Crushed

by Laura McNeal

What’re You Doing? Where’re You Going?

  As other students drifted off toward lockers and cars, Audrey and C.C. paused in the hallway. “So what was all that note-passing between you and The Mummy?” C.C. said, and when Audrey just shrugged, C.C. gave her a frisky look. “Audrey, honey, are you pulling the Mumsford man off the back burner?”

  “No,” Audrey said in a tired voice.

  “Well, that’s a shame, because I think he’s got the Heathcliff thing going for him.” She grinned. “Your new boyfriend would be Heathcliffian.”

  Audrey was in no mood for this. Clyde was past-tense. He might have been interested, but he wasn’t anymore. Everything was past-tense. House. Wickham. Oggy. Everything. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  C.C. nodded. “I’ll call when we get back,” she said. Her mother had a no–cell phone rule when they went to their cabin.

  “Okay,” Audrey said. The hall was nearly empty now. Someone had torn down one of the red foil garlands that had been draped overhead and it lay now on the floor. Audrey had never looked forward to Christmas less.

  C.C. said, “You know, I’ll never forgive Lea for this.”

  Audrey looked past her, down the hall. A laughing boy she didn’t know was wrapping a laughing girl she didn’t know in the red foil garland. Audrey in a dull voice said, “I wouldn’t blame Lea too much.”

  “I do, though,” C.C. said stoutly. “We were friends. Sister-women.”

  Were, Audrey thought. Lea was one more thing in the past tense.

  “You okay?” C.C. said.

  Audrey nodded without looking at her.

  A few seconds passed, then C.C. said, “Look, I’ve got to buy some stuff for this trip. Want to come with me?” Audrey shook her head, and C.C. said, “So where’re you going?”

  Audrey shrugged. “Home.” The Commodore.

  But she wasn’t. After C.C. left, she went to Wickham’s locker in the east wing. She’d left two notes there in the morning, and before seventh period she’d wedged another between the door and frame of his locker. It was still there.

  She sat down on the stairs at the end of the empty hall. She felt too tired to move. She just sat, slowly eating stale currants from an old box in her backpack. She’d been sitting for perhaps twenty minutes when a boy appeared at the other end of the corridor. He kept referring to a slip of paper in his hand as he made his way past the lockers. At Wickham’s locker, the boy stopped, looked at the paper in his hand, and began spinning the dial on Wickham’s lock.

  Audrey, standing, said, “What’re you doing?”

  The boy had just swung open Wickham’s locker. He had dull eyes and a heavily acned face. “Just doing what I was told to do,” he said. “Getting stuff for some dude.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy whose locker this is.” He pulled out Wickham’s leather backpack. “A dude with a drawl.”

  “Why didn’t he come himself?”

  The boy gave a who-knows shrug. “Dude just said he’d pay me a couple bucks for a favor and told me what to do, and here I am.” The boy looked at Audrey and smoothed a finger feelingly across a swollen whitehead. “He said some girl was, like, stalking him.”

  Audrey took a step back and fell silent. The pimply boy picked up the note on the floor, and two other notes Audrey had fed through the locker’s vents. As the boy walked away, he detoured to a GIVE A HOOT! barrel and dropped them in.

  She supposed he’d been told to do that, too.

  Chapter 72

  Safely Under His Arm

  The vase was done, and it was perfect.

  True, Mrs. Arboneaux had helped with the glazing, but still, the vase itself was Clyde’s work, and nobody else’s. So on this Friday afternoon before vacation, after helping Mrs. Arboneaux pack away her papier-mâché Santas and woolly reindeer, Clyde wrapped the vase in newspaper secured with masking tape, and gave Mrs. Arboneaux a nod on the way out. “Thanks,” he said.

  The teacher smiled. “Hope she likes it.”

  “She will.”

  “Clyde?”

  He turned, and the teacher smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you, Mrs. Arboneaux.”

  Clyde had his book bag over his shoulder and the vase safely under his arm as he headed off toward the parking lot.

  Chapter 73

  Firebird

  “Some girl was, like, stalking him.”

  That was what the boy had said, and that was what she’d become. Wickham’s stalker.

