Shadow Moon, page 12
Just that quick, my irritation was gone, banished by a flashing smile and the brush of soft lips against the back of my hand. I know. I’m pathetic.
Junior scooted closer. He smoothed the hair back from my face and put his nose about two inches from mine. I thought he was going to kiss me again until he murmured, “I see you’re still riding the school bus. So, where’s the Chevy?”
Junior was referring to the car he’d given me last summer, a fully restored 1976 Chevy Caprice low rider, painted electric blue with rainbows swirling down both sides. The title was in my name. Insurance paid in full by Junior. He’d even included a credit card.
I pulled away so I could see his face. “Outta gas and I’m saving my money for Christmas shopping.”
Junior scowled at me. “That’s why I gave you a credit card. So you could buy gas.”
“I know and I appreciate it. It’s just that you’ve done so much for me, giving me a car and all. I have to draw the line somewhere, Junior. I’ll buy the gas when I can afford to pay for it. End of subject.”
Junior was forming his rebuttal when we heard Faye’s truck pulling up next to the trailer. By the time my mother popped through the door, Junior was sitting on the chair across from the couch and we were smiling pleasantly at each other.
Faye said, “Aha, Latin lover boy returns to the ’hood. How are you, Junior?”
Junior leaped up and helped her off with her coat. Geez, I was surprised he didn’t kneel and kiss her hand. I shook my head and hid a smile.
Faye looked back and forth between Junior and me. “So, what have you two been up to?”
Junior took a step back so she could slide by him. “Just getting caught up.”
Faye placed the back of her hand on my forehead. “You look a little feverish, Allie.”
Although the comment was addressed to me, make no mistake. It was intended for Junior. Fortunately, his Faye-dar was working well. He said, “Allie’s a good kid, Ms. Emerson. I intend to keep her that way.”
“Good to know.” Faye looked me over again before telling Junior, “Not that I believe you.”
Junior looked offended, but recovered quickly. “Guess I’ll just have to earn your trust.”
“You got that right, mister. How long are you home for?”
“I’ll be here until after the holidays.’
Faye plopped down on the couch next to me. “Judging from the goofy grin on my daughter’s face, I think that makes her pretty happy.”
Happy? I was ecstatic!
Junior took off, but not before making plans to take Faye and me to dinner the following night. Junior, operating under full megawatt power, was an awesome sight to behold.
The third player in my little life drama, Malcolm, “MC” Morris? Not so awesome.
Chapter Nineteen
It was lunch time.
I was at my usual table with the usual cast of misfits. Me, Mercedes and Gilbert, Manny, supersized twins Donna Jo and Dora Jean Hoffman and Luella Hoptowit, token Indian (feather, not dot), who pretty much hated everybody in the entire school except us. I’d been stuffing my face with spaghetti and zoning out, until I heard Donna Jo and Dora Jean talking about Brother Jessie’s revival.
Donna Jo said, “Who does that guy think he is, telling us who to hang out with and what to read?”
“Yeah,” Dora Jean added. “I can’t believe some rich guy gave him all that money. I heard they’ve moved on. They’re in Spokane now.”
At that moment I realized how out of it I’d been. I hadn’t talked to Kizzy in over a week. Still, I felt a huge wave of relief knowing Jessie Krieger was two hundred miles away.
“Wait,” I said. “Are you sure they’re gone?”
“Well, duh, Allie.” Donna Jo mopped up spaghetti sauce with her garlic bread. Her salad remained untouched. “Of course, he’s gone. But he left some of his little spies behind.”
Even though I was pretty sure I already knew, I said, “Who?”
Donna Jo snorted in amazement. “Where have you been, girl? In la-la land?”
Mercedes giggled. “She’s been busy. Junior’s back.”
That set the Hoffman twins off, big time. Our little corner of the cafeteria rang with peals of loud laughter and slightly off-color comments. Luella, who’d been shoveling in her lunch without a word, set her fork down and smirked at me, her version of friendly social interaction.
