Abigail breathed deeply, lifting her shoulders, and exhaling. “I have to leave.” She looked at each of us and blinked. Then she turned and walked away.
I still couldn’t believe it. I was so shocked I hadn’t noticed she didn’t have her tuba, and that should have been a warning.
Much as I thought I would like to see Pamela poisoned, I had to warn her. “You aren’t going to eat it, are you?”
“Of course, I am,” said Pamela. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because if I were her, I’d put poison in it, that’s why,” Mindy said.
“I’d expect as much from you.” Pamela arched an eyebrow at Mindy. How can you be so stupid? She curled her upper lip—so she wouldn’t smudge her lipstick—opened her mouth and took a dainty bite.
“Mm!” Pamela closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Mm-mmm.” Her eyebrows formed a deep knot over her closed eyes. She chewed as if she had all the time in the world and swallowed.
“I bet you wish you had some.” She licked her lips and took another bite. “Too bad. I’m not sharing.”
Mindy and I exchanged glances.
For a full two minutes, Pamela’s food fest went on. She chewed slower and slower, rolling the cupcake around in her mouth, savoring every bite. Her taste buds must have been having an orgy.
As much as I like cupcakes, I would not have touched it, not for anything in the world. Not even if someone said do it or you won’t get your driver’s license. Okay, I might have touched it, but I wouldn’t have taken a bite and swallowed.
As Pamela ate, we watched and waited. I thought she would gradually stiffen, fall off the bench, and turn blue—but nothing happened.
Hoping I was not being obvious, I sniffed the air, searching for the scent of almonds, the characteristic smell of cyanide, but all I could smell was sugar and strawberries.
“It smells delightful, doesn’t it?” Pamela murmured.
“Yes, it does,” I admitted. I leaned a little closer, still searching for the tell-tale scent of almonds. Still nothing.
“Would you mind getting your nose out of my cupcake?” She said, eyeing me from under her hooded eyelids.
“Sorry.” I pulled away from the intoxicating smell of whipped cream and strawberries.
I heaved a sigh of disappointment. Not because of Pamela who hadn’t fallen over dead, but because of Abigail, who was every bit as cowardly as she looked.
Chapter 18. Paranoid
For the rest of the day, I waited for news that Pamela had gone home sick, but there was no news at all.
In fact, it was the opposite. I saw her several times as she practically floated by, beaming smiles here and there. She was the happiest I’d seen her since school started.
The next day passed without incident. Pamela seemed content, but otherwise normal.
“It’s totally freaky,” Mindy said, as we discussed it on the drive home from school. Pamela of course was not with us.
“Do you think Abigail put Prozac in it?” she asked.
“Where would she get it?” I said, hoping it was not true. Spiking someone’s dessert is not unheard of, but it’s dangerous. It would also wear off and Abigail would be back where she started or worse.
“She could get it lots of places,” Mindy reflected. “Steal it from her mom or something. Who knows?”
We drove another block and Mindy added, “If it was something harmful it would show by now, don’t you think? I mean Pamela would have a reaction.”
“Probably . . ..”
“Then, she’s all right,” Mindy said firmly. “I’ll keep an eye on her, too.”
“So will I.”
“It’s kind of nice though”—Mindy turned and grinned at me— “Pamela the airy-fairy, instead of crazy Bellatrix Lestrange.”
I couldn’t argue with that, and since there was no way to know for sure, I would have to wait and see what happened. At least I would not have to make up excuses—for now. If my mom asked me how Abigail and I were doing, I would say everything was great and keep my fingers crossed.
I told myself the campus was finally big enough for Pamela and Abigail to exist peacefully. Now I could focus all my attention on school, my GPA, and volleyball.
As far as getting my driver’s license, I wouldn’t worry about it. In a few months I would be able to drive wherever I wanted to go. The horrible article I saw about Logan must have been a hacker playing a tasteless prank. He still did not seem quite like his old self, but he was alive. Whoever mugged Abigail had not attacked anyone else. The police hadn’t given any more updates, but they must be working on it. I hoped the creep was gone for good.
It seemed as if everything I had stressed about since the semester started had been resolved.
When I got home, I celebrated my new freedom from worry by microwaving a veggie burger. My mom saves the plastic packs of ketchup from McDonalds and Burger King. She puts them in an old dog-treat canister, and we are supposed to use those before we use the ketchup bottle. The canister is overflowing, but she is big on recycling and says it’s wasteful if you throw them away. Last Earth Day I worked at the Tree People booth in Rolling Hills and learned a lot about recycling, so I agreed with her.
I took two packs of ketchup out of the canister, tore off the tops, and squeezed long red lines on my burger.
Was it my imagination . . . or did one of the lines move like a skinny red snake? Was it sitting on the patty waiting to bite my tongue as soon as I opened my mouth?
I shook my head. Must not think like that.
I covered it with the other half, pressed them together, then lifted the edge and peeked underneath. Of course, the red lines had flattened out. Why wouldn’t they? And why was I on edge?
I hesitated a moment.
