Poor Little Dead Girls (14 page)

She heard steps on the bleachers above her and turned to see a man making his way down from the knot of alumni that always sat near the top. When Sadie had asked about them weeks earlier, Brett had just waved a hand and said they were boosters — “lacrosse types, you know?” Sadie hadn’t, but she hadn’t pushed it, either. She just figured they were having some serious trouble moving past their glory years. Most high schools had a few.

She turned back to the field and leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees. Forty-two was lost in a huddle now, so she settled in to wait.

“Sadie Marlowe, right?”

It was a deep voice — smooth, with the kind of aristocratic southern accent she had adopted in her head when she read
Gone with the Wind
. She looked over her shoulder. He was tall and tan, dressed in a slim-cut navy suit with no tie. He held out a hand.

“Teddy Cranston.”

She took it silently, too confused to formulate a proper response. Instead she just stared.

He had a square jaw, blue eyes, and blonde-streaked yacht club hair, the kind that looked like it was continuously being tousled by some phantom ocean breeze. He was the type of guy who would play the lead in a cheesy rom-com — he would be excruciatingly charming and witty, and she and her friends would make fun of everything he said.

“Mind if I join you?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he was already folding himself into the seat next to her. They sat for a moment and gazed out across the field. She floundered for something to say.

“You’re Finn’s dad, right? You built this stadium.”

He laughed. “My family did. I’m just a Graff alum who really loves the Monarchs.” He held out his right hand, showing off two huge rings. One had a gleaming green stone with a yellow gold monogram, and the other looked like a class ring, with a shiny black stone rimmed with diamond chips. He pointed to the latter. “National Champs, 1988,” he said, puffing out his chest. “And you, if my intel is correct, are the new transfer.”

She relaxed. This made more sense. Booster talk. She mustered up a smile. “Yeah, from Portland.”

“So how do you like playing for Keating so far?”

“Oh, it’s been great. I’m just really excited for the season to start. And it’s an honor to play for Coach Fitz,” she parroted. Boosters always wanted to hear the same thing: Everything’s great! This is our year!

“Yes, she has done a lot for the program. Then again, Keating and Graff have always had stellar lacrosse teams.” He looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers so the emerald glinted in the sun. “Eighteen national championships in the past twenty-five years.” He looked at Sadie. “We have high hopes for you helping to continue that legacy.”

“Thanks.” She paused, floundering for a way to deflect the compliment. “I just hope I can compete. Lacrosse is a whole different world on the East Coast.”

“That’s true. But you girls have been working hard in the off-season, I’m sure.” He smiled and patted her knee, his hand lingering just long enough for her to feel the heat from his palm spreading across her thigh. He stood up.

“I just wanted to say hello. I make it my business to know everything about this lacrosse program, and you’re a part of that now.” He reached out his hand. “Welcome to the family — I’m sure you’ll do us proud.”

She shook his hand again, then watched as he climbed back up the bleachers, turning back just in time to see Jessica bounding up the bleachers toward her. She was two minutes into a rant about something Thayer had said in the locker room before Sadie finally shook herself back into focus.

“Hey, why would Teddy Cranston know who I am?” she interrupted. The look on Jessica’s face changed from annoyed to incredulous in an instant.

“Ooh, you met Teddy Cranston? Hot, right? In a weird, old-guy kinda way. He looks like a movie star. I cannot believe he and Finn came out of the same gene pool.” She craned her neck around and looked back up at him in the stands. “I mean, how did that happen?”

Sadie shrugged. “He just like, came down and introduced himself. He said he heard I transferred and wanted to say hi. It was weird.”

Jessica shook her head. “I’ve been here for two years and none of the Cranstons have ever even looked at me. Well except Finn, but, ew.” She shuddered. “Anyway, Teddy is always at games and stuff. I guess it’s not that strange that he would know who you are. It was a big deal when they announced that you were coming.” She looked sideways at Sadie. “Don’t act like you don’t know that.” She grinned and Sadie laughed.

“Whatever,” Sadie said. “And he can’t be that old,” she added. “What do you think, forty-five?”

“Maybe. He’s married though. Hands off, you little skank.”

Sadie’s jaw dropped and she shoved Jessica in the shoulder. “Oh my god, so not what I meant. Gross. He’s my dad’s age.”

Brett sat down and started carefully picking invisible lint off of her cable-knit sweater.

“Hey, Brett, what do you think about Teddy Cranston — would you do him? Sadie thinks he’s old.”

Brett’s shoulders tensed, and she turned and scowled at Jessica. “You know, you can be really immature sometimes, Jess.”

She turned back to face the field and Jessica made a face. “Hey, I wasn’t the one flirting with him, but whatevs,” Jessica said.

Brett raised an eyebrow at Sadie. “Teddy talked to you?”

She shrugged. “Just for a second.” Brett bit her lip, and there was something in her expression that Sadie couldn’t quite identify. Brett noticed Sadie watching her and arranged her features into a wide smile. “Well, I’m sure he just wanted to meet the new recruit.” She winked. “Everybody does.”

Jessica stood up and patted her stomach. “Let’s go. I’m effing starving.”

The Graff team was grouped around the water cooler as they walked by, and as Sadie watched, Jeremy turned his head and met her eyes. For a second he did nothing, then held up a hand and waved, just a hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. Sadie smiled back and linked one arm happily through Jessica’s.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that, you little hobag,” Jessica said, without turning her head.

