Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula (23 page)

“Blanche is shallow.”

It begins to pull out
.

“She’s greedy.”

“Stuck-up.”

The knife dislodges
.

“Doesn’t matter,” an off-response rang out. “Mr. Rochester will still go for her.”

The knife plunges again, this time properly gutting me
.

~~~

When the dismissal bell rang, I turned to Emery. “So, what did you think of the class?” I asked, forcing a smile. I had decided to test my poker face skills. Emery had enough to worry about without getting pulled into my internal torment.

He scrutinized my face. “Interesting, though I’ve never read
Jane Eyre
. The novel seems like a good character study.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty true to life,” I agreed, adding a laugh.

Emery continued to study my face. Apparently, Jane Eyre wasn’t the only good character study. “One more class, and you can get back to more important things,” I said, infusing cheer into my voice. “Unless you’d like to blow out now.”

“No, I’ll see this through,” he replied, staring at me.

“Well, okay then. Time for P.E.”

We slipped in with the bodies streaming down the hall. Moving among them, I felt detached, like a phantom. The hollowness and insignificance was so profound that it wouldn’t have surprised me if one of the dashing bodies had run right through me. One thing I knew, walking down that corridor, was that I didn’t want to be a sardine anymore.

~~~

“Hi, Mr. Saunders,” I greeted my P.E. teacher with a pasted-on smile. “This is my friend, Emery. He’s visiting the school today.”

“Glad to meet you, Emery,” Mr. Saunders bellowed, his generous belly vibrating. He eyed the loafers. “Too bad you don’t have gym clothes. You’re missing dodgeball.”

Inwardly, I groaned.

Ben hadn’t been kidding about my “allergies.” Anything that was round and bouncy, I ducked when it came my way. This made me absolutely useless in most sports, especially dodgeball.

As I walked Emery to the gym’s bleachers, he asked, “What is dodgeball?”

“Oh, it’s a game of terror and humiliation, but a lot less complicated than soccer. You have two teams and numerous red bouncy balls. When you’re hit, you’re out. The last man, or woman, standing wins the game for their team.”

“You make it sound so exciting,” he teased.

“Yeah, it’s real exciting, especially when an innocent bystander gets pegged in the head.” With that, I bopped his head lightly and ran toward the locker room. The smile dropped off my face.

My dire mood deepened in the locker room, becoming full-blown when I heard Robin laugh with her remoras. Glimpsing her perfection, I joined my friends. Their conversation was but a hum as I removed my gym clothes from my backpack. Depression swaddled me as if I were a papoose, and try as I may, I couldn’t shake it. Lost in gloom, I realized that I hadn’t been properly gutted in literature. P.E. would prove that there was more to dig out. Jared and Robin were in this class. Athletic, revered, blond, and beautiful, this was where they shined, and I’d have to watch from the insignificant sidelines.

Slipping into my maroon gym shirt, our school mascot caught my eye. Looking down at the grizzly bear outlined in orange, an idea popped into my head, one that I wouldn’t even attempt to resist.

As if a forbidden door stood before me, I reached out, grasping the doorknob firmly.

Pulling up my black shorts, I thought,
Never again will I be
compared to Robin and come up short
.

I turned the doorknob.

Forcing my feet into untied tennis shoes, I promised myself,
Today, I step away from
the wall. I will end the game and be the last “woman” standing
.

Kicking the forbidden door open, I barreled through, and ran into the gym.

As I rushed out to the floor, Mr. Saunders stared hard at me. “You’re tardy, Cassidy.”

Smiling, I nodded at him and glanced at Emery. Sitting midway up the bleachers, he smiled back, and then looked down at the laptop resting on his thighs.
Good. He’s working on
breaking the encryption
, I thought, feeling lighter than air.
He wouldn’t be happy if he knew what I’m about to do
. A small voice at the back of my mind whispered a warning, pleading with me to question the source of my sudden high and to pay attention to that strange stir of energy in my chest. I told that voice to shut up. I was going to win. Win big.

“Robin and Bobby, you’re captains,” Mr. Saunders bellowed, his belly shaking.

Robin. What a shock
, I thought as she and Bobby trotted up to the front. Standing with the other picks, I looked down at my sloppy shoelaces. Locking in on the shoelaces, I had an abrupt compulsion to fix them. Dropping to the floor, I began to work out the knot in the first lace while Robin chose her first player.

“Jared,” I barely heard her call, the shoelaces my primary focus.

Getting out the knot, I carefully retied the shoe, making sure the loops were even.

Back and forth, Robin and Bobby chose, quickly at first, slowing down when the picks became more difficult. The crowd thinned around me as I sat, fussing with my laces. Satisfied at last, I looked up from my shoes, almost jumping out of my skin. Standing next to “Barbie,” Jared watched me with a fascinated expression.

Realizing I had looked like a complete moron tying my shoes for the last couple of minutes, I stood up, resentfully blushing.
What the heck was that?
I asked myself, glancing down at my shoes.
Am I OCD or something?
The small voice whispered again,
Pay attention. This is too
big for—
I shook my head, silencing the whisper.

