Twisted Fate (9 page)

I shrugged and we started laughing. She said, “That’s seriously cool, though. What else can you do?”

“I don’t know. Whatever I want, I guess.”

“You’re something else, Becky. Most people would use those skills to do something that would benefit them more than finding places that are streaming Radiohead, or canceling a two-dollar fine.”

“Baby steps,” I told her. “After I get a sweet job with the NSA, then I can do some really cool stuff. I could be the next what’s his name . . . that whistleblower guy who told everyone the government is spying on them.”

“Edward Snowden?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure he can’t come back to the country ever because they’re going to put him straight in jail.”

“Whatever. I’ll be like that guy but without the having-to-go-to-jail part.”

I could tell Tate was getting interested in writing code and hacking now that I said I could do something that was really against the rules with my skills.

“Can you show me how to do this stuff?”

“Last time I tried you got bored and wanted to go to the skate park.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“I know, it’s pretty sweet, right? Pull up a chair. I’ll teach you how to pick some digital locks.”

Tate grinned. She seemed more motivated to do this than ever before. And I really didn’t have a problem showing her or anyone else how to do it. It was so much fun. And usually she and Declan weren’t interested in the things that I was. We were all friends, but sometimes I felt like she and Declan were going at twice the speed of everyone else around them, and it could be really annoying sometimes. They were super fun to smoke up with, but both of them could be a little high-strung or even preachy when they
were just doing schoolwork. I liked writing code because it was relaxing. And honestly, it was one of those things that I just understood right away. And it was a thing that Tate and Declan had no idea about. Declan was even worse than Tate. He was big into his hippie idea that we should get rid of technology altogether.

I didn’t know what exactly Tate would do with the things I taught her. She could be wild sometimes, but I’d known Tate all my life. She had been my friend since we were little girls, and she could be unpredictable. But there was one thing I did know—she was good at everything she did. I had no reason to think it would be any other way for learning how to hack.

I
t’s not like me and Ally had some great relationship before Graham moved in next door. But things got weird after that. Really weird. Since Graham showed up, Allyson was always around. Suddenly she’s just there. I’d look up at the skate park and there she was sitting on the rim. Watching us with that cute sheepish look she used to have when we were kids. That almost never happened before. I can probably count on one hand the number of times she’d come with me to skate—and usually it’s to guilt me into going home and doing homework, which I have to say worked. I mean it would make me mad that she was just sitting there quietly exerting her goody-goody power over me, but it did make me go write papers I needed to hand in. But that day I remember it was just whacked-out. I thought she was supposed to be at work! Anyway, I rolled my eyes and waved to her—didn’t want to be rude. But then the next time I went up the arc she was gone.

And again another time—I thought she was out with her friends after school. Dad was gone as always down by the harbor and Mom was God knows where—off to some Rah-Rah-Rockland event—and I thought I had the room and Declan all to myself.

The autumn sun was shining in the window, the air was cool and crisp, warm light spilled across the bed, and I had unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. He slid his thigh between my legs and pressed against me and pulled my shirt up over my head. His breath was sweet and smoky and I pulled him tighter to me and then . . .

Ally barged into the fucking room and just stood there with her mouth open in shock!

“Ugh!” I shouted, leaning over and grabbing my shoe and hurtling it at the door just as she shut it.

“What?” Declan asked. “God, chill, baby.”

“Nothing, never mind.”

He tried to kiss me again, but I just laid my head on his chest. Ally ruined the mood. I should have known something was up right then. I should have figured out why she was interrupting me, why she was hanging around. Why we seemed to be getting closer and yet more angry and annoyed with each other. It was like I could
feel
her feelings for Graham and they were somehow pulling me closer to him too.

But it would take another few weeks for me to put it together. Graham provided both the problem and the answer. Like I said before, he brought us together in a way we hadn’t been since we were very, very little girls.

N
EVER
. Never in the nine months that I worked at Pine Grove had Syd ever showed up to say hi. It was a thing I dreaded—and I had imagined many times the mortifying embarrassing moment when Syd stopped by in her strange clothes with her hair tangled, talking loud with her headphones on, not caring at all about other people’s peace and quiet or whether or not this was a place of business. And then finally she did it. I was sitting down at the front desk, thank God, so she didn’t have to go looking for me somewhere, which I imagine would have been a nightmare.

At least she kept her voice down. “I think you better watch out for Graham,” she said. “He’s not some sweet broken doofus from the suburbs—he’s all kinds of fucked-up.”

“I think I can make up my own mind about these things,” I told her.

“Ha!” she said. “As. If. If I wasn’t here you’d already be dead.”

