Shadow

by Mere Joyce

  I sit in the chair, stunned. I want to follow her. I want to get up and run after her. I want to know why she’s so set against me finding the truth. Is she afraid I’ll get hurt? Because that’s already come and gone. Or is there something more?

  I can’t run after her. I’m not good with moving at high speeds. I trip and stumble, and I get disoriented. Besides, I don’t know which way she went. And if the nurse caught me trying to sneak out of the office before she’s finished filling out her paperwork, I’d be in even more trouble.

  I can’t believe Vi called me stupid. And I can’t help wondering if maybe I am. I thought I could solve this mystery. I want to solve it. I want Abbi to have the same chance as everyone else in tonight’s festival. But maybe I am stupid to think I can prove someone’s guilt based on the sound of scuffling and the sight of a blurry shadow.

  Maybe it is time I dropped it. At least I can say I tried. It doesn’t feel like enough. But maybe it’s all someone like me can offer.

  For the second time today, I feel dazed and alone, wondering what went wrong with my master plan. I press two fingers to my jaw. The funny thing is, I’m not sure which part of today hurt more. Bradley’s fist wasn’t exactly a treat. But if Vi really does think I’m stupid, that might be the more painful bruise to bear.

  Chapter Ten

  The nurse lets me go after nearly an hour. My big blowout with Bradley happened right before lunch, so I’m given a free pass to eat by myself in the cafeteria before I head to my English class.

  I sit at a long, empty table, eating my turkey-and-swiss sandwich as I think about my day so far. I woke up this morning determined to get the truth out of Bradley. I really thought talking to him would be enough to get him to confess. I didn’t expect a fight, and I didn’t expect my being hit would make things with Vi even worse.

  “Maybe I am an idiot,” I mutter between bites.

  “Uh, who are you talking to, Preston?”

  The voice makes me jump, and I turn in the direction of the sound. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear anyone approaching.

  “It’s Constance,” the girl says, and I nod in recognition. Constance—Abbi’s cousin. She helps clean up the cafeteria after the main lunch period has ended.

  “Hey, Constance. Sorry—I was just talking to myself.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a great conversation.” I can smell the lemon-scented cleaning product Constance is using to wipe down the table next to mine. The school must have switched and started using the same cleaner they have at The Chestnut. Usually the clean classrooms here at school have a thick, syrupy smell.

  “Just not having the greatest day,” I say with a sigh. I take another bite of my sandwich. Then I put what’s left of it back in its container. The lemon scent is making me ill.

  “Doesn’t look like it either,” Constance says, probably staring at my jaw. “What happened?” She sits down to my right, which is the side of my face that feels puffy and bruised. Her words slur the tiniest bit, like she’s got something in her mouth.

  I think about explaining what happened. But I don’t want to alarm her with the news of Abbi’s missing film. Constance would be just as angry as I am. She helped Abbi make the movie, after all.

  I pause mid-chew, twisting slowly in my seat. A thought has occurred to me. Constance helped Abbi make her film. Which means she probably has a copy of the film herself.

  My heart patters in excitement. Even without a confession, I can still stop Bradley from getting his stupid victory. More important, I can still make sure Abbi’s movie is shown at the festival. If I tell Constance what happened, she can bring us another copy of the film.

  Vi was with Constance yesterday, after she walked away from Nico and me at lunch. I’m surprised she didn’t think to ask Constance herself. But the more I think about it, the more I realize Vi should have thought of asking Constance for the movie file. In fact, I’m positive she would have thought of it. But when she came to see me in the nurse’s office, Vi said Abbi’s film was gone. So maybe Constance doesn’t have a copy of the movie after all. But if that were true, she wouldn’t be so calm right now. She’d be furious—or at least upset. She’d probably be both.

  Maybe Vi didn’t want to ask.

  My throat gets tight, and my stomach plunges. Vi’s been so insistent I give up my search for the missing film. And all this time, I’ve ignored a very simple question in my investigation. How did Bradley get into the theater in the first place? The doors were locked. And the only one with the keys was Vi.

