Light as a Feather

by Zoe Aarsen

  “Ugh,” Mischa snorted. “She has the nerve to be in a good mood.”

  But Trey and I ignored her and taciturnly shared the same thought: She was already wearing her uniform. If she stopped by the locker room now, it would just be to stow her bag and dash off into the gym to warm up with the rest of the team. I would need her to be preoccupied down there for at least a few minutes to be successful, to catch her off guard and tear that locket off of her. The element of surprise was going to be critical for me.

  “Let’s go,” Trey said. “I can’t believe I almost graduated without ever attending a school basketball game.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, knowing that a few weeks ago he would never, ever have voluntarily attended a school sporting event.

  Inside the west doors of the school, we were greeted by two nerdy freshman girls seated at a card table, selling tickets. “Tickets are five dollars each,” the girls told us happily, stamping our hands with a red rubber PAID stamp. The halls were strangely empty, since it was evening, and unlit to deter kids from Angelica High from exploring our small school building during the game. A small roar of festivity was already coming from the gym, where dance music was being pumped over the sound system, popcorn and sodas were being sold, and parents from out of town were finding seats in the bleachers. We pushed our way into the gym and looked up into the bleachers for inconspicuous seats where fans of the home team would be sitting, where Pete’s parents had already spread out their coats and bags with his younger brothers and Jeff’s mom was making adjustments to her video camera in preparation for tip-off.

  My limbs already felt cold and numb with anticipation for the game to begin. We climbed the bleachers and sat nearly all the way at the top in a corner, where we hoped Violet might not notice us while performing dance numbers with the squad. Even after we sat for a few minutes and absorbed all the activity in the gym, none of the pom squad members from either school had drifted out onto the hardwood.

  “Where is she?” Trey wondered aloud.

  “Probably in the locker room, hanging out and warming up. Usually, the teams share the girls’ locker room,” Mischa informed us, having unique insight on the situation of teams sharing our school resources as a member of the cheerleading team during football season. “At least for home football games, that’s what happens. The cheerleading squad from the visiting school uses the locker room at the same time as us, and we just try not to talk to each other.”

  My stomach clenched at the thought of having to walk into the locker room and receive curious stares from girls on not only the Willow pom squad, but the Angelica pom squad too. More witnesses. More people trying to stop me if Violet cried out for help. More trouble for Trey to get into if he were to follow me in there and potentially observe girls from the visiting high school in a state of undress.

  “Do you think the pom squad will have to go down into the locker room again during the game?” Trey asked Mischa innocently. The music playing over the loudspeaker in the gym faded out and a new bass-heavy dance song came on, signifying the entrance of the Willow pom squad, which danced out onto center court and took formation. Violet, whose snug uniform fit her perfectly, stood in the center with her hands on her hips, beaming proudly. The rest of the team took their positions behind her, locking their overly exuberant smiles into place and tilting their hips.

  “Probably after halftime to freshen up,” Mischa mused as the dance routine began.

  After halftime. That made sense. The home team’s pom squad would presumably perform a rousing routine for at least five minutes. The opening routine was scandalously risqué. I could hardly believe I was at a high school basketball game in Wisconsin with all of the grinding, flashing, and chest popping going on. More than one dad wolf-whistled, and moms whispered disapprovingly in the bleachers. The rhythm of the music filled the entire gym, and the fans in the bleachers began stomping along with the beat. Violet loved the reaction of the crowd and her new, truer identity was in full bloom. There was no trace of the shy wallflower we had met in September out on the basketball court that November evening. The girl who led the dance routine that day seemed taller than the Violet we knew, more poised than her, radiating confidence. She seemed like a girl who had everything she wanted, and was afraid of nothing. She seemed, I shuddered to think, invincible.

  Throughout the routine, I kept waiting for Violet to spot us up in the bleachers and to lock eyes with me. Since sitting down in the gym I’d had an unshakable feeling that Violet knew we were present, and why we were present. When I went down to the locker room later, she would be expecting me. Things wouldn’t be as simple as Trey and I were hoping. There was absolutely nothing I could do, as that music played and the pom squad girls continued to shake their rear ends, as well as their pom-poms, to prepare. And yet her eyes never drifted up to where we had perched. The routine ended with Violet’s polished back handspring and midair Chinese splits, and as applause filled the gym, my eyes were focused on one thing only: the glimmer of light reflecting off of a gold chain around her neck.

