale and tired, with deep, lavender shadows circling her eyes. “Want to grab a cup of coffee? Maybe a slice of pizza? I haven’t eaten, and I’m starved.”

  Had Deacon told Mel that Nicki was going to the mall? He couldn’t have called Mel, not at the mall, but she could have called him. Could have said, “Where exactly is it that Nicki was going?” And he could have said, “You’ll find her in the sporting-goods store, Mel.”

  “No, thanks,” Nicki said, shaking her head. “I have to pay for this racket, and then I need to go straight back to campus and study. Big test tomorrow in … in English.” Mel wasn’t in her English class. “And I’m really not hungry. Big dinner.” Big lie. She’d had no dinner at all.

  “Oh, come on, Nicki, please. I’ve hardly seen you lately. You’re so busy with tennis. I … I could use someone to talk to. Deacon’s great, but sometimes I need a girl to talk to.”

  Nicki hesitated. Exactly what Deacon had said. What if she was way off-base about the two of them? Besides, Mel looked too exhausted to attack anyone. And even if she wasn’t, what could she do to Nicki in the middle of a mall?

  If I have coffee with her, maybe I’ll find out something useful, Nicki thought. Not knowing is driving me crazy. I can at least ask Mel where she’s from. Of course, she could always lie. But maybe not. “Okay. A quick sandwich, in the food court.” The food court would have people in it. Which made it safe. “Wait’ll I tell John. I’ll have him hold this, and come back to pay for it after we’ve eaten.”

  “She looks awful,”
John said in a low voice when Nicki went to the counter to give him the racket. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t really know. Tell you when I get back. If she tells me.”

  Mel did tell her. “I had this friend,” she said when they had their food and were seated in the food court. She absentmindedly stirred her coffee as she spoke. “Best friend I’d ever had. We met in first grade and were hardly ever apart after that. We were both going to be artists, and we spent hours drawing and painting and even designing clothing we wanted to wear when we were grown-up. Her name was Tabitha. Tabbie. She hated the nickname, said it made her sound like a cat, and insisted that I call her by her full name, or she wouldn’t answer me.”

  “Where did you live when you were a kid?” Nicki couldn’t help asking.

  “Fairlawn, New Jersey. Little tiny town, not much to do there, but Tab and I kept busy.”

  Just as Deacon had said. That meant that Mel could have taken part in the Forest Hills Tri-state tournament.

  “When we were sixteen, Tabitha started getting really tired, and there always seemed to be bruises on her arms and legs. I knew her parents, knew she wasn’t being abused or anything like that, so I knew there was something else wrong.” Mel fell silent, her eyes on the table.

  “What?” Nicki pressed. “What was it?”

  Mel lifted her head, her eyes bleak. “Leukemia. The worst kind. She lived another eight months and five days.”

  Nicki couldn’t think of anything to say. She finally managed, “Mel, I’m so sorry.”

  Tears of pain filled Mel’s eyes. “For a while, I was mad, and I didn’t know what I was mad at exactly. Then I finally realized I was really ticked at Tab, for abandoning me. That made me feel guilty, so I just felt worse.”

  Nicki said nothing. What was there to say?

  “I was so sure I would never feel good again,” Mel continued. “And then, one spring day in senior year, I did. I just did. So I finished high school and came here, just like Tab and I had planned. I guess one of the reasons I don’t have any friends who are girls is because I compare all of them to her. And no one’s good enough. So it just seems easier to make friends with guys. But it’s hard to tell them everything.”