Looking up, I startled. Robin had pulled herself close to Jared’s ear, whispering as she surveyed her options. Moving her face to his, she gazed into his eyes, waiting for a response. Beautifully grinning, he shook his head. Robin turned from him, scrutinizing us more closely.

Jealousy whipped up in me like a tornado.
Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me
, I willed. I had a winning strategy worked out, and that strategy would be null if I were on Robin’s team. She was the one I planned to beat.

“Kayla,” Robin called, and anger shot through me like fire as I assumed Jared had advised her not to choose me.

You didn’t want her to choose you
, I reminded myself.
You can’t beat her if you’re on
her team
.
I’ve got to get Bobby to pick me
. Grabbing his gaze in mine, I encouraged Bobby with a smile. Surprised, he smiled back. “Okay, Cassidy.”

Yes!
Walking briskly past him to join his team, I had to resist kissing his cheek.

Once they had hemmed and hawed through the remaining undesirables, the teams were chosen. Mr. Saunders directed our teams to different sides of the gym, placing the red balls along the line dividing the center of the gym.

When I stood next to Bobby, preparing to run for a ball, he looked at me, mouth hanging open. “Are you going for a ball?”

I smiled. “Yep.”

“Are you suicidal?”

Broadly smiling, I shrugged.

He shrugged back, laughing.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Emery look up from the laptop. I turned my head to him, grinning. His usually composed face showed an anxious expression. Staring intensely at me, he shook his head in a demanding way.
Clever boy. He’s figured out that I usually play this game plastered against the back wall
, I realized, mouthing to him,
Relax
. When he didn’t do that, I rolled my eyes. When they rolled all the way around, I looked at him. The demanding had turned to anger. I wondered if he would try to pull me off the floor. Glaring, I thought,
Just try to stop me, Emery. Now that would be interesting
. Feeling invincible, I turned away.

Waiting for the whistle, I sought Robin, making eye contact. She looked at me dully, uninterested.
I can’t wait to get you out,
Barbie
, I thought as her bored eyes wandered from mine.

The whistle blew.

Before anyone moved, I had a ball and sought my first target. In that split second, I felt adrenaline pour into my veins.
Throw lightly
, I reminded myself, launching the ball. It sped through the air, hitting my target square in the chest. I heard the air rush from his lungs.
Oh, no! That was too hard,
I thought anxiously, staring into Jared’s shocked eyes. For a moment, I regretted my choice, though it was good strategy.

“No freakin’ way,” Bobby shouted next to me. “Cassidy got you out, Jared?”

It was a question, not a statement. Jared had been the assumed “Last Man Standing.” He usually was.

The game paused momentarily. Looking away from me, Jared nobly walked to the bleachers. Eyes followed him as he took an unprecedented seat.

Robin let out a war cry. The ball flew from her hand, but her aim was off. It headed straight for Bobby, who was still staring at Jared. Everything had happened so quickly, fractions of seconds apart, that Bobby didn’t have time to react.

Oddly, for me those fractions slowed down. Suddenly, I was aware of every movement, sound, and scent at once, yet could distinguish each element. The sensation was so clear, precise, and absolute that I felt I had entered another dimension of time. Watching the ball move toward us was like watching a movie, frame by frame, and I could hear the
whooshing
sound it made, cutting through the air. Stepping in front of Bobby, I caught it easily to my stomach. The ball lifted in my right hand before Bobby registered what had happened, fractions of a second later.

I took aim, keenly aware of my strength. With the rush of adrenaline and emotions, the intense strength fought to escape. I knew that if I threw too hard, Robin could be decapitated, so I took pains to be aware and careful. Pulling back the reigns on the frightening, wild strength, I threw the ball. Still, it was too hard.

The ball truly did cut through the air. Upon impact, Robin’s nose appeared to explode, red splattering her pretty face. She landed hard on her rear end, blood streaming over her mouth and chin. Her face contorted in pain while her eyes blazed.

Time froze for everyone as we stared in disbelief. Like an injured animal, Robin curled up in a crouching position, hiding her nose protectively in her hands. Her eyes became wild as her remoras gathered around her. While they circled, she slapped their hands away, ducking her nose toward her shoulder. The scene was surreal.

Running to Robin, Mr. Saunders held a towel to her face. With fists pounding the floor, she howled cuss words.

What have I done?

Snapping out of my daze, I rushed to Robin’s side and dropped to my knees next to her. “R-robin, I’m s-so sorry. Please, f-forgive me,” I sobbed, guilty tears streaming down my cheeks.

Pushing Mr. Saunders’ hand away, she lurched at me. I let her. Grabbing my shirt collar, she yanked me to her, my face inches from the streaming blood. With hate-filled eyes, she bared her blood-stained teeth, screaming, “I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, CASSIDY JONES.”

Stunned, I blinked at her, knowing she meant it. However—and I hate to admit this—the most self-centered, pathetic thought popped into my head:
She does know
my
name.