The Healing Power of Sugar: The Ghost Bird Series: #9 (The Academy Ghost Bird Series) (27 page)

A man in a dark jogging outfit and sneakers stepped forward. His skin was dark and his features were perhaps Mexican or Puerto Rican. He had a handsome face, with a goatee and neatly-combed, slicked black hair. He rolled his eyes at the woman. “I just thought it’d be better if we sat together, instead of split up between different tables.”

“The kids can sit at their own tables. Give us parents a break,” the woman said. “It’s goddamn Thanksgiving, isn’t it?”

“You mean Thanks
taking
,” said another man in the group. He had very native features, with long dark hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Another woman standing next to him—also native—tugged at his elbow. “You say that every year,” she said, her cheeks pink in her embarrassment. “You can’t keep talking about it.”

“I don’t blame
them
,” he said. I suspected they were married and when I glanced at their hands, I saw matching wedding bands. “They weren’t here hundreds of years ago. It’s just awkward to be part of a neighborhood Thanksgiving when for us, it really was taking our land.”

The woman pinched his arm, and he winced. “Our land is over there at the end of the block. We paid for it, remember? We choose to be here—today is about community.” She smiled at us and shrugged. “Sorry. Some people just can’t let things go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the black woman said, waving her hand as she rolled her eyes. “You give us grief every year, but you’re always the one who eats nearly a whole turkey for himself. I’d call
that
a
Takes
giving.”

The others in the group laughed and Dr. Green joined in. I smiled, but held onto Dr. Green as Mr. Blackbourne broke away to address the group. “Let’s focus on setting up a buffet table, so when the food gets here, we’ve got a place to put it. Then we can figure out where you want the seating tables.”

Everyone murmured in agreement, so Mr. Blackbourne pointed out the best spot for the buffet tables. The others worked together to start dragging tables to where he suggested.

I stood by and hoped to stay out of the way. Dr. Green lingered behind with me, a small smile on his face. “They’re a fun group,” he said. “Nice people.”

I nodded, watching them. I gathered they were all neighbors, but counted only six people. I looked around us, at the various homes, and especially the clusters of toys. Where were the rest of them?

Suddenly, I heard shouts coming from one of the houses down the street. Then more from the opposite side, a few homes down.

“What’s going on?”

“The games,” Dr. Green said, turning slightly toward the houses, a small smile on his face. He looked at the homes with a knowing gaze.

“The games?” I asked. I pictured board games, but couldn’t imagine people getting so excited about Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit.

“Football,” he said. “There’s a rivalry. Fans of one team go to one house.” He pointed to one of the noisy homes and then to the other. “And the others go to another house. They’ll come out when the game is done.”

I felt silly for thinking Monopoly. I’d forgotten that other people liked to watch football games on Thanksgiving.

I considered what I might do when those games were finished. They’d all come out here. This was a planned Thanksgiving dinner. More people. My shoulders and stomach tightened. It was hard to relax with so many surprises; a lot to take in during a single day. I drew closer to Dr. Green.

He took up my hand without any hesitation, and then turned me toward Mr. Blackbourne’s car. He did a slow walk towards it, tugging me along. “Let’s unload. Mr. Blackbourne has enough hands to get the tables right. Too many cooks in the street can slow things down.”

I smiled at his strange phrase. He seemed to want to stay out of the way, too. Did he get jittery around people, too? Or was he doing this for me?

Halfway back to the car, his hand drew tighter around mine. The laughter in his green eyes softened to something much more soothing. “You look a little nervous,” he said.

I tilted my head and shrugged, pretending I was better than I really felt. “New people and a new place,” I said. “There’s been a few surprises today already. I’m sorry if I’m acting weird.”

“You’re acting like Sang Sorenson, which is exactly how you’re supposed to be.” He winked at me and squeezed my fingers between his. “I like you the way you are. An introvert. A bit shy. But once we’re by ourselves, you open up. I like that. You’re a little flower, pookie. You bloom when I’m around, which makes me want to be around you more.”

My cheeks heated. I wanted to appreciate his compliments, but the casual way he pointed out my shyness made me feel even more flawed. Was it normal to be so nervous? I used to think I’d be excited to be out among people, curious about what life was like beyond the boundary my stepmother used to set for me.

I slid my fingertips against the skin of his hand, fidgeting. “Everyone else seems so quick to open up to new people. I wish I could be like that.”

“You don’t seem afraid to speak your mind to us when it really matters,” he said. “Don’t be afraid to be yourself. It’s okay to be a shy person. It’s not wrong to be that.” He paused right before we got to the trunk of the car and turned to me. “I hope you’ll tell me whatever you’re thinking.”

I knew he was asking me specifically about my thoughts of learning about his troubles at school. I looked toward the car again, avoiding his eyes, embarrassed to admit my feelings. “I was worried about you,” I said after taking a deep breath. “When the school counselor mentioned you were in trouble, I thought I’d be called in. I never was, though, and no one talked about it. It made me worry something was very wrong.”

He chuckled, but it was forced. “You concerned about me?”

I nodded, still not able to meet his eyes. “That and I’m partially to blame, of course.”

“You shouldn’t be blamed at all,” he said. “Neither one of us should. Well, maybe me a little.”

“We were both in it together,” I said, looking up at him now. The lightness in his smile had diminished. I wanted to hug him, but felt it was inappropriate now in public. Sadly, the incident had made me feel awkward around him and I didn’t want to get him into further trouble. “I’m the one that got suspension, plus my schedule got changed. I wondered if part of it was because somehow Ms. Wright knew I was involved. Only no one would tell me directly.”

