“If you want,” I said. “But I’ll definitely be talking to them.” I glanced at Ms. McClaren as I said that and she narrowed her eyes in response.
“Very good. I will touch base with them, myself.” Dr. Morgan held the door for me.
I went through to the passageway to the main admin office, but as soon as I was out of sight, I stepped to the wall where I could hear through the partially opened door.
Coach Teichert said, “Really, Janet, she’s only been in town three weeks and you think she’s meeting men on campus? Fast work for a sixteen-year-old.”
“I don’t trust her,” said Ms. McClaren. “There’s something about her—”
Dr. Morgan said, “Let’s calm down, why don’t we? The last thing the district needs is another lawsuit.”
I heard an intake of breath from Ms. McClaren, but before I heard what she said, footsteps approached the passage from the reception area and I jumped away.
* * *
I told Mom about the two men in the dressing room and she was upset, but not for me. She spent twenty minutes talking to Dr. Morgan on the phone.
After the call she took a moment to calm herself. “What if someone had been there who couldn’t get away as easily? Dr. Morgan says Deputy Tomez will be hanging near the gym and they’re going to make sure only the main doors open from outside, where the ladies in admin can see who comes in.”
I hadn’t told her the men had been there for me or that Caffeine had been with them.
“That’ll put a dreadful strain on the bleachers crowd,” I said.
“What’s the bleachers crowd?”
“The smokers. They come and go by one of the gym doors.”
And so it did.
Almost immediately they’d propped the door open with a block of wood, so they could come and go rather than tramping all the way around the building to the main door. But Coach Taichert put an end to that, coming by between classes and collecting whatever object had been used to keep the door from closing.
Several people were late to class.
Next, someone figured out that if you taped the catch shut with duct tape, the door looked like it was completely closed but you could still get in. It only took Coach seeing one person pulling the “locked” door open to figure that one out. He took to sitting near the door during the passing periods and routinely checked the door for tape.
People caught messing with the doors got detention.
I thought, It won’t stop one of their peeps opening the door and letting someone in. Still, Coach Taichert was around and I doubted they’d try to come in that way, or at all.
After all, I wasn’t at the school all the time.
* * *
The next morning, they were waiting for me in the woods.
I’d decided to take it easy on jumping near the school. I thought I had a good place, behind the evergreen bushes at Mrs. Begay’s end of the building, but in the past few days, I’d noticed footprints there that weren’t mine. My first thought was that they were Dad’s, but they weren’t. I checked the size against a pair of his shoes.
But I wouldn’t put it past him.
Then I noticed the footprints came in pairs and they were facing each other and standing, uh, really close.
Anyway, I decided I really didn’t want to appear on top of two kids making out in the bushes. That kind of thing could really put you off your breakfast.
This morning, I jumped to the cliff ledge at the edge of the woods, above the path from my house. I was about to jump down to the path itself, without even looking, when I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke.
I stepped closer to the edge, but the snow up here had melted and refrozen into a hard crust and my foot crunched though it loudly.
Someone moved below, two short steps through crusty snow.
Maybe someone was also using the path to go to school? There were other houses back this way. And they took a moment to smoke a cigarette?
Then someone spoke. “Just melting snow falling off a tree, I bet.”
And someone else said, “I guess.”
Caffeine.
I stepped sideways to where the snow had melted off of a higher ridge of rock and walked along it until I could peer over the edge.
They all wore hoodies, but Caffeine’s blonde-on-dark-roots hair stuck out just enough to identify her. She and one of her big friends stood behind a cedar near the base of the cliff, and two more figures were just visible on the other side of the trail, hiding behind two tree trunks as they peered up the trail, away from school.
Despite the risk of running into people snogging, I jumped to the spot behind the evergreen bushes. No one was there and I jumped into Mrs. Begay’s classroom after checking through the window that no one was inside.
I hope they froze out in the woods.
* * *
After school, when Jade, Tara, and I headed over to Krakatoa, I spotted a tail, a reflection in a storefront window.
Dad?
I bent down and tied my boot, to check. Then laughed to myself.
It was Caffeine. She was wearing a leather jacket over a gray hoodie, the hood pulled forward, but face on I could just make out the black roots and blonde hair. Besides, she hadn’t changed her walk.
I wondered if any of her friends were around. Looking back up, I saw Tara and Jade, talking anime while they waited patiently for me, and it suddenly didn’t seem so funny. I knew I’d be all right, but they could get hurt.
“What’s wrong?” asked Tara.
“Caffeine’s following us,” I said. “Don’t look!” They had both started to turn their heads. I kept walking and they fell into step with me.
“Are you sure?” Jade said.
I sighed heavily.
“Why is she doing it? Still pissed about getting suspended?” Tara asked.
I opened my mouth, but then closed it without speaking.
“Give!” said Tara. “What did you do to piss her off this time?”
I looked down at the sidewalk. “All right, I interrupted one of her little strong-arm sessions. She and two of her peeps pulled Tony and Dakota into an alley. I pretended to take a cell phone picture and they chased me, and I led them away from the kids.
