Flock Page 13

  “Does it say anything about the future of three dresses?” I asked, scrambling to a stand. “Because that’s why we’re here.” I sorted through the pile on Penny’s bed. “We’ll need to rip out the side seams on Jinky’s dress, and pin the hem on those silk pants. Plus our own dresses. I don’t know why we’re putzing around here.”

  Jinky gathered up the pieces to her intended outfit. “I’ll do my own. Mrs. Cantwright will help me, I’m sure.”

  Mrs. Cantwright — Jinky’s host mother, my new neighbor, and a gray-haired, doddering antiquity — had a hard time getting her clothes on straight. I didn’t know how much help she could be at pinning and hemming.

  “If you need any supplies, needles or thread or whatever, let me know,” I said, collecting my own pile of loot.

  There was a knock at Penny’s door. It opened and old Grim stuck her head into the room. “I thought I heard voices.” I was so used to seeing her in her usual grim-on-Grim attire that her current getup surprised me. She wore head-to-toe white and a volunteer badge I recognized from Pinewood General Hospital. Grim a good Samaritan? I just couldn’t picture it.

  “Amma, you haven’t met my friend Jinky yet. She’s an exchange student from Iceland.”

  “Komdu sæl,” Grim said to Jinky.

  “Very well, thank you,” Jinky replied with more respect than I could have mustered.

  Grim gave me a squint. “Katla,” she said, by way of greeting.

  For the record, it was a name, not a salutation. “Hello, Fru Grimilla,” I said dutifully.

  “What’s going on?” Grim asked.

  “We bought our things for the dance this weekend,” Penny replied.

  Grim’s eyes raked over the piles of clothing on the bed and in the arms of both me and Jinky. Her glare then strayed to the dresser top. “What on earth? Why is that out?”

  “I was showing them,” Penny said in a small voice. “It matches my dress. I was thinking of wearing it.”

  “It’s much too valuable,” Grim said, striding across the room. She lifted the velvet-covered box and snapped it shut. Pocketing it, she turned and harrumphed out of the room. Just before the door closed, our eyes met, bucked truly the more apt description. I may have even brayed ever so slightly; I had to bring my fist to my mouth in a mock cough.

  As usual, Grim left me spiraling. Not only was the pin possibly mine, but it was valuable. What I valued was its link to information I required, but with it currently in Grim’s gnarled knuckles, I doubted I’d see it again. If only as much could be said of Grim. At least I didn’t run into her on my way from Penny’s room to the front door. I was feeling mulish enough to kick.

  Walking into school on Monday morning was like tightroping across power lines. Every step buzzed with a palpable current, one that was, to my great relief, harmless.

  “Let me guess,” I said, joining Penny at the back of the shifting crowd. “The Homecoming ballots are being handed out.”

  “Yep,” she replied.

  She looked down at my attire, a belted blouse over jeans tucked into boots, and asked, “Why are you dressed?”

  I laughed; it was a pretty strange question. “I forgot,” I said, swiveling my head to take in the various interpretations of Jammies Day, the first in a full week of Homecoming dress-up assignments. Penny in her fleecy two-piece PJs was at least decent. There was a girl standing not far from us in a frilly baby-doll number who, I guessed, would be sent home to change.

  “What’s the word on the court?” I asked. “Who are the front-runners?”

  “Abby for queen and John Gilbert for king, though I’ve heard talk of Marik, too.”

  “Marik?” My voice broke like some puberty-struck thirteen-year-old boy. “But he’s only been here a couple of weeks.”

  “People like him. He’s different.”

  If only she knew just how different. I could see, though, as his date, this was a source of great satisfaction to her. I could also appreciate it as a shake-up to tradition. Most everyone around here had lived in Norse Falls their whole lives. The pecking order probably dated back to kindergarten and was probably decided over Red Rover and cuts in line rather than merit or character.

  “So where is he?” I was curious about his Jammies Day garb and half expected giant bunny slippers to charge us at any moment.

  “He’s still not feeling all that great, according to Jinky.”

  “Weird,” I said. It was. What ailed a merman?

  At the front of the throng, I spotted Abby and Shauna, dressed in matching knee-length white nighties, grasping their ballots like winning lottery tickets. Abby seemed to have rebounded from the Asking Fire scene. Rumor had it she was back together with Gabe, the basketball player she had thrown over in her brazen pursuit of Marik. Nor did there seem to be any lasting effects of the frenzy and ugliness that had affected the crowd on Saturday night. Still, I wasn’t about to belt out a “Beat Pinewood” cheer or ask anyone for a light.

  Janie, a girl Penny and I knew from Design, retreated from the press of bodies with a fistful of ballots. “Here,” she said, handing us one each. “I grabbed a few extras.” She paused for a moment and then prodded Penny with her elbow. “You and Marik, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Penny tucked a band of hair behind an ear. As they had been for some time now, her curls were sleek and serpentine, falling in cascades over her shoulders.

  “Congrats and good luck,” Janie said, thumbing the corner of her ballot.

  Penny dipped her head and shoulders, revealing a peek of cleavage.

  Good luck? As in Penny was a contender? A puff of pure, clean air filled my lungs. Penny was a contender?

