No One's Watching (18 page)

“Four hundred fifty.”

FOUR HUNDRED FIFTY VOLTS. I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. I was going to electrocute someone. I'd run out of class to post a stupid letter, and now I was going to end up in jail. I flinched. I didn't know what four hundred fifty volts of electricity would do to you, but I was pretty sure it wasn't as much fun as a long soak in a hot tub. I pictured Hilary with her long hair, frizzled and smoking. Not a pretty sight. I didn't want to hurt her on purpose. My glance automatically shot to the closed door.

“Please begin.” Carey hooked her arms behind her back.

Hilary was a smart girl. She made it to college, right? I read the first word and the possible words to pair it with. I gave C, the right answer, extra emphasis. She'd get the answer right and then we could leave. “And the correct answer is?”

Hilary inhaled. Her voice smiled. “B.”

My empty stomach twisted and shriveled. I shuffled my feet under the desk, the steps to the dance of regret. Something I just choreographed.

Carey pointed to the first red button. “The experiment requires you to continue.”

I laid my hand over the knob of pain. Which was worse — being the one inflicting the pain, even if you didn't mean to hurt anyone, or having to endure it?

My skin tightened, as if it had shrunk in all the humidity. I pressed the button, and Hilary yelped.

I cringed and licked my lips. “Try again.” I knew she'd get it right this time. Giving a little more stress to C's right answer.

Hilary hesitated. “A?”

My feet quieted, and I shook my head.

Carey reached over my shoulder. Her white coat brushed my arm as she indicated the next button. “It's absolutely essential you continue.”

Why?
How could I hurt someone deliberately? I balanced my hands on the edge of the table. I'd always been a rule follower, but I'd been breaking them all over the place since I got to camp. Here was another broken rule for the record. I pushed myself back, knocking the chair into Carey. I didn't care if they called security. For all they knew, I was simply a student with a bad attitude. Like that was new.

The door banged as I flung it open and charged down the hall, escaping to the exit sign. I hoped it was the bridge and not the stairs.

As I pushed through the exit door, Carey yelled, “You won't get credit if you quit.”

I wasn't quitting. I was moving on to something else. Changing my mind. Change wasn't bad. Dr. Kennedy popped out of the other room and roared.

As I crossed the glass-enclosed bridge, nine floors above the street, my sandals snapped at my heels like sharks. Cars sped below me. I picked up speed and burst through the doors on the other side of the bridge to my building. I stopped and glanced left to right, searching for the stairs.

Of all places to wind up, the ninth floor bridge connected to the dance camp faculty rooms in my building. I had no luck. Irish or otherwise. It proved to me again I didn't belong in the Irish dance class. Mom knew best, and she'd never want me in an Irish dance class. What about me? Not so sure, but I went along with what I thought Mom would want.

How did I know this was where all the teachers and administrators stayed? Mrs. Ricardo walked out of the ninth floor laundry room down the hall carrying a load of wash in a basket on her hip.

I edged toward the bridge's doors. As I pushed through the door, my hand slipped on the hip bar, and my face smashed against the door.

“Hold on there.” Mrs. Ricardo raised her arm like a traffic policeman.

I faced her and bit my lip.

“What are you doing on this floor?”

“I got lost.” I waved my arms helplessly up and down the hall.

She narrowed her eyes, shifting the basket to her other hip, and searched beyond me to the bridge. “You haven't been in the building next door, have you?”

Did that count as going outside? Or was it illegal to simply leave
this
building?

Her gaze dropped to my feet and swept upward, capturing my bloodied toe, dirty shorts and sweat streaked face. “Were you outside?”

I twisted the envelope in my pocket.

“You do realize being outside without an adult is grounds for immediate dismissal.”

“But I can't be sent home.” I raised my hands and the envelope fell to the floor. Tears puddled in my eyes.

“We made it perfectly clear at the beginning of camp what would happen if you violated this rule. You signed an honor code statement when you sent in your camp deposit.” Mrs. Ricardo set her basket down and picked up the envelope. “What's this?”

My vocal chords strangled my voice. “I was trying to send a letter to my mom, but I missed the mail going out. I had to find the post office.”