“Unfortunately, now she thinks I have an incriminating picture of them and she wants my phone. Wish I did have the picture. I could just post it online and be done with it.”
Tara and Jade exchanged glances, then Jade said, “For a newbie, you really have a gift for getting into trouble. Usually it takes people a couple of months at a new school.”
I laughed. “Thanks.” I meant it. I’d been feeling pretty grim until she said that.
“How did you know she was following?” asked Jade.
For the rest of the walk, I gave them the quick course in using reflective surfaces—car windows, store windows, even chromed automobile trim. They each spotted Caffeine for themselves. “And if you want a good look, Jade, you’ll touch up your mascara.”
She touched her face. “What? Oh! The mirror, right?”
I nodded.
Jade started to swing her backpack around, but Tara pulled her onward and said, “Next time. What I want to know is how a girl like you knows about this surveillance stuff.”
“I watch a lot of spy movies?”
From our usual table up in the balcony, I could see Caffeine’s feet where she waited in a shadowed doorway across the street, watching the entrance to the coffee shop. When I bent down to put stuff in my backpack, I could see her talking on her phone.
“I’ll be gone for a few minutes. Watch my stuff, will ya?”
Jade glanced at the window. “Caffeine? Sure you don’t need witnesses?”
I smiled. “I do need witnesses. I need you guys to witness that I went to the bathroom and that you didn’t see me go outside.”
Tara frowned and I said, “Don’t worry. You won’t see me go outside, I promise. No lying required.”
I jumped home from the bathroom stall. At my computer, I
composed and printed out a single page of text, then smeared white glue over the blank side.
The doorway in which Caffeine was lurking was deep—there was ample room between her and the door, so she didn’t see me jump in behind her. The page was balanced in my gloved hand, glue side up, and I shoved it onto her jacket, right between her shoulder blades, sending her staggering away across the sidewalk. By the time she’d gained her balance and turned around, I was walking out of the coffee shop’s downstairs bathroom.
I was able to watch through the window as she charged back into the doorway and tried the locked door, then came back onto the sidewalk and looked left and right.
The paper must’ve rustled because she twisted, looking over her shoulder, turning her body like a dog trying to reach its tail. Finally she reached behind her and caught an edge of the paper, and pulled it off.
The page said:
OVERUSE OF CAFFEINE MAY LEAD TO
IRRITABILITY, ANXIETY, RESTLESSNESS,
CONFUSION, INSOMNIA, HEADACHE, AND
DELIRIUM.
THIS PAPER MAY NOT BE REAL.
THIS MESSAGE MAY NOT BE REAL.
THE GLUE?
YOU DECIDE.
YIF
(YOUR IMAGINARY FRIEND)
Caffeine stared at the words, then back at the doorway. She turned the page over and felt the wet glue, reached over her shoulder and tried to touch the back of her jacket. She crumpled the paper and threw it into the gutter, between two cars, then took her jacket off to examine its back. Still holding it, she started across the street toward the coffee shop.
I hurried back upstairs so I was back at our table when she came in, but she didn’t even look around. Instead she grabbed several napkins from the counter and headed for the bathroom. I heard the door slam from up on the balcony.
Tara and Jade were both looking at me, frowning, and I wiped the smile from my face and tried to look innocent.
“She looks pissed,” said Tara.
Jade added, “Even more than usual.”
And Tara said, “And … worried.”
I felt the corners of my mouth twitch up and used my hand to pull them back down.
Tara said, “What did you do?”
“I walked downstairs and went to the bathroom, then came back up. Why?” I gave them a stern look. “Did you see anything that would indicate otherwise?”
Jade said, “No, Mother.”
“Good. Lend me your compact.”
She fished it out of her backpack. It was a small case with the makeup side divided between two shades of eye shadow. I opened it and set on the edge of the table where the mirror reflected a view of the front door and the cashier between the railing balusters.
Caffeine came back into view, this time looking around.
“Don’t look at her,” I said, picking up my notebook. “Say nothing—”
“—act casual,” finished Tara.
Caffeine went to the counter and ordered a quad-shot espresso. While she waited for her drink, she looked up at us, but we were working studiously, eyes on our books.
The barista called to her, putting her drink on the counter. When she stepped over to claim it, Caffeine leaned closer and said something to him, quietly.
He shook his head and said, “No. Nobody’s come in or left in the last twenty minutes—except you.”
Caffeine looked back up at us one more time, then left.
Later, after Tara and Jade had been picked up by Jade’s dad, I went back across the street. At first I thought she’d come back for the crumpled paper, but I found it where the wind had pushed it under a parked car. The glue had dried, sticking parts of the paper together, but you could open it enough to read some of the message.
I put it in my backpack.
* * *
We had a practice and a meet that weekend.
The meet on Sunday was not an all-around one, so Ricardo and Mr. Hill wanted us to enter in our best events. For me, this meant slalom. Sure, I was better than a lot of the team in freestyle, but I was the best women’s slalom racer on the team so they asked me to concentrate on that.
I was getting better at it. I even managed to heave myself out of the gate without falling over.
Jade was gaining confidence in freestyle and besides a large number of board grabs, she’d started doing a layout back flip without falling over or, as she put it, “Without dying.”