  Despite everything going on in my life, this kernel of possibility bumped itself to the top of my do-now list. And with the overwhelming sense of futility and frustration I was feeling in my quest to thwart Marik’s mission and even my attempt to manipulate a placement for Jaelle, this felt like something actionable.

  And why not Penny for Homecoming Queen? A year ago, I’d have conceded it as some kind of cruel Mean Girls’ prank. But now, the Penny before me had serious potential. While the best of her qualities — intelligence, kindness, enthusiasm — were intact, other character traits had developed: confidence and poise. Not to mention that she was morphing into a stone-cold fox. With cleavage.

  “When are these things due?” I asked Penny.

  “By the end of the day.”

  “And when do they announce the court?”

  “Tomorrow.” Penny gave me a you’re-losing-it look. I probably should have remembered the announcement of the court from last year; Jack had, after all, been one of the royals. In my defense, I had been a little busy, what with him going AWOL days before our first date and the whole see-a-raven-and-nearly-get-flattened-by-a-logging-truck incident. I did, at any rate, remember the Friday pep rally, the one at which — should I prove successful — Penny would be crowned this year’s queen.

  “Gotta go,” I said, kicking up do-good dust and leaving our potential monarch looking puzzled.

  In every class that day, I campaigned for Penny. “Wouldn’t she and Marik make the cutest king and queen ever?” “Wouldn’t it be nice to reward someone based on merit: like an editor of the paper or the chair of every committee, not to mention a whip-smart honor student?” “And isn’t it refreshing that Penny is nice and pretty and totally not expecting it?”

  I know I planted a seed in some people’s minds and outright changed a few on the spot. But the best part of the whole thing, by far, was that people told me they had already voted for her. Guys and girls both. Were it only that this regime overthrow and underdog crusade represented the utmost of my challenges. Regardless, it was a distraction that carried me through to the final bell.

  Leaving school that day, I was preoccupied by thoughts of how great it would be for something to finally go my way, when I almost plowed into my dad as he bounded up the front steps.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

/>   “Reporting to the lovely Sage Bryant for a chaperone meeting.” My dad fingered the collar of his crisply laundered black-and-white checked shirt with rolled, contrasting paisley French cuffs. It was an awesome shirt that looked both new and expensive. I begrudged him neither and had always liked his sense of style, but he had clearly made an effort.

  “Oh. Is this something I’m supposed to attend as well?” I asked.

  “No, no. Chaperones only.” My dad brushed a bit of lint from his black dress pants.

  “Have fun, then,” I said, watching him enter the building.

  It was nice to casually throw around the word “fun,” but something about the way he said “lovely” had me a little worried. Ms. Bryant was my teacher, and I depended on her for a good grade, especially if a design college was in my future. Though, with Marik and Safira and Brigid posing bigger-picture threats, it was yet another relief to worry about something else, something as trivial as transcripts, something with future significance, something with a future period.

  I didn’t notice the eerily quiet house when I got home. With Faulkner to read for English and my dress to work on, I grabbed a PowerBar and a vitaminwater and headed up to my room. My mom, believing it was important for Leira to get fresh air and be exposed to external stimuli, often took her on afternoon outings. When it got to be dinnertime and there were still no sounds in the house, I got suspicious and checked my — oops — dead cell phone. I plugged it in and, once it had a little juice, discovered I had three texts from my mom, all of them telling me to call her ASAP. The last ASAP had been two hours ago. Oops again.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but it’s Leira.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “We had to take her to the emergency room. She was running a fever.”

  “Is she OK?”

  “They suspect an infection. Possibly pneumonia. The good news is that she’s stable now.”

  “There’s bad news?”

  “They admitted her, and she’s back on a ventilator. Her compromised lungs aren’t quite getting the job done.”

  Of course it had to be lung related. It led me to fear that Leira — because of her special selkie ancestry — was never intended to have lungs. That her long-term prognosis on earth, even should I be successful in thwarting Marik, wasn’t good.

  “Should I come to the hospital?” I asked.

  Even through the phone, I could hear her release of pent-up air. “I don’t think so. It’s late. There’s nothing to be done here. I’ve even talked Stanley into going home; he has an early lecture. If she takes a turn for the worse, I’ll have Stanley wake you. But if she’s holding or improving, you should go to school, and then we’ll see what’s to be done tomorrow.”

  “I don’t feel right carrying on if Leira is sick,” I said.

  Following a couple more rounds of my mom and me debating this, I finally agreed to stay put. I had spent enough time at the hospital over the summer to know that the night shift was long and tedious.

  Immediately after hanging up with my mom, I phoned Jack. It was an entirely spontaneous response, as reflexive as covering a yawn.

  “I’m coming over,” he said, after hearing the latest.

  “It’s late,” I said, sounding scarily like my mom. “Besides, you know the rule.” It was a stupid one, but Jack wasn’t allowed over unless my mom or Stanley were home.

  “It’s an emergency situation, though. Martial law, right?”

  “I’m not sure that applies when the emergency’s someone else’s,” I said.

  “Well, then, we’ll make it a covert op.”

