The Unquiet (14 page)

“Tell me about it.” Tasha fake-shudders as Mr. Mancini stumbles outside. With one long evil leer, he unsteadily heads off. “Weirdo,” she adds, giggling.

“Stop it!” Meg barks.

“What? He didn’t hear me!”

“Not that—this buzzing!” Meg bats at her head. “It’s like a
bee
flew in my ears.”

“Or maybe a roach,” Tasha says unhelpfully. “I heard they like to do that.”

“It’s not a roach!”

I flash Tasha a look. “Meg, maybe you should go to the emergency room.”

“No! That’ll take hours. I can’t miss the game.” Cupping her ears, she adds irritably, “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got warm-ups in one hour.” She starts off ahead of us, the crisp wind tossing her pale ponytail.

Tasha nudges me. “Something’s not right. I’m worried about her.”

Me, too.

Not being a football fan, I didn’t want to come to this game. Plus it starts at 2:00, the witching hour for my meds. But with Nate marching, the least I could do is show up.

The band crosses the field, playing “Hang on, Sloopy.” Cheerleaders leap, chant, and shriek, threatening the first-row spectators with flying feet and pom-poms. Nate, a big hunk of gorgeous in his scarlet and gold uniform, whacks his drum as the band struts for the sideline. I wave wildly. I doubt he sees me.

Beside me in the stands, Tasha remarks, “I can’t believe Lacy made it.”

Me, either. Only an hour ago, between her migraine and morning sickness, Lacy had her head in a toilet bowl. Now her
toes kick to unbelievable heights, and she flips up her pleated skirt every chance she gets. I wonder how much longer she’ll be able to squeeze into that uniform?

Up at the microphone, Mr. Solomon drones a welcome to the Kellersberg Vikings. “And now our own Cecilia Carpenter will sing the National Anthem for us.”

As Cecilia joins him on the platform, a girl behind me yells, “MOO!” I send
shut up
to her and her hee-hawing friends, then hold my breath and silently cheer Cecilia on.

Cecilia smiles shyly and opens her mouth: “Oh say can you
seeee
… by the dawn’s early
liiight
…”
Liiight
ends with a guttural note, like she needs to hawk up a loogie. “What so
proud
ly we hail …”

Off-key, off-key, oh, she is sooo off-key!

Tasha nudges me. “Oh, man, what’s
with
her?”

Snickers and snorts abound from the less mature onlookers. Others exchange sympathetic glances. Baffled, I listen as Cecilia bravely continues, and
nothing’s
in tune, not one single note. The harder she tries, the worse she sounds.

When a rumble rises, Cecilia cuts off. Silent, she teeters at the microphone as the audience—mostly kids, but plenty of parents, too—grows noisier by the moment. I want to scream
Shut up! Can’t you see she’s embarrassed?

Finally Mr. Solomon steps forward. He swings his arm around Cecilia and leads her away. She stumbles once, and Moo Girl behind me announces, “Ya know, if she busts through that stage it’s gonna take a crane to pull her out!”

My instinct is to ignore her; Cecilia’s too far away to hear. Besides, she already made it clear she wants nothing to do with me. Why start a fight on
her
behalf?

Then I think about all Mom’s antibullying lectures.

I remember how I felt when people made fun of
me
.

So I turn around. It’s Lindsay McCormick, that girl who works in the school office. “You think that’s funny?”

Laughing too hard to answer, Lindsay buries her face into her tank-sized boyfriend.

“Gotta problem?” Tank inquires without malice.

“No, I think
you’ve
got the problem,” I reply.

As soon as I turn back, Lindsay toes me in my spine. I manage to resist the impulse to rip off her foot—but if she kicks me again, she’ll be very,
very
sorry.

Halftime. The home team’s ahead. Jared O’Malley scored four touchdowns already.

After ten minutes of cheers, backflips, and flashes of thigh, the squad springs effortlessly into a human pyramid. I remember reading in
Time
, or maybe
Newsweek
, that schools all over the country are banning these dangerous stunts. Guess no one in River Hills reads
Time
or
Newsweek
.

I don’t see it happen because Lindsay McCormick takes this opportunity to grind her toe into my kidney. I whirl around. “You do that again and I’ll …!”

Just then a collective gasp of horror rises up from the crowded bleachers.

Tripping down from the stands, Tasha and I make it to the sideline in time to hear Meg protest, “I’m okay, I’m okay!” She wrestles away from the burly medics the school keeps on
hand for these games, though normally for the players. “I just lost my balance.”

