[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

on the bench beside me and regarding me with those deep brown eyes. "I mean,
we were justthere , you and I."
Page 106
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Yeah," I said, uncomfortably aware of the number of envious glances coming
my way. After all, with Amber gone, Mark was fair game. I saw more than one
cheerleader nudge the girl next to her and point to the two of us, sitting
there with our heads so close together at the otherwise empty table.
Of course, they had no way of knowing that my heart belonged and always
would to another.
"At least nobody was hurt," Mark said. "I mean, could you imagine if it had
happened during the dinner rush or something?"
"It would have been hard," I said to him, "for whoever poured gasoline all
over the place, to have done so without anybody noticing during the dinner
rush."
Mark's dark eyebrows lifted. "You mean somebody did it onpurpose ? Butwhy ?
Andwho ?"
"My guess would be whoever killed Amber and then beat up Heather. And they
did it as a warning," I said. "To me. To back off."
Mark looked stunned. "God," he said. "Thatsucks ."
It was more or less an adequate representation of my feelings on the matter,
and so I nodded.
"Yeah," I said. "Doesn't it?"
It was right after that that the bell rang. Mark said, "Hey, listen. Maybe we
could get together or something this weekend. I mean, if you're up for it.
I'll give you a call."
Okay, I'll admit it. It was kind of cool to have the best-looking guy in
school vice-president of the senior class, quarterback, and all around
hottie say things to me like "I'll give you a call." I mean, don't get me
wrong: he was no Rob Wilkins or anything. There was that whole "unacceptable"
thing, which was a little, I don't know, militaristic for me.
But hey. He'd asked me out. Twice now. All of a sudden, I had a clue as to
how my mom must have felt, when she was in school. You know, Little Miss Corn
Detassler and all of that. I could see why she'd been so excited for me when
Skip had called. Being popular well, it's pretty fun.
Or at least it was, up until Karen Sue Hankey came up to me on my way to my
locker and went, in her snotty Karen-Sue-Hankey voice, "Missed you at chair
auditions this morning."
I froze, one hand on my combination lock. The auditions for chair placement
in Orchestra. I had completely forgotten. After all, I had been dealing with
some pretty heavy stuff lately & threats to my life, and the destruction of a
large portion of my family's business. It wasn't any wonder I hadn't been able
to keep my schedule straight.
But wait a minute . . . the winds had been scheduled for Thursday.
Which was today.
"I suppose, since you missed them," Karen Sue said, "you'll have to be last
chair until next semester's tryouts. Too bad. Mr. Vine is posting the
placements after school and I'm betting I'll be Hey!"
Page 107
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The reason Karen Sue yelled "Hey" is because I pushed her. Not hard or
anything. I just had to get somewhere, and fast, and she was in my way.
And that somewhere was the teachers' lounge, where I knew Mr. Vine spent
fifth period, decompressing after freshman Orchestra.
I tore down the hall, bumping into people rushing off to class, and not even
saying excuse me. It wasn't fair. It totally wasn't fair. A person with an
excused absence like mine and my absencewas excused should be allowed to
audition like everybody else, not relegated to last chair just because some
psycho had burned her parents' restaurant down.
The thing was, I had totally learned to sight read over the summer. I had had
this big plan of blowing Mr. Vine away with my awesome new musical abilities.
I didn't want to be first chair or anything, but I definitely deserved third,
maybe even second. No way was I going to take last chair. Not lying down,
anyway.
I skidded to a halt in front of the door to the teachers' lounge. I was going
to be late for Bio, but I didn't care. I banged on the door.
As I was doing so, somebody touched my shoulder. I turned around, and was
surprised to see Claire Lippman, who hardly ever spoke to me in the hallways.
Not because she was snotty or anything, just because, usually, she had her
head buried in a script.
"Jess," she said. Claire did not look good. Which was also unusual, because
Claire is one of those, you know, raving beauties. The kind you maybe don't
notice right off, but the more you look at her, the more you realize that she
is perfect.
She didn't look so perfect just then, though. She'd chewed all the lipstick
off her lower lip, and the pink sweater she'd flung around her shoulders she
was wearing a white sleeveless top was in grave danger of slipping off and
landing on the floor.
"Jess, I & " Claire looked up and down the hallway. It was clearing out, as
people darted into class. "I really need to talk to you."
I could tell something was wrong. Really wrong.
"What's wrong, Claire?" I asked, putting my hand on her arm. "Are you "
All right. Are you all right. That's what I'd been going to ask her.
Only I never got the chance, because of two things that happened at almost
the same time.
The first was that the door to the teachers' lounge opened, and Mr. Lewis,
the chemistry teacher, stood there, looking down at me like I was crazy,
because of course people aren't supposed to bother teachers when they are in
the lounge.
The second thing that happened was that Mark Leskowski emerged from the
guidance office, which was across the hall from the teachers' lounge, holding
a stack of college applications they'd evidently been keeping there for him.
"What may I do for you, Miss Mastriani?" Mr. Lewis asked. I had never had
Chemistry, but he apparently knew my name from last spring, when I'd been in
Page 108
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the paper so much.
"Hey," Mark said, to Claire and me. "How you two doing?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]