Mortal Danger

NORMAL IS ANOTHER COUNTRY

Blackbriar might be under a cloud, but for the rest of my imprisonment, it didn’t storm. The silence made me uneasy, however, and things were lonely at school, as Davina and Jen were MIA. I hoped that meant they’d persuaded their parents to send them elsewhere, at least for a while. I checked my messages, but there was nothing in my inbox.

Vi was still around, at least. Tuesday night, we talked on Skype. “How are the dreams?” I asked.

“After I sent off my college applications, they totally stopped. Must’ve been stress.”

I suspected it had more to do with burning my second favor, but relief cascaded through me so hard, I got a headrush. “I need to send my stuff in, deadlines are approaching.”

“I figured you’d be done already.”

“No, I’m still putting the package together. I can’t get my essay right.” Truth was, I hadn’t even tried to write one.

“Don’t let it paralyze you. Just pick a theme and run with it.”

“Thanks. I’ll see if I can get everything out next week.”

We chatted a little longer, then I disconnected to get ready for bed. When I went to the bathroom, I left my bedroom door cracked, but when I came back, it was closed. My heart skittered in my chest like it was full of mice. For a few seconds, I stood in the hall, staring.

“Something wrong?”

I spun to find my mother standing behind me. “No, I was just thinking.”

“About how ill-considered your behavior has been lately, I hope.”

“Obviously.”

Normally she wasn’t good at picking up sarcasm, but both brows went up. “Edith, you haven’t been yourself this fall. Do you want to talk to a specialist?”

I had no idea what she meant by that. “A psychologist or a brain doctor?”

“Whichever you think would be most helpful.”

The secrets I had locked in my head would only land me in the psych ward, if the shrink pried them out of me, and an MRI couldn’t solve these problems. So I shook my head. “Sorry, Mom. I think the college admission process is getting to me.”

Any mention of university usually diverted Mom into a lecture, but she didn’t take the bait this time. “Do you have a minute to talk?” She sounded oddly tentative.

“Sure.” Bemused, I followed her into the living room. Before sitting down, she made us both a cup of tea.

“I feel like I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

“That’s an ominous beginning. I’ve been more trouble than usual lately, but—”

“I don’t mean we’re on the verge of shipping you off to boarding school.” She fiddled with the fringe on the afghan dangling from the back of the couch. “It’s hard for me to say this, but I perceive I haven’t been what you need, emotionally, as a mother.”

Oh Jesus. A year ago, I would’ve loved to have this conversation with her. Now it was too late, though not for the reasons she feared. I fidgeted, picking up a pillow and clutching it to my chest, as if stuffing and fabric was a shield for awkwardness.

“You’re fine,” I mumbled.

“That’s nice of you, but it’s not true. I thought if we sent you to a good school and let you form your own emotional attachments while giving you space that would be enough. I can see now that it wasn’t.”

Part of me wanted to ask where this epiphany was before I ended up on the bridge, but I swallowed it along with a sudden ache in my throat. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

Her face fell, but she soldiered gamely on. “I want us to have a better relationship, a closer one. We have science in common, at least. I don’t know much about your new interests, but I could stand to be more physically fit. Maybe we could work out together? There’s a nice facility at the university…” She bit her lip, sad and hopeful at the same time.

Nice olive branch, Mom. I could either accept it or set it on fire. Since I hadn’t run in the morning since the creepiness started, I nodded. “We could go a couple of times in the afternoon and then maybe on Saturdays?”

“I’d like that. And … I wouldn’t hate it if you have time to teach me some things about doing my face. For parties?”

No more fugly red lipstick, Mom.

“That would be fun.” Not a word I typically used to describe anything related to my mother. “You’re an autumn, you know.”

Her unshaped brows shot up. “I’m a what now?”

“One step at a time.”

She wore a tentative smile, and I studied her. Her hair was a frazzled russet, badly in need of a good cut and some deep conditioning. For as long as I could remember, she had worn it in a messy knot. She was round, but not seriously overweight; she had the body of someone who didn’t move around a lot, understandable given how much of her time she spent writing on whiteboards and poring over legal pads.

