Downcast (16 page)

His eyes flicked up from the blank page of his notebook to me. That same, slow, knowing smile crossed his face and made my toes curl as I slid into my seat.

"Stephanie," he said slowly, practically purring my name.

"I'm wearing the necklace," I said, the cuts and contours of his sharp, narrow face burning in my new vision.

His smile faded, and I felt the relentless gravitational pull of his black eyes. His expression grew fiercely intense. He leaned toward me. I held my breath, dizzy, confused, thrilled, and terrified of what would happen next.

"Haley!"

Jordan's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I jerked back from Haley, and he reluctantly sat back, never looking away from me. She smiled at him, showing off her perfectly whitened teeth, obviously redone over the weekend.

Her eyes flicked from him to me, and her smile widened a fraction, making me think of a shark at an all-you-can-eat sushi bar.

"Wow," she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at me. "You look really different! So, what did you do? Raid Avril Lavigne's closet?"

Her tinkling laugh was like glass breaking, but I found that I didn't really care. My skinny jeans, sneakers, and long-sleeve knit shirt weren't anything she could make fun of anymore. Nope, this was actually jealousy, and I found it was much easier to deal with than disdain. In a way, it was almost fun, now that I wasn’t afraid anymore. For once, I had a choice of how to respond to her, and I thoroughly enjoyed deliberately ignoring her.

Rob Furlong came into the classroom, and I was surprised and genuinely glad to see him back on his feet.

Concern replaced happiness as I watched him move slowly to his desk and wince as he eased himself into the seat. While he was still tall and gorgeous with his curly brown hair, he looked sallow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The bandages on his shoulder bulked up one side of his shirt, and his arm hung useless in a sling.

I silently sent him my sympathy, and that was all I could do. Makeover or not, where boys were concerned, I was still Snub Club, and he was still a Jock. Besides, even though he was good-looking in a dreamy, earnest way, the sight of him didn't send a thousand volts of thrill through my veins like Haley did.

To my surprise, though, Rob looked around and caught sight of me. I nodded and gave him a timid but friendly smile as if to say welcome back. He looked stunned at the sight of me, and then he returned my smile with a big, sweet one of his own.

The second bell rang, and Ms. Collins came in. I snuck one last glance at Haley and was shocked at the hard, angry look on his face.

Ms. Collins began a lecture on feudalism. I couldn't concentrate. I didn't want to concentrate. I just wanted to sit there and mildly freak out about my morning in peace.

The fluorescent lights of the classroom hurt my eyes. I was tired of feeling like I was looking at everything through a new pair of glasses with a stronger prescription.

 I stole another look at Haley. He didn't return my gaze and kept glaring down at his notebook. The only thing that seemed to indicate that he knew I was looking at him was that his left hand was clenched into a fist and relaxed as he stretched out his long white fingers to rest nervously on the surface of the desk.

The bell rang for the end of class, and I gathered up my stuff, my mind still caught up in a game of mental pinball between my eyes, my mom, Zack, Haley, and Rob. Absent-mindedly, almost casually, I ran straight into Haley.

He literally caught me just outside the classroom, steadying me with a hand that seemed to find and fit into the curve of my waist in a way that brought all my attention back to him.

I stepped back from him, only to have him take a step toward me, closing the distance between us.

He leaned in so that his lips were right by my ear.

"You have beautiful eyes, Stephanie Starr," he whispered, and I shivered.

Before I could reply, I was knocked back a step—or would have been if Haley's grasp of my waist hadn't become effortlessly strong and easily held me in place.

Kara rubbed her shoulder and smiled with everything except her eyes. "Sorry, Stephanie. Didn't mean to bump you."

I nodded once, refusing to smile back at her or accept her apology. She didn't mean it, and I wouldn't have meant it, either. A flutter of anger flip-flopped in my throat, and my breath came out of my mouth feeling oddly hot.

