No One's Watching (25 page)

“Don't worry.” Mrs. Ricardo peered at her cell. “It cracked at the park. I keep it in a waterproof makeup bag, but my tote was crushed in the storm. Luckily, the cell phone still works.”

Mrs. Ricardo's skirt rustled as she left, pulling the door closed. I stared at the cell phone before thumbing my number on the keypad.

I counted the number of rings. One and Mom picked up. She must've been waiting for my call.

“Hello?” Mom's voice was airy.

“Hi. How's Grandma?” My mouth was so dry it shriveled up.

“Are you okay? Mrs. Ricardo told us about the terrible storm while you were at the park.”

“I'm fine. We're all fine.” Should I tell her about what happened to Blake, my Irish dance partner? Not a good idea. “What about Grandma? Did she have the operation?”

“She had her hip operation this morning, and she's resting in her room.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“She's in pain.” Mom sighed. “The nurse gave her something to help her sleep. I wouldn't have called at all if Shelly hadn't been sweet enough to loan you her phone and you guessed about something being up with Grandma.”

Sweet?
Shelly doesn't equal sweet. She shouldn't have a cell phone here. “I'd better give Mrs. Ricardo her cell phone back.” I stewed in my anger and cleared my voice. “Tell Grandma to get better soon and I miss her.” I drew in a breath. “Will she be well enough to be left alone when you come to get me next week? I could go back with Shelly and her mom.” Perfect.

“Hospitals kick patients out, even seriously ill patients, way before they're ready to go home.” She paused. “She'll be home on Monday. One of her friends from her mahjong club, who's a retired nurse, will stay with her on Saturday when I come to get you. Seeing you perform her signature piece — well, the
pas de deux
— on DVD will help her recuperate much faster.”

“Right.” How bad was Grandma? I picked at the corner of the briefcase Mrs. Ricardo had left on the table.

Mom let out a hiss of breath. “One more week. Can't wait to see you. I know you've learned a lot.”

More than you could imagine. Should I say something about Blake? Not if I wanted to keep my head.

“That's all,” Mom said. “Be good. I know there are a lot of boys at camp, but stay away from them. You just stick to Shelly and your sweet roommate.”

“Okay.”

“Thank Mrs. Ricardo for the use of her phone.”

“I will.” I fingered the leather strap on the briefcase.

“Love you. Bye.”

“Bye.” The light flashed on the cell phone indicating the call ended.

I closed the phone as the door burst open. Shelly and Amy tumbled in.

“Here you are.” Shelly sauntered up the aisle between the rows of chairs. “You were right, Amy. Kit sneaked into a room to use a cell phone.”

Amy's mouth dropped open. “I was totally joking. I should be a fortune teller.”

I gripped the phone. “You do look great in a turban.”

“I'm going to get it.” Amy dashed out of the room.

“Wait.” When Shelly shook her head, her ponytail swished on her shoulders.

I lifted my hand toward the door. “Why do you hang out with her? She's a total ditz.”

Shelly crossed her arms. “Who should I hang with? You? That's a laugh.” She snatched the phone from me. “Whose phone is this?”

“It's Mrs. Ricardo's. Let me have it. I need to give it back to her. She's in the TV lounge down the hall.” I held out my arm.

She peered at my extended hand. “You want me to shake it?” Shelly cradled the phone and bit her bottom lip as she flipped it open. “Let's see who Mrs. Ricardo talks to. Maybe a cousin from Duke?”

“Come on.” I reached for the phone.

Shelly snorted. As I rounded the table, she strode away and leaned against the wall in the back of the room, her thumbs busy on the cell phone. “Woohoo. ‘Love you darling. Meet tonight Sweet Hearth's.' Who's that from?”

My face heated to boiling. “Cut it out. Give me the phone back.”

Her shining moon-like eyes eclipsed her face. “You'll never believe what this says.”

I lunged for Shelly and the phone. She twisted away from me and skittered between rows of chairs set up to watch movies.

