With three girls headed toward him, the Firefly noticed he was not the only one interested in Abigail. He saw Pamela who was striding toward him. Then he turned and saw Jade striding determinedly toward Pamela. He frowned and looked from one to the other. Then he angled his way into the crowd and toward a throng of dancers.
“Hatha! Yoga!” I screamed, hoping to distract him—and it worked.
He turned and stared right at me. He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to remember where he had seen me, then his expression eased, and the corners of his mouth curled into a creepy smile.
I opened my eyes wide—I had not expected that—and stepped back. He broke eye contact, turned around, and ran to the Exit.
When I screamed “Hatha,” I also distracted Abigail, Pamela, Jade, and half that side of the room. Abigail turned in Pamela’s direction and—eyes popping—stared at something over Pamela’s shoulder. Pamela turned around and saw Jade closing in on her.
Whatever Pamela had in mind for Abigail, it was not as important as getting away from Jade. She veered, hurried to her date, grabbed his arm, and turned him toward the refreshments.
Jade stopped and watched them as they disappeared into the crowd. Then she went slowly back to the dance floor.
I exhaled, relieved that the confrontation had been avoided. Someone ran up and yelled in my ear.
“Yoga! Go yoga! Go yoga!” It was Parker. “I do yoga,” he yelled eagerly, “three times a week. What do you say? We could go together.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but, I don’t think”—
A girl screamed.
The music was so loud no one turned except me and Parker.
We stared in the direction of the scream where the exit door closed slowly—but not slowly enough for whoever was on the other side.
The pneumatic hinge kept the door from slamming shut, but when the edge of the door was almost aligned with the frame it stayed there until the person on the other side yanked it. If not for that, the lock would not have engaged until the full weight of the door pressed against it. I know that because I often pull the door shut to be sure it locks.
“Someone’s hurt.” Parker turned and ran to the exit.
I limped after him. He had stepped on my toes so many times I had to walk on my heels.
“It’s locked on the other side.” Parker tugged and rattled the door, but it would not open.
Although the sign said “Exit,” the door did not open directly into the parking lot. It led to a long corridor where another door opened to the outside.
“Help!” Parker yelled. “Police! Someone’s hurt! Open the door!” Gradually the music died and after a few moments a custodian loped over, a ring of keys jangling from her hand. She looked like a jailer.
“What about the code?” Parker looked at the keypad on the wall.
“Out of order,” she said.
Parker pressed a few buttons, but none lit up.
“Which one is it?" she said, nervously shaking a key loose from the ring. She held it up, frowned, and picked out a different key.
“It’s the one with the orange fob,” Parker said.
“How do you know?”
“It says ‘Hall Exit.’ ”
She scowled—at herself I think—and forced the key into the lock. She jiggled the key, turned it. Parker pushed the door open.
The hall was dark. Parker felt his way along the wall. “Here, right here!” he said and flipped the switch.
Florescent lights sputtered on and off. The Firefly ran out the door at the other end.
Abigail lay in the middle of the hall, a hurt girl in green plaid, her flyaway ponytail pulled over her face.
Jade ran past me and knelt next to Abigail.
With quick mincing steps Pamela hurried halfway into the hall and stopped. Parker dashed to the exit door, shoved it open, and ran out to the parking lot. By then I was kneeling next to Abigail. She had a long cut above her eyebrow, a trickle of blood leaking into her hair.
Parker dashed back in the door which had not shut all the way. “He’s gone!” he yelled. “Call 911!” He shook his head, pulled out his phone, and made the call.
The parking lot runs the length of the block. A row of tall hedges separates the parking spaces from the sidewalk. The whole area is lit by tungsten lamps, but they don’t show much detail. Unless the Firefly darted between cars or ran into the open it would be almost impossible to spot him.
“You’ll stay with her?” Parker said urgently.
“Of course, I will,” I began, but he had already left.
Abigail’s face was pale and clammy. She moved her fingers slightly. I put my hand on the top of hers to give her reassurance and said, “It will be all right, we’re getting help.”
She pulled her hand away and twitched her fingers. She was weak but I thought she wanted something. I saw her beanie lying next to her and picked it up.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” I said softly and held it next to her fingers so she could feel it. She touched the coarse wool hesitantly, then gathered it closer, all the time breathing slowly.
Parker ran to the boys’ bathroom. Before the door closed behind him, he was back in the hallway with a wad of wet paper towels. He dropped to his knees next to Abigail and dabbed the cut on her head. He folded several paper towels together, so they made a rectangular bandage, and held it against her wound.
The hall was jammed. It seemed like everyone was trying to squeeze in and see what had happened.
The chaperones waved and urged the crowd back. A narrow path opened, and the paramedics wheeled a gurney through the crowd and into the hall.
“Okay, you guys, you know the routine. Step back, give her room to breathe.”
I looked up and saw a man wearing a gray suit and blue tie. It was Officer Brown, a retired police officer who works as a security guard. Sometimes he volunteers at school functions.
