Authors: Carol M. Tanzman
13
There’s something sad about a rainy November night.
That’s when the last autumn leaves, plucky survivors desperately clinging to
their branches, give up and flutter to the ground. I vow that will not happen to
me. I’m determined to get to the bottom of a story wrapped in mystery, confusion
and obvious attempts to make me stop.
“Val?” Bethany asks. “You up?”
“I am now.”
Over in her bed, my sister leans an arm under her cheek so that
she’s half facing me. “You know those stories you’re doing? The ones about MP?
Did you find out anything yet? Like who they are?”
I sit straight up “Why? Did you hear we did?”
Outside, a crack of thunder. Inside, Bethany shakes her head.
“I just remembered that box that showed up last week. The one that said put an
application in if you want to join.”
“You didn’t drop your name in there, did you?” I ask.
“No!” She looks surprised—and then disappointed that she hadn’t
considered it. “I figured you have to be a senior or at least a junior.”
“There’s something weird about them, Bethany. Something
dangerous.”
Her mouth falls open. “There wasn’t anything explosive in the
box, was there? Why didn’t you tell me? I stood really close—”
“Don’t get carried away. Nothing blew up.”
“Then what are you talking about?” she snaps. “What’s so
dangerous about them?”
“You know the story about the bird we did?” I ask.
Although
Campus News
aired the
footage, Mr. Carleton insisted we leave out exactly whose locker it was.
“For your protection
,
Val. You
don’t want anyone else to get ideas.”
“Yeah, I saw it,” Bethany tells me.
“That’s what I’m talking about. It’s not a smart idea to hang
out with anyone who kills animals.”
“I like animals, Val. Don’t you know that?”
“Most people do.” I sigh. “Bethany, if you never listen to a
word I say after tonight, that’s okay. But until
Campus
News
learns that MP isn’t some weird cult like we think it is, don’t
get fooled into thinking they’re cool.”
“When will you find out?”
I can’t hide my frustration. “How should I know?”
She shakes her head, obviously disgusted with me. “What’s the
point of having a sister on
Campus News
if you can’t
ever figure anything out?”
“Sorry to be such a disappointment!”
She doesn’t respond. I decide it’s time to change the topic.
“Bethany?”
“What?”
I’m about to pop “the boyfriend question,” but the words stick
to my tongue. For the past several weeks, my sister’s gotten up early every day
to wash her hair. She spends at least an hour the night before deciding what to
wear. It’s the most…interested in anything I’ve seen her be since she discovered
the Video Arcade a couple of summers ago. If that doesn’t spell
B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D,
I don’t know what does. But she has
a different lunch period than me, so I don’t know who she eats with.
“Never mind,” I say.
With an annoyed huff, she turns to face the far side of the
room. After a few minutes, my sister’s asleep. I, however, am wide-awake.
Honestly. Even when Bethany isn’t trying, she makes me feel like a piece of
crap. Gossip buzzes around WiHi like mosquitoes at a picnic. It shouldn’t be
this hard to find a clue as to who’s pulling pranks all over the school. Any
clue at all.
As if my life isn’t lame enough, Marci’s been bugging me on
almost a daily basis about Raul. “Boys are shy. If you keep treating him like
just another guy on the team, he won’t step up.”
It’s hard. I get that Raul’s cute. But whenever I close my
eyes, the arms I imagine wrapped around me aren’t his. Not that Jagger’s said or
done anything personal since the hug at my locker. Still, I can’t help what
sticks in my mind. What I dream about.
I’m absolutely pathetic.
Outside the wind gusts, rattling the window. I brush my finger
across the pane. The relentless storm has turned the glass ice-cold.
14
On Friday, everyone on the team, except for Jagger, is
in a terrible mood. The rain hasn’t stopped for two days. Our most boring
broadcast airs. Without an MP story, we’re just another dull news team.
“Cheer up,” Jagger tells us. “MP will make a move soon.”
“Did anyone consider the fact that if they hadn’t started doing
all this stuff, we’d have been forced to find something good to report about a
long time ago?” Marci shakes her head. “We’re coasting, guys. Waiting for MP to
do something.”
Jagger looks confident. “They will.”
“How do you know?” Raul demands. “No one’s heard from them
since the box disappeared.”