  When Audrey pushed open the heavy doors of the west wing, the school’s lawn was a deserted expanse of brown grass and frozen mud. The sky was still and gray. Everything seemed empty, as if the field had been turned upside down and everything not tied down had spilled out and rolled away.

  She moved along the hedge-lined walkway as if through a cold tunnel. Straight ahead, there were a few bicycles left in the lot, and a couple of motor scooters, but her old Lincoln was one of only four or five remaining cars. One of those, a red Firebird, started up and began to back out after Audrey walked past.

  The lock on her car door was nearly frozen, so she tried the passenger-side door, which opened after a few seconds of gentle pressure. The coldness of the car seat went right through her as she slid across to the steering wheel. Three times the engine turned over slowly and stopped, but on the fourth try, it finally caught.

  Audrey put the car into reverse, looked into her rearview mirror, and saw the red Firebird pull up behind her and stop. Three boys were getting out of the car and walking toward her. Their movements were casual and unhurried. The chubby one had spiked, bleached hair that seemed more orange than blond. The tall one wore a black leather jacket studded with chrome. The third was Theo Driggs.

  Audrey instinctively locked her own door and was reaching for the lock to the passenger door when it swung open.

  Theo Driggs peered in with his high, slanting eyes. “Well, well,” he said. “Miss Caviar.”

  He unlocked the door to the backseat for the two other boys. Immediately they slid in behind her and shut the door.

  “What’re you doing?” Audrey asked, fear already beginning to numb her lips and hands. Theo eased himself into the seat beside her and snapped the last door shut. She was locked in with them now. Three against one.

  “What’re you doing?” Audrey said. “What do you want?”

  Theo pretended real interest in this question. “You know what? That’s just what the lady headshrinker asked me the other day. ‘What do you want, Theo? And how do you intend to get it?’ ” Theo’s eyes were on low beam. His smile was loose-seeming. “Know what I told her? I said, ‘All kinds of things, and however I have to.’ ” He smiled at Audrey. “That lady headshrinker was taking lots of notes.”

  Theo’s friends shifted in the backseat. They were so big that the car felt weighed down, and the cold air of the car smelled like hair gel and cigarettes. Audrey felt in her coat pocket for her cell phone. If they touched her, she would speed-dial her dad. That’s what she would do. It was just one button. Just press “2.”

  In a voice that sounded too high in her own ears, she said, “I meant, what do you want with me?”

  Theo peeled off a black glove and with his bare hand unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket. He looked at it for a moment, then turned it for Audrey to see. To-do List, it said at the top. There followed a list of names that had all been crossed out—Clyde Mumsford’s was the only one she recognized. Just one name had not been crossed out, and that was Audrey’s. Maybe she should have told the principal about the list a long time ago.

  Theo was grinning and pulling on his tight black glove. “Visiting hour is over,” he said.

  Audrey felt nauseated now. She worked her thumb into the fold of her phone and tried to flip it open within her pocket.

  Behind her, a leathery creaking sound. A hand from the backseat passed a flask to Theo, who unscrewed the lid. “What you need to improve your mood,” he said, “is a little elixir.”

&
nbsp; Audrey tightened her lips, and Theo grinned. “It’ll put you in the holiday spirit.”

  “I’m not drinking that,” she said, working at the top flap of her cell phone. Her pocket felt suddenly too small, and her hand too large. Then she managed to unfold it.

  Theo, smiling, reached forward and pulled her keys from the ignition. He tucked them in his pocket and turned to Audrey. “Last time we met, we made a little deal. You gave me the name of the Yellow Man and I let you proceed with your day.” His eyes switched to high beam. “Only you gave me the wrong Yellow Man.”

  Audrey didn’t speak. She felt along the keypad of her cell phone for the “2” button. If she pushed “2,” her father’s phone would ring. But why were there so many buttons? Was that the top row of numerals she was touching? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell.

  “So I’m giving you another chance here,” Theo said. “Either you give me the right Yellow Man, or you have a cup of holiday cheer with us.”

  Audrey shivered inside her coat, and she ran her finger over the phone’s surface again, trying to feel the pads that were “1,” “2,” and “3.”

  “If I drink some of that,” she asked, “will you let me go?”