Paranoia.
The Abigail-Pamela trouble had not gone away, it was bubbling under the surface.
There had to be something wrong with the cupcake, but I tried to convince myself to be reasonable, that nothing would happen.
After I ate my veggie burger, and still lost in thought, I walked by the dining table. The Surf Reporter was folded open to the “Calendar” section. What the heck, I might as well check my horoscope. Before reading it, I made up my mind not to apply any Abigail or Pamela interpretations.
The horoscope read:
“Matter causing you concern is resolved in your favor”—the Spanish test— “Emphasis on food”—I changed my mind about having a cookie from Becker’s Bakery— “friendship on the horizon. Virgo involved.”
Were any of my friends Virgos?
I took the Brita out of the fridge and poured a glass of water. I couldn’t think of any Virgos but of course I didn’t know most kids’ zodiac signs.
Later that evening, I got out my math book, plopped on the bed, and pulled my legs into the Lotus position. It had been several days since I stretched and my muscles were stiff, so I uncrossed my legs and lay back to relax a few minutes. As I breathed deeply and slowly, a peaceful calm descended on me.
When I woke up, I saw shadows fading in the pre-dawn light.
I had fallen asleep without studying.
It was Friday morning, the weekend almost here. The only test I had was social science and that was after lunch.
I left Mindy before lunch so I could do the studying I missed the night before.
I hadn’t seen Pamela, which was fine with me. I figured she would show up soon. I usually don’t skip lunch to study but after comparing notes with a boy who had already taken the test, I thought I should. He said something about William the Conqueror being William the second and that sounded wrong, so I checked. I had it right: William the first. Everything was as it should be. I was excited about the volleyball game that night.
It will be great, I thought, never knowing how wrong I was.
Chapter 19. Taloned
Manhattan’s archrival is Redondo High School which is only a few miles away. The junior varsity teams play first, and they usually ha
ve a light turnout. The varsity teams play after them, and their games are standing room only.
One side of the gym was a sea of blue and gold, Manhattan’s colors, the other side was a checkerboard of red and white, Redondo’s colors.
A number of Manhattan boys were shirtless; their chests painted solid blue or with large letters spelling out the school name. Since we’re the Sea Wolves, our mascot is a fuzzy stuffed animal, a cute wolf pup. If it had been a football game, someone would have been wearing a white wolf costume and doing gymnastics around the field, but for volleyball games the team passes the wolf pup around for good luck.
The Ravens, Redondo’s team, has a sharp-eyed raven emblazoned on a red banner. They hung the banner on the visitor’s side of the gym, but for some reason it would not stay flush with the wall as it usually does. It constantly fluttered and lifted in the air like a sail that had escaped its lines.
We won our junior varsity game then got ready for the fireworks between the varsity teams.
Manhattan won the toss, and the teams took their positions. Our server hit an ace. People screamed, whistles blew, the crowd went wild. Each point we scored earned a loud ovation. We won the first set and then started the second set. That’s when it happened.
It looked like we were going to take two sets in a row. The Redondo banner began flapping wildly as if caught by a strong wind. A few people turned and stared at it—but right then their server hit a bullet. Not only was it an ace, but the ball hit the floor so hard it shot off to the side, slammed into the far wall, and flew toward the ceiling.
Harsh wind swept into the gym and swirled around the spectators. The banner lashed against its strappings: the wind holding it at a ninety-degree angle from the wall. I had seen small whirlwinds on the school grounds. They fling dirt in your eyes, pick up trash, leaves, branches, and spin like mini tornadoes, but they are too small to do real damage. I had never seen anything like this.
People screamed.
Someone yelled Shut the door! but it was too late.
The game stopped. Players stood on the court shielding their eyes and squinting at each other unsure what to do next.
All at once, shrieks echoed in the gym.
A black mass whirled through doors and windows, and the crowd ran for the exit. At first, I thought it was smoke or distorted clouds. But as the mass streaked by overhead, it separated into many large black ravens with hooked beaks and long talons. The largest birds I had seen in the area were hawks, but never more than one at a time. With all the trees and foliage in the city, there are squirrels and mice and they attract an occasional hawk. But those hawks were always gray or brown—not black—and never as large as the ravens circling the gym.
The people who had pushed their way to the exit tried to run back the other way but could not get past more people shoving to get out. Then everyone scattered.
Shrill screams echoed again. Shirts, hoodies, and towels were thrown at the ravens, but still they came. They snatched objects from the air and tore them apart. When a phone was held up to capture an image, one or more ravens would turn its laser-like eyes on it, a flame would jet, and the person holding the phone dropped it like a hot iron. Smoldering ashes appeared here and there on the floor.
In the mad dash for the exits, several people fell and were trampled. I was two rows from the gym floor and did not want to end up the same way, so I stayed where I was, crouched down, and made myself as small as possible. A man leaped over me. Another man tried but his foot caught my shoulder. He sprawled onto an overturned chair, rolled off, staggered to his feet, and ran.