She paused. “You wouldn't believe who Mrs. R's been talking to. I didn't think old people texted.” Shelly stared at the phone, her perfectly arched eyebrows curved high on her forehead.

“Give it back.”

Her eyebrows disappeared into her widow's peak. “Did you know about this? Seems she and Mr. Jarenko have a little thing going on. And she's married to that sweet man who's so ill.”

“Come on. Stop being an idiot.” I shuffled to the end of the row she stood in. “Give it back.”

Shelly scooted around another row of chairs, her gaze fixed to the tiny screen.

I pursued her. “This has nothing to do with you. Can't you mind your own business?”

“What did you say?” Shelly froze and dropped the cell phone on the cushioned seat. Her mouth trembled beneath her flared nostrils. “Mind my own business? That's rare coming from you.”

I stopped and blinked. “What are you talking about? This is about Mrs. Ricardo's privacy.”

She scrunched her hands into fists. “Mrs. Ricardo's privacy?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She jerked her thumb to her chest. “What about mine?”

“Your what?” I squinted at her as she smoldered.

“My privacy?” She strained toward me.

I leaned back. “What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with you. Do you think everything is about you?”

She braced her hands on her waist so hard I thought she'd pinch herself in half. “How can you claim to care so much about someone else's privacy when you, when you...” Her large eyes narrowed.

“When I what?”

She picked up the cell phone and threw it at me. I caught it after it bounced off the bony part of my chest.

“Ow.” I rubbed my sternum. That was going to leave a mark. “What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?”

She steadied herself on the back of a chair. Her voice filled the room. “You don't get it, do you? You never have.”

“I'm getting this cell phone back to Mrs. Ricardo before you do something you'll regret.”

“You've obviously never regretted what you did to me.” She clenched her teeth.

Why did Shelly always sound like she couldn't stand me? Amy's words in Labanotation class replayed in my head. Did Amy know why Shelly hated me? I couldn't remember. Why not? My head spun. Because she hadn't had a chance. Did I want to hear it now? Since Shelly was about to burst, I had a feeling I didn't have a choice.

I sank into a chair. “What have I done wrong, except be born?” Born to a mother who had to give up her performing career because of me and to a father I had to make up.

Shelly paused, tilting her head to her shoulder. “You mean you don't know?”

“No.”

“You have no idea?” She inspected my face with her penetrating stare.

I shook my head.

“Either you're the greatest actress ever born. Or the most clueless person in the world.” She straddled the chair in front of me. “From your blank face, I'd say you were clueless. Only Amy perfected oblivious better because she's so dense.”

I would've laughed if I weren't so confused. The place where she'd pinged me throbbed. I hadn't been so close to Shelly without her spewing an insult at me since we were little girls. Like when we were around eight and nine. We used to get along. For an extremely short time.

“Mrs. Golden's class? Remember her?” The tightness in Shelly's voice returned.

“She was your second grade teacher.” Would Mrs. Ricardo miss her phone and come back to get it? I slipped it in a pocket in my beige shorts.

Shelly huffed and wrinkled her forehead. “She was
your
second grade teacher. She was my fourth grade teacher when I transferred to your school.”

“Okay.” My crossed leg bounced on my knee. This trip down memory lane had better not take too long. I had to change my clothes and meet Blake and the girls in about twenty minutes for Irish dance rehearsal.

“Do you remember talking to Mrs. Golden about me after school?”

Come on, Shelly. That was six years ago.
I shook my head.

“You asked her if her class could donate my school supplies because my family was…” Shelly pressed her lips together and flattened her mouth before she continued, “… we were poor.”

I winced. “Are you sure I said that?”

“I was picking out a book from the book bins in the back of the room. I wasn't alone. Courtney Hicks was there with some other girls. They heard you.”

Courtney Hicks? The queen bee of high school and her drones.

“They didn't care, did they?”

“Are you serious? They still say stupid stuff to me.” She plucked her shirt. “‘Didn't I see Kit in that same sweater last year?' And, ‘Hey, Shelly, I'm finished with my boyfriend. Maybe you'd like him now.'” She stuck out her chin and waggled her head as she imitated their voices.

