Impossible Things (14 page)

Whatever. I shrugged and turned away. Maybe I'd send Ben over with the plague cookies from the kitchen floor.

A gruff nasal voice spoke behind me. “Wait a minute there, waitress. Aren't you going to offer me anything to eat?”

Startled, I spun around. Bullfrog man.

“I'm sorry,” I said politely, holding out my tray. “Would you like something?”

The man's hand hovered over the tray for a moment. A gold wedding ring was sunk into his fleshy finger.

“Arnold! You're not eating that sugary junk, are you? I thought you were on a diet.” The blond woman tapped her foot impatiently.

The man pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned. He scowled at me. “No, no. Don't stand there like an idiot. I don't want anything.”

Jerk. I backed away, my cheeks flaming, mentally reviewing what had just happened. Why was it that when someone acted like a complete idiot, I always felt like I must have done something wrong? I hated that. I gave bullfrog man a parting scowl, but he wasn't even looking my way.

I scanned the room, looking for Victoria, but couldn't see her. The room was packed. I pushed through a group of people, trying to get back to the kitchen, and felt someone grab my sleeve.

It was Ben, eyes wide behind his glasses. “You won't believe this,” he said in a low voice.

I could hardly hear him over the noise of the crowd. “What?”

“Tyler is here! Isn't he the last person you would expect to see at an art show?”

“Are you sure?”

“Look over there,” said Ben, nodding toward the back of the room.

I balanced my tray against my hip and followed his gaze. At the back of the room, leaning against the wall with a sulky look on his face, was Tyler Patterson.

“Huh. That is weird. You're not worried, are you?”

Ben grinned. “Nope.” He squared his shoulders and flashed me a gap-toothed grin. “Last time he called me nerd-boy, I told him his epidermis was showing. And you know what he did? He checked his fly!” Ben took a bite of a cookie. “He didn't even know what it meant.”

I raised my eyebrows, not sure I knew either. “Um, skin? You told him his skin was showing?”

He giggled through a mouthful of cookie. “Yeah, Sydney thought it was hilarious.”

“Yeah, I bet she did.” I leant back to avoid being sprayed with cookie crumbs. “I'm glad Tyler's backed off.”

Ben stopped laughing abruptly. “You know, he actually looks a little nervous whenever he sees me. Funny how he really believed I'd call his mother, hey?”

“Wouldn't you?”

“Are you kidding?” He looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess maybe I would, if I had to.”

“Good.”

“Cassidy? You know what I said that one time, about it being your fault I got picked on?”

I remembered, all right. I nodded, concentrating on keeping my expression the same.

Ben looked uncomfortable. “I shouldn't have said that. And it wasn't true anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He squirmed a little. “So, you know, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry about the stuff I said too. You know, you're fine the way you are.” I grinned at him and punched his shoulder lightly. “Except for the part about your glasses. You shouldn't let Mom pick them for you.”

Ben looked mildly offended. “I picked them myself.”

I groaned. “Take me with you next time.” I changed the subject. “Hey, listen, I can't find Victoria. Have you seen her?”

“She was over by the drinks table, serving cheese and crackers last time I saw her. But I haven't seen her for a while.” Ben held up his almost empty tray in one hand. “I have to go re-stock. These people sure eat a lot.” He disappeared through the door into the kitchen.

I followed him, added a few cookies to my tray and headed back into the crowd. It was insanely busy. Mom should be happy about the number of people who had come.

I scanned the room but still couldn't see Victoria. I felt increasingly uneasy. Then I saw a face I recognized.

Amber Patterson. Just what I needed.

Twenty-Five

Amber was walking toward me, wearing a short black dress, shoes with heels and a tentative smile.

“Hi, Cassidy,” she said.

“Hi, Amber.” I held out the tray of cookies warily. Hopefully our truce was still in effect. “Would you like something to eat?”

Amber giggled. “I've already had about five.” She looked over her shoulder guiltily. “My mother will kill me if she sees me.”

“There's tons more in the kitchen. Eat as many as you want.”