  Are Vi and Bradley working together? Is Vi protecting him?

  “Constance, I…” I want to excuse myself so I can fumble down the hall until I find Vi and discover what she’s been hiding. But when I turn my face, Constance reaches out a gentle hand.

  “Oh, Preston. This looks horrible!” Her hand grazes my cheek, but I barely register the touch. I’m too preoccupied with the smell of perfume wafting off her wrist. From far away, it smelled like cleaning solution, but it’s not. It’s actually a strong lemony perfume.

  I pause again, the smell overwhelming me. It makes me dizzy. All perfume does. It’s too overpowering for my taste. Vi doesn’t wear perfume. I much prefer the smell of her candy-apple shampoo.

  Why would Vi be working with Bradley? Does she like him? But why wouldn’t she say anything? Was she afraid I’d be upset? Too late for that now.

  “Seriously, Preston, what happened to you? It looks like you got punched,” Constance says. Her face is close to mine. She’s examining my injury.

  “I did,” I say quietly.

  “Who would want to punch you? You’re such a nice guy.” She rolls whatever’s in her mouth around.

  I should tell Constance the truth. I should tell her what Bradley did, and then we could go get the film together. The two of us could set everything right. I don’t know why Vi’s keeping the truth from me. But I’ll deal with that later. Right now I need to get the film festival sorted out while I still have the chance.

  “It was…” I trail off. Constance rolls the thing in her mouth between her teeth. I hear the clatter, and then I hear the sickening crunch. Candy. It was a candy in her mouth. The kind I hate. The kind that crunches so loudly I want to cringe.

  I suck in a breath, and then inwardly I do cringe.

  I cringe because I now realize I’ve gotten it all wrong.

  Constance’s hand is still on my cheek. I breathe in the lemon smell of her perfume, and I listen to the crunch of her candy.

  I’ve gotten it all wrong. No wonder Bradley punched me in the face.

  I knew I saw a shadow. I knew someone was in the theater with us that night. But the thing is, shadows are tricky. And when a shadow is blurry and dark, it’s difficult to guess defining features of a person. Like whether they’re big or small. Like whether they’re short or tall.

  Like whether they’re a guy with a bad sense of sportsmanship, or a girl wearing strong perfume.

  Chapter Eleven

  “It was you.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, Constance’s hand stills against my cheek. She freezes for a second. Then she pulls away.

  “Wh-what was me?” she stutters.

  Now I get it. Bradley wasn’t being a good actor when he sounded confused earlier. He really was confused. He really didn’t know what I was talking about. But Constance does. Her words are not nearly so convincing.

  “You deleted Abbi’s film,” I say. I don’t yell like I did earlier. I don’t even sound like I’m accusing Constance of doing anything. I guess because I’m not. I don’t have to accuse her. I know what I’m saying is the truth, and she does too.

  I expect her to answer. Honestly, I expect her to deny it. But Constance doesn’t say anything. All she does is leave. In one swift movement she pulls herself up from the table. By the time I realize she’s not sitting beside me anymore, her sneakers are already squeaking across the cafeteria.

  “Constance!” I call after her, st
ruggling to get up. I leave my half-eaten lunch on the table and hurry in the direction of her footsteps. I hear the heavy cafeteria door open and click shut again before I can make it across the room. “Darn it!” I mutter, trying to move as fast as I can before she gets too far away. I make it to the door, push it open and step out into the hall.

  Someone touches my shoulder.

  “Constance?” I whirl around, hitting someone’s leg with the edge of my cane.

  “No. It’s me,” Vi says. It’s irritating, sometimes, when people are vague about identifying themselves. They don’t realize how similar their voices might sound to someone else’s. But I never have trouble identifying Vi. I’m surprised I didn’t recognize her by the press of her hand on my shoulder.

  “I have to find…aren’t you supposed to be in class?” It’s probably the last thing I should be worried about. But Vi never skips out on her computer science class. It’s her best subject.

