The Sacrificial Daughter (23 page)

For what reason?

Don't be stupid. You know the answer to that.

So that the whole world could see. Jesse hid herself back in the book. Tears came harder than before and she had to put her hands to her face. She kept herself in that position for the rest of the class, looking up only once when the freckled-faced girl read her limerick. Hers was about a flower in need of water. It was good...not only did it actually rhyme, unlike many of the others, its message was sweet. And the hidden message, love and the absence of love, was even sweeter.

As the next girl stood to resume the crude word torture, Jesse let her mind dwell on the words of the last message and she was not the only one. Ky was thinking on it as well, or so she hoped. When she looked over at him, his handsome face was tight with emotion, his skin was taunt over a skeleton of steel. He revealed nothing, but he was so doggedly revealing nothing that by doing so he revealed everything.

The message of love had hit Ky hard.

The limericks continued and only twice did Mrs. Jerryman come close to reprimanding students for going too far in their vulgarity. Both times she allowed the students to finish the limericks and it was only after everyone had settled down with their exaggerated laughing that she would slap a wrist with a velvet glove. On one of the occasions she actually gave helpful hints on how to make the limerick even nastier, just in a more subtle way.

Jesse refused to listen; instead she clung to the sad love poem...

There with waters grow hidden seed

Which all the while lay in its need

A rose, a tulip to be found

Deep in deserts arid ground

And crying, sings of sorrow, to be freed

She whispered the words to herself over and over again, uncaring whether or not she could be heard by the other students or the recording device in the phone.

The cell phone! She could do nothing about the other teens—they thought the worst of her already—yet she could do something about the cell phone.

She could destroy it and she already planned on doing just that. Her initial idea, which came to her the second she saw Felicity pointing the thing at her, was to grab the cell phone and grind it under the heel of her jungle boots. She had yet to come up with a secondary plan, nor did she really need one, since plan A seemed to cover everything she hoped to accomplish.

What about the ball? What about being good?

Right. Plan B then. There was no plan B, and Jesse didn't think she would be able to come up with one either. She had the exact opposite problem as Ky. He was completely ignored, while she was watched with hating eyes everywhere she went. This meant that there would be no stealing the phone on the sly. It would have to be a snatch and grab...which meant plan A...which meant no masquerade ball!

A soft growl escaped her at this.

Just then the bell rang cutting off Mrs. Jerryman's words. The girl in black had no clue what her teacher was saying nor did she care. Jesse was mortified at her treatment. Her rage and humiliation were twin fires in her heart and they made a roar in her ears that muffled all sound.

"Miss Clarke, I'm talking to you."

Ignoring this, just like she was ignoring the looks and laughter that came at her expense, Jesse headed for the door as quick as she could. At the bell, Felicity had been up and had been one of the first ones out of the classroom. Jesse didn't want to lose her in the crush of people that would be in the hall in the next minute.

"Miss Clarke!" A hand grabbed her bag and pulled.

Acting purely on instinct and emotion, Jesse spun. Her face was flush and red, filled with the misery of her shame and her eyes rimmed in wrath were a hard, ice blue. She might have looked like a maniac and her cocked fist certainly didn't help. Mrs. Jerryman actually squeaked in fright and jumped back.

"Oh, sorry," Jesse said and then wondered why she had apologized. In her father's words: 'You mess with the bull, you get the horns'. Mrs. Jerryman was lucky she hadn't been punched in the face. Jesse turned away—whatever the teacher wanted would have to wait—Jesse's need to get the cell phone was an undeniable urge inside of her.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. The exit to the classroom was now backed up five kids deep. With a sigh and a tilt of her head she gave her English teacher an eye. "You wanted something?"

"Yes," Mrs. Jerryman replied in a huff. "Not to be threatened for one."

Since Jesse couldn't guarantee that, not in the mood she was currently in, she only shrugged, hoping it conveyed—
maybe
. "And two?"

The teacher's eyes blazed. "Do you know what the penalty is for threatening a teacher?"

A hundred nasty responses came to mind, but sneaking right up through them came the voice of reason and for once it was unreasonable.

Don't give her any smartass answers...remember the Ball!

Wrong. When Jesse caught up to Felicity, the Ball would be out of the question. Destroying another student's cell phone was likely a sure way to get expelled, and knocking her teeth down her throat was probably frowned upon as well.