  Theo drilled into her with his high-beam eyes. “That wouldn’t be much of a deal, would it? No, you have, let’s say, three good snorts.”

  From the boys in the backseat came a rustling.

  She pushed hard on the button she hoped was “2.” She had feared it would make a beeping sound, but she heard nothing. Nothing. She wanted to bring the phone out of her pocket and see if her father’s phone number had appeared on the screen, but she couldn’t. She listened. The phone made no sound. It seemed wrong that it made no sound at all.

  Theo handed her the flask. She took it with her trembling left hand, but kept her right hand in the pocket. Was that the sound of her phone dialing? Would her father say, “Hello?” She put the flask to her lips, closed her eyes, and swallowed. All at once her throat burned, her eyes clamped more tightly closed, and her body wanted to expel the alcohol even as it trickled down her throat.

  “Dad?” she heard herself say.

  A keenness came to Theo’s eyes. “What do you mean, ‘Dad’?” he said, and when she didn’t speak, he scanned the parking lot. Audrey could hear the boys in the back scraping against the seats, could see the orange-haired guy craning his neck to see behind the car.

  No sound came from the pocket. Where was Wickham, where was her father, where was Oggy? Where were the people who were supposed to save her?

  Theo turned back to her, evidently satisfied that no one was coming to her aid. And he was right, she knew that now—no one was. “Daddy’s not here,” he said. “It’s just big grown-up you and big grown-up us.” He smiled and nodded at the flask. “That’s one snort,” he said. “Two more to go.”

  Audrey took another swallow of the burning alcohol, then a third swallow, and all at once, she began to retch, and it all came back up, along with bile and black currants, onto the seat and floor and Theo’s shoes.

  Theo drew back and stared down at the mess in revulsion.

  Behind her, Audrey felt for the door lock.

  Chapter 74

  A Choice

  Clyde’s hard boots made a hollow echo as he walked through the empty halls. He didn’t like the halls when they were full of kids and he didn’t like them empty, so he guessed that meant he didn’t like them no matter what. Not exactly a major newsbreak.

  Outside, the street and sidewalks were dirty but dry, a good sign for the ride home. There wasn’t a lot of light left, but he didn’t feel like hurrying. As he turned the corner to the parking lot, he did what he always did: check to make sure his Vespa was where he left it. It was, but he was immediately distracted by peripheral movement.

  A girl half slid and half fell out of a big car and was beginning to stumble away, past a red Firebird, when three boys caught up with her.

  Clyde stopped in his tracks.

  It was Theo Driggs, Craig Ashworth, and a big thuggish guy from the shop class: Mickey Trammel. The girl was Audrey Reed.

  Clyde didn’t think anymore. He just ran, his pack bouncing roughly on his back and the wrapped vase cradled in the crook of his arm like a football.

  Craig was grabbing Audrey by her upper arms, yanking her upright.

  Clyde slowed just enough to set the vase safely on the ground; then, running closer, he yelled, “Hey!”

  It was as if he were the director and he’d just yelled, “Cut.” Everyone stopped and turned toward Clyde, including Audrey. Theo was the first to digest this development. He grinned and said, “Well, well. Here comes the cavalry.”

  Audrey was standing on her own, but Craig still held both her arms with gloved hands. Audrey’s face looked like white wax. The front of her sweater was wet.

  “What’s going on here?” Clyde said.

  Theo said, “Just visiting.”

  Clyde looked at Audrey, then at Craig. “Let her go.”

  Theo was grinning back, working on his next move, when a voice behind Clyde said, “Hey, what’s this?”

  Clyde turned and saw Mickey Trammel tearing the newspaper off of his vase. “Looks like one of those pottery projects,” he said, holding it up.

  Theo said to Clyde, “That breakable object yours, Mumsford?”

  Clyde didn’t answer. He was staring at his vase, which Mickey held casually in one hand.

  “Let’s see it,” Theo said, and Mickey flipped it his way.

  Theo caught it. He studied the vase, then Clyde. “Very nice work. Who’s it for?”

  Clyde didn’t answer.

  Theo shrugged, then said, “Mickey the T, on a slant pattern.” Mimicking a quarterback, he spiraled the vase toward large and flabby Mickey Trammel, who caught it bobblingly against his chest. Mickey trotted it back to Theo, who looked again at Clyde. “I can keep passing, but I can tell you right now, Mickey the T drops more than he catches.” He paused. “Now who is it for?”

