Frannie nodded, color rising in her cheeks. “I’ve never seen my dad so proud of me. I practiced and practiced until I knew the routines cold. I was great at the tryout.”
“What happened?” Skye was afraid she could guess the answer.
“The next day Mrs. Frayne took me aside and said she was sorry, I didn’t make the squad.” Frannie looked at Skye with tears shining in her eyes.
“That must have been painful.”
“I couldn’t figure what I had done wrong until the other cheerleaders surrounded me after school. Zoe was the one who talked, but they were all there. She said if I ever told anyone that they had even let me try out, she’d make my pathetic life even more miserable.” Frannie bit back a sob.
Skye handed her a tissue. “What did you do?”
“I asked why.” Frannie shot Skye a look. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“It’s hard to make good decisions when you’re experiencing that kind of hurt.”
“Zoe said it would be too humiliating for the school to have it known that a fat girl was even considered for cheerleader.” Frannie sat back. “She said she didn’t know what Mrs. Frayne was thinking when she asked me to try out. That it was a good thing all the cheerleaders got to vote, or Mrs. Frayne would load the squad with fat girls.”
“How devastating.”
“I’m just so tired of always being on the outside looking in,” Frannie whispered. “Your destiny is determined by the color of your hair, the shape of your body, and the label on your clothes. Despite all the crap you endure, they always pick someone else.”
There was little Skye could say to that, but she gave it a try. “I know this sounds bogus, but things usually get a lot better once you’re out of high school. In college you have a much wider choice of friends and can find other kids who think like you do. A lot of times the princes and princesses of high school find the rest of life a lot different. For them the best time is their teenage years, but the rest of us are happier as adults.”
The girl looked at her skeptically. “I sure hope you’re right.”
“Me too.” After a moment, Skye gently asked, “Frannie, where were you seventh and eighth period Wednesday?”
The girl sat up. “Art and math, with about forty other kids. Hard to say if anyone would remember me or not.”
“The bell is going to ring any second. If you ever want to talk again, just leave me a note, and we’ll set something up.”
Frannie got up from the chair and gathered her things. “They say you should never say anything about the dead unless it’s good.” She waited for Skye’s nod. “Lorelei’s dead. Good!”
CHAPTER 8
Sin and Bare It
Skye didn’t have any time to recover from the session with Frannie before Troy Yates, Lorelei’s boyfriend, arrived. The blond Adonis with a buzz haircut strode into the office as if he owned the place and was considering selling it.
He nodded at Skye and sat. “You wanted to see me, Ms. D.?”
“Yes, I wanted to check and see how you were today. Sometimes a loss doesn’t hit a person right away.” Skye noticed the boy sat perfectly straight in his chair.
“I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Had you been dating long?”
“We’ve gone steady since eighth grade.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket. “These are pictures of us at every dance.”
Skye shuffled through the small pile of photos. “They’re wonderful.” She handed them back to Troy. “Were you planning on attending the same college?”
A cloud crossed Troy’s face. “I’m going to Notre Dame on a football scholarship. Lorelei tried to get into their theater department, but she didn’t make the cut.”
“Did she have backup plans?”
He shrugged. “She didn’t like to talk about it.”
“No, I imagine that would be a difficult subject for someone who’s used to winning.”
Troy nodded and launched into a story about Lorelei and a game of Trivial Pursuit. Skye made encouraging sounds, and the teen reminisced for the rest of the period.
Skye noticed they were almost out of time, and said, “Troy, do you think you need to talk to someone a few more times about Lorelei’s death?” During his talk about their past he’d seemed sad, but not devastated. Of course, with adolescents it wasn’t always easy to tell how they really felt. They often put on a cool demeanor that covered up their real feelings, sometimes even from themselves.
“No, I think I’m okay.”
“If you change your mind, leave a note for me with the secretary.” Skye pointed toward the main office.
“Okay.”
“Just a couple more things. Was Lorelei in the habit of bringing bottled beverages from home?”
“No, we’re not supposed to bring any drinks into school except milk.”
“And she never tried to sneak something in?” Skye had always thought this was one of those stupid, unenforceable edicts that small schools seemed to love. She knew the truth behind this particular policy—Scumble River High got a kickback from the milk vendor.
“No, ma’am. Lorelei wasn’t one to break the rules.”
Skye hated being called “ma’am.” It made her feel older than dirt and half as attractive. “Where were you Wednesday, during seventh and eighth period?”
“Study hall and baseball practice.”
“Does Chase Wren play on your team?”
“Sure. We’re in all the sports together.”
“Was he there Wednesday?” Skye had a sudden inspiration to ask.
“No. And Coach was mad.”
Mmm. Chase hadn’t shown up for either of the activities he was scheduled for. Skye made a note to follow up on that.
As soon as Troy’s session ended, Skye scooted out of her office to make sure things elsewhere were running smoothly. When she stuck her head around the corner of the band room, the co-op social worker gave her a thumbs-up.
In the library, Trixie was deep into a conversation with a student. Skye didn’t want to interrupt, so she wasn’t able to ask about the cheerleading meeting, as she had planned to.
Since she heard no sobbing or screaming in the building, she concluded the situation was under control and went back to her office.
Zoe strolled in nearly ten minutes after the bell rang. By rights she should have been issued a detention, but Skye was in an awkward position. Follow the school rules to the letter or establish rapport?
“I hope you’re okay,” Skye said, as Zoe took a seat. “I was worried when the bell rang and you weren’t here.”
“I had to fix my eyeliner. It had totally smudged.”
“Were you upset about Lorelei?” Skye wondered if maybe the tough act was just a veneer, and Zoe really was grieving over the other girl’s death.
The teen looked surprised. “No. We were cooking in Home Ec today, and that old-maid teacher made us chop onions rather than use the food processor. She has no concept that hers isn’t the only class, that I have to look good for the rest of the day, too.”
“Oh, your mom dropped by yesterday afternoon and said you were very upset.”
“Yeah, well, things change.” Zoe slouched in her seat.
“So, you don’t need to talk about Lorelei’s death?”
“I don’t need a shrink, if that’s what you mean.” Zoe straightened. “Listen, between you and me, our