Instinct, based on a lifetime of experience, led me to glance down the hall to see Jordan glaring at me.

Yet, instead of cringing, I basked in the warmth of my own anger. It felt like hot honey flowing through my veins. My eyes burned as I narrowed them at her. Haley's low chuckle vibrated down his arm and into my own core, putting me back into reality like the whoosh of cold air from the fridge on a summer day.

"Easy there," he murmured, his thumb rubbing a spot on low my back.

The second bell rang, and I broke away from him, dashing down the hall to Poetry. I grabbed my usual seat, thankful Mr. Brown hadn't walked in yet. I was so thankful I hadn’t actually acted on my anger and gone up to Jordan. Newfound confidence or not, that would have been bad all around. I owed Haley one for that.

"Hey, Stephanie."

Startled, I looked to my left to see the owner of the oddly sweet, shy voice.

Rob Furlong was smiling nervously at me.

"Um, hey?" I replied, unsure of what to say to this boy. I'd never said more than two words to in the twelve years we'd been in school together.

"How's your shoulder?" I asked, scrambling for something to say.

"Painful," he admitted ruefully.

"I'm sorry you don't get to play this year."

"I just hope I get my full range of motion back. I'm not sure I'll be able to play college anymore."

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry." I groped for another question. "How did it happen?"

Rob shook his head, giving me a smile and a shrug. "It was the weirdest thing. I was just standing there, ready to catch the ball, watching it come at me. Suddenly, it's like it accelerated and hit me like a ton of bricks. I fell down, and I swear I thought I was going to fall down on my back, but I somehow twisted and managed to land with all of my weight on my shoulder. It's really weird, but I guess it's how it happened. I mean, you can't really remember things all that well when you're actually in the middle of getting hurt, and it all happens so fast."

I was speechless, trying to take in everything he had said, and my mind racing back to the second day of school with Zack at the lockers when Jennifer and Melissa had talked about the accident.

To my right, I heard a pen tapping against the desk in rhythmic agitation, and for once, Haley wasn't staring at me. He was giving a death stare to Rob.

Mr. Brown walked in then, and he continued his lecture on romance and death in 19th century poetry. This time, though, he took a different approach.

"The word 'romance' was commonly used to describe more than just love and passion between individuals," he said. "In the nineteenth century, romance also implied the thrill and excitement of new places and new experiences. British travelers brought back incredible descriptions of places like China and Egypt, exposing people to mysterious cultures and new ideas of just how long history really could be."

I chewed the tip of my pen, wondering absently about the nature of history. How far back did it go? How far into the future would it go? My mind relaxed and expanded for a moment, then ran screaming back from the dizzying concepts of infinity and eternity. Whoa. My heart was pounding like I'd just had a panic attack, and I decided to stick with my small, personal definitions of history, which included last year, last week, and yesterday.

"Today, we'll begin with a reading of 'Ozymandias' by Percy Bysshe Shelley," Mr. Brown continued. "Ozymandias is another name for Ramses the Great, one of the most powerful pharaohs in ancient Egypt. Miss Starr, will you read for us?"

I don't know about anyone else, but whenever I had to speak in public, I got the weirdest feeling that I was going to pee my pants. Too many eyes waiting for me to offer up some mistake they could make fun of.

I prayed for bladder control, cleared my throat and began.

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:

’My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

The voice of the long-dead ruler echoed in my mind, haunting me with images of crumbling monuments, endless sand dunes, and relentless winds. My voice trailed off, and I felt raw from the passion and despair of eternity.

"Wow," Rob whispered, and my head jerked up from the page.

I looked around and found that everyone was staring at me, almost like my worst nightmare.

Except it wasn't my worst nightmare. Everyone was looking at me, stunned, just like they had when Haley had read “The Raven.”

Mr. Brown shook his head slightly and rallied.

"Yes, um, well done, Miss Starr. Mr. Smith, would you care to share your opinion as to the poem's meaning?"