She took a chocolate cookie. “It must be fun, helping out here like this.”

“It's okay.”

“Your mom's art is real popular, isn't it? I don't think I understand it though. I like art that looks like something.”

“I don't really understand it either,” I admitted, starting to relax.

Amber took another cookie. “These are really good cookies anyway.”

Over her shoulder, I spotted high heels woman and bullfrog man heading our way. Time for me to go. “I better get back to work,” I told Amber.

The blond woman looked at Amber. “Poodle!” she cried. “What are you doing eating that junk?”

Amber looked mortified. “Mother!” she protested.

They were her parents? I felt a flicker of something I never expected to feel: sympathy for Amber Patterson.

“You listen to your mother, miss,” said the man. “You're never going to be a model if you keep eating that garbage.” He poked Amber in the belly—hard.

Amber squirmed away. “I don't care,” she said sulkily. “Mom, Dad, this is Cassidy. She's Molly Silver's daughter.”

Mr. and Mrs. Patterson's disapproving expressions were instantly replaced by big smiles. What a couple of phonies.

“Cassidy Silver!” Mrs. Patterson exclaimed. “How nice to meet you! Amber has told us so much about you.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Patterson nodded. He looked uncomfortable. I hoped he was feeling horribly embarrassed about how rude he'd been earlier.

“We just love your mother's work,” Mrs. Patterson gushed. “We're just thrilled that you and Amber are such good friends.”

I looked at Amber. Me and Amber, good friends? I opened my mouth but, for once, no words came out. Amber's eyes met mine with an expression somewhere between pleading and defiance.

I forced a smile. “Nice to meet you too,” I said.

Ben and Sydney were in the kitchen. Their trays were piled high and ready to go, but they were sitting side by side on the counter, munching on vegetables and dip.

Ben looked up guiltily. “We're taking a little break,” he mumbled, his mouth full of carrot.

“Whatever.” I put my tray down on the counter. “Have you seen Victoria? I can't find her.”

Ben frowned. “That's weird,” he said. “Sydney and I thought we saw her come in here, but she must have left when we weren't looking, because when we came in the kitchen, she was gone.”

“Her mother's working in the coffee shop, but I don't think she'd have gone to see her.” I hesitated. I had a feeling that whatever was going on with Victoria, it wasn't something she wanted her mom to know about. “Ben? Would you pop your head in and check if Victoria's there?”

He nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

A moment later he was back. “Is her mom the tall dark-haired lady with the glasses?”

That sounded about right. “Yeah, no sign of Victoria?”

He shook his head, frowning. “No, that's kind of weird, huh?”

I had this awful feeling that something was wrong. But I'd been feeling uneasy since we arrived. What was it? I shook my head hard, as if I could shake the answer loose.

An image popped into my mind. The dark street outside, the lights of Main Street reflected on its wet surface. The noise of our car tires in the slush as we pulled up to the curb around the corner from the gallery. The headlights of our station wagon lighting up the back of the small red car parked in front of us.

The small red car
. I'd seen that car before. That day at school, hiding behind the Dumpster with Victoria. Rick's car.

I flew back through the crowds of people and out the front door. The street was cold, and in the sudden silence, my ears rang from the noise of music and laughter and conversation. I ran down the street, around the corner and onto Alma Street. There, just ahead of me, was our brown station wagon, and in front of it, the little red car. I stood there for a moment, my thoughts as thick and frozen as the slush soaking through my shoes.

If the car was still here, I reasoned, then Victoria was still here too, and everything was okay. It probably wasn't Rick's car at all. There must be hundreds of small red cars in town.

Then I heard voices coming from the alley behind the gallery. As quietly as I could, I made my way over there, keeping close to the buildings. The cold wind was blowing straight through my thin white shirt, and I wished I'd taken the time to grab my coat before running outside.