He sliced his hand through the air. “Your suspension has nothing to do with us,” he said. “Sang, you don’t have to worry. Really. We’ve got a family meeting this weekend to discuss all this and our game plan. Mr. Blackbourne didn’t want us to ruin the holiday with talk of school and he’s right; I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

I could understand that, but the whole ordeal had me stressed. It was easy for them, I supposed. Outside of Dr. Green, no one else seemed to be in any real trouble. The boys had volunteered to join me in suspension, but none of their teachers had said a word about it and I wasn’t even sure Ms. Wright noticed. I wasn’t even sure how they got away with it.

Maybe they weren’t her concern. The boys were confident that we would stay in school for now, but I’d be in different classes. How would that work and how could they relax when there were so many things to figure out?

Dr. Green’s elbow nudged me in the arm, forcing me out of my deep thoughts. “I’m worried this new situation has upset you. Has it made things awkward with us?”

I stilled, wanting to say no, absolutely not awkward. It would have been a lie, though. “It makes it harder now,” I said. “We didn’t have to worry before. Maybe we were hiding it a little, but no one was looking at us. Now
everyone
is looking at us. I worry about who else will notice and if they’d say anything.”

“That’s something neither of us should have to feel,” he said. He dipped his head down, looking at his shoes. “I didn’t want for us to focus on being teacher and student at all. We’re both young, about the same age. I want to get to know you. Damn it, we’re only three years apart.” He let out a frustrated groan and then proceeded to the BMW. Using his own set of keys, he opened the trunk.

Inside, there was a crate filled with tablecloths, pumpkins, plastic cutlery, plates, cups and napkins. The sets of tableware were in a variety of shades of brown, orange and some deeper greens in honor of the holiday.

He sorted through the items, although slowly, like he was in deep thought. “Owen agrees with me, you know,” he said over his shoulder. “But he blames me for being careless. I should have known better, perhaps taken you to my house. Although since we were photographed, he’s warned me to keep my distance from you and to keep things friendly. Mostly to avoid any more trouble until we can figure out who is behind this.”

Had I heard that right? He’d swept by it so quickly, that I wasn’t sure. “Photographed?” I asked.

“When we kissed, it wasn’t just someone watching us. Someone took a photo, and sent it in to the main office, letting it circulate. I’m sure it was the same person who started the rumors that I was with a student.”

My mouth fell open. My first thought was that it had to be one of Mr. Hendricks’s goons that had caught up to us. My face blazed, thinking of all the people would could see the photo at school, and how embarrassing it must have been for Dr. Green. Had no one recognized me somehow? The other kids at school would have surely said something if they’d heard about it. “When? Who took it?”

Dr. Green picked up one of the pumpkins and then held it in his hands, looking it over. “I think it was Volto.”

I gasped, then the world seemed to still around us. I’d heard that name too much this week. Was this what he had tried to warn us he was about to do?

But it was Luke who admitted to putting up the masks. “Why do you suspect it’s Volto?”

“I shouldn’t be talking about this.” He smiled lightly again and looked at me. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

“I won’t feel comfortable until we do talk about it,” I said. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart racing. My gaze went to the street, as if Volto could be watching now, waiting for another opportunity to snap a photo.

“It’s done now,” he said. “Although luckily, the photos only really show me. It was only rumors that I was kissing a student. The photos don’t show you very clearly.”

“They don’t?”

“Owen thinks they’re blurred on purpose. He checked the photos, and they look altered. I could tell them it was a rumor and that it was someone else. But if Volto has these photos, he might send in the real ones or ones with more details. The fact that your face is blurred is the only reason I’m not getting into too much trouble. The faculty is pointing fingers at me, but they don’t have much in the way of proof.”

“Why would he only send in altered pictures?” I asked.

“I have a feeling it is more to protect you than to help me,” he said. “He’s trying to get our attention and it feels like a warning. To stay away from you. Get too close to you, and he’ll make sure I’m caught in a situation where it’s more than rumors.”

“He thinks he’s protecting me…” The unease was like standing at the edge of a cliff and not knowing how to balance myself. “I wish he’d know that with you all, I’m fine.”

“For whatever reason, he’s warning me to stay away.”

What right did Volto have to be concerned for me? He was just misguided, but this upset me more than the other problems he’d caused. This could threaten Dr. Green’s reputation and career if anyone really wanted to press the issue.

Knowing how parents and schools operated, even a whisper of a teacher getting too close to a student meant trouble. I remembered in my old school where a very handsome substitute teacher was often photographed by female students in secret. It went on for a while until a parent found the photos on a student’s phone, one where he seemed to be smiling at the camera. The student talked about him as if she was dating him. It was clearly a teenage fantasy, but it was a little too much for the parent who’d complained to the school principal. The teacher had never returned to the school.

“Are you going to have to leave the school?” I asked.

“I’m considering it on my own,” he said. “I’m not one to give up, but all it would take is one overprotective parent to hear a rumor like that, and then we’d have a media parade. A million people making judgments on rumors and speculation will bring way more attention to us than we really want.”

I sighed. It didn’t look like there was a way around it. He could suggest it was a rumor, and continue on, but then he and I would absolutely have to stay away from each other, playing into what Volto seemed to want. Or he could quit, and then be giving up what they’d come to Ashley Waters to accomplish.

The other thing that bothered me was Volto’s knack for photography. This wasn’t the first time he’d used it against us. He made sure we knew that he could always take a photo, and show the world what we thought we did in private.

My thoughts fell to Luke again. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help think about his collection of photographs. Could he be using it as a way to separate me from the others, so they’d keep their distance? Would he use such tactics because he didn’t like the plan North and Mr. Blackbourne had been working on?

I couldn’t imagine it, but some of the evidence might be pointing to him.