Sadie came back from dinner that night to an empty room. She hadn’t seen the twins in the dining room, and she realized that lately, she hadn’t seen much of them at all. She would sometimes see them lazily sipping coffee in the dining room in the afternoon, looking disheveled and sleepy, like grumpy cats. She almost never saw them after dinner though, and if they didn’t duck into the room at three minutes to 10
P.M.
, they stumbled in hours later, carrying their red-soled platforms and slurring their words like drunken British frat boys. She never asked them where they went, and some nights they didn’t come back at all.

And yet, somehow they hadn’t gotten caught. Mrs. Darrow supposedly did random bed checks, but they hadn’t had one since the first week of the semester. She remembered Ellen Bennett and the clack-clack-clacking of her heels. It made her wonder how much power that woman actually had over this school.

Sadie sat on her bed and stared at the empty room. It was only eight, but Brett had left the lobby early to work on a physics lab, and Jessica and Grace were writing essays. The rest of the team was in the TV room watching a
Diva Divorcée
s marathon, and Sadie had barely gotten through three minutes of it without feeling like she was going to spontaneously combust.

Her eyes fell on her running shoes piled in the corner of the room, and she stood up.

The quad was quiet, but she still skipped from shadow to shadow until she was safely on the beach. Once on the path, she broke into a run, drawing in the salty air and feeling the wind whipping through her hair. It felt good.

Her muscles ached, but as she worked she felt them start to release. She could feel her stiff joints loosening, her stride falling easily into the familiar rhythm. She pushed herself faster than usual, letting all of her confusion and excitement and anxiety fuel her until it burned up like candle wax, leaving nothing behind but hot beads of sweat that dripped down her forehead.

She took the path to the stadium and jogged across the turf to the 50-yard line. Her sweatshirt felt heavy and damp, and she stripped it off and dropped it in a pile on the grass. She finished four 300-yard sprints before she finally collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily and closing her eyes.

She lay there for minutes, her mind finally quiet and her body screaming in pain. She thought about nothing except the drawing in and out of breath, and for once everything was still.

When her limbs stopped burning, she sat up. The wind picked up around her, and she shivered as goose bumps pushed up through her skin. She picked up her damp sweatshirt and glanced at the field house. The lights were on. She thought about a hot shower and dry clothes, and within seconds she was walking across the grass toward them.

She rounded the building and tried the door to the locker room, but it wouldn’t budge. She cursed under her breath and walked to the front entrance, but that was locked, too. As a last resort she tried the door to the Graff lacrosse locker room, and the knob turned easily. She whispered a thank you to whichever forgetful employee had decided to slack off that day and stepped inside.

She paused in the hallway and listened, but everything was quiet. Suddenly curious, she looked around; the foyer was identical to theirs, down to the ugly gray industrial carpeting and the green and blue painted trim on the walls, but the air was different. Instead of the usual scent of shampoo and flowery shower gel, all she could smell was feet.

She jogged away from the smell down a narrow hallway that seemed to lead in the right direction. She was getting colder, and she was nearing a full sprint when she rounded a corner and smacked, face- and boobs-first, into a wall of abs.

“Oh! God, sorry, I … ” She blinked at the pecs that stared back at her at eye level, realizing they looked oddly familiar. She jerked her head up and saw Jeremy looking down at her in surprise, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, now that time you scared me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then her whole body froze up. He had caught her on impact, and now his hands rested loosely on her lower back. Her palms were flat on his shoulders, and he was radiating heat like he had just stepped out of the shower.

Her face flushed, and she forced herself to breathe. She looked up again and he was still smiling down at her, a look of amusement on his face.

She quickly stepped back. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.” She squared her shoulders and tried to regain some composure, but she knew she was blushing. She remembered her sweaty, probably now kinda see-through tank top and crossed her arms awkwardly over her chest. “Our door was locked.”

He laughed. “No problem. I heard you coming down the hall, so you didn’t really scare me. I just expected it to be one of the other guys, not, you know, some girl who was obviously trying to sneak in here to catch me in this vulnerable state.” He pointed to his towel, and it took all of her focus to keep her eyes above waist level.

Her jaw dropped. “I was not!” Then she caught sight of his grin and gave up. “Oh, shut up.” They stood there for a second, grinning stupidly at each other, until he broke the silence.

“So, um, why don’t you go do what you need to do.” He looked down at his towel. “I should probably put some clothes on before you completely lose control.”

“Very funny,” she deadpanned. She shrugged and tipped her head to the side in mock scrutiny. “To be honest, it’s not even that impressive.” It was such a lie, it felt like sacrilege.

His jaw dropped in horror. “Oh man, don’t say that. I just spent, like, twenty minutes doing abs, and I don’t think I have any more in me.” She shrugged and he laughed. “Okay, go do your thing — perm your hair or whatever. I’ll wait for you back here.”

“Pfff, please.” She started to walk towards the door, then stopped. “Wait, you’ll what?”

“I’m walking you back to Keating,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s dangerous out there.”

After she showered, she dug through Jessica’s locker and pulled out the only clean thing she could find — one of the “cute” workout outfits Jessica claimed her mom was always sending her. This one was a pair of stretchy, hot pink yoga pants and a matching zip-up that seemed designed specifically to show maximum cleavage while you downward dogged. It was a little embarrassing, but then again if Jeremy had a secret trophy-wife-after-Pilates fantasy, it was definitely his lucky day.