Catalyst (The Best Days #1) (5 page)

R
ory almost choked on her mouthful of overly chewed cracker mush.  As far as she knew, Sheck wasn’t involved in a single extracurricular activity.  While he was a friendly, good natured guy who basically got along with everybody, he was maybe a little too laid back for organized after school activities.  He’d always preferred to play his guitar, skateboard or wander around the mall. 

“I, uh...yeah, he seems fine
I guess,” Rory finally managed to sputter, swallowing hard.  “I’d better be getting home though.  Thanks for the snack.”

* * * * *

When Rory got home, she dug through her closet and pulled together the perfect outfit for Rebecca to wear to the party.  It helped take her mind off Sheck and what his parents were going through…kind of.

Although some of Rory’s friends really slutted it up at parties, she knew that her sister wouldn’t be comfortable in anything revealing or overtly sexy.  Instead, Rory chose a knee-length black pencil skirt and a form
fitting purple top with three quarter length sleeves and just a hint of shimmer in the silky fabric.  She took them to her sister’s room.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the clothes at Rebecca with no further explanation.

“Um…what’s this?”

“We’re planning your outfit for the party.  Try them on.”

Incredulously, Rebecca said, “Let me get this straight.  You plan your outfits
days
in advance?”

“Just try the damn clothes on!”  The truth was Rory had been agonizing over what she’d wear for days.  But of course she wasn’t about to admit that to her sister.

Rebecca stepped out of her room a moment later looking uncertain.  Rory didn’t know what for.  She’d kill to have a slender, athletic figure like Rebecca’s and yet her sister didn’t even seem to recognize how lucky she was.

“What’s the problem?” Rory demanded.

“I don’t know about this,” Rebecca tugged at the skirt self-consciously.  “Is it supposed to be this tight?  Won’t it, you know,” she lowered her voice, “make everyone stare at my butt?” 

Rory smirked.  “Yes.  That’s exactly what we’re going for.  You can borrow my black knee high boots to wear with it. 
Oh, and my black leather belt!  That will look hot.  Now what should we do about your hair and makeup?”

Rebecca cleared her throat, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a persistent cough
.  “I don’t really wear makeup,” she reminded her sister.  “I look like a clown when I try to put it on myself.  And I don’t know how to style my hair...I can never make it look like yours.” 

“That’s okay,” Rory
assured her.  “I can help.  Hey, let’s do a trial run right now – it will be fun!”  If there was one thing she loved doing, it was hair and makeup.

Thirty minutes later, Rory had to admit that with just a little help, her normally
all natural sister was a knockout.  The brown mascara she’d applied made Rebecca’s green eyes pop, and with a little mousse, her blonde curls fell softly around her shoulders. 

“You’re lucky I don’t cut your hair off in your sleep,” Rory grumbled.

“Why would you do that?”

“In a jealous fit of rage, duh!” Rory replied as though that would be a perfectly normal and mature thing to do.  “Do you know how much time it takes me to get curls like yours?  Half the time they don’t even stay in, anyway!
  I spend most mornings ranting and raving at my hair like a lunatic…I’ve called it every name in the book.”

“
There’s nothing wrong with your hair,” Rebecca replied distractedly.  Her attention was focused on the mirror hanging on the wall.  In fact, she couldn’t seem to look away.  “You’re like some kind of magician,” she marvelled.  “I look completely different.”

“My magic wand is a tube of lipstick,” Rory quipped.  “You know, you really don’t look that much different…just more polished.  It’s still you in there.”

Rebecca was too busy examining her longer, darker looking eyelashes to reply.

“Alright, so we’ll do th
is again on Friday before the party,” Rory promised.

“Do you think you could make my hair look like yours?” Rebecca asked hopefully.

“You’re crazy to want hair like mine,” Rory retorted.  “But yes, we can give the straightening iron a whirl if you want.”

Rory felt lighter than she had in ages a
s she left her sister’s room to go watch her favourite soap opera on TV.  It felt good to spend time with Rebecca again – it vaguely reminded her of when they were inseparable little kids.  It also felt good to do something nice for someone just because she could.

She made a mental note to hang out with her sister more often.

* * * * *

Rory tried calling Sheck all evening, but his phone was off.  She left voicemails.  She sent texts.  No response.  She wasn’t sure if she should be angry or concerned.  Then, finally, Sheck sent her a text at midnight, waking her up.  The text simply said
“OPN UR WNDW.”

