Best Friends Through Eternity (11 page)

“Let me ask you again, who do you think is responsible for this piece of work?”

Honestly, does Mrs. Norr really not know what is going on? “Vanessa McDonald,” I finally tell her.

Max’s eyes widen and his eyebrows make a leap for his bangs. He looks shocked that I would give up her name.

“And what evidence do you have?” Mrs. Norr asks.

“Nothing. Except she’s really mad about Jasmine going out with her former boyfriend.”

“Well, that’s extremely interesting, Paige. Because Vanessa is the one who brought this…,” she lifts up the Photoshopped masterpiece, “to my attention. She told me about Max’s photos on Facebook.”

“Of course she did,” I grumble. You have to hand it to Vanessa, she really knows how to stir up the toilet bowl.

“I will have Mrs. Spence draw up a letter for you to deliver to your parents. As of right now, you are both suspended.”

“What? But, Mrs. Norr, Paige didn’t have anything to do with this. I was the one who took the pictures.”

“I’m going to call all the parents involved.” She picks up her phone.

Max’s head pitches forward and he closes his eyes.

I fold my arms across my chest.
Kicked out of school!
How will this all work out fate-wise? On Monday I won’t even be walking home, never mind detouring by the train track. And then I begin to breathe faster—who is Mrs. Norr calling?

“You may wait outside.” She gestures with her fingers for us to leave.

Max scrapes back his chair as he stands. I follow more slowly, still in shock. As I step out of her office, I hear Mrs. Norr speaking into the phone. “Yes, Mrs. Aggarwal. I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s been a bit of an incident at school, and we would like to discuss it with you and your husband in person.”

O
f course she would call Jazz’s parents first! The bell rings and I turn to Max. “I’m not hanging around for the letter. I have to warn Jazz her parents are coming.” I don’t wait for Max’s answer, just dash out of the office to catch Jazz before she leaves on her date. Kids empty into the hall, swarming the lockers. I weave and dodge as quickly as possible to my own.
Don’t be gone yet, don’t be gone yet.

The love couple walks toward the door.

“Jazz, wait!” I wave and catch up to her. “Something’s happened. I’ve been suspended.”

“What?”

“Let’s keep walking as we talk. Mrs. Norr knows about those photos. She thinks Max and I made them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cameron says. “This is so Vanessa.”

“Yeah, well, it gets worse.”

“How?” Jazz looks scared. She has to have guessed already.

“She’s calling in everyone’s parents.” I bite my lip. “Everyone’s. Victims’, too.”

“But she can’t. Let’s go back and talk to her. Between us, we can convince her. If she talks to Mom and Dad, I’ll be on a plane to India next week.”

“Jazz, please.” I try to talk softly, to soothe her. “Don’t go all nutso over this. I couldn’t head Mrs. Norr off in time. She already reached your mother.”

“What?” Jasmine’s jaw drops. Her eyes scream.

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted to grab you before you went to the mall. She might be on her way to the school right this minute.”

“Oh my gawd. Cameron, you have to leave!” She begins pushing at him.

“Come on, Jazz.” He catches her hands. “Why don’t we just face her together?”

“No, no.” She begins hammering at his chest. “I can’t.”

“Sooner or later, you knew your parents had to find out about me,” he reasons.

“Go, go, go!” she sobs hysterically.

I put my hands on her shoulders and pull her away from Cameron, wincing at him. “She needs to tell her mom on her own.”

Cameron throws up his hands helplessly. He reaches for Jazz but she pulls away. “Jazz, let me talk to your parents. You’ll see. We can make this all right.”

Who knew that Cameron could be such a stand-up kind of guy? Hanging around Vanessa had hidden all his better qualities.

“I’ll call you. Okay?” His eyes plead with her.

She shakes her head, all the while holding it in both hands. “You have to go now!” she tells him in a panicked voice.

He looks worse than when Vanessa slapped him. His brow furrows, his mouth crumples. Then he just walks away, out the door.

“No, no, no!” Jasmine wails.

“Calm down, Jazz. It’s going to be all right.” I talk softly, evenly.

“My mother’s going to come here with Dad and head straight for the library to find me!”

“Well, let’s just go there ourselves. You can help me shut the computers down.” I tug Jazz toward the resource room. She’s a mess. How will I explain her state to Mrs. Falkner?

Inside the library, I call out hello to the librarian, who’s working at her desk in her office. “Is it still snowing? I thought we would let out early.”

Mrs. Falkner stands up and peers out the window. “Looks like it let up.”

“I brought Jasmine to help. We’ll get the computers, okay?” I push Jazz to the bank of PCs closest to the wall just in case one of the volleyball team posted some nasty notes early. If Jazz sees an ambush plan, maybe she will want to wait for her mom and dad to drive us home. There may be
worse things than a quick visit to India; facing the volleyball team could be one of them. “Breathe, Jasmine!”

She looks at me, her face so drained, her hair ragged from pulling at it.

“Or Mrs. Falkner will want to know what’s up.”

Jazz nods.

“Make sure to check the screens and save the students’ work.” Coming from me, she should find that command odd.

But I have to give her credit. Despite everything, she goes to work. One computer, two, the next one would have been the one. She doesn’t seem any more upset as she checks out the screen.

I dash over just to make sure. No Facebook showing on it. Has Vanessa satisfied her lust for revenge with those posters? Or will they just gang up on us on Monday as they’d planned before?