I was so relieved to see him. He had been my dad’s DARE officer in high school. It’s Drug Abuse Resistance Education, an outreach program where the police came to class and talked about drugs. Did it work or not? I don’t know but my dad still has a positive view of the police and thinks it’s because of him. Even though he is retired everyone still calls him Officer Brown. However, one thing about policemen, retired or not, they are more watchful and aware of what goes on around them than anyone else.
The crowd shuffled back but the hall was so crowded no one moved very far.
From inside the gym another person told everyone to “Free-up the doorway and stay out of the way.”
A siren wailed. It grew louder as it neared, blared once, and droned out. Headlights flashed through the open exit door which had been left propped open and into the hall.
I shuffled back along with everyone else and waited. Within a few minutes, the chaperones and teachers formed a circle around Abigail, and blocked her from view.
The music had stopped but it started up again at low volume. A few people moved onto the dance floor, but they stood around, not dancing. They whispered among themselves, their eyes shifting warily to the hall where the medics were attending to Abigail.
I didn’t see them put her on the gurney, but I did see them roll it through the gym. Mrs. Kaufman and several chaperones accompanied it to the exit.
The first person to speak was Pamela. “Let’s leave,” she said to her date, her voice cutting through the crowd. “This place isn’t fun anymore.”
“Leaving so soon?” Jade blocked her way. “Don’t you want to know how she is?”
I had not seen Jade move, and it was obvious Pamela hadn’t either. The sight of Jade less than three feet away threw Pamela’s timing off, but she recovered quickly.
“It’s none of your business, Miss Pink Cheeks,” she said, a nasty reference to Jade’s tattooed pink ribbon that tonight was silver. “Don’t try to stop me either, unless you want the same thing to happen to you.”
“Tell me that isn’t a threat,” said Jade in a qui
et voice.
“What if it is?” said Pamela.
Her words were braver than she was. She grabbed her boyfriend’s arm, turned around, and walked away.
A small part of me hoped that Jade would follow her and do—what? —I don’t know. But it didn’t last. Seeing Abigail wounded made me sick to my stomach.
Chapter 10. Awakened
The hospital would not give out information about Abigail. She stayed two nights and the following afternoon they released her. Mom mentioned it at dinner on Monday night, along with an uncomfortable hint.
“She really needs a friend after what happened.” Mom smiled at me with the confidence that said I am so glad she has you. I concentrated on my dinner and did not say anything.
“The police asked if anyone saw the man who attacked her,” Mom added. She looked first at Justin, then at me.
“Do they have any witnesses?” I asked.
“Not yet, but they will,” she said.
She sounded awfully sure of herself. I was about to ask why she thought so, but just then I was purposely trying to ignore Justin. He sat across from me stuffing baked beans in his mouth. Half the time he shows little or no interest in what we are talking about, unless it’s surfing or skateboarding, so I was surprised when he spoke up.
“Yep, I’m sure there are witnesses,” he agreed. “There has to be someone who’s seen the guy before—and has the guts to admit it.”
I knew he was talking about me but fortunately Mom and Dad had no idea what he meant.
I also had not expected him to say anything. The fact that I had no advance warning meant I had no time to get nervous. If he had hinted at it gradually, I would have wondered what he was going to say and possibly blurted out a defensive statement. Doing that just makes you look guilty.
But then, why didn’t I say something? After all, it was not all about me, but what if the Firefly was connected to Logan? If it were more than just a tattoo, and Logan was already in trouble, it could make things worse. I was not at all convinced that the false drowning report could be a prediction, but if it were, I did not want to have any part in making it a reality. It was a no-win situation. I was weighing Abigail’s needs against Logan’s and felt caught in the middle.
For the next week all everyone talked about was the Homecoming dance. Parents, teachers, and students had different opinions why Abigail had been attacked. There was no sexual assault involved. She had been outright mugged, as if she had been walking alone at night and been knocked to the ground by someone who wanted to steal her phone and wallet—and the mugger scared off before he could take anything.
It seemed like a random act of violence at a high school dance. No one thought something like that could happen here—and practically in front of hundreds of witnesses.
A pall settled over the school, a dark cloud of apprehension that affected everyone. Some students were jittery, but not as much as their parents.
In the afternoon parents waited in parked cars on every block near the school. There were some parents who always showed up after the first rush when school let out. Now it seemed as though they all wanted to be on time or early. The kids who drove to school did not hang around like they usually did but left when their last class ended. Black and white police cars patrolled the streets near school more frequently.
A few kids made jokes about the mugger hating tuba music, but for the first time no one laughed.
“Who do you think it was?” Mindy asked, as we drove home, just the two of us in the bus.
“I wouldn’t know,” I said, after a slight hesitation. “But I’m going to check my mom’s emails from Neighborhood Watch.”
“What are you looking for?” She shifted easily into fourth gear. Now that the ride was smoother, I enjoyed being in the bus. The seats are higher than a car and visibility is better.
“Anything that sounds suspicious,” I said. “Like an unlocked car or stolen musical instruments or—” I almost slipped and said a skinny guy with skimpy hair.
