Read What Would Emma Do? Online
Authors: Eileen Cook
“Do you want a cookie?” She held out two cookies on a napkin. I reached out and took them. They were still warm. I ate one of the cookies in two bites.
“Thanks. I have to go.” I gestured toward the door.
She waved, and I moved to the sliding door that led to their backyard.
“I’m glad you came over. Things have been hard on Todd. It’s good to know he has some friends he can count on.”
I felt the cookie I just ate start to claw its way back up, and I gave a big swallow to push it back down.
“Yeah, well.” I couldn’t think of anything to add, so I raised the other cookie in a salute, and headed out. I tried not to look around when I left. I figured Mrs. Seaver didn’t deserve to know I was embarrassed to be seen at her house.
I walked about a block and then threw the other cookie into the woods. It tasted great, but for some reason the idea of trying to eat it made me feel like I would throw up. Mrs. Seaver was really nice. I hoped she wouldn’t find the cookie I tossed and think that I didn’t like her baking.
No one could say that I hadn’t tried. I looked up in the sky.
“God?” I paused, in case he wanted to respond. Nothing except for the chirp of the birds. “God. I need a sign here. It doesn’t have to be a burning bush or anything, but a small sign. Maybe a crack of lightning or something.”
I sat down and waited. No lightning.
“Okay, God? How about if you want me to do something, you have a squirrel run by right now.” I looked around. Nothing. “Okay, then how about right now?” I waited again. Not a single squirrel. This is saying something. Wheaton has a significant squirrel population.
I got up and started running home. Whatever happened next wasn’t going to be my problem. If God couldn’t be bothered, why should I?
32
God, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t have much to say. To be honest, I’m getting a bit tired of our one-way conversations. I guess it’s a case of if you don’t have anything good to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all, and I guess neither of us has anything good to say.
If I didn’t suck at math so much, I most likely could have figured out the exact number of days, hours, and seconds before graduation. Of course, I still could always learn math. I had the time, because pretty much no one was talking to me.
Joann was too busy hanging out with Darci and her crew. I tried to talk to her about it, but she kept insisting there wasn’t a problem, she just needed to help with the dance. She didn’t invite me to help or sit at the table with the others anymore, and I didn’t ask. I ate my lunch in the library. Awkward conversations with Colin weren’t a problem, because he didn’t talk to me at all. Todd still wasn’t coming to school, and I noticed he wasn’t beating a path to my door to apologize, either. Everyone else in school was certain that I was a Jesus-hating freak, thanks to the fight with Joann. New SAT word: ostracized.
The news about Joann and Colin becoming “promised” (whatever the hell that meant) was becoming a story larger than the TES terrorist. Turns out romance trumps terror. Girls vaulted over one another to get a look at the ring on Joann’s finger. She kept the ring polished to a blinding shine and developed this way of talking where she waved her hands all around like she was constantly in the process of directing an orchestra. Joann and Colin were the first couple in our class to “declare their intentions,” and everyone thought it was the cutest thing ever. Joann was already talking about wedding colors and flowers, all for a wedding that was still years away in theory. Because I was following a new approach of staying out of things, I didn’t once bring up the fact that people who marry young tend to divorce at a higher rate. Plus, I hear they gain weight and start wearing those high-waisted mom jeans at a frighteningly high percentage. I also kept those thoughts to myself.
I was the leper of TES. Jesus might have preached that we should be nice to the lepers, but there weren’t any budding Mother Teresa types around here. Everyone avoided me as if I were leaving a trail of rotted fingers and toes in my wake. There are several advantages to being a social pariah:
Coach Attley was the only one who didn’t seem to care about Reverend Teaks. He was completely focused on the big regional track meet on Saturday. He hadn’t had a kid get a track scholarship in his entire coaching career. If I got a scholarship offer from Northwestern, this would be his gold-medal moment. He scheduled extra practices for me and would find me in the hallways to pass me his latest strategy. He had been Googling nutrition sites and was coming up with all these food concoctions that he wanted me to eat. We had a debate about the pros and cons of drinking a raw egg shake on the morning of the meet. Coach Attley felt strongly that the rush of protein would give me energy. I countered with my view that projectile vomiting would certainly be an issue to forward motion.
On Friday I was sitting in the cafeteria (with my pariah circle of empty chairs around me), waiting for Coach Attley to meet me. He wanted to give me some kind of protein bar that he was certain was going to do the trick. I was so out of it that I didn’t even know they were planning to announce the top three nominees for the king and queen court for the dance until Mr. Karp’s voice broke out over the PA system.
“If I could get everyone’s attention!”
The room turned to face the PA box wedged in a ceiling corner.
“I would like to announce the royal court for this year’s spring dance, Undersea Adventure.”
There was a murmur of voices in the cafeteria and a couple of girly squeals. I saw Darci reach up and pat her hair into place and do a quick swipe of her mouth with her finger. Nothing worse than accepting your scepter with tuna salad caught in your teeth.
“I am quite certain that this year’s king and queen and the court will be a testament to our school. It has been a difficult few months for everyone, and I know all of us are looking forward to the celebration of our faith with Reverend Teaks tomorrow and the dance after that.”
Another round of girlish squeals. Kimberly was basically crawling up Darci’s side with excitement.
“Please join me in welcoming this year’s royal court.”
Darci sat straight up, her hand slightly extended ready to take the arm of her boyfriend Justin or perhaps so the rest of us could kiss it.
“Kimberly Ryan and Richard Naslund.”
Kimberly flushed bright red and covered her face. Richard pumped his arm in the air as if he had won a major sporting event. Darci shot Kimberly a smile before turning back to face the speaker.
“Darci Evers and Justin Miller.”