Rory rolled out of bed and opened the window.  Sheck was standing on the lawn staring up at her.  He waved and started to climb the tree.  As he climbed towards Rory’s window, he slipped and banged his head on the windowsill.  “O
w!” he hissed, rubbing his temple.

“You okay?”  Rory asked, helping him inside. 
Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about him seemed off, somehow.  It was also unusual for him to stop by so late on a school night.  Or at least it used to be.  These days it seemed to have become the new normal.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He sunk d
own to the floor and yawned.  His clothes were rumpled, he looked exhausted and he needed a shave.  Judging from the greasy state of his hair, he needed a shower, too.  “Hey, can I have something to eat?  I’m starving.” 

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”  With that, Rory slipped down to the kitchen as quietly as she could and found some leftover pizza
and a bottle of iced tea in the fridge for Sheck.  When she got back to her bedroom, he was curled up on the floor at the foot of her bed with his jacket draped over him, nearly asleep. 

Rory nudged Sheck wi
th her foot.  “Here’s your food,” she whispered, shoving it toward him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled,
sitting up and rubbing his eyes.  He picked up the iced tea, unscrewed the cap and downed most of the jug all in one go without coming up for air.  “Did I wake you up when I texted you?  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know it was so late.”

Rory squinted at Sheck as he practically inhaled the pizza.  He was slurring his words.  He looked like hell.  He didn’t seem like himself.  “What’s up with you?”
she demanded, concerned.  “Where were you today?”

“Around,” Sheck
studied the pizza crust he held between his fingers, avoiding her gaze.  He was being evasive.  Rory wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.  If there was one thing she was good at, it was recognizing bullshit. 

“No really, where were you?” 

Sheck stifled another yawn.  “I drove out to Cricket Lake last night,” he admitted.  “I fell asleep in my car and then decided to stay out there today.  It beat spending all day sitting in class being bored to death.” 

Well, that explained why he looked so exhausted.  “What did you do all day?” Rory
asked.  It was too cold to go swimming, Sheck didn’t fish and the leisure centre up there didn’t open until the end of May when people started camping and going to their lakeside cottages for weekend getaways.  She couldn’t imagine spending the whole day there with no electricity and no one to talk to.

“I mostly just sat in my car and listened to music and got high,” Sheck confessed, reminding Rory of a puppy that knows it’s been bad and is in for a scolding. 
“I didn’t drive back until I’d come down,” he added quickly.  After a moment of hesitation, he added, “but I did light up again in the driveway when I got home.”

“
You were smoking pot?” Rory asked, surprised.  Even though Sheck hung around with a few known stoners at the skate park from time to time, she didn’t know he was into that.  She’d never tried anything other than wine coolers and beer.  “What’s it like?”

Sheck grinned sleepily, dimples on display.  “
The best,” he replied.  “It makes you not care about anything.  I need that right now.” 

He cleared his throat and then informed his best friend in a
small, childlike voice, “My dad moved out last night.  He...he’d been sleeping on the couch for a while, and they were fighting all the time...but yeah, he’s gone now.”

Rory was stunned. 
She hadn’t seen it coming, not even after her conversation with Val.  She’d always admired the way Sheck’s parents seemed completely, utterly in love, sometimes staring at each other like they were still infatuated teenagers.  She wondered if Sheck had been as blindsided by it as she was.

A million questions were swirling around in her head.  Why had Sheck’s parents split up?  She knew from observing her own parents that married couples got on each others’ nerves and argued sometimes, but what had been so bad that the Jacksons had decided to call it quits?  Where had Clive gone?  How was Val taking it? 

Rory finally settled on a question that was, more than anything, intended to offer some hope.  “Maybe it’s only temporary?  Maybe they just need some space and he’ll come back in a few days?”

Sheck looked lik
e he was fighting back tears.  Rory knew that even though he good-naturedly complained about his longwinded stories, Sheck had always idolized Clive.  “He took his hockey sticks and everything,” he replied, his voice sounding strained. 

Rory felt defeated.  That
did
sound serious.

Sheck
stretched and set his now-empty plate on Rory’s desk, barely managing to find an empty space due to all the makeup.  “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” he asked, practically begging.  “I really don’t want to go home.”