This is just the type of melodramatic thing she says. “You’d be dead” or “I’d rather be dead” or “This is the worst thing in the entire world” or “I hate/love that more than anything in the world.”

Then to make her point she brought up her stupid list of ways she’s “saved” me, which started with a trip our day school took—how was I supposed to know some kinds of toads are poisonous?—and ended with her writing the personal essay part of my Emerson application. Which I did not even ask her to do and how can we know that has anything to do with whether I’ll get in or not? I was completely exasperated with her.

Finally I just said, “What the hell do you want?”

“I want you to stay away from Graham! How many ways do I have to say it? He did some creepy thing with Becky—filming her and writing about it in a little notebook—and I think he’s got some weird fucked-up stuff going on. I’ve been watching him.”

“It sounds like YOU have some weird stuff going on,” I told her. “It sounds like
you’re
the one people should watch out for, spying on him. Maybe
he
should watch out for
you
.”

She slapped her forehead dramatically. Another thing she always does.

“Listen,” I said, quietly and reasonably. “Why don’t you just try being honest for once in your life and admit that you don’t want me around him because you’ve got a crush on him.”

“That’s not true! I totally do not have a crush on him.
C’mon, have you seen Declan Wells? Do you think I need someone like Graham when I’ve got Declan? Hello? Declan Wells? Dec. Lan. Wells?”

“You’re jealous,” I said simply. “I don’t know exactly how or why but you are.”

She said, “Just try to use your head, okay?”
Another
thing she says all the time to me: “try and use your head”—as if I’m a complete idiot. I was starting to lose my patience.

“And you try to calm down,” I whispered fiercely. “You can’t come to my work. You may get away with everything at home, but you can’t bring your weird problems here. Okay? Can’t you just wait until I get home to talk about this stuff? Why don’t you listen to anyone EVER?”

“Why doesn’t anyone listen to ME?” She actually looked pained, like she might cry. It was the first time since we were children that I saw her look so vulnerable. And that of course is my weakness. No matter how hard it is to deal with her, I always have compassion for her in the end. Somewhere deep down I know she means well. I wanted to listen to her, I wanted to work it out. But this was my job. She could disrupt our home life, but she couldn’t come around disrupting my job.

“All right. All right,” I said, coming around the desk and putting my arm around her. “We’ll talk about this at home, okay? We can talk all about it. I’m serious.”

“Forget it, Ally.” Her face was calm again and she looked around as if she didn’t know why she was there either. She
started putting her headphones back on.

I reached out and brushed her hair out of her eyes. Even though we live in the same room in the same house we barely touch each other. We don’t usually hug. We don’t dance or wrestle or put our arms around each other anymore. She pulled away and in that moment she looked like she totally understood about why she had to go.

“I’m sorry,” she said to me. And that was another first.

R
ichards called me into her office
again
and I swear if it was anyone else I just would have skipped it entirely. I was really beginning to be sick of all this go-to-the-office bullshit. They could threaten me all they want. I have to do this or I have to do that. But really, what are they going to take away from me? I am second in the class behind Declan and if he keeps on smoking weed the way he does, I’ll be valedictorian by senior year. Even if I stop going to detention what are they going to do? Kick me out of school? And find someone else to win the Odyssey of the Mind competition for them all? Hardly. This stupid school owes me more than I owe it. Rules are for people stupid enough to follow them.

So anyway talking to Richards is not that bad because I think she actually gets all that stuff. She’s not like other teachers. With her weird licorice candy and her cigarette
breath and her funky shoes, she kinda stands out. I bet she’s got tattoos underneath those pretty blouses she wears. Richards is cool. And if I ever doubted it, that day she called me in to talk about my “attitude” confirmed it.

“Tate, you are killing me,” she said as she shut the door. “Are you trying to kill me? I swear you are.”

“I assume this is about Letorno’s class?”

She raised her eyebrows and sighed heavily. “Oh, great. Is there some
new
report I
haven’t
gotten on you yet?”

“Maybe,” I said, and laughed a little.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “This isn’t about Letorno. It’s about skateboarding between classes, not wearing your shoes, and taking down flags that are hanging in the classroom. I have six different reports today
alone
about you skateboarding in the halls, skating on the front steps at lunch, and smoking on school grounds. Once again, girl: that board is supposed to be: In. Your. Locker.”

I shrugged.

“Listen. We got just a little more time to get through and then I swear to God, Tate, I swear. Look at me. After that you can go be a professional skater or an astrophysicist or whatever the heck it is you want to be, but here at RHS you gotta. Chill. Out.”

“Why?” I didn’t mean to sound like a snot or to just be contrary. I really was just curious. “I mean why do I have to stop all the things I do?”