Authors: Sandy Green
No One's Watching (21 page)
“For sure?” Her eyes slid toward me.
“Absolutely.”
“No kidding?”
I shook my head. “I swear on my grandmother's
pointe
shoes.”
“Okay.”
A note was clipped to our door from Nicki. “In the eighth floor TV room. Meet us.”
“She figured we'd be able to get inside.” Candace propped against the door.
I nodded. Or else she was covering her tracks in case we did.
Candace unlocked the door, and we went into our room, too tired to grill Dira and Nicki about the brick outside the kitchen door. I fell asleep, my toe throbbing, not certain if anything that day ever really happened.
****
The next morning, I was whistling
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
while stuffing a beach towel and extra clothes into my backpack. “Do you have any sunscreen?”
“Why?”
“You know, the sun? At Chester Park. The park we're going to today. Did you forget?” My spirits lifted. It would be great to loll around the pool, splash in the water and sit by Blake on the bus.
She handed me spray sunblock. “Here's a can. I thought you were never leaving the building until camp was over?”
I laughed. “This is legal.” I swung my backpack and poked my arms through the straps. “Are you ready? Blake told me to save him a seat on the bus. He's sitting next to me.” I giggled like an Irish dance munchkin. Like Lindy and Megan. Would they try to sit near us and yap the whole twenty-minute trip? I had a vision of Candace sitting alone, staring out the window. “Will you sit with somebody?”
She dropped her gaze mysteriously, and we left the room. “Don't worry about me. I'll be okay.”
There were two charter buses outside the main entrance as we gathered in the lobby. No sign of Blake, but Shelly and Amy buzzed around like pinballs. Amy had traded her green bucket hat for a huge sombrero, and spun through the crowd.
On the far side of the room, Danilo lifted his chin in a greeting. To Candace. Now I got it. They drifted away, and I craned my neck for Blake. Jupiter, with his easy-to-spot flaming hair, wasn't around either.
At breakfast, Mrs. Sykes and Mrs. Ricardo had given us cards assigning everyone one of the two buses. I choked on the humidity as they herded us out the regular doors to the sidewalk to board them. Mrs. Sykes got on the first bus. I followed Candace and Danilo to the second bus. Mrs. Ricardo and a small balding man sat in the first seats. As she ticked our names off a clipboard, the man's bright brown eyes eagerly watched everything like he hadn't been outside in a while. Together, they looked like a pair of salt and pepper shakers.
I picked a seat midway on the bus behind Tiffany, the new girl. After I threw my backpack into the overhead compartment, I sat by the window. Ms. Jen greeted everyone as she followed dancers somewhere to the rear of the bus. I squirmed, watching the main entrance of the building. Where was Blake?
Shelly or Amy squealed, drawing my attention down the aisle. Blake grimaced and peeled off their fingers rooted in his arm. “Sit with us. There's plenty of room.” Amy dragged him down to their two seats.
Blake broke free. “Maybe later.” He lurched down the aisle and plopped next to me, stowing his backpack under his seat. “Hi.”
He brushed his hair from his eyes, and I stared at him. Goofily. I was so relieved he showed up.
Blake tucked the armrest between us into the backs of our seats. “How ya doing? Are you sore from last week?” He glanced at my mouth.
“Not too bad. How about you?” Did I have lip gloss on my front tooth?
He stretched his arms over his head. “I feel pretty good.” His right arm rested on the back of my chair, and he leaned toward the window as the bus rolled away from the curb. I pretended to be fascinated with the pedestrians melting on the sidewalk. Blake's cheek was inches from mine, like at our first day in Irish dance class. I had spritzed Candace's perfume on my neck this morning, and it spiraled up to my nose.
He leaned back and brushed my arm with his hand before settling it on his knees. “I'm glad the bus is air-conditioned.”
“Me, too.” The heat from his arm gravitated toward mine, and my mind went blank. I stared at the back of the seat ahead of me.
The bus rumbled as we swept past tall buildings and out to a main road.
Why wasn't I one of those people who could always come up with conversation? It didn't even have to be funny. Just not stupid.
