Nevermore

dared try to stop her, least of all Isobel.

Without looking up, she felt the table shudder again as someone else stood. She could see varsity colors out of the corner of one eye, and she knew it must be Mark, moving to join Nikki, no doubt. Alyssa followed next, and finally even Stevie got up with what Isobel thought was an apologetic cough.

It was just her and Brad now.

“Where were you for real?” he asked after a long moment, ending the uncomfortable silence that had stretched between them. He’d asked in that soft and reasonable way that said all could still be forgiven.

“I can’t tell you, because you’ll just get mad.”

“Then that’s probably a good indication that you should tell me,” he said with strained patience. She’d been batting zero ever since last Friday, and now she was striking out. Big-time.

A sharp sting started behind her eyes. She shouldn’t have to make excuses to her boyfriend about doing her homework. Isobel lifted a finger to wipe a tear away before it could form.

She thought that everybody in the whole cafeteria had to be watching. The thought made her face burn, and she tried to shield her eyes with one hand.

Then, before she could summon up the resolve to answer, Brad rose from the table, taking his tray and moving away toward the others, leaving her completely alone.

Isobel felt her shoulders hitch when she tried to take a breath. She hadn’t eaten lunch by herself since the fifth grade, when everyone had found out her mom had made her wash her hair the night before with mayonnaise.

The tears came freely now, to the point where she could be sure of mascara trails. She sat there, shielding her face from view with one hand and trying to convince the world with her other, by poking a fork through her salad, that she was just fine.

Everything turned blurry through the lens of tears, but she could still register the pair of black boots that stopped beside her table.

Oh God, she thought. Anything but this.

“Please,” she murmured at her burger, her voice no more than a squeaky whisper, “don’t do this.”

“It’s dead,” he said. “I don’t think it can hear you.”

“You’re making things worse!” she hissed, and still shielding her soppy eyes from the rest of the cafeteria, she angled her head to peer up at him.

“That’s a good look for you,” he said.

Isobel didn’t have to look in the crew’s direction to know they were watching. She could feel Brad’s gaze on them. And if he hadn’t been able to guess who she’d been with on Saturday, he certainly knew now. Was this guy dense? Brad could pave the courtyard with him.

“He’s going to kill you.”

“Can’t,” he said. “Already dead. Remember?”

“You pick a funny time to adopt a sense of humor,” she snapped, glancing back down.

“When are we meeting again for the project?”

Where did he get off? Did he not have a clue? “Go away. We’re not.”

“How about after school?”

“I have practice.” It was funny how she could tell him the truth but had to lie to her friends.

“So I’m doing it by myself after all?” he asked in that cold, unaffected way.

“Mr. Swanson will give you a new partner. Go away.”

And to her surprise, just like that, he did.

6 Things Unseen

Isobel had not wanted to come to practice today. Not after the episode at lunch. But with a pep rally and game on Friday, she’d had no choice. If she had missed, not only would the crew despise her, but so would the rest of the squad. They’d been working on their routine for months now, and she was the middle flyer for most of the big stunts. Plus, there was Coach’s little rule of “Miss a practice, miss a game.”

Isobel put one hand on Nikki’s shoulder and the other on Alyssa’s, shoving her sneakers into their awaiting grasps, literally handing herself over to people who currently hated her.

This was the only way to get the day’s retribution, though, and she wasn’t about to give that up. You had to be small and strong to be a flyer, and while Nikki had killer legs, they stretched the length of an ostrich’s. Alyssa, on the other hand, had simply never been able to get up high enough.

Isobel prepared for the lift.

They hoisted her up, and the ground dropped away. She felt herself extend upward, like the stem of a flower shooting for the sun, her roots below her, stuck in the earth.

Coach screamed out the count as she went up. “Four, five,” and they dipped her down on five, preparing for the launch. “Six!” They popped her into the air. Yes!

Twisting once, twice, freewheeling. Her world became a spinning kaleidoscope of blurred faces, of blue and gold and bright white lights. An all-too-quick half turn, and she felt the catch. She dipped into her V position, one arm clamping around Nikki’s back, the other wrapped around Alyssa. They set her to the floor.

“That was good, Iz,” Coach said, sounding a bit more relaxed. “Let’s keep it up—get it? Keep it up?” A collective groan arose from the squad. “Okay. This time with the music, boys and girls.”

Isobel tugged her practice shorts down and got into position while Coach Anne went to fool with the CD player, her frizzy grizzly-bear hair springing with each step and her loafers squeaking against the gymnasium floor.

Nikki shifted into place directly behind Isobel, who could feel Nikki’s eyes chiseling into the back of her skull.

When the pumping music started and the right beat came along, Isobel swiveled about-face to stare directly at Nikki, whose normally mirthful, cheer-ready blues glared ice.

“Why did you lie about it?” she hissed.

Well, Isobel thought, at least it seemed they were on speaking terms again.

The intro beat to the music thumped low, building in volume, and their arms lifted high while their heels pounded the floor. “Because! You run and tell everything!”

“Not when it’s important!”

“Yeah, and you’re the one who gets to decide when something’s important!”

It really wasn’t feasible to do much more talking than that. The electronic music sped up and every beat got a kick, a turn, or a flip. Coach liked flashy formation changes too, so they moved into a lot of shapes, breaking apart, fanning out, and making new configurations.

When it came time for Isobel’s big flip, the bases stood ready for her.

Four, five, up! Two quick twists came right in time with the singer’s “Woo-hoo!” but in the middle of her second revolution, for a split second, Isobel thought she saw something in the practice mirrors. A dark figure. She glimpsed it in a flash—someone standing in the gym doorway. She only caught the outline of the form in a quick blur, but whoever it was, he’d been wearing what had looked like a black hat and . . . a cloak?

She fell into the cradle and was brought to her feet again, facing the gym doors, which now stood empty.

Isobel glanced back at the mirrors, squinting, her eyes narrowing on the reflection of the vacant doorway, forgetting that she was supposed to be switching positions for the next formation when Stephanie Dorbon plowed into her. Isobel hit the floor hard and the pain from last week’s bruise reawakened with a roar. She cringed, drawing in a sharp breath between her teeth.

All around her, the whole routine ground to a screeching halt. The music stopped.