Текст книги "The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer"

Автор книги: Michelle Hodkin

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

41

THE NEXT DAY BEGAN ABNORMALLY. I AWOKE starving at about four in the morning and went to the kitchen to make toast. I withdrew a halfgallon of milk from the refrigerator and poured myself a glass as the machine heated the bread. When the slices popped up, I ate them slowly, turning last night over in my mind. I didn’t notice Joseph until he waved his hand in front of my face.

“Earth to Mara!”

A white drop fell from the triangle lip of the milk container. Joseph’s words were muffled, invading my brain. I wanted to turn off the sound.

“Wake up.”

I jumped, then slapped his hand away. “Leave me alone.”

I heard a second person rummaging around in the kitchen and swiveled my neck around. Daniel withdrew a granola bar from the pantry and took a bite.

“Who peed in your Cheerios?” he asked me, mouth full.

I leaned over the table and put my throbbing head in my hands. It was the worst headache I’d had in weeks.

“Is Noah picking you up? His suspension should be over today, right?”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

Daniel looked at his watch. “Well, he’s late. Which means I’m taking you. Which means you have to get dressed. Now.”

I opened my mouth to inform Daniel that we had hours until school started, and to ask him what he was doing up so early, but caught sight of the microwave clock. Seven thirty. I’d been sitting at the kitchen table for hours. Chewing … for hours. I swallowed the cold bread and my panic over losing so much time.

Daniel looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Come on,” he said softly. “I can’t be late.”

I didn’t see Noah’s car in the parking lot when we arrived at school. Maybe he decided to take an extra day off. I drifted towards the campus, half-conscious. I didn’t see Noah in English, or wandering the halls between classes, either. He was supposed to be there. I wanted to find out where Jamie lived and even though they hated each other, I didn’t know anyone else well enough to ask.

Between classes, I made my way to the administration office to make an appointment with Dr. Kahn, and when the fated hour arrived, I entered his office armed with sound reasoning. I would argue for the grade I deserved. I would tell him about the MP3. I would stay calm. I would not cry.

The principal’s office looked more like a distinguished gentleman’s nineteenth-century study, from the dark wood paneled walls to the stacks of leather-bound books, and the bust of Pallas perched above the chamber door. Just kidding. About the books.

Dr. Kahn sat behind his mahogany desk, the green tint of the banker’s lamp illuminating his preternaturally smooth face. He looked as undoctorly as it was possible to look, wearing khaki pants and a white polo shirt emblazoned with the Croyden crest. “Miss Dyer,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite his desk. “What can I do for you today?”

I looked him in the eye. “I think my Spanish grade should be adjusted,” I said. I sounded smooth. Confident.

“I see.”

“I can prove I deserved an A on the exam,” I said, and it was true. There was a recording of it. I just didn’t have it.

“That won’t be necessary,” Dr. Kahn said, leaning back in his tufted leather chair.

I blinked. “Oh,” I said, somewhat taken aback. “Great. So when will the grade be changed?”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do, Mara.”

I blinked again, but when I opened my eyes, there was only darkness.

“Mara?” Dr. Kahn’s voice sounded distant. I blinked again. Dr. Kahn had actually put his wing-tipped feet up on his desk. He looked so casual. I wanted to smack them off and pull his chair out from underneath him.

“Why not?” I asked through gritted teeth. I needed to stay calm. If I screamed, the F would stay.

But it was so tempting.

Dr. Kahn lifted a piece of paper from his desk and reviewed it carefully. “Teachers have to submit a written explanation to the administration whenever they assign a failing grade,” he said. “Ms. Morales wrote that you cheated on your exam.”

My nostrils flared, and red spots appeared in my vision. “She lied,” I said quietly. “How could I cheat on an oral exam? It’s ridiculous.”

“According to her gradebook, your first scores were quite poor.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So I’m being punished for doing better?”

“Not just better, Mara. Your improvement was pretty miraculous, don’t you think?”

Dr. Kahn’s words stoked my rage. “I got a tutor,” I said through clenched teeth, as I tried to blink the spots away.

“She said she saw you sneaking glances under your sleeve during your test. She said she saw writing on your arm.”

“She’s lying!” I shouted, then realized my mistake. “She’s lying,” I said in a lower, shaky voice. “I had a bandage on my arm when I took the test. From an accident.”

“She also said she’d seen your eyes wandering during in-class assignments.”

“So, basically, she can say I cheated without having to submit any proof?”

“I don’t like your tone, Miss Dyer.”

“Guess we’re even, then,” I said before I could stop myself.

