Life On Hold Page 4

  In the hall after lunch I asked her why she hadn’t said her cousin went to Whitman, and she just shrugged. Blake didn’t sound like he liked her much, but still, you’d think it would come up.

  That day in current events, Mr. Goodwin had us making a collage of articles with a theme. We had a choice about the theme, as long as it was (surprise, surprise) a current event. Along with the collage we were supposed to write a three-paragraph paper describing the theme and how it fit into society today. It was the kind of busywork assignment I normally hated, but I liked using class time to cull through the pile of newspapers and magazines he had on the front table. As long as we looked busy, he didn’t care what we did, so most of the kids were doing other homework, or sending text messages by holding their phones beneath their desks. Some of them were messaging each other, judging by the looks going back and forth. Allison looked through newspapers like she was actually participating, but I suspected she was just going through the motions.

  Mr. Goodwin had a pretty good collection of news stuff—everything from the local paper to the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. The magazines were mostly Newsweek and Time and those kinds of things, but I did run across an AARP, a magazine that, according to the cover, serves the needs and interests of people fifty and over. Mason or one of his brothers must have donated it to Mr. Goodwin’s class, because the label was addressed to Edwin Mihashi. Figuring out that Mason’s dad was at least fifty years old was surprising, because Gina was only thirty-five. Other people’s parents were so old.

  I came across an article about a man whose widow found out, at his funeral, that he had a whole other family three towns away. Then I came across another piece in Newsweek with research showing the importance of fathers to adolescent girls. I found another one about a woman who’d been adopted as a baby. She figured out, as an adult, that one of her bosses at a bank was actually her birth father. I wasn’t sure where I could go with these articles, but I cut them all out anyway.

  I was concentrating on deciding what kind of theme I had going here and was jotting down the words “the breakdown of the family in modern society” when Kylie came and tapped me on the shoulder. “Allison left,” she said.

  “What?” I looked up from my pile of cut-up newspapers.

  “Allison just took off right this minute. I heard her make this funny noise like she was choking, and then she just got up and ran out of the room. I called after her, but she just kept going.” She pointed to the door.

  “She was choking?” Oh no, would they blame me if she died on my watch?

  “No,” Kylie said impatiently. “She made a weird noise in her throat, sort of like choking, but not really.”

  “Are you talking about that new girl?” The guy behind me, a wrestler named Ted, leaned in to join the conversation. “I saw when she jumped up. So weird. She ran out of the room like something was after her.”

  “Do you think I should go find her?” I looked from Ted to Kylie. “I’m supposed to be looking after her.”

  “Maybe you better,” Kylie said. “It sounded like she was upset or sick or something.”

  I got permission to leave from Mr. Goodwin, who gave me a hall pass. He’d never heard of the new student integration pilot program, but I think he believed me. We only had half an hour left in the day anyhow, so it wasn’t like I was missing out on much.

  I put on my backpack and walked the hallways, unsure of how to do this. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, and I wasn’t about to start yelling her name. I looked in the closest bathroom, interrupting a couple making out by the sinks. The girl, who sat on the counter, was a sophomore like me. Her junior boyfriend stood in front of her with his arms wrapped around her waist. “What are you staring at?” the guy asked when I stopped just inside the door.

  “Looking for someone,” I said.

  “No one here but us,” he said. “Get lost.” His girlfriend giggled, and they turned back to their fun.

  I walked aimlessly, checking the health room and some other bathrooms until the bell rang. Now what? I stood indecisively while hordes of my fellow students poured out of classrooms on their way to freedom. Several minutes passed, and I was wondering what to do next when I suddenly remembered Blake Daly telling Allison he’d pick her up in front after school let out.

  A few minutes later I was standing next to the glass doors that looked out onto the front parking lot. The buses picked up at the side entrance; the front was where the teachers and students parked. After school it was always crazy with kids driving through the parking lot, some of them honking and waving to get the attention of friends. I didn’t see Allison among any of the kids lingering in front, and I also didn’t see Blake’s silver SUV. I might have missed them.