  She was wearing the locket. It was just tucked underneath her tight black polyester team sweater, almost entirely out of view.

  Trey had seen that glimmer too, and he gently elbowed me.

  The pom squad sat down on the lowest bleacher, a few feet away from where our varsity basketball team took seats after they entered the gym to a round of applause. From our vantage point, we could look directly down upon Violet’s dark head, and watch her giggling and sharing secrets with the girls on her team. At tip-off, when Jeff and Pete strode onto the court to face the two forwards from Angelica, she sat up straight, paying close attention, her clasped hands held up to her mouth in anticipation. When Pete shot for his first basket of the evening from nearly midcourt and made it, Violet was on her feet in less than a second, arms in the air, cheering. When the ref called a foul on an Angelica forward who had accidentally tripped Pete as he dribbled the ball, she furrowed her brow and expressed her frustration to the girl sitting next to her, a senior named Annie whose brother was on the team.

  At the end of the first quarter, Willow was leading by nine points, and parents left the bleachers to visit restrooms and buy sodas while the coaches for both teams gave their athletes a pep talk. The pom squad from Angelica performed its first routine, and then the pom squad from our school stood and chanted a very quick cheer.

  In less than five minutes, the ref blew his whistle, summoning both teams of tall lanky boys back out onto the court. I hadn’t ever sat through an entire school basketball game because the marching band and color guard only performed at football games, and I was barely able to keep up with the rules of the game.

  Fifteen minutes later, as the second quarter came to an end, Angelica had somehow managed to catch up and tie the score. The pom squad from our school stood and filtered out of the gym through the doors on the other side of the huge room, the doors that led to the hallway by which the stairs leading to the locker rooms, weight room, and track were accessed.

  “Bathroom break,” I announced to Trey and Mischa, knowing that if Violet was on the move and the halftime show was our best chance to confront her, I’d be better off out of the bleachers, nimble and on my feet in the school’s hallways.

  “Me too,” Trey said, putting his green coat back on rather than leaving it in the bleachers.

  I looked helplessly at Mischa, wondering what we’d do if she insisted on joining us, but she just shrugged and continued drinking her diet soda.

  The acoustics of the hallway were a welcome change from the bone-rattling bass and echoing footsteps of the gym. Parents gossiped to our left in the line for soda and popcorn, and beyond them, the hallway curved around the outer perimeter of the gym toward the staircase down to the locker rooms. In the other direction, vending machines glowed and buzzed, and beyond them the hallway led to the west entrance to the school, where we had entered and bought our tickets. “Over here,” Trey urged me quietly, pulling me around the s
ide of the last vending machine in the row as the pom squad rounded the corner. Cautiously, we leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the team as they entered the gym. Music was starting for their halftime routine, and we crept forward, lingering in the doorway through which they had just passed to watch them assemble for their routine. The girls’ backs were toward us, and they formed a V shape in the center of the court, each girl crouching down on her knees, balancing her forehead on the floor, waiting for the bass to start booming. In succession, as the music picked up, each girl unfolded her body and climbed up gracefully to her feet. A dance remix of “Cry Out” by hip-hop artist Tiny J shook the gym with its bass line. Once all the girls were standing, they began dancing in unison and the crowd went wild.

  Trey turned to me and refocused my attention. “We should get downstairs and wait.”

  I nodded and looked out onto the basketball court one last time. Violet had thrown her arms in the air dramatically and spun around just in time to look directly at me where I lingered in the doorway, as if she had known where I was the whole time I’d been standing there. Her face was as expressionless as a plain piece of paper, and a moment later she continued her dance routine as if she had never noticed me, but I understood. She knew the time had come. She knew I’d come for her. My heart beat in my chest like there was a wild animal trapped in my rib cage trying to escape. The look in her eyes told me that if I didn’t come for her, she’d be coming for me.