Dr. Kahn raised his eyebrows slowly. His voice was infuriatingly even when he spoke. “Christina Morales has been a teacher here for over twenty years. She’s tough, but fair—I can count on one hand the number of complaints from students.”

I interrupted him. “They’re too scared to say anyth—”

“You, on the other hand,” Dr. Kahn continued, “have been here for mere weeks, and you have been late to class on multiple occasions, spoke back to your history teacher this morning—yes, I heard about that—and managed to get yourself thrown out of Ms. Morales’s class after causing a huge disruption. Who would you believe?”

I literally saw red. I tried so hard not to scream that my voice, when I spoke, came out as a whisper. “Just—just listen. There’s a recording of my exam. I’ll get someone to translate it. We’ll play it. Ms. Morales can—”

Dr. Kahn didn’t even uncross his legs before interrupting me. “Tell you what. I’ll call Ms. Morales in later and I’ll go over everything with her again. I’ll let you know my final decision.”

Dark thoughts swirled in my mind and time slowed to a crawl. I stood up from the chair, knocking it over, but my hands trembled too much to pick it up. This was—this whole thing was beyond unfair. And I was becoming unhinged. I threw open the door to his office and heard it slam into the doorstop before bouncing back. I didn’t care. My feet felt like they were made of steel as I made my way to Spanish. I wanted to crush the grass into powder. Morales was going to get away with this. I hoped she choked on her lying tongue.

And I could see it with stunning clarity. Her eyes bulged and she staggered around her empty classroom, putting her bony fingers into her mouth, trying to figure out what was wrong. She turned blue, and made a funny hacking sound. It’s hard to lie when you can’t speak.

I wanted to face her. I wanted to spit in her eye. But as I flew up the stairs to her classroom, I knew I’d never go through with it. I’d curse at her, though. I rounded the corner and crossed the last few feet to the door, thinking of several epithets I wanted to fling in her direction. Today’s Spanish class brought to you by the letter C.

There was no one in the classroom except for Jude when I skidded to a stop in front of the doorway. He was lying on the ground, pale with dust. A huge beam of wood lay on top of him, and I saw where the splinters met skin. His torso was all bloody, and some of it trickled down the side of his mouth. Making him look kind of like the Joker from Batman.

I blinked.

It was Jude’s body no longer. It was the asshole that abused Mabel, lying on the floor, the side of his skull reduced to pink mush, his leg bent at a funny angle. Like a hick ballerina. The linoleum had turned to dirt and the flies choked his wounds.

I blinked again.

He was gone. In his place was Morales. She was lying on the floor, and her face was more purple than blue. This made sense, given my second-grade art lesson in primary colors. Red plus blue equals purple, and Morales was always red-faced. So help me, she now resembled the blueberry person from Willy Wonka. I tilted my head sideways and blinked at the bug-eyed body on the linoleum floor, certain she’d be gone like the others if I looked away. So I did.

But when I looked back, she was still there.

42

THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS FELT LIKE FIVE hours. The second bell rang, and I was pushed aside by a blond girl named Vera toting a guidance counselor behind her. Vera was crying. Hmm.

“She was choking when I got here but I didn’t know what to do!” Vera blew a snot bubble as she cried, and the mucous dribbled down past her lips. Nasty.

“Everyone stand back!” Mrs. Barkan, the guidance counselor shouted. The doorway was overrun by students freaking out.

I heard a siren in the background and soon EMTs and police were pushing students out of the way, creating a little bubble of space around the classroom door. People were crying and shoving and generally annoying the hell out of me, so I backed out of the throng. I trotted down the stairs two at a time until I hit the ground. I hadn’t eaten lunch. I was starving and dizzy and I didn’t sleep last night and so help me, this could not be happening. Did I even take my pill this morning? I couldn’t remember.

I stumbled out from under the archway on to the sprawling green. The sun blinded me and I wanted to punch it in the face. And thinking that made me giggle. Then my giggle turned into a cackle. Soon, I was laughing so hard tears streamed down my face. My neck felt wet and I was out of breath and I dropped to the ground beneath a tree at the far corner of the campus, laughing madly and twisting on the grass, gripping my sides because they hurt, damn it, but it was just so funny.

Out of nowhere, a hand gripped my shoulder and folded me up into a sitting position. I looked up.

“Mara Dyer, isn’t it?” Detective Gadsen said. His tone was curious and even, but his eyes were not friendly.

A blur of movement behind him attracted my attention. Noah appeared in my field of vision; when he saw who I was talking to, he stopped. I looked at my feet.