“Think about it.” Jagger drops his tilted chair forward with a
bang. “You don’t do all that stuff, get away with it and stop. You keep going.
Come up with bigger ideas, take more chances.”
Marci unwraps a cough drop. Like half the kids in school, she
has a wicked cold. “You think they’re planning something creepier?”
“Makes sense.”
Intent, I lean foward. “Jagger, if you know something you’re
not telling us, fess up right now!”
“Okay, okay. I’m MP,” he says.
Everyone stares. Not a single breath is taken. The silence
around the table is so thick I feel like I’m at the bottom of a well.
Jagger laughs. “Gotcha!”
Henry blinks. Raul looks pissed.
Omar shakes his head. “You really are an asshole! Cute—but an
asshole just the same!”
Before Marci seconds the opinion, I say, “Moving on. Does
anyone have any ideas about how to get the story going? My sister, who barely
talks to me, accused me of being stupid. We need to get back in the hunt!”
“It’s what I’m trying to tell you. MP has the power right now,
but once they start pulling new stunts, they’ll slip up. That’s how we track
them down.” Jagger laughs. “Or not. Sitting around moping and making dumb
accusations won’t do us any good. Instead, we should be setting stories for the
next broadcast.”
I push my notebook forward. “Go for it.”
Jagger thinks a moment before accepting the challenge. “How
about a Spotlight on Alicia Ruffino? I heard her talking in Trig. She’s
choreographing the musical. Or starring in it. Something like that.”
“Ali won’t be interviewed,” I tell him smugly. “I tried last
year. She turned me down flat.”
“Maybe you should have used a little more charm.”
Marci scoffs. “Like you? Puh-leeze.”
Henry, however, lights up. “I’ll go with you. Ali’s pretty.” He
shoots a sidewise glance at Marci. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Is the
kid trying to make her jealous?
“Sure.” Jagger pats Henry on the shoulder. “I’ll show you how
it’s done.”
Marci rolls her eyes and turns to me. “I haven’t directed yet
and Omar’s only anchored once, so we’ll team. That leaves you with Raul.”
I give her
the look
. “You have it
all worked out.”
“Don’t you want to be with me?” Raul asks with a mock-hurt
expression. At least, I hope he’s faking it.
“Of course I do,” I say hastily. “I love working with you.
Seriously.”
“Oooh….” Jagger mimics my voice fairly accurately. “Love
working with you.”
“Child! Can you be more annoying?” Honestly, the minute I think
Jagger’s serious about
Campus News,
he proves me
wrong. Unless that’s his reaction to Raul and me working together. Jagger won’t
have me—but Raul can’t, either?
Not fair, Jags. Not fair at
all.
Across the room, Mr. Carleton calls out, “Everything okay?”
Jagger waves him off. “We’re oh so excited to get to work.”
Mr. Carleton peers over his glasses. “Glad to hear it! Too many
of you just sitting around…”
Raul starts to toss out ideas. Henry and Jagger begin to fill
out a fresh Question Sheet. They’ll probably get that interview with Ali and
make it kick-ass just to prove me wrong.
Raul nudges my arm. “Which story do you like better?”
Startled, I turn. I haven’t heard a single thing he said.
* * *
It takes another couple of days before the storm pushes
past Brooklyn. Rain-slicked streets, bare branches and a bitter wind are all
that remain. The official start of winter is more than a month away, but the
weather is an unruly toddler who can’t read a calendar.
I stay late to work on a piece about Academic Decathlon.
Passing Tony’s Pizzeria on the way home, I notice Jagger and Henry sitting at a
window table. Henry sees me at the same time and waves me in. Curious, I stop at
the counter to get the special before making my way over to them. Jagger’s got
his legs sprawled across his side of the booth. I couldn’t sit beside him even
if I wanted to.
I slide next to Henry. “How’s it going?”
“We’re celebrating. We got an interview with Ali. Plus, she let
us shoot rehearsal.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
Jagger watches us quietly.
“Good for you,” I say. “Did you remember to return the
camera?”
Henry pats his backpack. “Tomorrow.”
Jagger glances out the window. “Maybe you should get home
before it’s too late. You don’t want to be walking in the dark with expensive
equipment in your backpack.”
For someone so smart, Henry’s eating out of Jagger’s hand.