  This disobedient side wasn’t like him. I kind of liked it. And I definitely liked the burly quality to his voice. I went all tingly just thinking about how, in person, he’d follow that up.

  About twenty minutes later, as I finished a plate of cheese and crackers, I got what I was secretly hoping for: the real Jack, husky voice and all.

  “Did anyone see you?” I asked, looking both left and right down the street.

  “No. And I parked a block away.”

  I pulled him inside quickly. Responding to my urgency, he backed me up against the front door and kissed me. I knew I should be thinking about Leira and all that she was going through. I also knew that Stanley was due home anytime. But with Jack’s mouth on mine and his strong hands raking through my hair, kneading my shoulders, and sliding down my back, every concern of mine spiraled away like water rushing down a whirlpool. And, yes, the tingles were back.

  “Now tell me about Leira,” he said after pulling away and straightening my shirt with a swift tug.

  With the abrupt separation, the worries his kiss had temporarily dispelled returned. As I parted my lips, intending to update him on her medical condition, what spilled forth was, instead, a sob followed by a sheet of tears washing down my face.

  “Hey, there. It’s OK,” he said, folding me into his arms.

  We stood there for a long time while I struggled to get a handle on my emotions. I sensed the frailty of so many things at that moment: of Leira’s hold on this world, of my own abilities, of the all-is-well façade I’d been faking since our return from Iceland, Greenland, and beyond.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Nothing, but I’m glad you’re here. It does help.”

  “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That you needed me. You put up a tough front. Anyone else would be fooled.”

  I gulped. Was he onto me? Did he know more than he was saying? If so, how much? Everything? I panicked momentarily but then thought of how Marik amused him. If he really knew, Marik would not amuse him. Just the opposite, in fact.

  “But I can be tough, too,” he continued. “And behind that front, I got your back. Remember that.”

  “I will,” I replied.

  Jack led me upstairs to my room, where we lay on my bed simply holding each other. Once I had calmed down and my nose was all snotted out and my face looked like it had been used as a punching bag, he, rather diplomatically, segued into lighter subjects: my affinity for purple décor, my fondness for feather boas, and my overuse — in his opinion — of throw pillows. I demonstrated their multi-functionality by smacking him upside the head with a beaded one, after which we tumbled into a ticklefest. And I was back. Restored. Reinvigorated. Reminded of our bond.

  Shortly thereafter, I heard Stanley knocking about the kitchen. I decided — based on the volume of his bangs — that he was not in the mood for company, not mine and certainly not rule-breaking Jack’s. We tiptoed down the front steps, avoiding the second-from-the-bottom creaker. I watched Jack slip out the front door as Stanley clattered pots and pans in the kitchen, presumably rustling himself up a late supper. Making my way back to my room, I pitied him. It must have been even more painful for him than it was for me, that Leira’s first few months of life were so difficult.

  Leira did remain stable through the night. My mom put in a brief appearance the next morning to shower and change after Leira had finally fallen asleep, following a long and wakeful night.

  I watched my mom as she waded from the coffeepot to the table as if navigating something much heavier than air. She looked pale and thinner than I remembered and, with her hair screwed into a twist at the back of her head, I had a glimpse of how she’d look as an old woman. It was also a bad sign that she hadn’t commented on my appearance. It was Crazy Hair Day and I currently sported two of the highest, boingiest pigtails possible. They were pulled so tight the corners of my mouth were yanked upward, the Joker’s grin, but my mom said nothing. It was unsettling, and I pushed my bowl of Raisin Bran to the side.

  “I’m supposed to work at the store after school,” I said. “Should I check if Ofelia could cover for me so I can come and see Leira?”

  “There’s not much to see. Even I just sit there helpless and useless. And we already rely on Ofelia for so much. I’ve talked with Afi more than
once about hiring another part-timer. Given his age and own health concerns, I’d like to see him cut his hours to next to nothing, if not sell the store outright.”

  I clanked my spoon onto the table. It was true that Ofelia was essentially running the store. To ask her to pick up extra hours wasn’t fair. It was, however, this most recent mention of selling the store that had me half-staffing my head. Norse Falls General Store was Afi’s. And I knew that it was what got him up and going most days. Even though his “up and going” was getting more and more difficult. Somehow, I sensed it was important to help him hang on to the store for as long as possible.

  “I’ll keep my shift. If something does change, you’ll let me know?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  At school, I had a hard time shifting gears and getting my head back into the Homecoming mania that had invaded. But with the court announcement being posted first thing, I had to adjust quickly.

  “Anyone we know?” I asked Penny as she ducked through the crowd on her return from the bulletin board. Hope elevated my voice in a childish lilt.

  “Marik,” she said, rolling a curl between her thumb and index finger. Her crazy hair was a mass of ringlets. With her color and volume, the effect was like a cross between Little Orphan Annie and Medusa. “And me.”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and squealed like a blue-ribbon sow. Heads turned in our direction, but I didn’t care. Penny was on the Homecoming court; good things did happen to good people. “Woo-hoo. You made court!”

  “And Marik, too.”

  “So where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him. Is he still sick?” I asked.

  “Yeah. But nothing serious, according to Jinky.”