It's Only Temporary (15 page)

High above her head, drawings of Pip, Amanda, Matteo, Jamila, and Maddy were taped to the wall.

They weren't anywhere near the worst ones of them she had done. In fact, they were kind of okay. But–

“Skye did those,” a surprised Amanda announced to no one in particular.

“Yeah, and there are plenty more where they came
from,” Aaron said in a threatening way, as if reading Skye's thoughts. “Skye knows what I mean. Just wait.”

Kee cleared his throat; he looked embarrassed, Skye thought dully.

“The custodian let us into the art room after the game,” Cord said, grinning. “Aaron told him he'd left something important in there.”

“Too bad about that lame-o retarded brother of yours back in Mexico,” Aaron said, watching Skye closely to see – and enjoy – her reaction.

They had her sketchbook.

“O
o
ps
.”

That was putting it mildly, Skye thought dully the morning after the dance as she lay in bed, pretending to be asleep long past the time Gran usually roused her. Skye was almost more miserable than she had been in her
entire life. This was right up there with that phone call after Scott's accident.

Back then, she had been miserable mixed with angry, Skye confessed silently.

This was something else altogether. This was miserable mixed with – what?

Embarrassment. Dread.
Loss
.

Skye couldn't stand thinking about the loss of her beloved sketchbook – the last in what had been a whole series of losses. The thought of her own private sketchbook–her
sketchbook!
– being in the hands of the mean football guys and the bad ballerinas – sneering Melissa! patronizing Taylor! –made Skye want to curl up and die.

What were they doing with the sketchbook right now, besides prying into her innermost feelings and reading about her problems? Laughing at her? Passing around the pages? Or ripping
out
the pages, more likely, getting her drawings photocopied so they could plaster them all over the school on Monday morning?

Skye felt her face grow hot at the very idea of everyone–especially her new friends, and Ms. O'Hare – seeing the worst of those drawings. Ms. O'Hare, Amanda, Jamila, Pip, Matteo, and Maddy – especially Maddy – would be so hurt.

And she really, really liked them all now.

Skye felt like throwing up, only she didn't have the energy to get out of bed.

What she wanted most was to run back home to Albuquerque–only there
wasn't
much home there now. Her house was in an unrecognizable uproar, her parents were fighting more than ever, her brother was changed – maybe forever – and her best friend apparently had forgotten all about her.

“Skye?” Gran asked, rapping gently on Skye's bedroom door. “It's time to get up, darling. It's ten thirty.”

“Five more minutes,” Skye begged. That usually worked, except on schooldays.

“I know you had a wonderful time last night,” Gran said, insistent, “but rise and shine.”

“
Please
,” Skye mumbled from under her covers. “I didn't have a wonderful time last night. It was the worst night of my life.”

Gran was instantly at Skye's side. She plopped down on the bed and gently pried open one of her granddaughter's squinched-shut eyes. “Talk,” she said. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Skye said, turning her head to the wall.

“Talk,” Gran said again, but it sounded more like an order this time. “It's important that you tell me what's troubling you, darling. I never had a daughter, but I know this much, at least.”

“I can't. It's too terrible,” Skye said to the wall.

Instantly, she could feel her grandmother stiffen – as she probably imagined all kinds of hideous
Law & Order-type
things happening at the dance, Skye realized, guilt-stricken. “Don't worry, I'm okay,” she reassured Gran hastily. “It's just that – some kids stole my sketchbook.”

“Your
sketchbook
?” Gran said, unable to hide her relief.

“See, you didn't even know I had one, did you?” Skye said, sitting upright in bed. “And, it's, like the most important thing in my life! It's the only thing I have any control over, anyway. And now it's
gone. Worse
than gone.”

“How could it be worse than gone?” Gran asked, puzzled.

“Those kids are gonna use it against me,” Skye explained
softly. “Just to hurt my new friends' feelings, and make them hate me.”

“But – why would anyone do such a thing?” Gran asked. “And how could they do it? What's
in
your sketchbook, for heaven's sake?”

“Private stuff I wrote,” Skye whispered. “And drawings. And some of them are not-so-nice drawings, too, 'cause I was so mad about everything at first.”