  Clyde stared at the vase in Theo’s hand. “My mother,” he mumbled.

  “What?” Theo said, and cocked his arm as if to pass the vase again.

  “My mother,” Clyde said louder.

  Theo let out a harsh laugh. “Your mama,” he said, and began tossing the vase from one hand to the other.

  Clyde glanced around. Theo and Mickey were watching him with expectant faces, but Craig, the one who was still holding Audrey’s arm, was not. He was staring at the ground. Craig turned to Theo. “Cut him some slack, Theo,” Craig said in a low voice. “His mother’s sick.”

  Theo turned to the huge boy named Mickey and looked at him for a long, silent moment. Then he turned back to Clyde. “That true, Mumsford?”

  Clyde gave the slightest nod.

  Theo stared evenly at Clyde. “Okay, Mumsford, who does the cavalry want to save today? The rich girl who ratted on you, or the breakable object you made for your dying mama?”

  Clyde stared at him. It was as if Theo had read his mind.

  “I’m serious,” Theo said. “You get to save one or the other.”

  Clyde said, “Let Audrey go, Craig.”

  Theo laughed. “You either have to say ‘the rich girl who ratted on me,’ or ‘the breakable object I made for my dying mama.’ ”

  Clyde let a second or two pass, then said, “The rich girl who ratted on me.”

  He looked at Audrey, and Audrey looked at him.

  Theo, still holding the vase, shrugged. “Actually, it’s ex-rich girl, but still, our Mountie’s made his decision.” He turned to Audrey. “Adios, Miss Caviar. You’ve been rescued by a mummy.”

  Craig released Audrey’s arms, and Theo put her car keys into her hand. She moved in wobbly steps to her car. It took her a while to get the key into the ignition, but once she did, the car started and she drove away without looking back.

  Clyde stood with the others, watching her go. After she’d turned out of the parking lot, Theo turned to Clyde. “Didn
’t seem that grateful, did she?”

  Clyde didn’t speak immediately. Then he said, “Why’d you let her go?”

  Theo kept staring at the Lincoln’s red taillights receding into the dusk. He shrugged. “I don’t know, something happened to that girl when her father went bust. She just . . . kind of lost her shine.” He turned to Clyde and broke into a grin. “And then there’s the puking. There’s something about the libido that doesn’t like puke on the shoes.”

  Clyde realized that under different circumstances, he might have thought that was funny. But these weren’t different circumstances. He said, “What do you mean, her father went bust?”

  Theo cocked his head slightly. “You really aren’t the Yellow Guy, are you? Her father lost the fancy house, the fancy car, the whole fancy shebang.” A pause. “The Yellow Paper headline would read, ‘Riches to Rags.’ ”

  There was a silence then, and a stirring among Theo’s friends. There had been a strange loss of momentum. Mickey Trammel said, “Okay, Theo, where are we here?” Theo looked at Mickey, then at the vase in his hand, then at Clyde.

  “Visiting hour’s over,” he said, and, still staring at Clyde, he with one quick motion lofted the vase high into the air.

  Clyde’s eyes lifted to the blue vase spiraling up into the sky, where finally it seemed to stop suspended for a moment, then began plummeting straight down to the asphalt. Clyde shifted, bumped into Craig, but never took his eyes from the vase, even as it settled into his outstretched hands. He’d caught it.

  He looked at Theo, who was already turning away. “Merry Christmas, Mumsford,” Theo said, and as he made his way to the red Firebird, the others followed.

  Clyde stood in the cold, deserted parking lot, holding the vase tight in both hands, watching the low-slung Firebird drive away, and not knowing quite what to think of Theo Driggs, or of Audrey Reed, or of almost anything else in the world.

  Chapter 75

  The Arrival of a Present

  Once out of the parking lot, Audrey pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen looked exactly the same—she’d called no one. She must have hit the “clear” button by mistake. As she held the phone, her hand still trembled. What had Theo and his drones wanted? What were they going to do to her, because that was it, wasn’t it?—they meant to do something to her. She should call the police, she should call the school, she should do something.