“Would it be all right if I hugged you?”

For some reason, that choked me up. Tears rose to my eyes as I set aside the throw pillow. “You don’t have to ask. You can, anytime you want.”

I wish you did it more.

She smelled like lilac talcum powder when she reached over and squeezed me around the shoulders. “Your father and I love you very much. And we’re so proud of you, Edith.”

Exhaling in a shaky rush, I put my head on her shoulder. Her lumpy cardigan scratched my cheek, but it was a good five minutes before I moved. “Let’s hit the gym Thursday afternoon, okay?”

Mom actually looked misty when she nodded. “I’ll meet you there. We can swing by and grab takeout for dinner afterward, give your dad a break from cooking.”

If I was teaching her about hair and makeup, then I should ask to trade. “Maybe, if you have time, you could show me something about electrical sockets? And plumbing?”

“I’d be glad to. A woman should never—”

“Depend on a man if she’s capable of learning how to do something herself.”

She looked so surprised when I finished her sentence, then she burst out laughing. “It’s good to know I haven’t been shouting my wisdom down a well all these years.”

“Nope. Night, Mom.”

Wednesday was a good day, maybe because I was happy, and I just … didn’t think about the problems squatting on the horizon. Even pawns on a chessboard needed a day off now and then. I pretended I had Pandora’s box inside and shoved all the horrible feelings into it. On Thursday morning, Davina came back to school, and it astonished me how relieved I was. I wove through the crowd toward her.

“You back?”

Glumly she nodded. “I talked my mom into letting me see a therapist, but the traitorous bastard said the best thing for me was to get back on the horse that threw me.”

“Huh?”

“Coming back to school will prevent me from forming some kind of aversive phobia.” She yanked down a pink sign-up sheet with more than a hint of violence. “Oh, look. Allison’s gone wheels-up with her coup d’état and tryouts are tomorrow afternoon. I haven’t practiced at all, so I’ll be lucky to be mascot, after three years of taking their shit. God, sometimes I hate them so much.”

“Why didn’t you just make new friends?” I asked.

“Russ,” she said miserably. “God, I’d liked him since I was a freshman and he barely knew I was alive.”

“You don’t have to go out for the squad. Let Allison have it.”

She shook her head, wearing a ferocious frown. “Screw that. If I don’t make it, then it’s like I wasted all of that time and she wins.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Try out with me.”

I cackled, until I realized she was serious. “Why, to make you look better by comparison when I fall on my butt?”

“Partly,” she admitted. “But also for moral support. Please, Edie.”

“What the hell.” I liked Davina, apparently well enough to make an ass of myself in solidarity. “How long does it last? I need to tell Kian I’ll be late tomorrow.”

“Depends on when they call you to perform, but allow an hour.”

“Awesome.”

“You need an original cheer and then you’ll also be scored on how fast you learn the routine, along with the rest of your group. I don’t suppose you can do a backflip?”

“I can walk backward. Sort of.”

Davina smiled and slung an arm around my shoulders. “I would not be okay if you weren’t around this year. I’m glad we’re friends.”

She had no idea how much those four words meant to me … or how scared I was that something evil might be listening. I was like some kind of disaster demon, one touch, and the contagion spread, inky tendrils of malevolence creeping toward those I cared about. Still, I didn’t shift away because Davina needed the contact as much as I did; it took all of her bravado to pretend the stories about Russ weren’t breaking her heart, mostly because none of them included a whisper of what they’d been to each other for one sweet, short summer.

“My mom and I are hitting the gym this afternoon,” I said. “Maybe you could come along and afterward, you and I can work on something for the tryout?”

“Let me ask,” she said. “I’ll get back to you at lunch.”