Rory shrugged
.  “Sure.”  He grabbed a pillow off her bed but made no move to get up.

She hesitated and then offered, “You can get in the bed, you know.”
  It was a double and there was plenty of room for them both.  In fact, they’d had sleepovers in that very bed as children, Sheck sneaking out of Justin’s bedroom in the dead of night to make shadow puppets on the walls with Rory.

“I’m good here,” Sheck replied from where he was curled up on the floor. 

“Okay.”  Rory shut off the light and climbed into bed.  She was relieved to finally be under the cover of darkness.  It meant she didn’t have to try to keep the shocked expression off her face or the sadness out of her eyes.

She just couldn’t believe Clive had moved out.
  If Val and Clive of all people couldn’t make it work, then that didn’t leave much hope for the rest of the world.  It didn’t leave much hope for Rory.

She wa
sn’t positive but she thought Sheck might be crying.  She’d never heard him cry before except for one time when they were in the third grade and found a dead bird in his backyard.  She listened helplessly, her heart breaking for him.  Part of her wanted to say something but she had no idea what she could possibly say. 

Besides, she did
n’t want to embarrass Sheck.  He wasn’t exactly the crying type.

Eventually, Sheck’s
breathing regulated, becoming slow and deep.  Rory knew he’d finally fallen asleep.  She sighed deeply and was surprised to realize she’d been holding her breath.

Sleep didn’t co
me easily for Rory.  She remained awake for a long time, thinking.  Sheck clearly wasn’t okay.  She was positive he must be hurting terribly.  She wished she knew what she could do to help him but maybe he just needed to work through things himself. 

Sometimes, she reasoned, there just were no easy answers.

Thursday started out like any other school day.  Rory chugged a completely unsatisfying diet shake that tasted like chalk on the drive to school.  Then she spent so long loitering in the hallway chatting with friends that she was late to first period.  She also slipped on a puddle of water – oh God, she hoped it was water – in the hallway and popped a button off her blouse in the midst of her somewhat successful attempt to not fall over.  It was pretty typical. 

Or at least it was until about halfway through Mr. Fanning’s second period history class.  That was when everything began to unravel.

Mr. Fanning was about seven hundred years old and deaf as a doorknob.  He’d sit at his desk up front with his eyes shut, loudly lecturing the class about...well, Rory didn’t really listen, so she wasn’t quite sure what he rambled on about – probably wars or something. 

She supposed he closed his eyes because he was reciting old stories he knew by heart, but the effect it had was that the students were pretty much able to get away with murder. 

A lot of Rory’s friends were in second period history class with her.  Usually she and Hilary would spend the entire class gossiping while Rory tried to inconspicuously lean forward and peer out the door.  Carson was in the class across the hall.  Sometimes she’d catch glimpses of him or, if both classroom doors happened to be open, occasionally hear his voice if the teacher asked him the answer to a question. 

Hilary
, of course, resented being ignored.  Sometimes Rory would stop listening to her entirely as she focused on Carson.  When that happened, Hilary got meaner.  She liked to act out and if someone or something had pissed her off then her reckless behavior only escalated.

Lately
Hilary had taken to shamelessly flirting with the shy glee club kid whose desk was behind hers.  She wasn’t interested in him, of course.  She just liked to make him blush.  She claimed it was an experiment to determine whether he was gay, but Rory secretly suspected that Hilary just enjoyed tormenting people for no reason at all. 

It seemed the attractive brunette
was becoming more vicious by the day.  It was almost like she was the thinner, prettier, smarter female version of Jeremy. 

Jeremy, as it turned out, was also in second period history.  Rory didn’t discover this until partway through the semester because he skipped most of his c
lasses with alarming frequency…maybe that explained why he was so unbelievably dumb.  But, when he was warned that he’d be kicked off the football team if that behaviour continued, he reluctantly began showing up. 

Rory wasn’t sure what difference it made because it wasn’t like Jeremy was
learning anything from the class anyway.  He usually spent the whole time bullying Troy, who sat up front, straight as a board and white as a sheet, looking like he wanted a hole to open up in the floor and swallow him.  Rory felt for him.

This particular Thursday, however, Jeremy seemed to be bored with ma
king Troy squirm.  Instead he was focused on Monica, who he’d rather obviously been infatuated with for quite some time.  Despite having a reputation as the school bike (nearly everyone had had a ride), she’d rejected all of his advances, most likely because Jeremy was obnoxious and crude and had a bad habit of forgetting to put deodorant on.