  I breathed on the glass and ran my finger over the fog, making a peace sign. When I was a kid, I liked to think that the next person who tried this would see the sign and wonder if it meant something huge. Maybe it would result in some kind of worldwide phenomenon, like when people claim they’ve seen the Virgin Mary and the place draws crowds. Now that I’m older, I know I don’t have that kind of power.

  I watched as kids walked past me, laughing and jostling each other. When I saw Nick Dunstan approach, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He surprised me by saying, “Hey, Rae.” We’d had that weird exchange in the lunchroom during Blake’s little problem with gravity, but I didn’t realize he knew my name. “What’s up?”

  “Have you seen Blake? Mr. Smedley put me in charge of his cousin, Allison, and she took off. I don’t know where she went.”

  Nick stepped in closer to get out of the way of the crowd. “No, I don’t know where he is.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket. “You want me to call him?”

  “No, it’s okay. She probably just left early and went home.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “If I see him, I’ll tell him you were looking for him.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll just tell Mr. Smedley she ditched me. I didn’t want to be in charge of her anyway.”

  “I hear you.” He shifted his backpack.

  At the curb in front of the glass doors a red Mustang pulled up and honked three times in a row. In the driver’s seat, Nick’s girlfriend, Crystal, motioned impatiently with a broad sweep of her arm.

  “That’s my ride,” he said. “Gotta go. Take care, Rae.”

  My feet dragged on the way to the office. How was I going to tell Mr. Smedley that I’d only been part of his pilot program for six hours and I’d already screwed up? What was Allison’s problem?

  I had to wait for Mr. Smedley, who, according to the office lady, was in a meeting but would be out shortly. I stood off to the side, idly looking through the items on the lost-and-found table. In grade school the lost items would be things like gloves and boots and lunchboxes. At the high school level you were more likely to find what I saw in front of me: a case for an iPod, gym clothes, a pair of Nike basketball shoes (size 11, I checked), and a letter jacket from someone who graduated last year, judging by the numbers on the sleeve. I wondered if the guy missed it.

  Embarrassingly enough, I was going through the pockets of the letter jacket when the secretary told me Mr. Smedley was ready to see me.

  “Rae,” Mr. Smedley said as I walked into his office. He sat at his desk, his hand resting on a stack of file folders. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. How did Allison do?” He gestured for me to sit.

  “Well…” How to phrase this? She was doing fine until she disappeared? I took a deep breath and parked myself in the chair opposite him. Out with it. “Actually, Mr. Smedley, that’s why I’m here. I took her around and introduced her to all our teachers. She ate lunch at my table and was fine. At least she seemed fine. Although she was kind of quiet.” I could hear myself talking faster. That always happened when I was nervous. “Maybe just because she’s new? Anyway, it was going pretty well, I thought, until last hour, which is current events with Mr. Goodwin. We were working on an i
ndependent project and I didn’t actually see her leave, but Kylie Johnson did. Kylie said she just got up and ran out of the room, like she was sick or upset or something. I’ve been looking for her ever since, but I haven’t been able to find her.”

  Mr. Smedley’s mouth formed a grim line while I explained. When I was done, he asked, “She didn’t say anything before she left? Maybe to the teacher?”

  I shook my head. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Rae. You did fine. I didn’t expect you to be her bodyguard.” He picked up a pen and tapped it on his desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. His forehead furrowed in what looked like disapproval.

  I shifted in my seat. Could I leave now, or what? Finally I said, “I guess I wasn’t the best choice for this program after all.” I cleared my throat to ward off the lump that was threatening to get bigger. In a minute I’d be too upset to talk.

  Mr. Smedley looked surprised. “Don’t take this too hard, Rae. Things happen. I have the contact number for where Allison is living. I’ll wait awhile and call to make sure she got home safely. I’ll handle it from here.”

