Psyched (4 page)

Aisi looked confused at Zinnia. “So how did that happen?” she asked, pointing at the lip-locked couple in front of them. “Weren’t you two…um…together just last week?” This was a silly question, of course. Last week she spent all of her lunch breaks looking the other way while her bestie played tonsil hockey with Kalen.

Zinnia shrugged. “Yeah. I friend-zoned him. I’m over it.”

Aisi snorted. “Thank goodness.”

She watched with amusement as Monica and Kalen tried to make their way through crowded halls while draped all over each other. Kalen had a particularly hard time walking—his jeans were belted just below his butt cheeks, and the rhinestone encrusted pockets on his overpriced pants dangled just above the back of his knees. His wide steps to keep those pants from slipping and taking the boxers down with it nearly tripped the girl.

“I can’t stand it when guys wear their pants like that,” Aisi remarked, her head cocked thoughtfully to one side. “It makes me want to speak like I’m British and whack him in the booty with a fancy cane.”

Zinnia grinned, assuming her best accent. “Ooh, shall we?”

“Indeed! We shall!” Aisi laughed.

They clasped hands and started skipping down the hall until they reached the line into the lunch room, where all the seniors tried to shove their way in for the cafeteria’s latest mystery meat special. “Oh, pardon me, my fine young man,” Aisi called in her finest proper English accent. The couple, who had resumed attachment to each other’s faces like blood-sucking leeches, broke apart to look at her in total confusion. “Did you perchance know, good fellow, that your boxers are trying most ardently to escape from your trousers?”

“Renegade underwear!” Zinnia screeched. “Run!” Grabbing Aisi’s arm, they busted through the crowd and into the lunch room. They found a table in the corner, near a window, and collapsed onto its hard bench, laughing hysterically.

“We are total dorks, but we rock,” Zinnia commented as she rested her back against the wall and propped her feet on the bench. She liked this position, and Aisi knew why—it was the perfect place to scan the lunch room, see all the drama, and mock their little world.

“We crack me up, Zin,” Aisi said, wiping her eyes. She sat up and noticed a girl stomping toward them, looking disgruntled. “Whoa, ticked-off Monica sighting,” she whispered as the girl drew closer. Monica reached them as Zinnia sat up straight and put her feet back on the ground. Monica stood over them with a hand on her cocked hip and a sour expression on her face.

“I knew you’d have a problem with me and Kalen being together, Zinnia,” she huffed. “You’re just going to have to get over it. He likes
me
. You are so last week.”

Zinnia scooted over to make room for Monica and patted the bench next to her. “Come. Sit. We’ll talk about it.” The girl still stood, lips pursed, folding her arms and tapping her toe as if she expected a confrontation. Aisi looked around uncomfortably, noticing suddenly that everyone else in the cafeteria expected one, too. Tables nearby had gone silent.

“Fine, then, I’ll join you.” Zinnia stood and wrapped her arm around Monica’s shoulder. “I’m sure what you and Kalen have is very, very special. I’m sure your love is eternal and I wish you all the best in your new life together. Me? I was just working my way through the football team, and he was the last one. Wish I could say I saved the best for last, though.”

Snorts and snickers from onlookers filled the air around them as Monica’s face reddened and Zinnia continued. “Fair warning: Kalen’s kind of a drooler. He should come with a warning label and his own super-absorbent microfiber towel. Since you guys will probably be sucking face all through lunch, I have some moist towelettes I’d be happy to give you.” She reached for her backpack, but Monica stormed off before she could grab it. People at the tables nearby got up to fist bump them, a few applauding Zinnia for showing up the most popular, or feared, girl in school.

“She’s not going to let you get away with that, you know,” Aisi commented as Zinnia reached into her backpack again and pulled out a pale pink, jeweled lunch bag, her initials embroidered in gold thread on the front.

“I know.” She shrugged in reply, unzipping her bag. “I care! Wait…no, I don’t.”

Aisi laughed. “You know how embarrassing that bag is?” she asked as she grasped the first baggie that came from it.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I rebel in every other way possible, so this dumb bag is my one concession to the matriarch. I bring this idiotic lunch bag every single day, knowing that my mother packs it every morning with all the love she can possibly squeeze into a snack size baggie. That’s what she tells me, anyway.” Zinnia removed a bag of tiny sandwiches with a sigh.

