by Stacy Juba
Dawn drew in a shaky breath and sat down. "Hi, I’m Dawn."
"Whatever." Renee slid a few inches away and whispered to her friend. Too late, Dawn recognized Renee’s voice. She was the girl who made fun of Candace in the locker room. Wonderful. Way to use the psychic radar.
A cute guy with wavy black hair and an athletic build glanced back from the next row of seats. "Lay off, Renee, can’t you see she’s new? I’m Scott." He nodded towards Dawn, revealing his perfect teeth in a lopsided smile that made her tingle to her toes. Gosh, he was cute.
"Oh, please, Scott, what are you, the Welcome Wagon?" Renee demanded.
"Uh, hi," Dawn stammered, but she doubted Scott heard. Her throat muscles weren’t working properly, either paralyzed by his gorgeousness or Renee’s snootiness.
Mrs. Welch, a lady with an auburn ponytail and the height of a professional basketball player, assigned them alphabetically into squads on the floor. Dawn found herself seated on a point of the royal blue star painted across center court. Candace Caldwell, since she had a "C" last name like Dawn, knelt in front of her.
Mrs. Welch closed her book and folded her arms over her sweat suit. "Since the weather’s rainy, we’ll stay inside and play basketball. Renee, you're captain. You and Scott."
Dawn suppressed a groan. Surprise, surprise. Another lazy gym teacher who used captains rather than divide the students herself. That meant another humiliating year of being picked last.
Renee and Scott made their way to the front. Renee placed her hands on her hips. "But Mrs. W., can't Scott and I be on the same team? He is my boyfriend."
Her boyfriend? No wonder she’d gotten mad when he defended Dawn. Scott knitted his eyebrows as a couple of his friends hooted.
"Quiet everybody," Mrs. Welch said. "Just pick, Renee."
Renee chose one of her friends first. Scott surveyed the crowd and pointed at Dawn. "You. The new girl."
Dawn froze. Uncertain, she got up and shuffled toward him.
"Welcome to Covington High," he said.
"Thanks." Dawn stood awkwardly behind him.
Renee glared at Dawn, her brow squelched up and eyes beady, resembling one of Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters. As she turned back to the remaining students, her annoyed expression cleared and once again she was Cinderella at the ball. "I’m not picking Candace, so I guess I'll take Laurie."
Dawn stayed out of the way during the basketball game, hanging back and letting her teammates do the work. Scott scored basket after basket, high-fiving his friends between points. Finally, thankfully, Mrs. Welch shrilled the whistle and told them to get dressed.
Ten minutes later, Dawn scanned her English class for a seat. Candace read a paperback in a middle aisle, speaking to no one. Renee applied lip gloss in the back row, a cheerleading jacket over her sweater and denim skirt.
Scott set down his sports magazine and grinned from the desk beside Renee. "Hey, Dawn, right? I get the feeling you don’t like basketball. I’ll bet you get good grades, though. Am I right?"
Dawn gulped, and ignored Renee’s scowl. "Yeah, but I’m better at math than English."
"Will you be joining the geek club? I mean the math club?" Renee slipped her lip gloss into a beaded sequined purse.
"I don’t think so." Dawn escaped to a seat a few rows ahead of them, against the wall. Above her, a poster proclaimed an Abraham Lincoln quote in bold italics: Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.
Dawn fished a pen out of her backpack with quivery hands. Scott kept going out of his way to talk to her. Maybe he liked her. Maybe he would even dump Renee and ask her out. Dawn scrawled a heart in her notebook and then scribbled over it. No, hooking up with Scott would take a MIRACLE, and miracles never happened to her.
Mr. Murray spent most of the class reviewing the summer reading list book, The Crucible, an Arthur Miller play about the 17th century Salem Witch Trials. Mr. Murray wore his sparse black strands combed sideways over his thinning pate. He had more hair in his salt and pepper beard than on his head.
"Tell me what you thought about the play, Scott," he said.
Dawn had disliked The Crucible with its tale of finger-pointing toward people perceived as different. She wondered if Mr. Murray’s choice of the play was an omen. God knows, she felt like a witch sometimes. Unbidden, a year-old image of cracked horn-rimmed glasses and a body sprawled lifelessly on the floor sprang to mind. Dawn forced herself back to the discussion.