She flipped the envelope over. “It's empty.”

“I was in too much of a hurry to notice the letter was missing.” I swallowed the giant, dry lump in my throat. It strangled me.

“What was so important about the letter it couldn't wait?”

I sniffed. “I wanted to tell her about my—my part in the performance at the end of camp.”

She rounded up wisps of her fluffy hair, tucking them behind her ears, and shook her head. “If we make an exception for you, then everyone will go running around the streets. It's dangerous out there. We're trying to keep everyone safe.”

My jaw quivered. Mom and Grandma will be horrified if Mrs. Ricardo sent me home in humiliation. I couldn't face them. And what about Shelly? She'd love for me to screw up and have to leave.

I trembled. Had Mrs. Ricardo never done anything wrong in her life? “I promise I won't do it again. Please give me another chance.”

Mrs. Ricardo shook her head.

“I'm sorry. You can see I'm fine.” I wiped my wet cheeks with the backs of my hands. “Please.”

She handed the empty envelope back to me and surveyed the empty hallway. “Quickly, go to your room, and...”

I waited for her to tell me to pack my clothes.

She stooped to pick up her laundry basket. “…don't let this happen again.”

Relief washed over me and drained the last bit of strength from my body. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You're a good dancer. You work hard. Remember why you're at this camp.” She shook her head and continued down the hall.

My lips jerked around my face as if they were attached to strings on a crazy marionette. Why was I at this camp? I thought I knew.

The elevators were down the hall closest to the faculty rooms. The stairs were on the other end. I chose to climb the stairs. All six flights of them.

When I burst into my dorm room, I was panting and dripping with sweat. I closed the door and locked it, in case Dr. Kennedy and Carey followed me. Or Mrs. Ricardo changed her mind. Candace was craning her neck as best she could out the closed and inoperable window.

She spun around. “Where have you been? I've been sick to death with worry.” She circled me. “Your foot is bleeding. Your hair's a mess. Tell me you didn't do something crazy.”

“Crazy? Me?” I took a huge breath to relax, but my body wouldn't stop quaking. On top of that, the cool air made me giddy. “Let's say I found a new way to get into our building.”

She frowned. “To get in? Were you outside?” She pointed to the grimy window. “What were you doing out there? In the daylight?”

I slipped my sandals off. The blood had dried and glued the tights to my toe. “I had to get to the post office and mail a letter to my mom. I had to do it before Shelly could write her mom, or worse, call her with her cell phone, in case Jupiter fixes it. Shelly's ticked off at me, especially when Blake told her he wanted to stay in the Irish dance piece. She thinks it's my fault he won't partner her.”

Candace sat on the edge of her bed. “What did you tell your mom in your letter?”

“I wrote I had gotten a ballet solo.” I bit my lip. “But when I went to mail it, the envelope was empty. Shelly had found my letter and kept it before I sneaked out.”

Candace held her fluffy pink pillow against her stomach. “What happens when your mom gets here and finds out you don't have a solo?”

“I don't know. I can't think about that right now. It's a mess. Everything's a mess.” I grabbed my bathrobe from the hook in my closet and flung it over my shoulder, whipping my back with its tie. “I'm going to take a shower and then we can go to supper.” All I wanted to do was take a hot shower to forget what had happened, eat a whole lot and learn something fun in Irish dance rehearsal. Because it was fun. Plus, I got to see Blake. I rummaged in my drawer for clean clothes.

“Supper's over. You need to get down to the studio. You can't keep being late. You're going to get into real trouble with Blake and the others. We'll go out when you get back.”

I sank to my bed. My stomach rumbled and gurgled. “Okay. I'll tell you about my adventures later. You won't believe what I went through.” I glimpsed myself in the mirror. My hair had escaped from the barrettes and poked out of my head like a dandelion puffball. Then again, from the looks of me, maybe she would.

Candace patted my shoulder. “I'm glad you're all right. I'll be waiting on you in the TV room. See you later.”