The ravens tore the net from the poles and ripped it apart. Fluorescent lights flickered and went out until only one was left.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
With the gym almost dark, it seemed safe to run for the exit. I slowly raised my head and got to my knees, and as I did, the banner changed shape. It grew wider on both sides and the top and bottom elongated. The tips of it frayed and as they did, they turned into feathers. The middle of the banner turned into a red, hooded robe, with a woman hovering in the middle. Streetlight from outside reflected from her glittering eyes as she surveyed the damage. She stared at the backs of people pushing toward the doors.
Our mascot lay on the floor, its stomach torn open, its legs gone, the stuffing pulled out. When she saw it, her eyes widened. She stared hard at what was left of it, and it burst into flames.
I had lifted one knee to get up, but at the sight of her I sank back into my hiding place and took small breaths so as not to give myself away. I felt her gaze sweep over me and I stayed perfectly still. Fortunately, my hair had fallen over my eyes and hid half of my face. I prayed she would not see I was conscious, and alive.
The woman looked away from me, lifted both arms and snapped her fingers.
Silence.
No one moved.
I lay completely still but it was my doing while everyone else had been petrified by her.
She lowered her arms and again her gaze swept over the gym.
One of you can hear me. One of you is interfering and you do not know what you are dealing with. This is a warning. Stop. At once. The next time will be the last.
I wanted to push the hair out of my eyes and look around to see if anyone else heard her, but I did not move.
She spread her arms. Her robes flared and her long sleeves opened into deep caverns. The ravens flew into them and disappeared. Wind swirled through the gym and stirred the debris littering the floor.
I lifted my head an inch or so and squinted through my hair, hoping she would not incinerate me.
She snapped her fingers once more, brought her arms over her head, and touched her fingertips together. She vanished in a narrow beam of red light. Lightning crackled; the gym shook. Crashes and screams echoed as people tumbled to the floor. Pennants drooped; phones fell, screens shattered. Everything that had been in suspended animation completed its arc through time.
My face hit the narrow space where I had been huddled. Not because I was unfrozen like everyone else, but from sheer terror.
Chapter 20. Unsated
Struggling to find an explanation about what had happened at the gym, the school board and police came up with different interpretations. Some called it a high-tech prank; some called it a terrorist attack.
After much speculation, the easiest and most believable explanation was a cyber-attack. If terrorists could knock out a city’s light grid or coordinate a three-way attack the way they did on nine eleven, they could easily cause mayhem at a high school volleyball game.
The ravens, which seemed real enough to me, became drones. The woman in red who summoned the ravens and into whose robes they disappeared became a projected image on a giant multi-dimensional screen, much like the ones at Hollywood Bowl or Dodger Stadium.
However, the big inconsistency was no one saw the same thing. Post-traumatic stress? Possibly. But those who told the strangest versions of what happened, were the ones no one believed.
Curiously, the woman in red had not caused permanent destruction. The gym floor still had burn marks and our mascot was a small pile of charred fleece. The scorch marks were soon repaired, and our mascot replaced.
“I think it was a warning,” I said, as we talked about it on the way home from school.
“You’re still saying it was real?” Mindy looked at me intently. “Everything?”
“I wasn’t imagining it.”
I should have known better than to tell anyone, even Mindy, but at least she had not repeated it to anyone.
“Do you want to end up in a loony bin?” Mindy countered.
She had a point there.
Aside from the fact that if they locked me up, I would never get my driver’s license, it did no good to argue anyway; no one would have believed me.
“Why do you think she did it?” I said. “Hypothetically speaking, I mean.” I stopped short of repeating what the woman had said about “interfering.”
“The woman in red. You know, the one who did the damage and commanded the ravens.”
“You have to stop talking like that,” Mindy said. “I won’t answer. It would add to your . . . delusions.”
Then, because she couldn’t resist, she added thoughtfully, “How would I know? But if everything you say is true, I bet it was a grudge, probably. Did she look like anyone?”
“Not that I know of.”
If she were right and it was a grudge, maybe there was a clue in an old school yearbook: a girl who looked similar, or perhaps a prediction: such as girl most likely to curse the whole school.
As impossible as it seemed, I knew the unexplainable had not only happened, but it might happen again. And, if I was the only one who heard her—and no one else claimed to and I could understand why they wouldn’t—then I had to be the one interfering. But I hadn’t done anything, so why me?
There were only two people I associated with weird happenings.
One was Logan; but I had scared him on Halloween night when I mentioned the fake drowning report and he had been avoiding me.
The other one was Abigail. But how or why would someone with the woman’s power even know her? There could be a connection but getting information out of Abigail would not be easy.
I hadn’t heard any bad news about Pamela, so while that might be a possible clue it hadn’t developed, yet.
Then there was the man with silver hair. I wondered how he might fit into the puzzle—if he even existed—but I would not dare mention him, ever.
Instead of studying like I should have been, I became preoccupied with solving the mystery. The only explanation I could come up with was that someone with a highly skilled technical background was out for revenge against the school, or maybe the whole city.
One of Us: The City of Secrets Page 13