Читать книгу The Prized Girl - Amy K. Green - Страница 14

THE FALL KICKOFF DANCE was a noble tradition. The school moved the tables out of the cafeteria, hired a DJ, and charged all the eighth and ninth graders twenty-five dollars to occasionally dance, but mostly huddle in groups and whisper rumors about each other.

Jenny stepped through cheap streamers hanging from the doorway onto the tiled floors built to easily mop up the sticky remnants of two hundred teenagers a day. The overhead lights were off, and two spinning lights from the DJ table projected moving color streams over the young faces.

“Jenny!” Mallory screamed across the dance floor. The sea of inferior students parted at the sound of her voice, giving Jenny direct access to join her friends.

“You’re late,” Nora chimed in from behind Mallory.

“Yeah,” Mallory took over. “We had to come in. We couldn’t wait for you outside all night.”

“Sorry,” Jenny said, lacking all sincerity. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not really. Laura already called dibs on Josh, so don’t even consider him,” Mallory dictated.

“OK.”

“And Krystal, I really think you should go flirt with Chris Hodges. You two would look good together. He’s tall like you.”

“Chris is so dumb, though,” Krystal protested. “They’re pulling him out of English.”

“So what?” Mallory objected. “You’re not getting married. You just have to get experience and he’s cute enough.”

“What about you?” Jenny asked Mallory, buying time before she inevitably saddled her with a match.

“I’m into older guys. Christine Castleton says there are so many seniors talking about me. Even Kevin Neary.” She beamed.

“I’m into older guys too,” Jenny insisted, hoping there was room for two in that excuse.

“Bullshit,” Mallory scoffed. She had the kind of natural intelligence that would get her far in life without trying and make her unstoppable if she ever did. Everything came easy, which gave her a lot of free time in that mind of hers. Romantically pairing her peers was her current obsession, running scenarios to calculate the most interesting combinations to her and then orchestrating them into existence.

“Don’t be scared, Jenny. Just relax and have a good time. Let’s dance,” she commanded before leading her gaggle to the center of the dance floor.

Mallory and Nora began grinding on each other for the benefit of a group of boys leaning, arms crossed, against the wall. The boys didn’t even pretend to look away as Mallory and Nora rotated between duck faces in their direction and giggling with each other.

Laura and Krystal began their own form of seduction before merging with Mallory and Nora. Jenny tried her best to just sway back and forth, under the radar, praying for a chaperone to bust up this pretend orgy so she could retreat to the snack table, but that wasn’t going to happen. The sorry excuses for chaperones were a group of overachieving high school volunteers, Ms. Willoughby and this girl Karen’s mom, who were selling the tickets out front, and two teachers who must have pulled the short straw. Mr. Cole, the assistant gym teacher, was eating all the snacks, and Mr. Renkin stood guard by the DJ table. He was the only one paying attention to what was happening on the dance floor, but he didn’t seem bothered at all by what was transpiring and wouldn’t be coming to Jenny’s aid anytime soon.

“C’mon, Jenny,” Mallory said, reaching out and pulling her in. Jenny glanced over at the boys, their arms crossed, elbowing each other and smirking. Her eyes met those of a kid named Carter. He was the younger brother of a popular senior and a bit of a ring leader among the ninth grade boys. The unintended eye contact was enough to put the boys on the move.

“Ooo, Carter,” Mallory whispered into Jenny’s ear. Her breath was hot, and Mallory let her lips brush Jenny’s ear before she pulled away. It was an unprecedented intimacy, not for Jenny’s benefit but for those fast approaching. Jenny wanted nothing to do with it. As the girls rotated to welcome the boys, Jenny used that as her escape.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said under her breath as she backed away from her friends and walked out of the cafeteria at a pace just short of a run.

JENNY BURST THROUGH the heavy glass door that led from the back of the cafeteria into a small courtyard where remedial students tended to a small garden as a course of study. She had held her breath as she left the cafeteria, praying a hand wouldn’t grab her by the elbow and yank her back into the pelvis of one of her friends or, worse, Carter. Once the door closed behind her, she let herself breathe, the first gasp of air heavy and overdone. It wasn’t much of a plan. Hide in the courtyard for two hours until it was time to go home? That would raise more questions than if she had just stayed home in the first place.

The anxiety was new for Jenny. Last year she would have craved an event like this. Something changed the day she quit the pageants, the day she watched her mother snap and imprison Benjy in that closet. She could see the fear in his face whenever she closed her eyes, feel his fists pounding against the door whenever she was too still, hear his screams whenever it was too quiet.

Jenny strained to hear the music, heavily muted but still audible in the courtyard if she focused hard enough on it. The grinding anthem transitioned to a slow song, and she was eternally grateful to not be standing in the center of the cafeteria at that moment, watching her protective ring of friends get picked off one at a time until she had nowhere to hide.

Once the slow song hit its second chorus, Jenny figured it was safe to go back inside. Any guy who hadn’t found a partner in the first thirty seconds had surely retreated to his fellow unsuccessful friends. She would take a spot by the snack table, and if she got desperate enough, she’d spill soda down the front of her shirt. Mallory would certainly understand how devastating that would be and excuse her long absence as she ran back to the bathroom.