“Good thinking, Jags. See you guys tomorrow.”
I wait until he’s out the door. “I’m asking nicely, Voorham.
Don’t corrupt the kid.”
Jagger grabs Henry’s leftover crust. “I’m not. But he’s a
senior like the rest of us. You all treat him like a Chia Pet.”
I keep a straight face. “If he were a Chia Pet, he’d get a
haircut once in a while.”
Jagger laughs. “You stay late to edit?”
“No ESP points. I’m predictable. It’s you that’s the shock. You
actually hung around after the bell to work on a class project?”
He shrugs. “Ali invited me to rehearsal. And—”
“She’s soooo pretty,” I say.
His eyes crinkle. “Do I detect a bit of jealousy?”
I take a bite of my pizza. “None whatsoever.”
He gets a satisfied
I don’t believe you
look. All I can think is
Please don’t do this. I
can’t go through it again. The way my insides melted whenever you looked at
me. Waiting on pins and needles for your call. Insane happiness when it
happened. Horrible numb feeling if it didn’t….
Jagger slurps my lemonade.
“Hey!”
“I left you some.” Jagger gives me the cup and his hand brushes
mine. “I— Damn.” He glances at the tacky Leaning Tower of Pisa clock on the
wall. “Gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.”
He’s out the door in less than twenty seconds. Without glancing
over his shoulder, Jagger waves, arrogantly certain I’m watching. Disgusted with
myself, I sink into the booth, staring out the window. The gray day has morphed
into a surprisingly soft evening. Colors splash across the still-wet asphalt:
stoplight-red, neon purple, fruity-orange. People exit the subway wearing
slickers with a rubbery sheen. Brooklyn Heights, now a watercolor painting,
pulls me deep into thought.
Why can’t I figure him out? Every time it seems like Jagger’s
about to apologize, or explain or maybe beg forgiveness, he cuts it off. He was
the one who pushed me away—but lately it’s like he’s not sure that’s what he
wants.
Except I can’t go back. I never, ever want to feel so hurt
again….
The insistent wail of an ambulance jolts me into the present.
The emergency vehicle flies down Montague, heading urgently toward the
Promenade. The light atop the roof flashes garishly. I take it as a sign from
whoever runs the universe, telling me that staying away, keeping my distance
from Jagger, is the right thing to do.
Power is pleasure; and pleasure sweetens pain.
William Hazlitt
MP LOG
Yeah, man, this is what I’m talking about. The world is a
swirling mass of energy, all boxed up. Once you let it out, you can’t control
it. You never know what’s going to happen, but it’ll definitely be better than
what came before.
The initiation was an easy ten out of ten. When you hit that
high mark the first time out, man, there’s nothing like it in the world.
We found a spot on the Promenade where a rock wall curves
down from the street above. It’s a couple stories high. We told the new girl to
get there first and stare at Manhattan across the river. Then we snuck out from
our hiding places and warned her not to turn around. I brought my camera and
started snapping pics while one of the chicks blindfolded her. The new girl took
the oath of silence, stood on the wall and then, just like we planned,
Frankenstein told her to start walking down.
The rain ended about an hour before, so no one got wet. I
kept snapping pics, following her. I leaned in close. Then boom, pow, her foot
slipped—and she flew over the wall. A cracking sound echoed as she hit the
ground.
In that moment, it became crystal clear to me. The alignment
of our power is almost complete. It cannot be stopped.
At the bottom level, a metal fence separates the Promenade
walkway from the rock wall. In between the two, there’s a group of bushes.
That’s where she landed.
Phantom climbed the fence and took off the blindfold. The
new girl was crying, saying, “It hurts so bad.” Without asking anyone, Phantom
called 911. That’s when the new chick stopped for a minute and said, “I won’t
tell what happened. I took the oath. I still want to be in the group, so can
I?”
I said, “Hell yes, if you say you were by yourself when you
fell.” She nodded. I said to the rest, “Get going. Phantom, you have to stay
because you called the cops. When the ambulance shows up, just keep saying like
you did on the phone that you were taking a walk and found her.”
Just before I left, I snapped a couple of pictures of her
leg. The bone stuck out and there was all sorts of blood. When I got home I blew
up the photos on my computer.
Best pics I ever took.