“Okay.” I rummaged through my drawers for my last clean pair of stretch shorts and a fresh T-shirt. If my smeared mascara made me resemble a raccoon, they'd be insulted at the comparison. I could've auditioned for a part in a horror movie. After scrubbing my face, I bandaged my toe and completely redid my hair. I picked up my blush brush and set it down. My red face from running around outside didn't need any more color.

As I slung my dance bag on my shoulder, I knocked over an amber bottle on Candace's bureau. Before I stood the cologne upright, I sniffed it. Amazing. Candace had such good taste. She must be saving this for the weekend. I spritzed the air and walked through the mist. I sniffed. For you, Blake. I spritzed the air again and backed through it. For you, Shelly.

After I sneezed, I left the room.

Irish dance practice was a blast. No Shelly, but plenty of Blake. Megan and Lindy demonstrated a light jig, reel, and hornpipe, wearing their hard shoes with heels. It was so, so cool. Blake and I tried to follow them and kept bumping into each other. Much cooler.

We quit rehearsal early. Before she and Megan took off, Lindy loaned me an Irish dance magazine to read.

On the way to the elevators, I raided the snack machine and bought pretzels and cheese curls for dinner.

Blake hung around waiting for me. “Didn't you eat supper?”

“I was busy and didn't have time.” I dredged an outside pocket on my dance bag for more change.

“Come to my room. Jupiter has a stash of fruit and junk. Healthy stuff. His parents made him pack it.”

My face froze in a flash smile. Blake had invited me to his room. Was he suggesting a date or a picnic?

Blake tapped the up button. “Are you coming?”

“Won't Jupiter miss his food?”

“He won't care. He'd be happy if you ate it.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Blake pressed the button for the fourteenth floor.

Shelly's floor. Hopefully, she'd be annoying somebody elsewhere. The elevator drew us up seamlessly. I was going to Blake's room. I swallowed a giggle and took a swig from my water bottle.
Blech
. Warm.

When we got to his floor, I rinsed the bottle and refilled it at the water fountain by the elevators. He waited for me. So nice.

Mostly guys stayed on this floor, at least at Blake's end of the hall. His door was partly open, and Jupiter sat at his desk, frowning into a paper lunch bag.

Blake tapped on the door. “Jupe.”

“Dude.” Jupiter hunkered farther into his chair.

“Any luck?” Blake kicked clothes out of the way and offered me the other desk chair. He rummaged in their tiny refrigerator.

“About to see.” Jupiter took his face out of the bag. “Hey, Kit.”

“Hi.”

Blake handed me an apple, a packet of pre-sliced cheese, and a sleeve of brown crackers with crushed acorns and birdseed on top.

“Thanks.” I gathered the food from Blake. “You don't mind if I eat your food, do you, Jupiter?”

“Naw. I'm a cupcakes fiend, myself.” He reached into the bag, making it crackle.

I crunched the apple, happy to be sitting at Blake's desk. The apple was as cool and juicy as the weather outside was hot and sticky. I pointed to a bag. “Is that a packet of cupcakes?” I tried the crackers. They weren't too bad with a tiny slab of cheese on them.

“Not quite.” He tapped something pink and flat on the desk and moved the bag away.

“That's not the—” The crackers ground to grit in my mouth.

“Sure is.” Jupiter brushed Shelly's cell phone off with his shirt. “The magic bag of rice Shelly's cell phone has been sitting in.”

Blake folded his arms across his chest. “Have you tried the phone yet?”

Jupiter shook his head. “Nope.”

“What are you waiting for?” Blake widened his eyes at me. “Let's see if it works.”

Jupiter opened his desk drawer and took out the SIM card and battery. He slid them into the back of the cell phone and closed them up. “Moment of truth.”

“Cross your fingers, Kit.” Blake crossed his. “Jupiter's either a hero—”

“Or a dud. I'm a dude or a dud.” Jupiter dropped his head back and laughed.

My eyes didn't leave Jupiter's hand on the cell phone.

“You want to do the honors?”

Crumbs fell from my lips and littered the desktop. I shook my head.

“Here goes.” When he pressed the on button, Jupiter's thumbnail turned white.

Had the cell phone flashed? It was hard to read his face. Blake leaned toward the desk and slapped Jupiter's shoulder. “Sorry, man.”