  “I really am sorry,” I said, standing up.

  He set the pen down and put his fingertips together to form a tent. “It’s not your fault, Rae. Allison’s just going through a tough time.” He sighed. “Starting at a new school is never easy, even under the best circumstances.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he looked up, he seemed different. Tired, older. Not the same man who bellowed in the halls and gave warning speeches at assemblies. “I would appreciate it if you’d continue watching out for her. Can you do that?”

  “Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Of course, I would have been nice to her anyway, but sure, I’ll watch out for her.”

  “For some reason she’s taken a special liking to you,” he said. “I know it seems unfair to burden you with this, but if you’d stick with her for a while, I’d appreciate it.”

  I stood there, hesitating. I’d been hoping he’d let me off the hook, but no such luck. “I wouldn’t say she’s taken a liking to me,” I said at last. “She barely talks to me. In fact, she’s been kind of ignoring me all day. Maybe someone else would work out better for your new pilot program? I wouldn’t mind if you found someone else to do it.”

  Mr. Smedley tapped his pen against the desk again. Tap. Tap. He looked up at me. “I have a confession to make, Rae. There isn’t really a new student integration program.”

  “There isn’t?”

  He shook his head. “I just fabricated the whole thing so you’d agree to take Allison under your wing.”

  He lied about the pilot program? Could he do that? “Oh-kay,” I said, not really understanding.

  Tap, tap, tap, went his pen. “It was the only way she’d agree to attend classes. Her aunt and uncle enrolled her here, but she refused to come. Finally they talked her into coming in just for a tour of the school. Her aunt dropped her off for an hour yesterday, and I showed her around the school. She was very unimpressed, to say the least.” He put his glasses back on. “I didn’t think we’d be able to convince her to come here.”

  His pause was just a little bit too dramatic for me. “So what changed her mind?”

  “You did, apparently.”

  I shifted in my seat. “I don’t understand.”

  “When I showed her through the lunchroom, she saw you laughing. There was some kind of brouhaha with her cousin, Blake Daly?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “He slipped on a wet spot near our table,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn red. Mr. Smedley had seen the whole thing? “It just struck me as funny. He wasn’t hurt,” I added. “And I did say I was sorry for laughing.”

  “It’s fine, Rae, it’s fine. No one is upset with you. I just had to mention it because seeing you made Allison change her mind. When she first came in that day I’d mentioned pairing her up with another student, but she was having none of it. Then she saw you in the lunchroom and changed her mind. You were the only one she’d consider shadowing. It had to be you, or she wasn’t coming to this school, she said.”

  “I don’t get it. She just saw me laughing and picked me?”

  “Yes.”

  How random. “You didn’t tell her anything about me?”

  “She asked who you were, and I told her your name. That’s all I really knew about you.” He held out his hands apologetically. “There are so many kids…”

  “So, the whole respected by my peers thing, you just made that up?”

  He looked a little sheepish. I had a feeling I’d struck a nerve. “I didn’t make it up, of course not. I queried a few of your teachers, looked at your grade transcripts from your other schools. Everything checked out. I felt very confident in my choice.” He pushed on the nosepiece on his glasses. “And I still have confidence in you. If Allison’s in school tomorrow, act like nothing happened and stay with her just like you did today.”

  “Okay.” I stood up, and Mr. Smedley rose up from his seat too. I was afraid he was going to walk me out, but instead he held out his hand. Awkward, but I could play along. I reached out and shook his hand, then released it and looked him straight in the eye. “I just have one more question before I go, Mr. Smedley.”

  “Yes, Rae?”

  “When I apply to colleges, can I list the Rae Maddox Integration Program as one of my high school accomplishments?”

  His face broke into a grin. “Of course. I’ll even write a letter giving you complete credit for its creation and implementation.”

  “But we’re not really going to call it that here at Whitman, are we?”