Rory didn’t know exactly how it all started – she’d been busy creeping on photos of
Carson she found online to follow what was happening around her.  Her eyes had been glued to her phone and her mind had been elsewhere.

Her best guess was that Jeremy had farted, perhaps as a misguided attempt to get Monica’s attention or maybe just because he was a total pig. 
He seemed surprised when Monica, who sat behind him, was completely repulsed and called him disgusting.  Instead of realizing that yes, he
was
disgusting, he took offence. 

That’s when things got ugly. 

“
I’m
disgusting?” Jeremy repeated incredulously in a loud whisper everyone within four feet could hear, causing Rory to glance up from her phone.  “At least I haven’t slept with half the school.”

A hushed s
ilence fell over the classroom…well, aside from Mr. Fanning’s oblivious lecturing, that is.  Students set down their pens and phones, quit rustling papers, stopped whispering amongst themselves and turned to stare. 

Jeremy had
committed the number one cardinal sin of high school:  calling a Popular Girl a slut.  The unspoken rule was that it just wasn’t done – not even if it was true.  One especially didn’t call a girl out on her rumoured indiscretions in front of an entire classroom full of peers.  Jeremy, of course, was too dumb to realize this. 

Monica immediately unleashed her wrath on him. 

“That’s not true!” Monica screeched indignantly, her voice shrill and sharp.  Rory raised an eyebrow.  While technically Monica surely hadn’t slept with half the school, she
did
have somewhat of a reputation.  Said reputation probably crossed Monica’s mind right then, because she apparently decided it would be more effective to fight fire with fire rather than defend her virtue.  “At least
I
didn’t make out with Grace Myers behind the bleachers last week!”

No sooner than Monica had said the words, a look of horror crossed her face and she spun around.  It was obvious that she’d just remembered that Grace Myers was, in fact, in second period history.  Sure enough, there Grace sat quietly at the back of the classroom looking mortified beyon
d belief as the entire class turned around to stare at her. 

Rory cringed.  This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I, uh...”  Monica searched for the right words but it seemed she couldn’t come up with anything better than some flustered stuttering.  Her face was white as a sheet.  Rory could tell she felt bad about insulting Grace in front of the whole class – and she should. 

In Rory’s opinion, Grace wasn’t so bad.  She was quie
t and plain and unremarkable.  Maybe she was a bit of a wallflower.  But that in and of itself wasn’t a sin.  Grace’s only fault, really, was that she had played tonsil hockey with big stupid Jeremy…if it was even true.

Truth was a minor detail when it came to the high school gossip mill.  Why let it get in the way of a good story?  Even if Grace had made out with Jeremy – and that was a big if – Rory was p
ositive that it had been a misguided attempt at fitting in with the popular crowd.  It had to be, because it was the only explanation that made sense.

The eyes of every student
were glued to Grace.  She tried to smile and shrug Monica’s thoughtless comment off, but even from across the room, Rory could see that her lower lip was quivering.  Rory almost felt like crying herself, so intense was her embarrassment for the mousey-haired girl. 

To make matter worse, Jeremy guffawed and declared, “She’s ugly.  I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole!  And I do have a ten foot pole, by the way.  Get it?  Ha!  I made a dick joke!”

Grace surveyed her surroundings, her eyes wild and panicked like those of a trapped animal, desperate for a way to escape to safety.  Then she abruptly jumped to her feet, knocking her hardcover textbook, doodle-covered notebook and pen to the floor. 

Without a second glance, she stepped over them and
bolted from the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

There was a pause in Mr. Fanning’s droning lecture.  He opened one eye and, squinting, peered around the classroom.  “Pay attention!” he barked in his trademark
gruff, inappropriately loud voice, running a calloused hand through his unruly mop of snow white hair. 

“Now where was I?” he mumbled to himself, annoyed at ha
ving his concentration broken.  With that, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and resumed his monotonous recollection of some guy who fought in some war at some point in history. 

Rory had an uncomfortable notion that there just might be a war brewing at Belleview High, too.

* * * * *

For Grace’s sake, Rory had hoped that the disaster in second period would blow over as the day wore on.  That wasn’t the case.  The second the bell rang signalling the end of
history class, the entire room was abuzz with excited whispers and snarky giggles. 