“How’s the dog?” the detective asked.

It was all I could do not to look up in shock. I shifted my head to the side and my hair fell around my face in a curtain. The better to hide me with, my dear.

“What dog?”

“Funny thing,” he said. “That dog you called Animal Services about a few weeks ago? After I talked to you, it just up and disappeared.”

“That is funny,” I said, even though it wasn’t. Not at all.

“Was Ms. Morales your teacher?” he asked, without missing a beat.

Was? So she was dead, then. That, at least, was real. Impossible, but real. I nodded.

“This must be very difficult for you.”

I almost laughed. He had no idea. Or maybe—maybe he did?

You have to admit, the paranoia was humorous. What could the detective possibly know? That I thought Morales should die and she died? Crazy. That I wanted the dog’s owner punished for what he did to her and he was? Laughable. Thinking something does not make it true. Wanting something does not make it real.

“Yes, it is very difficult,” I said, nodding again, making the hair fall farther over my face to mask my insane grin.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. My shoulders trembled with the attempt to stifle my laughter. “Did you know whether Ms. Morales was allergic to anything?”

I shook my head.

“Did you ever see her with an EpiPen?”

I shook my head, then stood up on shaky feet. I was a lawyer’s daughter, after all, and even with my tenuous grip on reality, knew the conversation was over.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Of course. Feel better, and I’m very sorry about your teacher.”

I walked away. Away from the detective and away from Noah.

But Noah caught up. “What happened?” He looked unusually concerned.

“You didn’t show this morning,” I said without looking at him.

“Mara—”

“Don’t. Just—don’t.” I stared straight ahead and focused on the route to class. “It’s fine, Noah. I’m not mad. I just—I have to go. I’m going to be late for Bio.”

“School’s over,” he said slowly.

I stopped. “What?”

“It’s almost four.” Noah’s voice was quiet. “And last period was canceled. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Two hours. I’d lost more than two hours. I felt like I was falling, like someone pulled the ground out from underneath me.

“Whoa,” Noah said as he placed his hand on the small of my back to steady me. I shook it off.

“I need to go,” I said, feeling sick. But then another hand clapped my shoulder, and my knees almost buckled.

“Hey, guys,” Daniel said, his voice serious. “Crazy day.” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “You don’t look so good, Mara,” Daniel said. His tone was lighter, now, but there was a note of anxiety in it.

I wiped away a strand of hair that stuck to my forehead. “I’m fine. Just feeling a little sick.”

“Right in time for your birthday,” Daniel said, and gave a tight smile. “I’m sure that disappoints you.”

“Your birthday?” Noah looked from me to Daniel.

I shot my brother a look of pure poison. He ignored me. “Mara turns seventeen tomorrow. March fifteenth, the little imp. But she’s weird about it,” Daniel explained, taking off his glasses and wiping something from the lens. “She gets all mopey every year, so it’s my brotherly duty to distract her from her birthday ennui.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Noah said immediately. “You’re off the hook.”

Daniel gave Noah a broad smile. “Thanks, bro, you’re a sport.” They exchanged a fist bump.

I couldn’t believe my brother did that to me. Now Noah would feel obligated to do something. I wanted to punch them both in the face, and puke.

“All right,” Daniel said, putting an arm around me. “I think I’d better take Mara home. Unless you feel like throwing up in Noah’s car instead?” Daniel asked me. I shook my head.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven,” Noah said to me, holding my gaze as Daniel led me away. “There are some things I need to say.”

43

WHEN DANIEL AND I ARRIVED BACK AT the house, my father’s open accordion files were uncharacteristically strewn all over the dining room table. We heard the sounds of our parents arguing before we even shut the door. I motioned to Daniel to close it quietly.

“I think you need to ask for a hearing.”

“Opening arguments are Monday, Indi. Monday. And there’s an emergency evidentiary hearing right before that. The judge is not going to let me withdraw. There’s just no way.”

What happened?

“Call Leon Lassiter, then. Ask him to fire you. Tell him you’ll get him a referral. The judge might allow a continuance if he does. He’d want that, right?”

“I doubt it. He’s keen to get this over with.” I heard my father sigh. “You really think Mara’s that bad?”

Daniel and I locked eyes.

My mother didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Nothing’s happened since the burn,” Dad said.

“That we know about.”

“You think there’s something going on?”

“Have you seen her lately, Marcus? She’s not sleeping. I think things are worse for her than she lets on. You being in the middle of a murder trial is not helping.”

“Is it worth me being disbarred?”

