The She (27 page)

Amy had asked the question, and now Georgia kicked in. "I think she must have heard my mom's theory somewhere along the line called the 'popularity principle.' You ever hear this?"

"No." Soundra snickered. "I don't think I've ever had the need."

"My mom says that kids' popularity never lasts. And whoever was most popular last year turns into a burned-out old windbag next year. And she says you're always most popular right before your burnout ignites. So if you ever feel really popular look out. Your windbag stage is right around the corner."

"So ... Grey Shailey was really popular as a junior and now she's making a last-ditch effort to stay out of her windbag zone by finally being nice to people?" Amy cackled.

"Wait a minute," Soundra cut in. "This was a minor miracle here. Don't let's mock. It sort of reminded me of that girl with the blood disease six years ago who went to the pool at Lourdes. Remember her? Supposedly she came back well again? Maybe Grey Shailey went to the pool at Lourdes or something and came back human."

Soundra kept grinning while thinking of other weird cures. "Maybe she's been touched by an angel! Maybe she went to California and walked across hot coals with those middle-of-the-night TV people. Shut up! I believe in weird stuff like that."

"You do not," Georgia said.

"Try lying in the snow for forty-eight hours, watching frostbite crawl slowly up your broken leg and wondering if someone will hear you holler before your leg isn't the only thing you'll lose. You would believe in weird things, too."

They shut up. I had a brief thought of Edwin Church in a POW camp.

"Actually? I stayed on the phone with her for half an hour. We shot the bull about this or that, and actually had some laughs. Truly, I can see why she's so popular. She's very funny and so ... not afraid of people. She only said one mean thing the whole time. And I'm not really sure it was even mean. It didn't make sense to me."

"What was it?" Georgia asked.

"Well, the girl can really ski, you know? We're talking Olympic potential here, if she would take something seriously besides train-wrecking her GPA. So I told her 'Feel free to come up to our chalet and spend a weekend with us.' She was still laughing about the last thing we said, and then out comes, 'Don't make me puke.' Why would my asking her to come skiing make her want to puke?"

I felt my eyes rolling into my head and made a quick U-turn, and I bumped into people and walls and stuff until I was knocking on Mrs. Ashaad's door, She was on the phone, as usual, but beckoned me in. I flopped in the same chair I had sat in six days ago—back when I was some naive person. The whole time she was talking about how to get the press to cover our cheerleader competition, she stared dead at me. So I couldn't change my mind and leave again. I didn't really know why I'd come.

Finally she hung up. "So did you go see Grey?"

I don't think I said anything.

"Because you look sleepless."

I rested my neck on the top of the chair back and decided on, "She got a weekend pass. I just spent Friday and Saturday with her."

She groaned. "Evan, if you would put as much into your grades as you put into your KHK projects, we might actually have a shot at getting you into a decent school. Did she talk to you about her family?"

I felt my eyebrows shooting up as I drummed two fingers on my leg.

"I take it she did. Listen, if you feel uncomfortable about anything she may have told you, I want you to know..." She sucked in breath with an O-shaped mouth, and let it out again, more relaxed. "I want you to know, this is new territory for me, too. I think we have a case of child abuse here, the likes of which I could not have fathomed before last week. At least, not in my school."

I stopped drumming. For a second. I drummed two fingers, then four.

"The problem is, I didn't hear it from Grey. I heard it from somebody else, but I believe that source is reliable."

I let my mind spin different webs, any of which would fit. Did Chandra tell somebody else when she was partying? Or did she tell Mrs. Ashaad, fully sober; her brain cells finally having boiled over? Did Grey confirm just enough to make Mrs. Ashaad start dialing phone numbers? Picking at students' heads like she was so good at?

"What are you going to do?" I asked her.

"I can't do anything. Not until Grey confesses either to me or to a person who is willing to sign a family services report. I asked her about it flat out, up at Saint Elizabeth's this morning, and all she did was laugh at me. So I can't do anything."