  “I don’t know about this. I don’t think waiting in the locker room is the right approach anymore,” I mumbled to Trey nervously as he tore me away from the doorway and guided me down the hallway toward the stairs leading to the locker room entrance. Parents and teachers hovered near the doorway as the performance continued, paying us little attention as we moved farther down the unlit hall.

  “It’s the safest, McKenna. It’s a small space with only two ways in and out. I’ll go with you,” Trey tried to convince me.

  “She knows, Trey,” I protested, hearing how hysterical my voice sounded, and hating it. “She knows we’re going to be down there. I’m scared!”

  Trey put both of his hands on my shoulders in an attempt to calm me. “McKenna, listen to me. This is it. All we have is this one chance. Everything depends on this. You know that. Mischa’s life depends on us getting that locket away from Violet, and we have to do it right now!”

  The music booming from the gym was scattering my thoughts and making it impossible for me to visualize what I knew we needed to do: descend the stairs, pass through the entrance to the girls’ locker room, lurk somewhere out of sight like the shower stalls until we heard the pom squad enter, and then attack. That had been the plan in my head since the night before, when I had thought it through in such detail that I imagined feeling the warm sharpness of the metal chain against my palm as I tore the locket from Violet’s neck, smelled the lemony cleanser scent of the locker room, and saw myself sprinting away from the locker room, locket in hand. But that was where the fantasy ended. Father Fahey had said we needed to destroy the locket. How were we going to destroy something made of gold in a parking lot? How had we overlooked that critical detail until now?

  “It’s not right, Trey. The setting’s just not right. She can break away from me and go out the other exit, onto the track. I’ll never catch her. She’s faster than me, and then I will have blown it. I’ll never have a second chance if I attack her with so many witnesses and she gets away,” I rambled. His expression was one of such deep disappointment; I longed to trust his instincts, but everything just felt wrong. He looked so amazing in that moment, his pale eyes pleading with me, his mouth so pink and full, I was overwhelmed with wonderment that we had been sleeping in the same bed more nights than not and had done little more than kiss since the end of September. I fought the almost irresistible urge to forget all about Violet and drag him back to his mother’s car in the parking lot to tear his clothes off, to finally give in to the surge of desire for him I had been suppressing for weeks. As if something else was operating my body, I saw my own hand rise and stroke his smooth cheek, my thumb press upon his full lower lip.

  “McKenna, what are you . . .”

  I didn’t know what I was doing. It was as if my thoughts were being supplanted by something or someone else. Like I was being operated by some other force. And then I realized that probably was exactly what was happening. The spirit that controlled Violet was trying to distract me from what I had to do, and it was doing a darn good job of it.

  “Sorry,” I said, turning crimson and regaining control of my thoughts. I must have seemed like a complete nut, first being panicky and cowardly and then coming on to Trey so strongly. “Something is messing with my head. I don’t want to wait for her downstairs. Really, I think it’s a bad idea.”

  In the gym, I could hear the song winding down. Applause was rising and feet were stomping in the bleachers. The sound inside my ears was deafening. I felt as if my eardrums might explode, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to run from the high school and get out into the parking lot, away from the brain-aching noise. “McKenna,” Trey said firmly, shaking me.

  Before I had a chance to really get a grip on myself, the pom squad was exiting the gym. In single file, they rushed out, led by Shannon Liu, a senior still glowing from the excitement of the performance. The entire team jumbled together in front of my eyes like a wild octopus with twenty bare tan legs and long hair of every color, until my eyes settled on the girl at the heart of the group: the gorgeous girl with the ice-blue eyes. Violet.

  Without even thinking through exactly what I was doing, without even giving her a fraction of a second to look up and see me and Trey lurking in the shadow of the hallway, I sprang forward. I moved too quickly for Trey to hold me back, too quickly to even entertain the possibility that by acting so impulsively and recklessly, I was jeopardizing everything. Not a word left my lips as I threw the entire weight of my body at Violet, knocking Stephani deMilo out of my way and sending her crashing down onto the tile floor. I tackled Violet, pushing her backward, and as we both hit the floor I grabbed for her locket, gritting my teeth as I felt my fingers wrap around the gold chain that disappeared beneath her sweater.