Scott leaned back in his chair. In his rugby shirt, jeans and skateboarder shoes, he was easily the cutest guy in class. Stop checking him out, Dawn scolded herself.
"Those girls shouldn’t have started accusing everyone to save their own hides," Scott said. "The people running the town were morons for listening. And what’s with Abigail? She sleeps with that John dude then uses the witchcraft stuff to try to get his wife hanged? I was glad John got the ropes, not the wife."
"You’ve hit on one of the themes," Mr. Murray said. "Redemption. John was guilty of adultery, but once he was accused of witchcraft, he wouldn’t name names, choosing to die instead. People aren’t perfect and make mistakes, but we can purify ourselves by making what’s wrong right."
While the rest of the kids fidgeted and yawned, Dawn noted how Scott’s broad shoulders filled out his varsity jacket and how the light blue letter brought out his eyes. He was smart, too, smarter than he let on. Suddenly Dawn’s thoughts of Scott and the play triggered an avalanche of images.
Busy street. Worn Nikes and blue-jeaned legs. Screeching brakes. Black pickup truck barreling, barreling ... Scott crumpling to the ground.
Dawn couldn’t breathe, as though the air had been vacuumed out of her lungs.
Scott was going to die.
She twisted at her desk and bent her head between her knees. Fuzzy black dots spun around her, blurring her vision. Heat assaulted her. Slowly the dots cleared, and as she squinted up, the Abraham Lincoln poster ebbed back into focus.
She didn’t know the date or time, but the accident would be soon. No, not Scott, please don’t let anything happen to Scott, Dawn prayed. He was the only person at her new school who had been nice.
Mr. Murray loomed over her, bushy eyebrows drawn together on his forehead. "Miss Christian? Do you need the nurse?"
Dawn’s ears rang and clammy sweat prickled on her forehead. She had to say something.
"No, I'm okay," she murmured. "I get low blood sugar."
"Well … let me know if you need the nurse," Mr. Murray said.
Discussion continued on the themes of guilt and innocence in The Crucible. Dawn drew a shallow breath. There was a slight chance she was wrong. In fifth grade, she’d had the awful feeling her mother shouldn’t go on a business trip. Worries plagued Dawn for weeks. She lost sleep and couldn't eat. To her relief, nothing happened.
This was her very first day in this school. Maybe she should mind her own business. If she kept quiet, who would ever know? Dawn’s stomach coiled. She would know. Scott had been kind and he deserved a warning.
After dismissal, she lingered in the crowded hallway. Scott's group gathered near the wall of lockers. Candace slouched near the bubbler, wiping her charcoal lips with her palm. She gave Dawn a stony stare.
Dawn shifted from foot to foot as anxiety jellied her muscles. School was out for the day. If she waited, she might never get another chance. She tapped Scott’s shoulder as he retrieved a book from his locker. "Can … can I talk to you? It’s kind of important."
Scott turned around and smiled. "Yeah, sure."
"Alone?"
Renee snaked her arm around Scott's waist. "Anything you can say to him, you can say in front of me."
"I … it's just..."
"Is this important?" Renee’s mouth crimped in annoyance.
"Come on, chill out," Scott said. "Let's hear what she has to say."
"Please be careful if you're on the street," Dawn whispered.
"Huh? Be careful of wh
at?" He closed his locker door and positioned himself against it.
"A black pick-up truck."
Silence.
A snide laugh broke the quiet and a gangly blond guy with short spiky hair folded his arms across his designer shirt. "I think she wants you to look both ways before you cross. Maybe you'd better have your mommy hold your hand."
Renee tugged on Scott's jacket. "Let's get out of here. What a weirdo."
Scott motioned for her to go ahead and hung back with Dawn. "Sorry about my friends. They can be idiots. I’m fine though, seriously. But thanks for the warning. I’ve never had a girl so worried about me before."
"Come on, Scott, let’s go!" Renee snapped from down the hall.
Scott muttered something under his breath. "I’d better split. See you around, Dawn."