My mother paused. “We can move back to Rhode Island if that happens,” she said quietly.

I expected my father to laugh. Or to give an exasperated sigh. Or to say anything except what he actually said.

“All right,” my father said, without pause. “I’ll call Leon and let him know I’m out.”

My stomach twisted with guilt. I made a move toward the kitchen, but Daniel grabbed my arm and shook his head silently. I narrowed my eyes to slits.

Trust me, he mouthed. We both stood stone-still as my father spoke.

“Hello, Leon? It’s Marcus, yes, how are you? I’m not so great, actually.” He then proceeded to give him the rundown. I caught the words “unstable,” “traumatic,” and “psychiatric care.” My eyes bored into Daniel’s head.

After a few minutes, my father hung up the phone.

“Well?” My mother’s voice.

“He’s thinking about it. He’s a good guy,” my father said in a low voice, as my mother banged some cabinets open.

Daniel beckoned me close. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “We’re going to go in there, and you are going to act like this has been the best day of your life. Say nothing about Morales, okay? I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t even have a chance to respond before Daniel closed the door behind us in one exaggerated movement. People probably heard the slam in Broward.

My mother’s head popped out of the kitchen. “Hey, guys!” she said all too cheerfully.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, plastering a false smile on my face myself. I was queasy and upset and guilt-ridden and having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that this was my life. We walked into the kitchen to find my father sitting at the table. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, and he looked thinner than usual. “Well, if it isn’t my long-lost children,” he said, smiling.

I wiped my clammy forehead and moved to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“How was your day, kid?”

Daniel gave me a loaded look from over his shoulder.

“Great!” I said, with too much enthusiasm.

“Mara’s been helping me plan Sophie’s surprise party,” Daniel said, opening the refrigerator.

Oh?

“Oh?” my mother said. “When is that?”

He withdrew an apple. “Tonight,” he said, taking a bite. “We’re heading out in a couple of hours. You guys have any plans?”

My mother shook her head.

“Where’s Joseph?” I asked.

“At a friend’s house,” Mom said.

I opened my mouth to suggest they go out, but Daniel beat me to it.

My mother eyed my father. “Your Dad’s pretty busy, I think.”

He looked back at her. There were a thousand unsaid words in their glance. “I think I could take the night off.”

“Awesome,” Daniel said. “You deserve it. Mara and I are going to go plan a bit, and then I’m going to take a quick nap before the party.”

God, I could kiss Daniel right now. “Me too,” I said, following his lead. I pecked my mother on the cheek, and whirled around quickly, before she could notice the thin sheen of sweat on my skin. I made my way to my bedroom.

“So you guys are set for the night?” my mother called after us.

“Yup!” Daniel yelled back. I nodded and waved behind me before turning the corner into the hallway. We met up there.

“Daniel—”

He raised his hands. “You’re welcome. Just … relax, okay? You look like you’re going to throw up.”

“Do you think they bought it?”

“Yeah. You did good.”

“But what about Dad’s case? He can’t drop it, not because of me—” I swallowed hard, and tried to steady my balance.

“I’ll make a huge deal about how great you’re doing tomorrow before Noah gets here. How much help you were with the party.”

“You’re amazing. Seriously.”

“Love you too, sister. Go lie down.”

Daniel and I departed for our respective rooms. It had grown dark out, and the hair prickled on the back of my neck as I passed the family pictures. I turned the other way, toward the French doors that looked out on our backyard. With the hall light on, the darkness outside seemed opaque and oddly, each time I approached the glass, I was seized with the sense that there was someone, something right outside—something slinking, something creeping, something—no. Nothing. Nothing there. I made it to my bedroom and darted over to my desk, to the bottle of Zyprexa sitting on it. After a week, my mother trusted me enough to keep the whole bottle in my room. I didn’t remember if I’d taken one this morning. I probably hadn’t. That’s why the whole Morales thing—it was a coincidence that she died. Choked. A coincidence. I shook out a pill into my trembling hand, then tossed it to the back of my throat and swallowed without water. It went down slowly, painfully, leaving a bitter aftertaste on my tongue.

I kicked off my shoes and climbed into bed, burying my face in my cool cotton sheets. It was well after midnight when I awoke, for the second time in my life, to someone pounding on my bedroom window.

Déjà vu settled over me like a wet wool blanket, prickly and uncomfortable. How many times was I going to have to relive this? I was blind and nervous as I stepped out of bed and crept to my window. My heart lodged in my throat as I reached to open the blinds, readying myself to see Jude’s face.

But Noah’s fist was raised mid-knock.