When the hubbub subsided, I said, “Okay, so tell me about Brother Jessie’s spies. Is Cory Philpott one of them?”
Dora Jean said, “Yeah, probably. But he’s awful busy with his new girlfriends. What’s with that guy anyway?”
We all swiveled around to check out Cory, who was sitting with Molly Reed and her friend, Heather.
“He sure thinks he’s hot,” Luella muttered, staring at her plate.
I was so surprised she’d spoken, my mouth fell open.
Mercedes eyes widened and she clapped her hands gleefully. “If Luella says so, it must be true.”
I didn’t have the nerve to mention the fact I’d been responsible for Cory’s newfound studliness. No, that bit of info would be my little secret.
We all stopped staring at Cory and began clearing off the table.
Donna Jo zeroed in on a piece of garlic bread left on Luella’s tray. “You gonna eat that?”
Luella handed her the bread. “Malcolm is the worst.”
“How so?” I asked.
Luella balled up her napkin and fired it into a nearby garbage can. “He told the school librarian she was going to burn in hell.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, I was there. He put a big pile of books on the counter and told Miz Moats she’d better get rid of ’em or else.”
“What did Mrs. Moats say?”
“She told him to get out of her library.”
Dora Jean and Donna Jo, both huge fans of vampire books, burst into spontaneous applause. Manny and Gilbert, looking bored out of their minds, picked up their trays and edged away from the table.
Mercedes blew Gilbert a kiss. “Bye, Sweetie.”
I dumped my garbage and dug around in my purse for change. We still had ten minutes before the bell. After lunch was served, the school store opened. It had candy bars, doughnuts and fountain drinks. As usual, it was packed with kids lining up for their sugar rush before class started.
I’d just collected my drink and started for the door when someone jostled my arm and half my Pepsi slopped onto the floor. Cursing under my breath, I looked up to see God’s Chosen newest disciple, Malcolm, and two of his dweebie friends. Cory, flanked by Molly and Heather, stood behind him.
“Hey, sorry about that,” Malcolm said. “Want me to wipe it up for you?”
Molly and Heather gave my outfit a quick once-over before exchanging knowing glances. Apparently I’d come up short in the fashion department once again. Like I cared.
I put my backpack and drink cup on a table. “Don’t worry about it, Malcolm. I’ll take care of it.”
I sincerely doubted Malcolm was in any way sorry, but I didn’t want to spend one more second being evaluated by Molly and Heather. I pushed my way through the crowd and grabbed a handful of paper towels.
After cleaning up the mess, I hoisted my backpack and slurped down what remained of my drink, glancing around the cafeteria for Mercedes. Our next class was chemistry. We always timed our entrance so we walked into the room the exact second the bell rang. It was our thing. I spotted her chatting with Luella, who was glaring angrily at pretty much everybody in the cafeteria.
I’d only taken a few steps toward them when my stomach did a double back flip. Whoa, bad batch of spaghetti? I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around the room. If the school lunch had made me sick, wouldn’t others be feeling it as well? I saw nothing out of the ordinary so took a couple of deep breaths and headed toward my friends. When I reached the table, I plopped down on the bench, willing my stomach to behave.
Mercedes said, “You okay, girl? You look kinda funny.”
I flapped a hand at her. “Feeling a little dizzy, that’s all. Go on to class. I’d better hit the restroom.”
Mercedes folded her arms and glared down at me. “Not without you.”
“Just give me a sec,” I said.
She sighed and leaned against the table, gazing around the cafeteria. A few seconds later, she leaned over and whispered, “What the heck is going on? Everybody is staring at us.”
Mercedes was right. Molly, Heather and all their buddies were clustered together, looking in our direction and whispering behind their hands. I watched Malcolm peel away from the group and leave the cafeteria.
“I don’t know but I’m going to find out.” I stood and took a couple of steps, still feeling off balance like the world had tilted slightly on its axis.
All at once Manny was in my face. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close, his mouth against my ear. He whispered, “Those kids are saying you’ve been drinking. Malcolm went to get Mr. Hostetler.”