He headed toward his friends. Dawn bolted down a corridor, wanting to get as far away from Renee as possible. Thank God it was time to go home. If she could only find the way out of this maze before her bus took off. She stopped to get oriented beneath a bulletin board of yellow stars and meteor showers against a dark blue background. "Making stars of the future," the title read.
So much for a positive future in Covington. Dawn had done it again, shattered another opportunity to fit in. Wait till her mother found out. With any luck, she wouldn’t hear about it. Dawn started walking again and jumped as Ken caught her by the shoulder.
"I’ve been looking all over for you," he said. "You coming or what?"
"Coming? I was going to take the bus."
"Are you kidding? My dad will kill me if I don't give you a ride home on the first day. Come on."
"I don’t want to be a pain. If you can get me to the bus, I’ll–"
"Look, here’s the deal. You can ride with me in the morning, and on afternoons when I’m going straight home. We’re both going to the same place, so it’s no biggie. But if I’ve got plans after school or hockey practice, you’re on your own."
Her spirits arced higher than the Ferris Wheel in Covington Center. She’d rather miss all those lonely bus rides than win the lottery. "Thanks, Ken. Are you sure?"
"Yeah, but remember if I have a girl with me, three’s a crowd."
"Uh, okay." Dawn exited with Ken out a side door to the parking lot. Around the front of the building, a line of buses stretched along the curb. Light rain drizzled from the overcast sky, a chill nipping the air.
About five feet from the car, Dawn sighed inwardly. They had to pass Scott, Renee and two of their friends to reach Ken’s Toyota.
"Leave her alone, guys," Scott muttered too softly for Ken to catch, but Dawn had excellent hearing.
Renee deliberately walked in front of Dawn. "Better watch out, Scott, there's cars all over the place."
"Hey, dude, what are you doing hanging around with this weirdo?" asked the spiky blond guy.
Ken put an arm around Dawn's shoulders and glared at the blond creep. "Back off, Tim. Leave my new stepsis alone."
Dawn stared at Ken, shocked he was sticking up for her. She would have thought that with Renee around, he’d try to fit in with her crowd.
Sneering, the blond guy stepped forward. "Listen you–"
"Tim, please." A lithe brunette with a thick puff of curls spoke up. She zipped the Covington High Track windbreaker enveloping her petite figure and riveted her green eyes on Tim.
"You weren't there, Vicky. Neither were you, Magnuson." Tim regarded Ken with a little less hostility. "You guys didn't hear what she told Scott."
"You don't have to call her names. You're not in first grade, unlike some people." Vicky shot a pointed look at Renee, whose moist lips curled into a pout.
"Give me a break," Renee said. "You act like you're Ms. Perfect."
Vicky gave Tim's arm a slight pull. "Let's go." She sent Dawn an apologetic glance over her shoulder and crossed the parking lot. Dawn wanted to leave too, but her stepbrother was glued to the spot, taking in everything.
Renee muttered something and wheeled in the other direction.
Scott shrugged at Dawn and Ken. "Sorry about that, guys. See you tomorrow." He hurried after Renee and made a comment she didn’t like, judging by her glare.
Dawn's stepbrother nailed her with the intensity of his gaze.
"Thanks for standing up for me," she said before he could ask questions. "Sorry I embarrassed you in front of Renee."
"Don’t worry, it gave me a chance to prove I’m not a wimp. Want to tell me what just happened?"
"Nothing."
"Renee wouldn't act like that for no reason."
"Oh please," Dawn burst out. She appreciated Ken helping her out, but could he really be that clueless? "Are looks all you and Scott care about? She’s obnoxious. Can’t you see that?"
Flushing, Ken scuffed his sneakers against the pavement. "She’s had a lot happen to her. We just have to get to know what’s underneath."
"I’ll bet you spend a lot of time thinking about Renee and 'what’s underneath.'" Dawn started toward the car.
"Look, her mother killed herself last year," Ken said.
That made Dawn turn her head. "You’re kidding. Really?"
As they walked side-by-side, Ken glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. "It happened at her house in New Hampshire. I didn’t know her then, but she visited her grandparents a lot in the summer and I’d seen her around the beach. I heard her parents went through a messy divorce and the mother poisoned herself. Renee transferred schools and moved in with her grandparents."