“Such as?” Gran asked, smoothing Skye's tangled hair back from her face.

“Such as Scott being so stupid and having that accident,” Skye said, shrugging away Gran's hand. “And about Mom and Dad fighting all the time, and then making me move here. No offense,” she added.

“None taken,” Gran said, smiling a little. “Go on.”

“Well, if that's not bad enough, I lost all my Albuquerque friends, too,” Skye continued. “Especially Hana, who never even writes me anymore. And I lost the chance to start middle school with all the kids I grew up with! But I could always draw, at least. Nobody could take that away – until now.”

“So you lost a sketchbook full of private writings and hurtful drawings that you did because you felt so angry and helpless,” Gran said, trying to summarize.

“They aren't
all
hurtful,” Skye said. “Just the early
ones. The drawings got nicer once I got to know everyone a little better.”

Even Scott, she thought – and that had been the biggest surprise of all.

“It's kind of like everyone I met here became more real to me each time I drew them,” Skye tried to explain. “Even the bad kids, in a way.”

“So there are nice drawings, too,” Gran said, attempting to focus on the positive, McPhee-style.

“Yeah, but my new friends will never know that,” Skye said, shaking her head. “Because these kids are probably gonna plaster the school with the
terrible
drawings. And I'll lose all my new friends, and even worse, hurt their feelings. And
they
probably all have syndromes, too. Just like Maddy and me.”

“But Skye,” Gran said, “I don't understand. Forget the ‘syndromes' for a minute, whatever in the world you're talking about
there
. Why do these kids have it in for you? What did you ever do to them?”

Uh-oh
, Skye thought,
here we go
. “I – I guess I kind of hurt some of their feelings yesterday,” she admitted, unable to look her grandmother in the eye. “Not by accident, exactly, but – I just got carried away. See, me and my friends were trying to get even with those kids for picking on us all the time, so I drew girly pictures of four of the
football players, and we sneaked them into the Homecoming newspaper. And everyone saw them at the game.”

“Oh, dear,” Gran said to herself, before turning back to Skye. “So, taking the sketchbook was these kids' way of getting even?” she asked.

“I guess,” Skye said, unable to look at her.

“Hmm. There's a whole lot of getting even going on,” Gran observed. “But none of it has worked, has it?”

“And now I'm gonna have to
move
,” Skye said, following her own train of thought. “Just when I was thinking about maybe staying here in Sierra Madre the whole year!”

“Staying here, with me?” Gran asked, astonished.

“Don't bother saying no, or anything,” Skye mumbled.

“You don't even
have
to. I didn't really mean it. I know I'd just get in your way.”

“Darling, you never get in my way,” Gran said, shaking her head. “You're just about the best thing that's ever happened to me. Why, you're better than vitamin B!”

Hope flared for Skye, then died in almost the same moment. “But I can't stay,” she said softly. “Because of hurting all my new friends' feelings next week. They'll hate me too much.”

“Well,” Gran said, “you're just going to have to do something about that, aren't you? And no, I don't really have any suggestions. But you'll come up with something.”

“I don't think so, Gran,” Skye said sadly.

Gran leaned over and planted a warm kiss on Skye's tear-stained cheek. “Up you get,” she told Skye. “That's always the first step, my darling. And then hop into a nice hot shower, then we'll get some protein into you. And then you'll be able to think better.”

Skye wriggled deeper under her covers. “Can't I just – “

“No, you cannot,” Gran said, springing to her feet in a surprisingly youthful way. “Up, up, up!”

“So, you can come over tomorrow afternoon at three?” Skye asked Maddy over the phone that evening – lucky, innocent Maddy, who hadn't been at the dance the night before. Maddy was the last kid on Skye's list of people to
call. “Amanda's coming, and so are Pip and Matteo and Jamila.”

“I guess,” Maddy said, sounding reluctant. “I was going to watch a rerun of the meerkat show at four
P.M
., though. Can we watch it at your house?”

“If there's time,” Skye assured her.
If you're still talking to me by then
, she added silently.

“And it's a party, right?” Maddy asked, cheering up.