Mindy seemed to be thinking about what I had said, but she did not ask any more questions. The rest of the way home she kept her attention on the road. It was so unlike her that I assumed it was due to the general dispiritedness that we all seemed to be feeling.
I had made up the part about looking for reports of cars and stolen instruments, but I did intend to check past Neighborhood Watch emails for a description that matched the Firefly.
Mom forwards them to us so we will know about local crime and supposedly be on watch for suspicious activity. The problem was I had deleted all of them except for the last few weeks. She has her emails sorted and categorized but I didn’t know her password. Even if I did, that would be too snoopy. I also could not ask her to resend them. I had never paid much attention to Neighborhood Watch emails before, and if I sounded interested now, she would ask questions.
I considered asking Hattori-san to resend them. But he, too, would want to know if I was looking for anything out of the ordinary.
It is impossible to lie to Mr. Hattori. He either knows if you are not being honest or he has a way of making you think he knows. Either way the result is the same. You have to tell the truth, or an obvious lie, or else stand there as if you're afraid to answer. The last two are not convincing.
I wondered if anyone had taken his advice about learning taekwondo. With all that had happened, I decided to sign up after everything settled down.
School was now halfway through the semester and Halloween was almost here.
To take my mind off Abigail and Homecoming, I got the Halloween decorations out of the garage. The boxes are marked so we know what is in each box, but last year I stuffed them anywhere. The first box I opened was marked “spiders.” It had orange, white, and purple mini lights tangled together, but not one spider. I rummaged around and felt a squishy ball of fake cobwebs.
That’s a start, I thought. I found more spider webs tangled up with odds and ends at the bottom of the box, and it was a mess.
An hour later I had rolls of neatly separated lights on one side and more rolls of neatly wadded-up spider webs on the other. One light was missing. We have replacement bulbs, but they were probably mixed in with the Christmas lights or in a drawer with the extra hot sauce packets from Taco Bell.
The giant spiders were in the next box. I unfolded their legs and set them on the living room floor.
With everything sorted, I went outside and interwove the mini lights through hedges and the fence, then spread the cobwebs over them.
The ghoul with black gauze robes and a noose around its neck, I saved for the next day. Even with the ladder I could not reach high enough to hang it, but more importantly if I put it up too early Mom would say it looked gruesome. She would then fixate on it, say it would scare the smaller kids, and we would have to take it down.
Or rather, I would have to take it down unless I could talk Justin into helping me again after he had already helped me put it up in the first place, provided I could have gotten him to do it.
Mom didn’t know that Justin, Parker, and a few of their friends had bought a life-size alien exactly like the one that had almost killed Sigourney Weaver in Alien.
Justin said they were planning to shove it in front of the door when trick-or-treaters knocked.
Except he would not be home on Halloween—he’d be at a party—which meant he was lying and planning to do something he would get in trouble for.
We still had three more boxes of decorations—Halloween is the favorite holiday around here, next to Christmas—but I needed to work on my costume—or at least think about it.
I hadn’t decided yet what I would be, but I could still try on a few wigs. Mindy was having a party and the theme was angels and demons.
Having finished everything I wanted to do, I set the rest of the decorations aside. Feeling rather satisfied about it, I did my homework, then had dinner, and afterward spent the rest of the night studying. At ten o’clock I turned off the light.
The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of someone rummaging in my room. Maybe our dog Baxter had caught the scent of an old wrapper in my backpack.
I opened my eyes and in the gray light of dawn saw a dark shadow crawling across my bed. I stared in shock. My breath caught in my throat.
A giant spider watched me with its faceted eyes. It sat on the duvet and was nearly as wide as the bed. Its eyes gleamed. It moved one hairy leg closer to me.
I glanced at the nightstand, saw my phone, grabbed it and threw it. It thudded against the spider’s swollen side. The spider scuttled off the bed and ran out the door—its many legs a blur—and down hall.
I sat stunned, my heart pounding. I then got out of bed, started for the door, and changed my mind. My room is on the second floor and I have a good view of the neighborhood. If a huge spider had been skittering down the street, climbing trees, or scuttling over hedges, I would have been able to see it, but there was nothing.
What I did see were all the decorations I had set up yesterday afternoon. They had been torn down and strewn across the lawn.
For a few seconds, I stayed at the window, breathing hard. I could discount the decorations as a prank. Maybe instead of toilet papering the house some kids decided to make a different kind of mess.
But the spider?
I dressed quickly, hurried downstairs, and out the front door. A neighbor was walking her dog. In one hand she had a Starbuck’s paper cup, and in the other hand a leash with a small French bulldog panting at the end of it.
“Good morning,” I said, brightly. “Did you happen to see anything run by?”
“Anything?” she said thoughtfully.
“I mean a . . . dog, a big hairy one.”
“No.” She frowned and thought a moment. “I haven’t seen any dogs this morning. Did yours get out of the yard?”
I paused.
She looked completely normal, a leash in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. Of course, she had not seen a giant spider run down the street.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Thanks anyway. I just remembered he’s in the back yard. I think my mom let him out early.”
One of Us: The City of Secrets Page 8