Dawn halted before the Toyota. No wonder Ken wanted to reach out to Renee. He’d lost his mom, Kendra, to malignant melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer, when he was eight.
"That’s awful, but she doesn’t have to be so mean. You and I both had bad things happen and we’re not like that."
"Maybe it’s different if it’s suicide. So what's going on?" Ken dug his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his side door.
"I asked Scott a question about homework after English," Dawn said, rattling off the first story that jumped to mind. "Renee thought I was flirting and made up some lame story."
"That's it? I guess I'm not surprised. Renee can be possessive."
Dawn refrained from a sarcastic comment as she climbed into the front seat. "How well do you know Scott?"
Ken clicked the key into the ignition, but didn’t start the car. "We were good friends when I first moved here. My dad was friends with Scott’s mother in high school, so they got us together."
That’s right. Dawn had forgotten Ken was once the new kid, too. After his first wife’s death, Jeff moved into his childhood home with his parents so Ken wouldn’t be a latch key kid. When Ken was a teenager, the grandparents sold the beach house to Jeff and moved into senior housing. They spent most of their time in Portland with Jeff’s younger sister, who had two small children.
"Are you guys still friends?" Dawn asked.
Ken grinned. "Maybe Renee’s right. You sure you don’t have a crush on him?"
"No! I was just curious."
"He’s okay, but we don’t hang out anymore. Scott’s one of the basketball jocks. They look down on hockey, even though if they ever got on the ice, they’d break their necks."
"I guess Tim and that Vicky girl are going out?"
"Yeah, she’s too good for him. Vicky's cool. She worked with Dad this summer as an editorial assistant."
Jeff was managing editor of a weekly newspaper, The Covington Gazette. Dawn vaguely recalled Jeff wanting her to meet a young girl in his office. Dawn told him she was busy and he stopped bringing it up. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to reject the offer. Vicky looked like friend material. But what was the point? Eventually, Vicky would have dumped her, too.
"Come on," Ken said. "Let's go home."
As the engine started, Dawn looked down at her hands tightly wound in her lap. Home. She would never belong there, either.
Chapter Three
Dawn paused at the open sliding glass door, th
e cool ocean breeze brushing against her face. Jeff had a private beach in his backyard, with wooden steps descending down to a stretch of sand. Dawn had always liked the ocean, until moving to Maine. Shivering, she eyed the choppy waves.
Buoys dotted the water and a lone duck dipped its bill beneath the ripples. Mist shrouded the beachfront cottages jutting across the bay and veiled the marina. Dawn slid the door shut, suffocating the breeze, but the ocean’s whisper murmured in the background. Even the noise from Ken’s video game couldn’t stifle it.
She stepped around Ken, who was immersed in a dizzying game of ice hockey, and made her way to the couch. Dawn flinched as she touched an embroidered lighthouse toss pillow. She couldn’t escape the ocean, not in this house.
The image of Scott and the black truck snapped into Dawn’s head. To distract herself, she searched for signs of disarray. Three rolled-up issues of TV Guide stuck out of the remote control holder. Dawn separated the outdated ones, the task soothing her psyche. She hung up Ken’s letter jacket and picked a fleck of paper off the carpet.
"What are you, the maid? Want a feather duster?" Ken watched her with raised eyebrows, his game on pause.
"I’m used to putting everything in its place." Dawn blushed.
"Does it really screw up the universe if a jacket isn’t hung up?"
"I can’t think straight when there’s a mess. I guess that sounds weird."
"Yeah, but if you want to do my chores, I can live with it. My dad’s always after me not to leave my stuff around. Just don’t clean my room, because then I might have to kill you." Ken grinned, and she realized to her relief that he was teasing, not criticizing.
Jeff stepped through the beaded shell curtain which divided kitchen from living room. "Hey guys, time to eat. I’ve been slaving over chicken parmesan."
Lucky for her mother, Jeff was a decent cook and they took turns making dinner. In Boston, one night’s cooking lasted Dawn and her mother half the week. Here, food disappeared fast. Dawn trailed Jeff and Ken into the kitchen and dumped the old magazines in the recycling bin. She joined the others at the table.
Her mother buttered a slice of Italian bread. "Ken, would you like me to pack your school lunch for you? I usually make Dawn something. It’s no trouble."