I pulled away from Manny. “You’ve got to be kidding! Everybody knows I don’t drink.”
Manny captured my arm again and started towing me toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
I dug in my heels. “But, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Manny groaned. “Too late. Here comes Hostetler.”
I drew myself up. “And that’s a good thing. Now I can prove my innocence.”
Mr. Hostetler, looking harried, strode across the cafeteria and didn’t stop until we were toe to toe. “Allie, I need to talk to you in my office.”
“No problem,” I said, certain I would soon be in the clear and on my way to class. Manny kept hold of my right arm. Mr. Hostetler clamped a hand around my left arm and led me toward the door, an action that provided high value entertainment for the onlookers. Years later, I would still remember the expressions on the faces of my classmates.. Shock. Amusement. Disdain. Pity.
A scant minute later, I was seated in Principal Hostetler’s office,. The door was closed. Manny leaned against it, a stoic expression on his chubby face.
“Why am I here?” I demanded.. “It was Malcolm, wasn’t it? Whatever he told you, it was a lie.”
Leon Hostetler removed a folded white handkerchief from his pocket, removed his glasses and proceeded to clean them. “May I search your backpack?” he said.
Puzzled, I shrugged the backpack from my shoulders and handed it over. “Be my guest. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Mr. Hostetler slipped his glasses back on and set my backpack on his desk. He unzipped the pouch and the contents spilled out. Five books, my binder, a shriveled apple and a pink sweatshirt. When he picked up the sweatshirt, something rolled out and I heard the clank of glass hitting the desk. Oh. My. God. It was an empty booze bottle. Not very big but definitely a liquor bottle.
I began to sputter. “But, but . . . ”
Mr. Hostetler said, “You can go now, Manny. I’ll take it from here.”
Before he left, Manny looked at me and said,, “I promise I’ll find out who did this to you, Allie.”
Mr. Hostetler followed Manny to the door and called to his secretary, Alice. After giving her whispered instructions, he closed the door and then, it was just the two of us. Mr. Hostetler and me.
I launched into my defense. “I don’t know how that bottle got in my backpack, Mr. Hostetler. Honest, I don’t. Do you think I’m drunk? All I had was diet Pepsi.” The words poured out of my mouth like water spurting from a hose. I had to make him listen. If he would just listen,, he’d know I was telling the truth. “You believe me, don’t you?”
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he walked to his desk, fished around in a drawer and came up with a cylindrical, foil-wrapped object. He ripped the foil off and walked over to me.
“Allie Emerson,” Mr. Hostetler said, “do I have permission to test you for the consumption of an alcoholic beverage?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “You’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“Alice is calling your mother. We can wait on the test until she gets here if you want.”
My mother! I shot out of my chair. “No, let’s do it now. Then, when she gets here, you can tell her it was all a huge mistake.”
Mr. Hostetler showed me a little tan-colored stick. “If you have alcohol in your system, it will change color.”
“But, I don’t drink alcohol.”
My mouth was already open, so I guess Mr. Hostetler decided it was the perfect opportunity. In popped the little paper stick. When he pulled it out, we both watched it turned forest green.
“No!” I whispered. “That can’t be.” I collapsed onto the chair, purely dreading the appearance of my mother.
To his credit and my relief, Mr. Hostetler didn’t launch into a huge lecture. He just shook his head and looked sad, like he was terribly disappointed in me.
By the time Faye burst through the door, I was fighting back tears. My mother’s face was pale, her eyes blazing with anger. I braced myself. But she surprised me. She headed straight for Mr. Hostetler and waggled a finger in his face. “What the hell’s going on, Leon? You know Allie doesn’t drink. My God, she took care of your kid all summer!”
Mr. Hostetler retreated behind his desk and sank down in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I do know that, Faye.” He held up the alcohol strip. “But obviously she has alcohol in her system. I have to go by school policy. First offense: one week suspension. I’m sorry, I’ve got no choice.”