  “I was really thirsty and was heading to my locker to get my water bottle,” Vi explains. “I saw you and Constance in the cafeteria. She was stroking your cheek.” She sounds annoyed. Maybe even jealous? But I can’t dwell on that now. For all I know, Vi’s still mad at me.

  “Constance is the one who deleted Abbi’s film,” I say.

  “I know,” Vi says. For a second her words puzzle me. But then I remember how many times Vi told me not to investigate what happened. She may not have been working with Bradley, but she’s still been keeping secrets.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. There’s no point chasing after Constance anymore. I’d never be able to trace her through the halls now, especially if she’s ducked into a classroom or has gone outside.

  “At first, I thought there was a reasonable explanation,” Vi says. “Constance asked if she could watch the festival films Wednesday night. The public’s not supposed to see them beforehand, but I didn’t think it would matter. So I let her in before you arrived. She came before Mrs. Colander even got there. I thought she had left, but she hid in the bathroom until we started the screenings. Then she snuck into the theater and up to the booth. When you suggested the film had been stolen, I knew it was her. But I thought she was just taking the file to make a last-minute change or something. When I talked to her at school yesterday, it became quite clear she had no intention of letting her cousin’s movie be shown at the festival.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense,” I say. “Constance helped Abbi make that movie. Why would she ruin her own cousin’s chances? Is she afraid Abbi will fail?”

  “No,” Vi says quietly. “She’s afraid Abbi might succeed. A film project for school is one thing. But if Abbi were to win at the festival, things would change. Abbi wants to be an actress and a filmmaker. But Constance thinks that kind of life would be too hard for her cousin. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it once I knew. I…I understood where she was coming from.”

  Vi might understand, but I certainly don’t. Why would Constance be afraid to see Abbi succeed?

  Vi waits for a minute, and when I don’t say anything, she continues. “It’s not easy to be us, you know,” she says. “People like Constance. People like me. It’s hard to be the one who cares about somebody with a—”

  “A disability,” I finish. I’m shocked for about the gazillionth time today. Not about Vi thinking I have a disability. I do. People get nervous about using the d-word around me sometimes. Others prefer to use terms like differently abled or visually impaired. It doesn’t bother me what they say, so long as they’re not being rude or disrespectful when they say it.

  I don’t care about Vi bringing up the obvious fact that I’m blind. I’m more surprised by the way she just said she cared about me.

  I replay her words in my mind. When I do, I start to catch on to what she’s actually trying to say.

  “Vi, are you afraid of what will happen to me?” I ask. She steps close to me and takes my hand in hers.

  “You have so many plans, Preston,” she says. “And I know you’ll do great, but I worry it will be hard for you too. Small towns are easy to get used to. Big cities are not.” Vi knows my plan is to eventually study in Toronto. I want to be a journalist. I want to be a film critic.

  “Vi, have I ever been knocked down?” I ask. She lets out a snort, and I remember my aching face. “Okay, bad choice of words.” I laugh. “What I mean is, has my disability ever stopped me?”

  “No,” Vi admits. “But you have a routine here. Everything is familiar.”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t always like that,” I remind her. “Remember the first time we rode a tandem bike together? You kept forgetting to let me know when we needed to stop or turn, and we ended up crashing. That was hard. It hurt too. But we figured it out. You told me where we were, and I let you know if I was getting disoriented. Or what about last year when a bunch of us went to the fair and we got separated in the crowds? I had no idea where I was, but I still managed to get back to our meeting place before anyone else did.”

  “I remember that,” Vi says. “I was so worried when I realized you weren’t behind me anymore. But when we finally found you again, you were chatting with the guy selling ice cream. You were having a great time.”

  “Exactly.” I smile. “I’ll be fine, Vi. No matter what comes my way, I’ll figure it out. I’m not afraid of the future, and you shouldn’t be either.”

  “I’m sorry, Preston,” Vi says. “I should have told you about Constance. Or I should have told Mrs. Colander. It’s just that I got what Constance was saying. She cares about Abbi so much. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  I squeeze her hand. I never realized Vi thought about things like this.