Blake slapped hands with Jupiter as he came up to our seats. “Where you been, man? I haven't seen you since breakfast.”
Jupiter glanced at me. “I had to get something for someone.” He held out a lunch-sized paper bag above Blake's lap.
Blake rubbed his hands together. “These had better be snacks.”
Jupiter offered it to me. “It's for Kit.”
I took the bag. “More rice?”
He searched up and down the aisle and hunkered close to us. “Give it back to Shelly when you're done.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And don't get caught.”
I rested the bag on my lap. “What? I don't understand.”
“Your mom wants to talk to you.”
I opened the bag and stared at the small cell phone lying at the bottom. The blood in my head rushed to my ankles. Shelly didn't actually bring a cell phone on the bus and call Mom, did she?
Blake frowned. “What is it?” He gently pulled the bag from my lap and peered in. “Where'd Jupiter get this?”
“From Shelly. Didn't you know Shelly somehow found another one?”
“No.” He glanced in it again.
I took the bag back. “She found one right after I left your room yesterday. Jupiter announced it down your hall.”
“I stopped in Riley's room after I left you. Everyone knows having them here is illegal. She's taking a chance. If she gets caught, they'll throw her out.”
“Maybe. It's on my lap now.”
He scrunched the top of the bag.
I nodded at the bag. “Jupiter said my mom was on the phone.”
“Maybe she has something important to tell you?”
I gasped. “Maybe my grandma fell again.” I dug in the bag. “Cover me.”
Blake opened his empty hands. “With what?”
Your body. “Do you have a beach towel? My stuff is up there.” I pointed to the overhead storage.
He pulled his backpack from under his seat and threw his towel over me. Was anyone watching?
I reached into the bag. The face of the cell phone had gone blank. “Hello?” I whispered.
“What took so long for you to answer?” Mom asked.
“It's kind of hard for me to talk. You know cell phones aren't allowed.”
“Shelly told me she had special permission.”
For what? The little liar. “Is everything okay? Is Grandma okay?”
“Grandma? How did you know about her?”
My heart dropped. “What's wrong?”
Silence. “I was going to write you later, but she can't see your performance.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. “Why not?”
“Her hip isn't doing too well. She's having an operation the end of next week.”
Blake poked me. “Hurry up.” His arm caressed my back as he spoke loudly. “Car sick, Mr. Sean. She says it helps if she, um, hides under a towel. So she can't see everything going by the windows.”
“Hello? Hello?” Mom said.
Blake patted my back. “He's gone. Are you almost finished?” he whispered through the terrycloth.
I nodded, blinking my tears away. “Will Grandma be all right?” I waited, afraid she'd hung up. “Hello?”
“Don't worry. Just concentrate on your classes. Shelly called to say you weren't dancing a solo. It was some kind of Gaelic dance?”
“Not exactly.” I would have screamed if I hadn't been doubled over.
“What are you doing? Tell me you're not doing square dance. That's not real dance.” Her words swelled in anger. “Or did Shelly mean Scottish dance? Of course.” Her voice rose in excitement. “Are you dancing the part from
La Sylphide
not
Les Sylphides
? The ballet about the Scottish farmer? You're dancing that solo?”
Blake cooed as he patted my back. “We're almost there.” Then he dropped his voice. “You need to wind this thing up.”
I nodded for Blake, knowing my hair would be a tornado of frizz when I got out from under his towel.
“I'm not dancing a solo.” Blake's arm warmed my back. How could I disappoint Grandma? This could be the last thing she saw me perform, even if it were on a DVD. I blinked back tears. “Shelly was confused. It's the
pas de deux
from
Les Sylphides
,” I fibbed, emphasizing the plural French word
les
. Poor Grandma. Poor Mom. Desperation made people do crazy things, and it made me lie.
She gasped.
“Got to go. Don't talk to Shelly anymore. Please. Tell Grandma I hope she feels better. Call the director's cell or her emergency number and let me know how Grandma's doing.”
“Okay. I'll do that next week. Love you. Bye.”
“Bye.” I snapped the phone closed and threw it in the bag.
Blake peeled the towel off my head and nearly electrocuted me with the static electricity.