Jazz’s eyes keep checking the door, maybe for her parents. Finally, the last computer powers down.

“Do you mind shelving these before you go?” Mrs. Falkner asks.

I steal a quick look at the clock. We’ve been here twenty minutes already. “But it’s the weekend!” I say.

“That’s why I want the library tidy. There are only ten books, but I’ll do it if you want to leave,” Mrs. Falkner says.

“No, we’ll help!” Jazz insists. “That way we can all get going.” Her eyes signal me to hurry. She wants Mrs. Falkner gone in case her parents check with her on the supposed
volunteer work. So we both get busy. By the time the books are away, the snow starts again. “Look, Mrs. F, that storm’s coming after all!”

“You’re right. I’m leaving, too.” She grabs her coat.

I can hear Jazz sigh with relief. One of her lies will not be immediately uncovered.

As fast as I can, I grab my coat and books from the locker. Jazz already has hers. “You can come to my house,” I say to her as we move. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never seen Jasmine so wild-eyed and frantic.

“Maybe we should walk along the tracks,” Jasmine says as we step out the door. “I don’t want to see my parents. I can’t think of what I’m going to say to them.”

“I … I don’t know.” Snow drifts down a little quicker now. What if all the scheduled weather and events are pushed just slightly off-kilter? Still, even if a train comes, we should be fine. With no earbuds in or music pounding, I will hear it. Maybe the two of us together will be safe from the bullies and the train. But in my head I hear the short note of the train’s cry, then the long desperate one, and freeze. “I can’t,” I finally say, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Can you at least hurry!” Jazz rips at my arm and marches me along.

We head for the overpass. Above the tracks, I have to be safe; no need for my knees to wobble. The wind begins to whirl the snow around us.

Heads down, we trudge up the incline. “We’ll have a sleepover tonight. Your mom will say yes to that, right? You can talk to my parents.” I babble on at Jasmine. She doesn’t respond. I don’t know what is going through her head.

“Hey! Browner girls!” a voice calls from behind us.
Kierstead?

Ice shoots up my spine. “Faster,” I tell Jasmine. We break into a run.

Something hits the back of my head hard. Ow! A snowball? I touch the sore spot where it landed, pull my hand away and see blood. A rock must have been rolled into that snow.

“Banana’s not brown. She’s yellow.” Vanessa’s rasp.

Jazz slips then. I crouch to help her even as I see the bunch of them run up the overpass toward us.

I get Jasmine up.

“You’re going to pay for stealing my boyfriend,” Vanessa hisses.

“Don’t listen, just keep going,” I tell Jazz.

She shakes her head and stops.

I hear the train clanging its warning bell as it heads toward the overpass.

Jazz scrambles up the hand railing. We’re up about three stories. Even if she lands in the snow, there’s a chance she might not make it.

“Don’t, Jazz. You’ll hurt yourself!” I cry. But in her green eyes I see a final calmness. She doesn’t care, I realize. I
hesitate for a moment.
This can’t happen,
I decide.
This is not what I came back for.
So as she lifts off, I dive forward to grab her back.

A second too late.

My fingers catch the tail of her coat. I feel my nails bend as I struggle to hold on. But the coat yanks away. This is all happening differently. Three days earlier than last time. I have another split second to decide what to do.

If I stay behind, maybe I will alter destiny enough and stay alive.

I stare at the angry girls heading my way. I returned to Earth to stand up for Jasmine. Now it looks like I need to save her from herself instead.

Kim didn’t abandon me all those years ago; it’s more like our family abandoned her. This time there is no excuse. I climb the railing and aim for a snowdrift, then jump. I land on my feet in the deep soft snow. Jasmine lies in front of me across the metal rails. I can hear the frantic short horn note and then the long one. I pull myself out of the bank and dash to grab Jazz. I grab at her arm, throwing myself backward, getting us both out of the way in time. At least I hope.

But, instead, everything goes black.

T
he sun feels hotter on my shoulders this time; the wind’s breath blows harder. The waves pound the shore with a
rush, rush
sound. The palm trees swing their necks in the wind like they’re shaking their heads,
No. No. Wrong!

A tall girl stands staring out at the horizon. Her long black hair hangs smooth and straight like a silk scarf. She wears a white one-piece swimsuit that is cut to make her legs and arms look even longer and thinner. The white glows against her skin, which is a light brown, on the golden side. She turns to face me. “You’re here early this time.” She sounds happy, as though she was waiting for me to get there.

It makes me want to hug and protect her against the loneliness. “Where’s Kim?” I ask.

This girl has hardly any brows, but her brown eyes hold a depth, her smile carries a sad warmth.

Something about her seems familiar. I feel a pull inside me.

“Don’t you like me this way?” her voice asks me in teenager whine.

She looks like someone I know but not Kim. I squint at her.

She grabs my glasses from me. “I don’t know why you wear these. You could have asked your mom for contact lenses.” She puts them on herself.

And I gasp.

It’s like looking in the mirror.

“Still don’t recognize your best friend?”

“Kim?”
What about Jasmine? How has she made out? I wonder. Did I push her far enough out of the way?
“You can’t be Kim. She’s only seven years old.”

“Now I’m fourteen.” She grins.

“In five days, you aged seven years?”

“I asked to. I wanted to stay your best friend. No fourteen-year-old wants to hang around with a little kid.”