There was no doubt that she wasn’t in the same class as Lany, but Lany started giving her tips and encouraging her, so if nothing else, Jade was having a good time.
Me, I concentrated on clearing the start without cheating and making carved turns. The highlight of the afternoon was beating Carl down by several yards, without cheating, just by dint of a clean start and a clean run. But, to be fair, it was not at all his best form.
Still I felt good and the rest of team happened to be at the bottom of the slalom course when I did it, so I got cheers from them (slightly louder from the girls), and Carl got grief from the boys.
Ricardo said, “I wish we’d had you at the start of the season. If you’re doing so well after two practices, think how good you’d be doing after ten.”
I smiled and didn’t tell him that two evenings a week I was jumping to Hokkaido to practice on my own. I usually did just an hour, but I didn’t have to wait for the lifts, so an hour of boarding for me was like half a day’s regular practice.
Brett made a space for me when we ate lunch at the midmountain lodge. I exchanged glances with Jade and she pushed me forward. I had butterflies but Brett just talked with everyone as usual. But I totally noticed when his leg or elbow brushed against mine.
At the end of the day, he was there, suddenly, when it was time to carry stuff down to the van. He grabbed my boot bag before I reached it.
I didn’t want to ask about Donna, but I thought about it. When Jade and I slid into our usual bench, he took the third seat, beside me, instead of sitting where he usually did, in the very back seat with Joe.
About fifteen minutes into the ride, Brett pulled out his phone and said, “Damn. No signal.” He looked at me and smiled that smile and I felt tingly. “How about your phone?”
I knew mine didn’t. Even if there was a compatible network nearby, we weren’t anywhere near New Prospect, so the phone’s programming wouldn’t even try to find a cell tower. Still, I fished it out and showed him that the top of the screen said “no service.”
He plucked it out of my hand, saying, “Neat phone! We should take a picture.” He tried to work the screen but the locked phone dialog appeared, asking for a four-digit pin to unlock it. “How do you get to the camera?” Brett asked.
I held out my hand. I was going to unlock it for him, but he said, “I can do it. Just tell me how.”
Oh, shit.
I felt like crying. He wasn’t being friendly because he liked me. He was trying to get at my phone, just like Donna had in the locker room.
Like Caffeine.
I said quietly, “Give me my phone.”
He held it away still smiling.
Jade, who’d been ignoring us, said, “Don’t be a dick, Brett.”
Brett said, “Just tell me.”
I said, “Give it back. Or else.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Or else what?”
I raised my voice. “Mr. Hill?”
Two rows forward, in the front passenger seat, Mr. Hill turned his head around. “Yes, Cent?”
Brett flipped the phone into my lap and I closed my hand over it.
“What time will we get back to the school?” I said.
Mr. Hill glanced at his watch and told me, “Usual time. About 5:30.”
“Thanks,” I said. I tucked the phone back into my inside jacket pocket and, though it was warmish in the van, zipped my jacket all the way up.
Brett looked at me like he couldn’t believe I’d done that. Did he think his charm was enough to let him get away with stuff like that?
&n
bsp; I was somewhere between hitting him and crying. Instead I said, “Did you do it for Caffeine or for Donna?”
His expression said one thing, his voice said another. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Why don’t you go back and sit with Joe,” I said.
He got a stony expression on his face. “I’m fine here.”
The van reached the long line of cars at the traffic light where we joined the interstate. While we waited for it to change, I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed past Brett. His hands started to rise as I moved in front of him and I jerked my elbow up until it was right in front of his nose and I glared at him. He dropped his hands flat in his lap and leaned away from me. I went back to the rear bench seat, where Brett usually sat, and buckled in.
Joe, in the far corner, was dozing, but he jerked his head up when I sat. He blinked and looked up to where Brett was sitting. He opened his mouth to say or ask something, and I leaned back into the opposite corner and shut my eyes.
When we got back to the school parking lot I pulled my feet up and let Joe worm his way out with the rest of them. While they all climbed out, I reached over the seat back and fished my bags out of the cargo area. When the rear hatch began to rise, I jumped all the way to the Yukon with my stuff.
* * *
Mom wasn’t there but Dad was, reading a book on the living room couch. “Hey. How was practice?”
I shrugged. I was afraid if I said anything I’d cry.
“Hmmm.” He said. His eyes were narrowed and he was studying me carefully.
I jumped to the back hallway and stored my boards and boots. When I returned, Dad was slicing sharp cheddar cheese in the kitchen.
“You want soup with your grilled cheese?”
I nearly lost it. Grilled cheese and canned tomato soup was my comfort food. Mom’s, too, which is why she used to make it for me when I had a skinned knee or a bad cold or an argument with Dad. But if I said yes, it meant I was in need of comforting and I guess I wasn’t ready to admit that.
“Just the sandwich, please.”
Maybe I said it funny. Dad took a can of soup down anyway. “Well, I’m going to make some for me.”
He used sourdough bread and butter, letting the cheese melt out from between the slices and sizzle on the iron skillet, where it formed a hard cheesy crust along the edge of the sandwiches.