I took the hint loud and clear and let my eyes roll back up to the ceiling. "Mrs. Ashaad, the problems are a little worse than you're imagining. According to Grey, her father is a dangerous guy. I would so love to take him off the street. Problem is, I've got a brother whom you know and like. A brother who already lost two parents. I'm not sure I want one of Mr. Shailey's hit men chasing me around Philadelphia," I blathered.

"Evan, do you really think it's that bad? He's
that
dangerous?" She sounded shocked, and I didn't answer I didn't know how much I should say.

"Is he in the mob or something?"

I shook my head. "In fact, Grey said actual mobsters are probably smarter; more discreet than he's been." I forced a breathy laugh. "She asked if there was a support group for men who just love to break the rules. You probably have some idea of his net worth. So put it all together."

She just sat there, shaking her head. "I don't even want to begin to think about him. I want to think about
her.
She's little more than a child, for God's sake."

You don't exactly mind your friends being called children in a context like that. And I threw my head back on the chair again, thinking of her kissing me like some dumb fifth grader despite the greasy old men—

"I'll do it. I'll sign anything you want. I'll go to court, look him dead in the eye." I found I was blessing myself as I sat forward, but I meant what I said.

She was shaking her head. "I think I'd like to go to some of the more learned authorities first. If there is a serious risk, it
would
be so unfair to your brother ... and would probably kill your grandfather."

I thumped my fist on the front of her desk a little, then put my head down on it, staring at the floor. She was all too perceptive. She said, "Evan, do not get any idea you want to be emotionally involved with her. She's going to need a great deal of help before she can lead a happy life. As for romantic interests? Forget it. She wouldn't know—"

"—a good touch from a bad touch," we chimed in together and my breath came out hard in a blast of frustration and anger at having been detected. She sighed into the silence, and I could hear sympathy in it.

"Didn't you tell me last week you have this way of getting involved with thorny girls? This one's thorns could slice your head off. I'm not deaf and blind. You have to let her get more help."

I thought of the last remark that Soundra quoted and shuddered. "I know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do for her."

"Maybe you're not supposed to do anything. This is in the outer stratosphere of a KHK project. We have to mix desire to help with wisdom. I have another source. You're not the only one. I can probably open this can of worms. The problem is, it might take a couple of weeks."

"Did you know she has nowhere to go in a couple of weeks?"

"We'll find her a place."

"Where? In foster care?" My voice went off more loudly than I wanted it to. "Grey Shailey does not belong in foster care, Mrs. Ashaad. Besides, who in foster care would take the risk of having her? To listen to her talk, you might think some leg breaker would show up in the middle of the night with a silencer put her out of her misery."

"Do you think she's exaggerating?"

"I doubt it."

She groaned in disbelief, and I just stuck my arms out in some spasmodic shrug. After a minute she said, "I can have the FBI in here this afternoon or tomorrow. Maybe you could speak to them off the record."

I shook my head. "She was not very specific. She named some overall types of crimes she thinks he committed, but she didn't say how, or when, or with whom."

"Tell me the crimes."

I watched her for a minute and felt myself full of Orphaned Kid Syndrome. I loved this principal. I was wondering if she weren't too naive, might put herself in harm's way if I said too much.

"Come on, Evan."

My problem? I loved too many people, I decided. She picked up her phone and said, "I have a friend at the FBI. I'm calling him."

I said, "Fine. You know where I am," and I left. I figured I could keep her out of the middle. And as I was walking back down the corridor I felt ripped in shreds. I was so pissed at Grey's father I was angry at Mrs. Ashaad for not having all the pat answers. I was mad at Emmett and my grandfather for needing me so much I couldn't put my neck on the line. Then I was mad at Grey for being such a ...
barracuda
when all I wanted to do was help her. And I loved her for kissing like a bonehead child. And I hated her for leaving me scared that she could run out of strength and jump off a bridge.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, dialed information, and got the number for Saint Elizabeth's. Information put me through, and I leaned on a couple of lockers, waiting for the ringing to stop.

"I need to speak to Grey Shailey. She's a patient there."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," the snippy woman's voice said.