Jenny grabbed the door handle and yanked it back. Her elbow almost popped as the door budged a centimeter before catching the lock and halting to a stop. Why was the freaking courtyard door locked? It was completely enclosed within the confines of the big brick school. Did they think someone would scale the walls, run across the roof, and rappel down into the courtyard to access the unlocked door?

She didn’t have many options. The music was too loud and the dance floor too far away for anyone to hear her bang on the door. Panic swept through her as she envisioned Linda coming to pick her up, only to find that her daughter was not among the hormonal creatures waiting on the curb. The cops would be called within minutes. Linda would be screaming. Jenny would finally be discovered by FBI helicopters circling the building with massive spotlights. SEAL Team Six would slide down ropes in seconds to scoop Jenny up and return her to the arms of her devoted mother.

Hyperbole maybe, but the panic was there all the same. She scanned her surroundings, setting her sights on a window across the courtyard she prayed would be unlocked. It was dark on that side. The cafeteria lights didn’t stretch much past the door, and with the rest of the school dormant, there wasn’t a lot to guide her way.

She shuffled forward with enough caution to keep her from doing any real damage to herself or the plants, but before she could reach the window, she froze. The volume of the music spiked, and she knew the courtyard door had been opened.

JENNY ROTATED SLOWLY to see who was there. As she turned, she crouched a bit to make herself more invisible in the pitch-black edge of the courtyard.

Ms. Willoughby stumbled forward from the fully lit doorway into the subtler shade of the courtyard. She was playfully fighting the advance as two hands gripping her waist scooted her forward. The hands were Mr. Renkin’s, which was obvious even before his green eyes peered over her shoulder. He kicked a rock over to keep the door from shutting all the way. Not his first rodeo.

Mr. Renkin was a notoriously “cool” teacher, and Jenny loved Ms. Willoughby. All she had to do was step forward into the light and announce her presence. They would ask if she was all right. She would say yes and make some excuse about having asthma or something that didn’t make sense, but they wouldn’t care, and she would scurry back to spill soda on herself. But she didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She watched.

“OK, OK.” Ms. Willoughby smiled, acquiescing to her boyfriend’s insistence on her going toward the nearest wall.

Mr. Renkin swiveled Ms. Willoughby’s body around, guiding her to the side of the courtyard and giving Jenny a view of both their profiles. He leaned in and kissed Ms. Willoughby, their choreography needing work as he pushed her against the wall, the contact separating their lips unexpectedly and leaving them both kissing air for a beat before reconnecting.

Ms. Willoughby wove her hands in between their bodies until she could place both on his chest and push him back. The shove was gentle, and when their lips parted, she was smiling. “We can’t do this here,” she whispered.

Mr. Renkin grinned. His torso pushed back against her hands, which weren’t putting up much of a fight, and kissed her again, this time so intense that it smacked her head back against the brick wall.

Ms. Willoughby winced and pulled her face away while reaching for the point of contact. “Ouch, damn it.”

“Sorry, baby,” Mr. Renkin said while pecking her cheeks with military precision until she recovered, dropping her hand from her head.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked. “Let’s go back inside. We can finish this at home.”

Mr. Renkin puckered out his lower lip, pouting. She reached her hand to his cheek and gave him a simple kiss, but he took it as a green light and shoved his tongue back into her mouth. Ms. Willoughby practically choked as she pulled her head away.

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “If we get caught out here, we’ll both be fired.”

“I know,” he whispered into her ear before lowering his face to kiss her neck. Ms. Willoughby closed her eyes as her protest waned.

Jenny knew where this was going and knew it was too late to speak up now. She closed her eyes and did her best to stay perfectly still in the crouched position she found herself in.

She tried not to listen.

She tried to put her mind somewhere else.

Then her legs began to shake.

She held her squat for as long as she could, afraid to move, until she lost the battle and shot upright to avoid falling to the ground. She heard the wood chips beneath her crackle and adjust under her shifted weight. She opened her eyes, staring down. Was the sound as loud as she thought? Was it only in her head? There was only one way to know.

Jenny looked up.

Mr. Renkin’s eyes were on her.

Or so she thought at first. Could he see her? She couldn’t tell. He didn’t blink, but he didn’t stop what he was doing either. Jenny could feel her dinner curdling and rising toward her esophagus. She averted her eyes, fighting to keep her food down and her impression of Mr. Renkin somewhat intact.

When they finally left the courtyard, Jenny’s nausea abated, but she was sweating, only in her armpits, not from physical activity or nerves but from the intensity of it all. She felt a sense of power that she couldn’t wrap her head around. She felt older somehow. If Mallory had witnessed that, she would have made such a big deal about it. Jenny wasn’t like that. It was just sex. No big deal, she thought, trying to convince herself of her maturity.

Jenny slapped her palms against the window, said a little prayer, and scooted the glass up, confirming it was unlocked. She wriggled her fingers under the opening and lifted the window just enough to crawl her skinny body through and head back to the dance, where she had a date with a slippery cup of soda.