I frowned. “I didn't mean anything. I wanted to help.”

“Do you realize how embarrassing that was? Couldn't you keep your mouth shut?”

“I'm sorry. I-I don't know what else to say.” I was only eight at the time. My best recollection was I was happy I'd see Shelly every day and wanted to make it easy for her to come to a new school. I wanted to help her. Like Mom had helped her mom.

I didn't remember those other girls being there. Or remember Shelly there either.

“How did you know about my mom's money problems anyway? I didn't even know we were poor.” Her bottom lip stuck out. “You must've been snooping around. I can't believe your mom or grandma would have told you something so personal.” Her voice rose and strained. “You ruined my life.”

I shivered as if the air conditioner had been turned on too high. Snow should be blowing out of the air vents soon. Shelly must be wrong. I wouldn't do something so stupid on purpose. Why would I want to hurt Shelly?

“Dance is all I have, and I have to see you whenever I dance.” Shelly's red blotches spread over her face.

“I didn't try to ruin your life. That wouldn't have been my intention. I didn't think there was anything wrong in being poor. I've never said anything to anyone since.” I pressed my hands to my temples. How did I know Shelly's mom was having money problems?
Think, think.
Mom and Grandma sitting at the kitchen table. Me sneaking down the stairs. I had loved to listen to their voices when they were talking and telling stories. Dancing in a ballet company, the rehearsals, on tour, the costumes. I usually fell asleep on the steps and woke up in my bed.

Shortly after Shelly started classes at our ballet school, Mom and Grandma had another midnight kitchen session discussing her enormous talent and how hard she worked. Shelly's mom was having a tough time with her job and money. Mom had let Shelly attend class for free — and still did. Grandma suggested passing on my outgrown clothes and leotards — and I still did. I was bigger than Shelly, even though she was a year older. At the beginning, we were cautious best friends. I had been so excited when her mom relocated to an apartment in my school district. I'd always wanted a sister.

But I got none of the sibling and all of the rivalry. “I must've overheard my mom and grandma talking about your situation. They never spoke about it in front of me. They didn't know I heard them. I was trying to help. My mom was always swapping clothes with friends who had kids. No big deal.”

“It was a big deal. A huge deal when you spoke with Mrs. Golden. She called my house and told my mom about all sorts of programs at school, like reduced lunches and free musical instruments and school supplies. No one would know.” She choked back a sob. “But they did know. Everyone. Thanks to Big Mouth Courtney and you.” Tears collected in her eyes, but they were as stubborn as Shelly and stayed put. “All I've wanted to do since I first saw your mom and her students do a ballet demonstration at my elementary school was to dance. I'm not sure if you feel the same way. Now or ever.”

Stab. Double stab.

“You parade around school with your friends while I'm forced to hide from Courtney and everyone. I practice ballet in our tiny kitchen, and you don't even appreciate the studio in your backyard.”

“I appreciate it.” I repainted the whole thing. Plus, it'd been my job since forever to sweep the floors and polish the mirrors after rehearsal every Saturday. I even taught the beginners' classes.

“You moan every time you step foot in the studio.”

This year was so hard. I needed a break once in a while, that was all. To expand my boundaries.

Shelly buried her face in her hands. “When you told Mrs. Golden my mom didn't have much money and the others heard, you humiliated me.”

My insides disintegrated and disappeared. I was hollow. I reached for her cold hand, prying it from her face. It was a whisper of bones, a bundle of dried kindling we'd left all summer by the fireplace to flake on the hearth. How did her toes and arches support her slight weight? “I didn't mean to hurt or embarrass you. I was excited you'd be in my elementary school, and I'd get to see you every day. I guess I wasn't thinking when I talked to Mrs. Golden. I never meant to hurt you. Not then and not since.”

She pulled her hand away. The blotches on her face multiplied and tinged her shoulders and throat pink. Was she allergic to me?

My legs felt like they were full of bees, itching to get away. “I'm glad you told me. I could never figure out why you hated me.” I fidgeted.