  “Hey! No! Help!” Violet cried out as soon as she realized what had happened. I was on top of her, pinning her to the floor with my knees pressed against her shoulders. I was sure that I was hurting her, but didn’t have time to care.

  The chain was surprisingly strong, although the gold looked delicate and old. I tugged on the chain hard enough to break the clasp, I was sure, and yet just as I felt the metal about to snap, I felt strong hands under my arms, pulling me backward. I was yanked off of Violet with such force, I felt the locket slip through my fingers in an instant, and gaped at it as I saw it—the embossed heart dangling by the delicate gold thread—snap back into place over Violet’s sweater.

  “What in God’s name?!” Coach Simon yelled from behind me. I recognized the voice of the boys’ basketball coach even though I had never exchanged words with him before. Even before my feet found the ground and stabilized so that I could stand on my own, behind me, Trey tackled Coach Simon from the side, knocking him to the ground. I fell over with them since Coach Simon still had a strong grip on my arms, but I regained my balance faster. Back on my feet and suddenly liberated, I turned to see Trey struggling to keep the tall, balding coach down on the ground.

  “Run, McKenna!” Trey yelled.

  And so I turned back to my left and saw Violet climbing up to her feet.

  There was commotion everywhere—other teachers and parents rushing toward Trey and me—but nothing was going to stop me. With determination unlike any supply of energy I had ever sensed before in my life, I charged toward Violet like a tiger, blowing past the other girls on the pom squad. She darted just fast enough to escape my grabbing fingertips, and she ran toward the staircase leading to the locker room entrance at top speed. I was steps behind her, skipping stairs to catch up to her,
and clumsily missed a step. With a sickening feeling in my stomach because I knew every part of my body was about to start hurting a lot, I crashed into Violet from the back, sending her tumbling forward. She fell face-first down at least four steps, and then bounced down two more, buffering the fall with her arms outstretched as her knees tucked around to one side. With more velocity on my side, I fell over her, surely hurting her back and shoulders as I tumbled forward, and I rolled down the rest of the stairs tucked into a ball, feeling every single stair jut into my rib cage until I hit the floor at the bottom.

  I took a deep breath, sure that the warmth that I felt on my forehead was blood, and before I even gave myself a moment to adjust to the terrible pain setting in along my back and ribs, I saw Violet collect herself and sprint toward the locker rooms. Hearing footsteps and concerned voices calling out to me from the top of the stairs, asking if I was okay, I struggled to get up on my feet. With no time to lose, I ran toward the locker room. My left hip crashed into the door frame as I entered, releasing another blinding jolt of pain through my body. I didn’t wait for the pain to swell along my left side, and followed Violet into the cool, calm locker room, losing sight of her the moment I entered as she dashed behind a row of blue steel lockers.

  I rounded the corner carelessly, only realizing after I stood there, unsure of where she’d gone, that she could easily have been waiting for me, ready to bash a garbage can or something over my head. For a second, I stood perfectly still, barely daring to breathe, desperately trying to hear any noise that might have indicated the direction in which she had darted. That second passed, and I heard nothing but the footsteps and voices of girls and parents following us into the locker room. I had to move quickly; I couldn’t risk being detained by parents. Since the moment that locket had grazed my fingertips, I knew I needed to feel it in my grasp again. It felt as if my skin was hungering for it, craving it.

  To my right, I saw the row of blue bathroom stalls past the small walled-off square that served as Coach Stirling’s office. It was possible but not likely that Violet might have stepped into a stall to hide from me, but I couldn’t afford to waste a few seconds checking. To my left were the white-tiled blocks of showers, their walls definitely tall enough to hide Violet if she had stepped into one to dodge me. Beyond the showers were the rows of lockers and then the double doors, locked from the inside at night, leading out onto the track. Having no option but to keep moving, I headed for the last cube of showers after a moment’s hesitation, hearing the voices of other people from the gym chasing me into the locker room.