“Why would anyone
want to make out with Jeremy Beal?”  Rory overheard one of the drama freaks wondering aloud.  “That Grace chick must be desperate if she did try to make a move.” 

“Or maybe there’s something wrong with her,” the drama freak’s gothed out friend replied. 
“Maybe no one else wants her.  She’s not
that
ugly but maybe she has like...I don’t know, deformed boobs or bacne or something.”

“Bacne?”

“Yeah, it’s like acne only on your back.  I saw pictures online one time.  It’s nasty.”

Rory
sighed and shot the pair a disapproving look.  This was how rumours got started.  Pretty soon all kinds of untrue stories would be spreading through Belleview High like wildfire…of that, she was sure.  She knew how it worked.  After all, she’d been responsible for starting a rumour or two of her own in the past. 

The first time had been unintentional.  She and her friends had been speculating as to where the algebra teacher went every day when he slipped out of class.  Rory, ever the hopeless romantic, had suggested that maybe he was sneaking away to call his girlfriend.  Maybe he couldn’t get through the day without hearing her voice, Rory had reasoned.  That would be kind of sweet, actually. 

But somehow her innocent suggestion had turned into a rumour that the algebra teacher abandoned his class, locked himself in the janitor’s closet and called phone sex lines on a daily basis.  Rory still felt a twinge of guilt when she remembered that she had, in a roundabout way, been partially responsible for the creation of such a scandalous rumour. 

The second time Rory had spread a rumour hadn’t been an accident. 
Shortly after she’d started high school, it seemed she’d caught the eye of one of the seniors, Matt Pike.  He’d asked her out, but, apprehensive, Rory had turned him down.  It hadn’t helped that he’d stared at her chest for the duration of their conversation. 

Rory had wanted to demand to know who he was aski
ng out - her or her boobs.  But since he was older and semi-popular, she hadn’t dared.  Instead, she’d made some lame excuse about not wanting to date anyone right then. 

He hadn’t taken it well.  In fact, he’d started harassing her after that.  Every time he saw her in the hallway he’d make vulgar gestures or yell demeaning things. 
It was as close to being bullied as Rory had ever come and she didn’t like the way it felt one bit.  So, Rory had started a rumour that he had a micropenis.  It had spread like wildfire. 

Mike had
left her alone after that.  Truth be told, the claim was what had propelled Rory to popularity.  It turned out that Hilary had dated him briefly and, after things had gone sour, she wanted nothing more than to see him humiliated in front of the entire school. 

That was one rumour Rory didn’t regret starting.

“Rory!”  Monica grabbed her arm on the way out of the classroom and pulled her aside.  “I feel so bad.  I don’t know why I even said that about Grace...I didn’t mean it.  What should I do?  Everyone’s talking about her and it’s my fault.”

Rory shrugged.  “Maybe you should go find her and, you know, apologize?” 

Rory’s friend nodded compliantly.  “Good idea.  I’m going to go see if she’s at her locker.”  Monica turned and sprinted down the hall.  “Wish me luck,” she called over her shoulder.  “I’ll let you know how it goes when I see you at lunch!”

Right on cue, Rory’s stomach grumbled at the mention of lunch.  The stupid diet she and her friends were on was going to be the death of her.  The low calorie shake she’d hurriedly downed for breakfast hadn’t filled her up at all, and the thought of another “lunch” comprised s
olely of carrot sticks made her want to gag. 

Worst of all, there was still another hour to go before
lunchtime.  Rory didn’t know if she could last through third period without something to tide her over. 

She fished around in the pocket of her dark wash boot cut jeans and then, trying to be discreet, made her way over to the vending machine. 

Rory hurriedly bought a chocolate bar and slipped it inconspicuously into her bag.  She knew it was silly, but she didn’t want anyone to see her eating it.  She didn’t want her friends to know she was cheating on her diet.  While she suspected that most of the other girls probably cheated too, admitting to it made her feel like a failure.  It also made her feel fat. 

Casting one last look over her shoulder,
Rory headed for the solace of the rarely-used bathroom down by the school gymnasium. 

Rory slipped inside and did her usual check for feet under the stalls as she made her way down to the far one, her stomach growling angrily the entire time. 
There was only one problem:  The far stall was occupied. 

It was then that Rory heard what sounded like stifled
sniffling.  Someone was crying!