I felt Haley's smile crawl, hot and cold, over my skin, even though I refused to look his way.

"It's simple," he replied.

"Do tell, Mr. Smith."

"All things lead to the grave."

I PICKED AT
my lunch, using my fork to rake and pile quinoa like one of those toy zen sandboxes. I had just completed what I thought was a pretty awesome replica of Machu Pichu when Helen slammed herself down in the chair opposite me and huffed.

Morris and I exchanged raised eyebrows.

"Steph, I know I'm driving you home from school," Helen ground out. "But, do you mind if I commit murder? You can probably bail me out by the end of the day."

"Fine with me," I shrugged, turning Machu Pichu into the Grand Canyon. "Go ahead. Who you gonna kill?"

"Zack Smith."

Morris laughed.

"Why?" I asked.

"So, we're in Biology, right?" Helen began, sounding deeply aggrieved. "And, I ask the boy if he finished his part of the assignment for chemistry lab tomorrow. What do you think he says?"

"Um..."

"Exactly! He then has the balls to tell me he has been busy with football practice because of Homecoming on Friday, and that he might not get to it!"

"I can help you," Morris offered from behind his laptop screen.

"No way," Helen huffed. "That boy is going to do his fair share of the work! He might be able to cheat and charm his way through all the other classes by getting the girls to cover for him, but there's no way I'm going to let him do that with me!"

"But, what about your grade?" I asked.

"I can always do extra credit," Helen sniffed disdainfully. "Mr. Ingalls knows I am a serious student. He won't punish me for a helmet-wearing Neanderthal's slacking."

"Dude!" Morris exclaimed. "Harsh!"

"Seriously?" Helen continued, waving her Hot Pocket menacingly. "For some reason, he has decided it's his goal in life to irritate the crap out of me, and it’s only getting worse."

"Maybe he likes you?" Morris suggested.

"Don't be a dumbass," Helen snorted, giving Morris him her Your Data Is Incorrect look that he never saw because he never looked up from his screen.

Helen morosely went back to eating and probably contemplating some kind of staggering homicidal scheme for Zack.

A thought struck me, and I looked up from my attempt at a quinoa-based Mount Rushmore.

"Helen," I asked. "Does Zack ever talk about Haley?"

Helen's eyebrows shot up, and I could practically see the hard drive in her head whirring to life.

"Not really," she replied, then paused. "Actually, I take that back. He doesn't talk a lot about Haley, but he does mention him sometimes. He always sounds a little sad when he talks about him."

"Sad?" I seized on this. "Why?"

Helen frowned thoughtfully before replying, "He seems very protective of him. He said that Haley has always been a loner."

"Has he ever mentioned him going away?"

"Uh, no? I mean, what do you mean 'going away?'"

"I don't know. It's just something Haley said, like he wouldn't be around here for long."

Helen bit the tip of her thumb, her tiny white teeth slightly visible through her parted lips. This was her pose of Intense Puzzlement.

"They seem to have moved around a lot before coming to Darbyfield," she said finally. "Maybe he's just anticipating having to leave before the year is over?"

I nodded, somewhat relieved. Obviously, that's what he had meant. He didn't want to move again during his senior year. Who would?

"Well," Morris jumped in. "They can't move before the end of November, not with Zack being quarterback of the football team."

Helen rolled her eyes, and I laughed.

"Oh, and the Homecoming king and queen nominations are coming out this afternoon in announcements," he added. "Zack and Haley are going to be nominated for king, and Jordan is the only one nominated for queen.”

"How do you know that?" I demanded.

"Tumblr," Morris replied nonchalantly, turning his computer to show me his screen.

"Ow!" I blurted out, squeezing my eyes shut.

"What?" Helen exclaimed, leaning toward me.

I heard Morris pull the laptop back and cautiously opened my eyes.

"The screen just really hurt my eyes," I answered. "It's really bright. And, I can see all the pixels. It was weird."