"Lady, this is an emergency. If you won't let me speak to her let me speak to her doctor;" I was going to tell him I was afraid of a suicide attempt, not because she hadn't convinced me on Friday night that she wouldn't. I just realized how seriously I would have considered it, if her life were mine, instead.

"I'm afraid that's impossible, too. Grey signed herself out of the program this morning."

"
What?
" I leaned off the lockers and almost fell forward. "How could she do that? She has two more weeks!"

"Well, actually, if a patient is not signed in by the courts, she can sign herself out at any time," she told me.

"She's a minor!" I blathered.

"That rule applies to minors as well. If you'd like me to leave a message for Dr. Tartaglia, then—"

"No. Not yet." I clicked the
OFF
button and started back down to Mrs. Ashaad's office. I had no idea where Grey would go or why she had signed herself out. I had to pass the school entrance, and call it intuition or just a way with details some of the time—my eye was caught by a person in the parking lot wearing street clothes, when everyone else around here had on uniforms. She was hugging a blond who had her arms wrapped around her neck.
Chandra.

I made a quick exit out of the building and gave a glance up to the windows, wondering which class I was supposed to be in and if it really mattered if that teacher saw me out the window.

I got up to Grey and Chandra, who were hugging forehead to forehead and talking.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, pulling Chandra off her.

Chandra shook loose of my grip as Grey stared at me with some humor in her eyes that I didn't know how to take. It looked a little dangerous.

"So she signed herself out early!" Chandra shrugged. "She looks great to me. She's coming back to school tomorrow, after spending an afternoon at Liberty Mall, of course, and everything will be
fine ... This whole thing is our little secret.
"

Chandra nudged me, and after such a long weekend I could see through to Grey's inner depths.

I said, "Great!" in some tone I hoped would be lost on Chandra but would let Grey know I didn't buy into her bullshit.

"Go to class! You've got enough Saturdays on account of me," Grey joked with her. "I've just got to tell Evan one thing, and I'll see you!" She didn't say, "I'll see you
tomorrow,
" I noticed, and studied my shoes.

"Hey, you let him come see you and you wouldn't let me. We're going to have a long talk about that!" She stuck a finger in Grey's chest, then backed up toward the entrance.

"Long talk," Grey agreed with her nodding hard, waving. She was still waving at Chandra's back when she took hold of my blazer and pulled me up to her. "I had to do it," she said more softly. "If I hadn't checked myself out of Saint Elizabeth's, I couldn't get another two-day pass until next weekend. I needed one now."

"Grey, whatever the hell it is, couldn't it have waited? Where are you going after this?"

"Stop worrying about me, Evan! I can take care of myself."

"I don't think so," was the nicest way I could put the fact that she had just come from a psych ward and couldn't exactly go home.

"Look. Last summer a Girl Scout died in my face. The sorest problem I have right now is that I did nothing to save her. Well, call it my second biggest problem ... outside of the fact that I never learned how to kiss."

She cracked up and clunked her head into my chest, laughing at the ground. My hands automatically went to the back of her neck, and she kept laughing too long, like she was enjoying having her hair rubbed. Her red face came up, which meant my hands were rubbing her cheeks. She put her own hands in between and thrust them outward, pushing me away.

"And, unfortunately, I don't have time to learn. I called Lydia Barnes this morning. She was on 'The List.' She was with me when the Girl Scout drowned, and afterward I called her a douche bag for not pushing me into action. Can you imagine her guilt?"

She didn't give me time to answer. "She was down in the Hooks for the holiday and didn't leave until six-thirty this morning. She was still on the road to New York when I caught her on her cell phone. Her dad had stopped in the Island Diner before heading north so they could get coffee and doughnuts for the road. Lydia told me Bloody Mary was in there. Bloody Mary was blabbing on to anyone who would listen that she'd heard The She once already today."

I felt my jaw dropping, and I didn't like the look on her face. It was reckless, the same look she'd been wearing on Church's boat—when she said a new risk has little meaning when your life is already at risk.