Darci stood up, but before she could take center stage, Mr. Karp announced the third couple.
“Joann Delaney and Colin Stewart.”
There was a beat of silence where no one said anything. And then Joann let out a squeak. The girls surrounded her, jumping up and down. Colin shuffled over from the jock table and reached in to grab Joann. He held her hand. Joann was doing the full-on Miss America moment. She was crying, and one hand was over her heart. The crowd yelled for them to kiss, and Colin leaned in and gave Joann a peck on the cheek. The cafeteria erupted with cheers. I suspected Joann’s recent ring had tipped the scale in her favor, although it was clear she never expected it. Joann was happier than I had ever seen her. I smiled. She deserved this. Based on everyone’s reaction, she and Colin were a shoo-in for the king and queen.
The smile fell off my face. There was clearly one person who was not sharing in the joy of this moment. Darci stood to the left of the group. Justin reached her side, and she swatted away his hand. Her mouth was turned into a snarl and her eyes were glacial cold. I could see that she was breathing heavily, and if she had been a dragon I would have fully expected flames to shoot out of her nose.
“Oh my gosh! I just can’t believe it!” Joann reached over to include Darci in the group hug.
The snarl on Darci’s face morphed into a smile. The kind of smile that you see on psychos in horror movies.
“I’m so happy for you,” Darci cooed. “It will be so much fun for all of us to be on the court together.” Darci leaned in and hugged Joann. The crowd oohed and aahed. I could tell that everyone believed Darci, but I could still see her face. She might have been hugging Joann, but I could tell she was looking for a place to stick the knife.
33
God, I know lately we haven’t been on speaking terms, but please, please let me run well. It matters. It matters so much.
It was possible that Coach Attley was more keyed up than I was. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in a nervous riff and kept changing the radio stations. I couldn’t watch him. It just made me, if possible, even more anxious. I stared out the van window as we drove out of town. The rest of my teammates were equally quiet. It was early; the sun was creeping over the giant white tent set up in the Hansens’ field. It looked like the circus had come to town, only instead of a ringmaster, we would have the Reverend Teaks. A few news vans had arrived sometime in the night, and I suspected there would be more when the show went live. People were scurrying around and unloading folding chairs from a truck. There was a large satellite dish on top of a truck, turned toward the sky like a flower. I looked away.
The track meet was being held in Fort Wayne. When we got there the track was wet. It must have rained the night before. The rain would make it slick, harder to get purchase, less than ideal. I walked in slow circles as if I were lost. I felt like I needed to get my bearings. A group from another school was spread out on mats, doing their stretches. The meet pulled in ten different schools. There was going to be some serious competition. I did a few stretches and kept walking.
The stands were starting to fill. A few of the schools seemed to have brought full sections of color-coordinated cheering squads. They waved hand-painted signs whenever someone from their school wandered past. There wouldn’t be many people from Wheaton. The Spirit Squad! spent their hard-earned cheering abilities only on sports that mattered.
I searched the crowd to see if I could spot the scouts. I figured it would be asking too much for them to be wearing the distinctive purple Northwestern colors with a giant SCOUT painted on their jackets. I walked back to our team’s bench, swinging my arms to get the blood moving. The voice on the PA announced that they would be starting with the long jump in just a few minutes. A few kids started moving in that direction.
“GO PROCTOR!” a voice yelled out.
I spun around and searched the crowd. My mom stood up and gave another whoop. I didn’t know she had been planning to come. She had a giant foam WE’RE NUMBER ONE finger on her hand. I had no idea where she got it. Are there stores that sell nothing but foam fingers? She waved the finger wildly, and I found myself breaking into a smile. I gave her a wild wave back.
It was going to be okay.
My first race was hurdles. Coach Attley was on the sidelines screaming last-minute advice, which I couldn’t even hear. I put my feet in the blocks and did my best to clear my mind. When the starter pistol rang out, I felt myself take off in a fluid motion. I was up and over the first hurdle. I could feel my arms and legs pumping, synchronized, my legs stretching out perfectly. I didn’t dare risk a look around to see where everyone else was at, but I could tell no one was in front of me. I heard a bang as someone knocked over a hurdle, the clang of the metal as it hit the track. Someone was out of it.
I was up and almost over the last hurdle when it happened. The tip of my toe caught the crossbar and I fell to the ground, my hands sliding on the gravel. I saw someone pass me on the left. I pushed up and was on my feet in less than a second. Another racer passed me as I tried to find my rhythm again. My breath was ragged, but I pushed forward, staring at the back of the person directly in front of me. I stretched forward at the line, barely beating that racer, but I could see that someone else had already won. Shit. I slowed to a walk, my hands on my hips. They stung, and when I looked down I saw they were bleeding. Great.
“You okay?” Coach Attley was at my side in a second.
“I lost,” I wheezed.
“You came in second.”
“Second doesn’t impress scouts. No one offers the runner-up a scholarship. Second is losing.”
“Second is second. You don’t know what the scouts think. Let me see your hands.”
I held my palms up. Coach Attley poured some water from his water bottle over them and I gave a hiss. He patted at the palms with a towel he was holding.
“Your hands are okay. We should get some Neosporin on them. None of the cuts look deep, mostly scratches. You twist anything? You popped up pretty quick.”
“I was sure I could still win it.” I felt tears gather in my eyes. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I had been so sure that I would win. Everything was based on winning. Winning this race, winning the scholarship, winning a way out of here. I didn’t even have a freaking plan B. I wouldn’t say that I believed in destiny, but I believed in planning. Everything I had been working toward was based on the plan that I would win. I hadn’t allowed myself to think I could lose. I didn’t want to cry. Coach Attley was not a big fan of tears. He gave me a whack on the back that nearly threw me back down to my knees.