“Did she make cucumber sandwiches again? With those nasty, trailer-trash crusts trimmed off?” Aisi asked as Zinnia removed a couple of protein smoothies and some apples. Her friend responded by pulling a face and nodding. “Your mom really needs to get a life,” Aisi said blandly as she lifted up her pinkie in imitation and took a dainty bite of the tiny, crustless sandwich. “Our British accents will go very well with our meal today.”

“Simply spanking!” Zinnia chirped as she opened her smoothie and chugged.

“See if you can get her to throw in some chocolate tomorrow,” Aisi grinned as she grabbed one of Zinnia’s smoothies. She sighed and looked around. Whatever wanted to torment her during the test was gone. The room buzzed with people and mindless chatter. Nothing otherworldly distracted her for the moment, and she closed her eyes happily.

“Oh, hey,” she said suddenly, reaching into her backpack. “I forgot, Leo made me lunch today.” 

“Aw, that’s so cute…” Zinnia began, until she saw what Aisi pulled out.

A dripping wet, brown bag pulled from the bottom of her backpack made Aisi pull a face. She held it up in confusion and realized the bottom of her bag was completely soaked and smelled faintly of sour milk. The lunch sack fell apart as she opened it, and a leaking zipper baggie of milk plopped out of the bottom followed by a handful of soggy chocolate frosted sugar bombs. Aisi looked up, her expression a mixture of amusement and disgust. As she did, her eyes came to rest on the entrance to the cafeteria, where Mr. Jensen and Miss Benita Mifflin stood, scanning the room. When they saw her, sitting in the corner with a dripping, stinky, torn bag in her hand, they hurried toward her.

The happy babble in the lunch room grew silent as Mr. Jensen bent low to whisper urgently in her ear, “Aisi, I need you to come with me immediately. Something happened with your test.”

Chapter 4: The Message

Zinnia looked panic stricken, but Aisi stood up calmly. Placing the nasty lunch bag mess into her friend’s hand, she said lightly, “I’ll be back. Give this to Monica for me, will you?” She turned toward Mr. Jensen, reaching down to grab her now-stinky backpack before she gestured toward the door and said, “After you, Mr. J.”

Miss Mifflin stalked behind Mr. Jensen, who walked with long strides despite his short, stubby legs. Aisi blew kisses at the staring crowd and did her best pageant queen wave as she left, hoping no one noticed how dark her olive tan cheeks burned. Instead of turning to Mr. Jensen’s classroom, they headed toward the principal’s office at the front of the school. The front office sat empty, so they cruised through it to the large office behind it. When Miss Mifflin and Aisi entered the principal’s domain, they stood awkwardly in front of the hard wooden chairs that lined the wall in front of the principal’s desk. Mr. Jensen closed the bright green door, the square of frosted glass rattling loudly as the knob clicked shut.

“What’s going on?” Aisi asked.

“Please take a seat, Aisi,” Mr. Jensen said. “There’s a problem with your exam. We’ve called your mother and father to meet us down here so we can discuss this.”

Aisi’s first thought was how monumentally she failed for them to call her in. Her catastrophic performance had earned her immediate expulsion! They had to kick her out of high school and train her to scrub toilets at a mental hospital. She was sure of it. Then she took a deep breath and told herself the tests had barely been collected; they wouldn’t be scored yet. What could possibly happen over her lunch thirty minute lunch break?

“What’s going on?” she repeated, looking Mr. Jensen squarely in the eyes. For a brief moment the room faded and she could see a grainy image of him standing in the test room with Miss Mifflin, flipping through test booklets. He saw Aisi’s name and opened it briefly. All the color drained from his face. He handed the booklet to Miss Mifflin, whose face grew red with anger.

Aisi shook her head to clear the fuzzy vision. She never had a vision like that before, not of real people, anyway. She only saw ghosts, saw how their lives had ended so she could tell them where to go next, but she’d never seen anyone she knew. Just then the door opened and the principal came in, followed by her father.

“Everyone sit down, please,” the principal, Mrs. Preston, said firmly. Aisi sank weakly into one of the uncomfortable, hard-backed chairs. Her father sat next to her and grasped her hand, his palms just as clammy as hers.

“I have the diner and Leo covered, Sunshine,” he whispered. He squeezed her hand. “Do you know what’s going on?” Aisi shook her head vigorously, watching her principal with fear.

Miss Mifflin remained standing, tossing Aisi’s test booklet on Mrs. Preston’s desk. She clasped her hands behind her back, her thick legs spread far apart as she leaned accusingly toward Aisi. “Miss Turay, we’ll get right to the point. Immediately after we collected the exams, we noticed something wrong with yours.”