Faye said,, “That’s bullshit and you know it. Somebody spiked her drink. Here’s what I want to know— what are you going to do about it?”
Mr. Hostetler stood and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll look into it, Faye, but it takes time.”
They glared at each other for what seemed like forever. Finally Faye muttered something under her breath, pulled me out of my chair and marched me out of Mr. Hostetler’s office.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. The halls were packed with kids changing classes. I held my head high and met the curious gazes of my classmates with a defiant gaze of my own wishing I had the magic to make it all go away. I didn’t.
Chapter Twenty
Funny how life unfolds.
Now, looking back, I can see the big picture and realize things happened exactly as they were meant to. Not so, at the time. After my outrage faded away, I plunged into a crevasse of self-pity so dark and deep, I was unable to see a single glimmer of light. After years of watching my mother’s bouts of depression, I swore I’d never be like her. I’d lied. My gloomy self-absorption surpassed Faye at her worst.
The phone calls didn’t help. Why did practically everybody in the entire school feel the need to call and fill me in on all the sordid details? I felt guilty and ashamed, which made absolutely no sense. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t knowingly slugged down a shot of vodka along with my diet Pepsi. Some things just defy logic.
Faye and Junior both did their best to snap me out of it. Faye managed to line up some work for me at the diner. Junior was busy managing renovations on the Mexican restaurant he’d bought for his mother to manage. He decided the best therapy for me was to tag along with him while he supervised the construction crew. I was bored out of my skull. I finally convinced him I needed time to do my school work.
Strangely, it was Beck Bradford who reached down into that bottomless pit of despair and yanked me out. On Monday, following the can you believe Allie Emerson got drunk at school incident, he called me.
“Hey, Allie, it’s Beck.”
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, not really wanting to talk to him in my current state.
“Man, that sucks,” he said.
“You know, huh?”
“Yeah, Nicole told me.”
Hmmm, Nicole was one of few I hadn’t heard from. I figured she thought I was guilty as homemade sin. I felt like snarling, “So what?” But, I bit my tongue and waited.
Beck said, “She’s mad as hell. She knows you don’t drink. You may not realize it, but you’ve got a whole lot of people on your side.”
“I do?” A flicker of hope sparked to life.
“Yes, ma’am, you surely do. So what are you doing with your time off?”
“Not much. Working a little. Doing homework. You know, the usual crap.”
“You sound depressed.”
“Geez, ya think?”
Beck chuckled. “Okay, here’s a plan. You’ve got all this week plus Christmas vacation. The last time we talked, you said time was running out and you needed to find your sister. So, do it. Find your sister.”
“Easier said than done.”
“That’s no excuse. Do you have her address?
“Yeah.”
“Her phone number shouldn’t be hard to find. Try calling her. Whatever. Borrow Junior’s cell phone and call her.”
“We’ve been trying. Mike Purdy tried. Faye tried. I tried. All we get is an answering machine. I’m thinking they must have an unlisted number too.”
“Keep trying. Leave messages. Ones they can’t ignore.” He paused for a moment. “Since Junior’s in town, does that mean I can’t see you when I’m home for Christmas?”
I smiled into the phone. “No, it doesn’t mean that at all. We’ll always be friends and friends get to see each other.”
I felt better after Beck’s call. He was right. I needed a project. Since I had time on my hands, why not? I set the phone back in its cradle and settled in at the table to tackle some of the aforementioned homework. I used the sleeve of my Fighting Peahens sweatshirt to defog the window so I could see outside. Maybe it was because our trailer was so tiny. Or, maybe I was claustrophobic. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand to be closed away from the outside world.
Before opening my French book, I gazed out into Blaster’s pasture, still covered with snow. Blaster was an Angus bull. Coal black. Easy to spot against the white ground. But, I wasn’t expecting to see the other black object. A tall figure in a long black overcoat stood next to Blaster, his back to the window. Long, white-blond hair tumbled over his shoulders. Teagan!