  “I am happy you care, Vi,” I tell her. “But I know you would never get in the way of my dreams in order to keep me safe.”

  “No, of course I wouldn’t,” Vi says. She is quiet for a moment. I don’t say anything. I let her work through her thoughts until she is ready to speak again. “I don’t believe Constance wants to get in the way of Abbi’s dreams either,” she says at last. “I don’t think she really thought about what she was doing when she took the film. You are right, Preston. We need to make sure Finding Home plays at the festival tonight.”

  “Then we’ve got to get going,” I say. I take a step forward, but Vi tugs my arm to stop me.

  “There is something I need to do first,” she says. She sounds shy, which is weird.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Just this,” Vi says. Suddenly her lips are pressing against mine. My face stings where I was hit, but the pain is nothing next to the tingling warmth of Vi’s skin.

  Her lip gloss tastes the same way her breath smells. Like red licorice.

  I like licorice. It’s my favorite kind of candy to eat at the cinema.

  It doesn’t make a crunching noise when you chew it.

  Chapter Twelve

  When the kiss is over, Vi stays close. I’m glad. I wrap a hand around her waist. “I know how we can get Abbi’s film back,” she says near my ear.

  “We can talk to Constance.” I nod. “We can convince her to give us a copy.” I can feel Vi shaking her head.

  “I already tried that,” she says. “Constance is convinced she’s doing what’s best for Abbi.”

  “That’s not her decision to make,” I say, my voice a bit sharp.

  “I know,” Vi replies softly. “But she’s stubborn. She won’t give us what we want.”

  “So what do we do? Do we have to go to Mrs. Colander?” I don’t want to make any more trouble than what I’ve already caused. I just want tonight’s festival to be a success.

  “No, I don’t think so. I have another idea,” Vi says. She steps back from me and takes my hand. “Let’s go to the computer lab.”

  The computer lab is on the second floor. It’s usually booked all day with classes, but Vi must know something I don’t. When we get upstairs, the room is empty. The quiet hum of t
he twenty computers reminds me that Vi is supposed to be in her computer science class right now.

  “You’ll be in trouble when you get back to class,” I tell her. “You never skip.”

  “All the more reason for Ms. Fairhand to believe me when I say it was an emergency,” Vi says. “But I’ll be in a lot more trouble if someone catches me breaking into the school administration’s computer account.” Vi’s already seated at one of the computers. I can hear her clicking the mouse.

  “I can’t believe you know how to hack the school’s system,” I say.

  “Knowing how means you’re creative and skilled,” Vi says, like she’s trying to convince me it’s not a big deal. “It’s how you use those talents that matters. I wouldn’t do this without a darn good reason.”

  “What can I do to help?” I ask. I feel a bit useless just standing by the door.

  “Like I said, I’ll be in big trouble if we’re caught. I need you to keep watch.”

  “Keep watch?”

  Vi laughs. “Yeah. Keep an eye out for any lurking shadows.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask. While I’m comfortable making my way around a computer, I don’t know how to do much beyond opening documents and searching the Web.

  “Constance and Abbi worked on the film together, and they did it here at school,” Vi explains. “They saved it in Abbi’s account. So if I can log in to her account, I should be able to find the file and email it to myself.”

  “Okay, but how are you going to do that? Aren’t our log-ins confidential?”

  “Just leave it to me,” Vi says. “I’m trying to figure out how to access the administrator account.”

  She figures it out remarkably fast. It’s actually kind of disturbing. I hear the familiar sound of a computer rebooting. Vi types something, waits, then growls in frustration. She tries a few more times before she gets it right.

  “I’m in,” she says, clearly excited. My nerves are jumpy again, but this time it’s kind of a thrill. Like being in the middle of a spy flick. I do my best to tune out the clicking of keys and the general hum of the lab. I listen for footsteps in the empty hallway. The fluorescents are bright enough that I really could spot a shadow sidling into sight.