“Sorry.” I whipped a hair band off my wrist and stroked the frizzy strands of hair into a semi-decent ponytail.
“Is everything okay? You said something about your grandmother.”
“She has to have a hip operation.” I winced at the memory of her pain and all the illness she'd been through in the past year.
He took my hand and rubbed it. “Rough.”
“I usually put on hand cream, but it's in my backpack.”
Blake tilted his head in confusion. My face felt red-hot like a thermometer in a cartoon. He'd meant what happened to Grandma, not the softness of my skin.
Shelly came alongside us. “Have a nice chat?”
“I can't believe you told my mom.” I clenched my teeth.
Shelly rubbed the back of our seats. “Don't wet your pants about it like you did in third grade. A little old to be having accidents, don't you think, Blake?” She swept down the aisle.
My face passed from crimson to icy blue. “She's a witch.”
“She's not so bad, especially where she's coming from.” Blake squeezed my hand.
I couldn't believe he defended Shelly. What did he know about her I didn't? I wanted to peel his hand from mine. Instead I sulked. But I sulked holding Blake's hand.
Buildings and bridges had given way to trees and water. The bus hugged the river until it reached Chester Park.
After the bus hissed to a stop in the parking lot, Blake gave my hand a squeeze. Shelly and Amy took their time getting off the bus, so we waited too. As we came alongside Shelly's seat, I thrust the bag at her.
“Keep your phone to yourself.” I clenched my fists. “Do that again, and you'll be sorry.”
Shelly crammed the paper bag with the cell phone in her backpack. “And you'll do what?”
I pursed my lips. “I'll tell Mrs. Ricardo and the rest of the directors about your phone.”
Shelly snickered. “She doesn't care.” She tipped her head toward Mrs. Ricardo and the little man at the front of the bus. “She has other things on her mind.”
The man's hands quivered as Mrs. Ricardo helped him stand. She held them as she carefully backed off the bus in front of him. The bus driver held the man under his arms and guided him to the sidewalk.
“Who is he?” Blake asked.
“Mrs. Ricardo's husband. He has Parkinson's disease. That's why he shakes and his balance isn't so good.” Softness swept across Shelly's face and disappeared.
As Amy sucked loudly on a toothpick, I braced for another random comment. She examined the tip of the pick. “Monongahela means âfalling banks' in Native American language. I guess the river banks were prone to erosion.”
Blake shook his head. “What?”
She drew the toothpick out of her mouth again, like a cigarette, and pointed out the window. “The Monongahela River, dummy.”
We stooped. On the far side of the parking lot, the river rushed by as if in a hurry, tripping over itself and churning up whitecaps on its choppy surface.
“We're not swimming there, are we?” Blake's face screwed up.
Shelly slipped her arms through her backpack's straps. “There's a pool.”
Amy yanked on Shelly's backpack. “Not the brightest pumpkin, is he?”
I tapped Blake's arm, and we hurried off the bus before I did something I would have regretted. Mrs. Ricardo and her husband shuffled toward the entrance to the park. We passed them and caught up with Candace and Danilo.
“You okay?” Candace glanced over my shoulder at Shelly and Amy squawking in the parking lot. “Shelly troubles?”
I frowned at the tears stinging the edges of my eyes. “Sort of. I'll tell you later.” About lying to Mom on the phone, Shelly's never-ending nastiness and Mrs. Ricardo's husband. Why was Mrs. Ricardo holding hands with Mr. Jarenko at Sweet Hearth's? Did she feel guilty because of her husband and let us off? So many things were going wrong. My head was muddled.
Blake looped his arm through mine and grabbed my hand. “Mind?”
I bit my lip. Why did the good come with the bad while the bad was always all bad? I clung to his arm.
Mrs. Sykes led us to a massive stone building. Inside the round, cave-like lobby, hallways radiated from its center. “Use the facilities in here to change. We'll have our picnic lunch outside.” She steered us to a side door leading to a flagstone patio flanked by a low stonewall. Tables were set up overlooking the rushing river and pool below.
“Wouldn't it be great to have dance class here?” Candace stared into the cool canopy of trees shading the patio.