Company at the table was thin: just Cameron, Davina, Allison, and me. Russ’s lacrosse pals sat elsewhere, as if they sensed the dark cloud hovering over the Teflon crew. Since Russ had bound them together, now they’d separated into sub-cliques. Everyone was quiet, and after eating, I left, disturbed by the wreck Cameron had become. I understood his grief; in a short time he’d lost both his girlfriend and the person he’d thought was his best friend. A pang went through me at how I’d used Allison to deliver Russ’s barb about why they hung around with Cam.

“I’m with you,” Davina said, catching up as I hurried toward my locker. “I’m thinking we find a new table. I don’t even like anyone who’s left. Well, besides you.”

“Yeah. Sometimes you have to know when to let things go.”

If only I’d learned that lesson sooner. But the promise of revenge got me through the weeks after the bridge and by the time school started again, I had some distance. If I hadn’t cared about getting even, I might not have taken the deal. Is your life worth so many others? It was too heavy a question to carry, so I set it aside and crammed it inside the metaphysical crate in my head.

“My mom said we can hang out, by the way. But she wants yours to call her, just to confirm we’ll have parental supervision.”

“That’s what happens when you lie and go to New Hampshire instead of the library,” I said, imitating my dad.

“I’m well aware, trust me.”

Before I went to class, I texted Kian that I didn’t need a ride. I felt bad making him chauffeur me around when I had plans with other people, so I told him I’d be with Davina and my mom at the gym. He replied, I wouldn’t mind giving you and Davina a ride but it’s fine. I’ll move my stuff out of storage today instead.

That made me smile as I replied, Does that mean you’ll read me another poem?

Maybe.

When I put my phone away, Davina was smirking at me. “Girl, you so can’t get enough of what he got.”

“You learn that grammar at Blackbriar?”

“Obviously.”

I smiled at her. “See you after school.”

We met up at the gates; Davina arrived first and we took the T to my place. She soaked everything in with an interested look. “I can tell your parents are teachers.”

The jumble of science journals and notepads no longer registered on me, but to someone else, it probably looked messy. “Professors, actually. Physics.” I’d mentioned it before, but maybe it didn’t sink in.

“Damn. No wonder nobody can touch you in that class.”

Since I’d invited her at the last minute, she needed workout gear. My T-shirt and yoga pants were a little big on her, but since the point was to sweat, it didn’t matter. It was odd having her in my room—two worlds colliding—but she didn’t say anything about all my scientist posters or my piles of books. Relieved, I texted my mom: I’m on my way with Davina. Be there soon.

Okay. I’ll head over.

Introductions were awkward since my mom knew I went AWOL with Davina, but she fixed it with, “You must think I’m a bad influence, but I want you to know I’ll never ask Edie to do anything like that again. I hope you’ll give me another chance.”

Mom smiled. “Everyone makes mistakes, Davina, and yours was understandable. I’m glad to meet you.”

“Do you mind calling my mother to reassure her I’m with you?” She dialed and offered her cell with a sheepish look.

“Not a problem.” Mom waited for the call to connect, then said, “Hello, this is Mildred Kramer, Edie’s mom. I’m verifying that the girls are here. We’re working out this afternoon.” A pause. “Absolutely.”

Davina took the phone back. “I should be home by seven, latest. See you later.”

Faculty got a discount at the fitness and rec center, so my parents kept our membership active, though only my dad used it regularly. He said doing mindless reps helped him think through thorny problems. We bypassed the classes and went directly to the equipment, where we spent forty-five minutes sweating. Afterward, I felt good, loose and limber.

“Still up for choreographing a routine?” Davina asked.

“Absolutely.” That might be an overstatement, but I did promise.

After her shower, my mom watched us with an expression of bemusement. “Are you two in a talent competition?”

I laughed. “In my case, more like un-talent.”

“You’re not … horrible,” she said, probably trying to be supportive. “You just need practice. Davina has obviously put more time into … whatever you’re doing.”

“It’s for cheer tryouts,” Davina answered.

My mom froze, as if I had confessed to a secret meth addiction. “Is this true, Edith?”

“I’m not really trying to make the squad. I’m just going to support Davina.”

“Ah.” Apparently she could get behind feminine camaraderie. Mom sat down on a mat nearby and half watched us practice for another hour while tapping on her tablet.