“What was wrong?” her dad asked with concern.

“That’s the thing,” Mr. Jensen said, quickly cutting off Miss Mifflin before she could open her mouth. “We’re not quite sure how this could have happened. We collected the tests from students ourselves, and we made certain that only pencils were used.”

Aisi looked confused. “I still don’t understand.”

“Aisi,” Mrs. Preston interjected, “do you know of anyone at the school who would have reason to sabotage your test?”

Aisi’s heart pounded hard in her chest.
Sabotage
?

“There’s no possible way anyone could have the time or the means to sabotage the test!” Miss Mifflin insisted, her voice rising with each word. “The only possible explanation is that she did it herself. I was there the entire time, and I made sure to keep my eye on this one. I have a gut instinct about which ones to watch.  She looked…
wrong
from the moment I set eyes on her.” Her eyes flickered briefly from Aisi to her black-skinned father, and then back to the booklet.

“Benita, I have told you,” Mr. Jensen replied impatiently, running his hands over his shiny bald head. “Aisi is one of our finest and most promising students. We distributed pencils together and we both ensured that no student used any writing utensil other than a number two pencil! She has college and career plans. She would never, ever vandalize her own exam.”

Big Billy finally reached his breaking point. “Will someone please explain to me exactly what happened?”

Lips pinched, Miss Mifflin grabbed Aisi’s test booklet from the principle’s desk and opened it violently, almost ripping the cover page off. “Miss Turay, your test booklet is ruined beyond our computer’s capacity for correcting. Someone,” she said, her nostrils flaring, “has taken a red marker to your book and filled in the circles you have not filled in.” She frowned suddenly, cocking her head to the side. “Well, that’s odd…” Her voice trailed off as Mr. Jensen took it from her hands. “I thought it was red.”

“I thought it was red when I saw it, too, Benita.” He scratched the side of his head, perplexed. “It looks more rust colored now.”

Mrs. Preston grabbed it, examining the booklet. “The point is, Mr. Turay, that I think Aisi might be able to just take another booklet and refill the circles she already filled in, but we still don’t know how someone was able to get hold of her booklet during a proctored test in a highly controlled environment. We collected the exams during the bathroom breaks, and both Mr. Jensen and Miss Mifflin had the exams in their control at all times. Aisi, did you at any time let your exam booklet out of your control?”

Aisi shook her head fiercely. “No, I didn’t!” She blinked back tears starting to pool in her eyes.

Her father trembled angrily. “Can you explain how this happened, Mrs. Preston? How is this possible?”

Mrs. Preston leaned back in her large, burgundy leather chair, sighing deeply. “I wish I knew, Billy. If Aisi says she didn’t let anyone touch her exam, and our test proctors had control of the exams at all times, the only logical explanation is that Aisi sabotaged her own test. If we find that someone was able to get her exam and fill in the rest of the circles, we could pursue that. Until we find another culprit, we have to assume Aisi did it on purpose.”

“You just said I could start with a fresh booklet!” Aisi howled, outraged. “They were watching me the whole time. They gave me the pencils. How could I have done this?”

Miss Mifflin eyed her sharply. She thrust the test booklet toward her and placed her hands squarely on the principal’s desk, staring Aisi down. “Please do. Tell me how you could have done this with me watching?” She leaned back with a final grunt of anger and strode up and down in the narrow office, hands still clasped firmly behind her back. As Miss Mifflin paced, she leaned forward aggressively. “I don’t like arrogant young people making light of my tests and disrespecting the sanctity of the exam.”

Aisi’s heart continued to pound as she opened the exam to the first page. Her name and all her personal information appeared exactly as she had written it a few hours before. It was the usual, boring, pre-test drill. Name, age, date of birth, blah blah blah. Everything was as she wrote it. She turned the page while the others in the room continued to argue over how much of a vandal she was. When she saw what appeared on the other pages, she gasped.

The red marks that looked rusty to Mr. Jensen were fading to a textured, crusty brown before her eyes. It almost looked like a scab. She touched it lightly with her fingernail. A little bit scraped off, but as she lifted it with her long pinky nail to try to remove some more, she realized that the brownish dots were not all filled in. She held the booklet back to examine it, and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she noticed her father watching her closely, and his eyes too fell on the words forming before her on the page. She felt sure he couldn’t possibly understand the words swimming together as she looked, but she could see it clearly.