Cassie flattened herself against the red brick wall and retreated as quickly and quietly as possible. She went in the main entrance, then hurried to her English class.
Almost guiltily, she reached down to pat her hip pocket. It was stupid to have brought it, but the little piece of chalcedony did make her feel better. And of course it was ridiculous to believe that it could bring her luck-but then again, she'd gotten to school this morning without running into Faye, hadn't she?
She found an empty desk in a back corner of the classroom on the opposite side from where Faye had sat yesterday. She didn't want Faye near her-or behind her. Here, she was shielded by a whole cluster of people.
But strangely, soon after she sat down, there was a sort of shuffling around her. She looked up to see a couple of girls moving forward. The guy beside her was moving too.
For a moment she sat quite still, not even breathing.
Don't be paranoid.
Just because people move doesn't mean it has anything to do with you. But she couldn't help notice that there was now a wide expanse of empty desks all around her.
Faye breezed in, talking to a stiff Jeffrey Lovejoy. Cassie got a glimpse of her and then quickly looked away.
She couldn't keep her mind on Mr. Humphries's lecture. How could she think with so much space around her? It had to be only a coincidence, but it shook her just the same.
At the end of class, when Cassie stood up, she felt eyes on her. She turned to see Faye looking at her and smiling.
Slowly, Faye closed one eye in a wink.
Once out of the room Cassie headed for her locker. As she twirled the combination dial she saw someone standing nearby, and with a jolt recognized the short, slinking boy who'd been with Faye that morning.
His locker was open, and she could see several ads from what looked like Soloflex brochures taped inside the door. He was grinning at her. His belt buckle was silver with shiny, mirrorlike stones in it, and it was engraved Sean.
Cassie gave him the unimpressed look she reserved for little boys she baby-sat back home and pulled open her locker.
And screamed.
It was more of a choked, strangled cry, actually, because her throat closed up on her. Dangling from the top of her locker by a piece of twine around its neck was a doll. The doll's head lolled grotesquely to one side-it had been pulled out of the socket. One blue glass eye was open; the other was stuck gruesomely halfway shut.
It seemed to be winking at her.
The short boy was gazing at her with a strange, eager expression. As if he were drinking in her horror. As if it intoxicated htm.
“Aren't you going to report that? Shouldn't you go to the principal's office?” he said. His voice was high and excited.
Cassie just stared at him, her breath coming quickly.
Then: “Yes, I am,” she said. She grabbed the doll and jerked it and the twine came free. Slamming the locker shut, she headed for the stairs.
The principal's office was on the second floor. Cassie thought she'd have to wait, but to her surprise the secretary ushered her in as soon as she gave her name.
“Can I help you?” The principal was tall, with an austere, forbidding face. His office had a fireplace, Cassie noted distractedly, and he stood in front of it with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was shaking. And now that she'd gotten here, she wasn't at all sure that this was a good idea. “I'm new at school; my name is Cassie Blake-“
“I'm aware of who you are.” His voice was clipped and brusque.
“Well…” Cassie faltered. “I just wanted to report… Yesterday, I saw this girl having a fight with another girl, and she pushed her…” What was she talking about? She was babbling. “And I saw it, and so she threatened me. She's in this club-but the point is, she threatened me. And I wasn't going to do anything about it, but then today I found this in my locker.”
He took the doll, holding it by the back of the dress with two fingers. He looked at it as if she'd handed him something the dog had dug up in the yard. His lip was curled in a way that reminded Cassie
somehow of Portia.
“Very amusing,” he said. “How apt.”
Cassie had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Apt meant appropriate, didn't it? It was appropriate that somebody was hanging dolls in her locker?
“It was Faye Chamberlain,” she said.
“Oh, no doubt,” he said. “I'm quite aware of the problems Miss Chamberlain has in interacting with other students. I've even had a report about this incident yesterday, about how you tried to push Sally Waltman down the stairs-“
Cassie stared, then blurted out, “I what ? Who told you that?”
“I believe it was Suzan Whittier.”
“It isn't true! I never-“
“Be that as it may,” the principal interrupted, “I really think you'd better learn to solve these problems among yourselves, don't you? Instead of relying on-outside help.”
Cassie just went on staring, speechless.
“That's all.” The principal tossed the doll in the wastebasket, where it hit with a resounding plastic clunk.
Cassie realized she was dismissed. There was nothing to do but turn around and walk out.
She was late for her next class. As she walked in the door all eyes turned to her, and for an instant she felt a flash of paranoia. But at least no one got up and left when she took a desk.
She was watching the teacher do an example on the board when her backpack moved.
It was lying on the floor beside her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the dark blue nylon hump up. She thought she saw it. When she turned to stare at it, it was still.
Imagination…