By the end of that time, I was no better, but Davina seemed to have her routine down. We didn’t have any clothes to change into anyway, so I said, “We can go now if you want. Thai takeout for dinner?”

Mom nodded. “Pad thai sounds good.”

“I wish I could stay, but my folks are expecting me.” Shrugging, Davina made a what-can-you-do face.

Outside, I gave her a hug. “See you at school.”

“Do you want us to walk you to the station?” Mom asked.

Davina grinned. “I’ve been on the T by myself before, but thanks anyway.”

Since it was getting dark, my mom insisted. Davina seemed torn between appreciation and annoyance. At the subway steps, she merged into the throng of college students with a cheery wave. I talked my mom into a haircut on the way home and then I dragged her into a store that sold mineral makeup. I knew she wouldn’t stick to a complicated beauty regimen, but dusts and powders wouldn’t take long. All told, by the time we picked up the Thai food, it was pretty late, close to eight before we got home. It was also the most fun I could remember having with my mom in years.

“We have to do that again soon,” she said. “Saturday afternoon?”

“Definitely. I’ll show you how to use the stuff we bought, if you want.”

She hugged me again, this time without asking. “You probably think I’m odd for not knowing any of this, but … I remember once, when I was eleven, my mother got me only beauty products for Christmas. She got me a curling iron, hair spray, fancy brushes, hot rollers, eye shadow. When I opened all my packages, I pretended to be thankful, then I went to my room and cried. I thought she was saying that I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough—that it wasn’t enough for me to be smart.”

Wow. I never knew that. “So you turned your back on all girlie stuff. I get it.”

“But … it’s fun with you.”

“I don’t let it rule my life or anything, but I like feeling pretty.”

“So do I,” Mom admitted quietly. “But I never thought I was, so no point in trying.”

“You should never give up,” I said, conscious of the irony of me saying that. But I had come to believe it.

“So when you came home this summer, I was taken aback. It felt like you were trying to tell me something. Then I realized I was transferring old hurts. If I’d known you were interested in a makeover, maybe we could’ve worked on it together. I just never wanted to make you feel like my mom did me. I always wanted you to feel that however you are, it’s okay with me.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I was almost crying, unable to see for the stinging in my eyes.

In that moment, I desperately wanted to tell her everything. Fear for her safety kept me silent, along with remorse over what I might’ve done. She seemed to think so highly of me; I couldn’t stand to tarnish that image. To give me time to recover, she patted my head and went to talk to my dad. I went to my room for five minutes to settle down.

Dinner was lively; I actually paid attention when they were talking about the new project and to my surprise, I had ideas to contribute. My mom made notes while my dad treated me like I was a genius. I could get used to this. If working with my parents led to my optimum future, at the moment, I didn’t feel like fighting.

Now and then, the Pandora’s box in my head slammed from side to side, thoughts of Brittany and Russ trying to escape. I didn’t let them. There was no other way I could cope. I have to push forward. If I quit, they win. Stubbornness kept me in school, still turning in work.

Friday, cheerleading tryouts went every bit as bad for me as I’d anticipated. I didn’t screw up my personal routine too badly, but I had zero aptitude for learning choreography. Though I didn’t fall down, that was about all that could be said for my performance. Davina, on the other, was like a rocket, bright, on point, and utterly graceful. If the teachers who picked the squad didn’t put her on the A-list, then I could only assume they had already accepted bribes from parents who wanted a cheerleader in the family.

“You feel good about your chances?” I asked her afterward.

“You know … I do. Thank you.” She hugged me.

That made the ordeal worth it.

Saturday morning, I had the SAT. Fortunately, I was no longer grounded and I didn’t have to explain that the test I claimed to have aced last spring, I never took. I felt like I did well, but I wouldn’t find out for a while. Then I met my mom for lunch near the university, and after our food settled, we went to the fitness center, nothing extraordinary, but these were things I’d rarely done with my mother.

This is normal. Feels like another country.

But … I could get used to living here.