Just inside the mouth of the alley was a large metal Dumpster. I inched behind it. Hiding behind Dumpsters was becoming a habit. I waited, shivering and listening. I could hear low voices but couldn't make out any words. Jeez, it was cold. I wondered if I was being stupid. I mean, there wasn't really any reason to think that Victoria was in danger. For all I knew I was spying on some total strangers doing who-knows-what in a dark alley. Not smart.

I poked my head out an inch and caught my breath. Not total strangers. Victoria was standing maybe fifty feet away, arms folded across her chest. Rick towered over her, his face shadowed. It was pretty obvious from their body language that they were arguing. Rick raised his voice. “Come on,” he said. “My car's just over here. Can we at least sit in the car to talk? I'm freezing.”

Don't do it, I thought. I was between them and the car, but I couldn't see how I could stop them.

“I don't think so,” Victoria retorted. “I agreed to meet you here because, well, I don't know why. Because you said you'd changed. But you haven't, have you?” She backed away from him slowly. “I'm not a little kid anymore, Rick.”

“No, you're all grownup, aren't you? Little Miss Perfect.”

“Rick, don't be like that.”

“Too good to help me out. Too good to bend a few laws.”

She stepped away from him. “I'm not eight years old anymore. If I helped you, and we got caught, we'd both be in trouble and you'd go to jail again.” She shook her head. “Forget it, Rick. I'm going back to the gallery.”

He grabbed her arm. “You're not going anywhere.”

Twenty-Six

Rick hung onto Victoria's arm, ignoring her protests and half dragging her down the alley. My heart was racing. What if he kidnapped her or something? I wanted to run and get help, but if I came out from behind the Dumpster, Rick would see me. Maybe I could outrun him—he sure didn't look like an athlete—but he'd probably grab Victoria and be gone before I could get back.

Come on, Victoria. Do something, I thought. If she was really telekinetic, why wouldn't she make something fall on his head or trip him? I wished I had a way to let her know I was watching. They were getting closer, and I could see that Victoria's face was streaked with tears and her eyes were wide and scared. Maybe she was too frightened to use her powers?

If only I could lift up that box of garbage over there. I imagined lifting it into the air and dropping it on Rick's head. I stared at it, unblinking, until my eyes stung and watered.

It didn't move. Newsflash: I wasn't going to be a superhero.

I peeked out again. They were level with my Dumpster, heading down the alley toward Alma Street.

“You owe me, Victoria,” Rick yelled. “These guys are going to kill me if I don't pay them back. You're the only one who can help me.”

“What are you talking about?” Victoria sounded furious. “It's got nothing to do with me. You keep showing up and wrecking everything.”

Rick's face was screwed up with anger. “Oh, I'm wrecking your life, am I? Well maybe that's your karma, because you sure wrecked mine. You showed up and all of a sudden, Dad had no time for me anymore. It was all about his baby girl.”

“That's not fair. I can't help what happened when I was born. It's not my fault Dad left your mom.”

“You and your stupid alcoholic mother.”

Something clicked in my head. Name calling. Threats. Amber. Tyler. Rick was older and bigger and tougher, but what was he? Just another bully.

“She isn't drinking,” Victoria said quietly. “Not anymore.”

“Oh? So everything is hunky-dory now, is it? Just one happy family now that you've gotten rid of me?”

She shook her head. “No, if you really want to know, it isn't that great.”

“Doesn't matter,” Rick said. “What matters is that I've found you now, and you're going to help me make some serious cash.”

“Rick, I'm not…I can't do it,” Victoria whispered. “I can't help you like that.”

My palms were slick with sweat and my heart was pounding. Rick might be just a bully, but I had to admit it: He scared me. I heard myself coaching Ben, that day on the toboggan hill. You have to make him think he doesn't scare you, I'd told him. What had I learned from being bullied? How to act. It was all about acting.

I took a deep breath, clenched my fists and stepped out of the shadows. “Rick!”

He spun around, dragging Victoria with him.

“You're wasting your time,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady and doing my best to seem bored and unconcerned. “She can't do that weird stuff anymore. She's a big fake.”

Victoria stared at me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. She drew in a long shaky breath; then she started to cry. “She's right, Rick. I really can't.”