  “Since it doesn’t really exist, we won’t be calling it anything.”

  “Good.”

  We said our good-byes, and he was all serious when he thanked me for coming in, but as I headed out of his office I thought I heard him chuckling.

  Chapter 8

  Gina, Interrupted

  I took the long way home again, going past the kids’ mental health building, this time using the sidewalk on the other side of the street. I wasn’t taking any chances. As it turned out, my detour wasn’t necessary since there was no sign of Paranoid Girl or any of the other kids. Staying after school to talk to Mr. Smedley had thrown off my schedule. I must have just missed them.

  Speaking of mental health—and this is off topic, but somewhat related—here’s something not too many people know: my mother was a patient in a psychiatric hospital when she was a teenager. Her story is that her parents had her committed after she’d stayed out all night, but my guess is there was more to it than that. My mom and her folks don’t get along at all now, and it was even worse back then. “My stint in the loony bin,” is what Gina called it, and I could still hear the bitterness in her voice. Gina was kind of a wild teenager, always up for new experiences—legal or not. This caused huge problems for my grandparents, Bob and Irene. In my mom’s own words, she was the teenager from hell. In order to get her admitted to the psych hospital for a few days, her parents had to lie and say she was suicidal. Things went from bad to worse after that, and she moved out of their house before she’d even graduated from high school.

  It’s hard for me to imagine my grandparents the way my mom describes them. We only visit once a year, but I think I have a pretty good handle on who they are. Grandma Irene wears an apron when she cooks, which is all the time. Her meals are wonderful, like Thanksgiving every day. She even makes waffles from scratch. I didn’t know that was even possible—I’d always thought they came already made in the freezer section of the grocery store. She’s the kind of grandma who puts her hand on my forehead to check for fever when I’m not feeling well and sneaks into the guest room in the middle of the night to cover me with an extra blanket just in case I might be cold. Gina calls it smothering, but I think it’s wonderful.

  Grandpa Bob has these corny jokes and does magic tricks where he pulls five-dollar bills out of my ears and lets me keep them. He does the crossword puzzle in the morning pa
per and invites me along when he goes to the hardware store. During one visit, I spent two days helping him install a new water heater. Good times.

  Their house is a tri-level with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. They were planning on having a bunch of kids I guess, but all they got was Gina. And now me. Grandma’s decorating style is what Gina calls kitschy: braided rugs and lamps with wrought-iron bases. The clock in the kitchen is a cat whose eyes move back and forth. Grandpa calls him Felix. I think he used to be a cartoon character or something.

  It’s so quiet at their house. Really quiet, like you can hear the birds chirping on the back patio, and there’s a ton of birds because of all the feeders. My grandparents’ house always smells good—no cigarette smoke, just cooking smells and the scent of the Christmas tree, a real one, not like the junky one we set up on our end table in every apartment we’ve ever lived in.

  When we visit for our week at Christmastime, Grandpa builds a fire in the fireplace and we roast marshmallows for s’mores while Gina goes out on the patio to smoke. She counts down the days until we can leave. The closer it gets to going home, the happier she is. I feel the exact opposite.

  For the last four months we’ve been the closest we’ve ever lived to my grandparents—only a forty-five-minute drive away, but Mom still doesn’t want to go see them. I talk to them all the time on the phone though. If she knew, she’d kill me.

  I’m one of the few people who knows about Gina’s stint as a mental patient. She told me how they strip-searched her when she first arrived and how they took everything away from her: her clothes, her lighter, her purse, and her watch. The watch had been a gift from her high school boyfriend, and she never got it back. The first night in lockdown she couldn’t sleep at all because another girl was screaming and carrying on somewhere down the corridor. Like a wild animal, she said. “What kind of people would send their own daughter to a place like that?” she asked. I didn’t answer. I almost said that there are two sides to every story, that maybe her parents acted out of desperation. Maybe. But I didn’t say it, because I knew she wouldn’t want to hear it.