“Lost your balance?” Lacy shouts. “You
creamed
me!” Although it was Meg who free-fell from the top of the pyramid, it’s Lacy who received the brunt of the impact: bloody knees, a fat lip, and definitely a bruised ego. “We’ve done that stunt a bazillion times! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know! I, I’ve been dizzy lately, and—”

Coach Koenig towers over Meg. The rest of cheerleaders scamper smartly out of the way. “Dizzy? And you didn’t tell me?”

“It comes and goes,” Meg stammers.

The coach puffs out her cheeks. “You had no business performing today and putting everyone at risk. What were you thinking?” Meg stares at the ground. “That’s it. You’re out.”

Meg’s face jerks up. “You can’t kick me out. I’m captain!”

“Well, I say you’re out for the game. And if you don’t bring me a doctor’s note saying you’re fit to perform, you’re out for good.”

“But I’m fine!”

“It’s
not
fine to lose your balance in the middle of a stunt. You have one week to bring me that note. Got it?” Meg recoils as Coach Koenig blows her whistle. “Anyone who’s hurt, get back here on the double. The rest of you, back in place!”

“You can’t kick me off!” Meg screams.

Lacy springs over to Tasha and me. “Do you believe this? I’m gonna kill her!”

“Just be glad nobody really got hurt,” I snap.

“She was walking funny, right? And when I asked her about it, she’s all, ‘Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine.’ But she kept messing up.
Everyone noticed! Then she blows the pyramid. She landed right
on
me.”

“Those stunts are dangerous,” I say. “People have been paralyzed, even killed.”

Lacy slams me with a murderous look. “Oh, Rinn. Shut up.”

She bounces off after the second whistle blow. As Coach Koenig propels a tearful Meg away, Tasha worries, “I hope Lacy’s okay. I mean, if Meg
fell
on her …

Right, the baby. I didn’t think of that.

Because I’m sick of Lindsay McCormick’s foot, and Nate can’t see me from the field, and Tasha finds football as infinitely boring as I do, we mutually agree to ditch the game altogether. Current score: River Hills 33, Kellersberg 0. It’s a no-brainer anyway.

“Wow,” Nate remarks when I open the front door.

My skirt twirls around me when I waltz in a circle. Mom hemmed it so I could skip high heels, which I hate, and wear my black ballerina flats. “Not too goth-queenish, is it?”

“No, I think you look …” He clears his throat, and then slips into his farmer-boy persona. “You look mighty fancy there, Miz Rinn.
Mighty
fancy.”

It’s so cute that he’s too embarrassed to say I look nice. He looks mighty fine, too, in a suit and tie, instead of his usual flannel and denim.

“Where’s your mom? Don’t we get a lecture about keeping our hands to ourselves?”

“Already at school. She’s chaperoning.” God knows I tried to talk her out of it.

Nate groans. “So’s my dad.”

Great! Mom and Mr. Brenner in the same place for an entire evening? Generally they avoid each other at all costs. I hope there’s a fire hose handy.

Because it’s cold and rainy—when is it ever anything else?—I wear my sneakers and change into my flats at school. I stash the Keds in my book bag along with my candleholder and hide it under a table. I didn’t mention the séance to Nate yet. Will he think it’s stupid? Juvenile? Will he lecture me about sneaking into the tunnel when Mr. Solomon ordered us to stay out of it this weekend?

Tasha, with her pixie cut sculpted up with too much gel, in a dress scarily similar to a First Communion frock, joins us. Lacy follows, in red satin and assorted bandages. And Dino, of course, who just “happens” to be with her.

He grins at me, ignoring Nate. “Hey, Rinn.” He looks nice tonight, too. Clean, even.

“Hey, Dino.”

“Hey, Dino,” Nate echoes pointedly.

“Nate.”

They regard each other with hooded eyes, two gunfighters out of one of Nana’s old-time Westerns. Thankfully Meg appears with Jared O’Malley. I smile with relief. “Meg! You okay?”

“Yeah.” Meg tugs up a dress strap. “I’m fine.” She smiles serenely at my dress. “You look awesome in that. I take back everything I said.”

“Thanks.” Though now, surrounded by naked shoulders and rainbow gowns, I feel like I’m auditioning for a
Rocky Horror
revival.

Nate tucks my arm under his in a gentlemanly gesture. “C’mon, let’s dance.”