If you give her a smartass answer you'll be expelled right now and you'll never catch up to Felicity.

That was right. Jesse swallowed hard, grimacing as she did and said, "I'm sorry that I frightened you. I get a little jumpy when people come up behind me."

Strangely, Mrs. Jerryman seemed mollified by Jesse's apology. "I just wanted to talk to you about the essay that I assigned you."

Jesse narrowed her eyes at the teacher. After what Mrs. Jerryman just put her through with an hour's worth of asinine limericks, she was going to now add this insult onto her as well? "I didn't do it," Jesse said, waving her hand dismissively. "It was such a stupid request that I just assumed you were joking."

"Oh my," Mrs. Jerryman replied, walking to her desk and taking a seat. "Are you looking to fail this class?"

Jesse laughed out loud. "Is there another option?"

Mrs. Jerryman smiled and paused as the last student, Ky, slipped out the door before continuing in a voice kept low, "You know there is another option."

"After what you just put me through?" Jesse gasped, unable to believe the woman. "You think that I would join you now?"

Mrs. Jerryman leaned back in her chair. "I would if I was you. It
can
get worse."

This cooled Jesse's anger, in fact it sent a chill up her spine the way the woman was so confident. "How? How could it get worse?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" the teacher asked. Jesse racked her brain yet came up with nothing out of the ordinary: suspension, useless assignments, failing tests, detention. Nothing that would cause this horrid toad of a woman to act this confident.

"So you do need it spelled out?" Mrs. Jerryman said. "Fine...H. A. R. O. l..."

A sharp pain lanced into Jesse's chest as she figured out what the woman was suggesting. "You wouldn't dare!" she cried, interrupting. "You would sic a killer on me? That's accessory to murder...you would stoop to that?"

Mrs. Jerryman couched her voice lower. "I want you to know..." She stopped in mid-sentence as kids began trickling into her classroom for the start of second period. Putting on a fake smile, Mrs. Jerryman resumed, "I would never do it. And I mean that, but if you don't start getting some right thinking into your head...
someone
will. Sooner rather than later. He is due. Now get to class."

The teacher shooed Jesse away with a flick of her hand and the girl was all too ready to leave. She rushed out of there and for the moment Felicity and her cell phone were forgotten.

Would she really do it?
thought Jesse.
Would anyone do such a thing?

The sad answer was yes. Jesse was an outsider and a hated one at that. Yet her father had been confident that Jesse lacked whatever characteristic would make her a target.

What this characteristic was occupied her mind all through calculus. She went over the little she knew about the dead children: there had been three boys and a girl, all were killed in random, or seemingly in random locations. That was all she knew...except that Ky Mendel had asked the question:
Is it my turn?
when he thought that Harold Brownly was nearby. To Jesse, this suggested that Ky possessed the characteristic and the way his dad seemed always to be following around after him, he clearly thought his son was in danger.

What set these kids apart? Yet it wasn't just these kids. All the kids in town seemed downright afraid, not just a few of them. What did that mean? Maybe they were afraid that Harold would break out of his mold and start killing at random.

Jesse didn't believe it. That would mean her father was wrong, and it was easier to believe a town of six thousand souls was collectively less intelligent than her father. So that meant there was definitely a characteristic...and one that her father wished that she possessed. He had mentioned it in passing, but she had been too tired to dwell on it until now.

What physical characteristic was there that her father wished she possessed...a penis? No, there had been a girl killed just last year...unless she was a hermaphrodite...or a cross-dresser. Jesse was grasping at straws now.

If anyone knew the exact characteristic that they all had in common, it would be the boy who had lived next door to the killer for the last ten years. Too bad he would never answer her if she asked. She thought about Ky. She thought about how he looked: his thick dark brown hair, his piercing hazel eyes, his ruddy cheeks, and then she thought about how he looked the night before...with his shirt off.

The end of period bell rang and Jesse jumped a mile out of her seat causing not a few people to laugh at her. Where had the time gone? Another image of Ky jumped into her mind. Right.

With a sigh that was half-longing and half-dread, Jesse gathered up her bag and headed off to art class. It was sure to be another big headache. Her life had turned into a painful yo-yo. Deal with the terrible killer...deal with the nasty people...deal with the terrible killer...

It was enough to make her want to hide in the bathroom all day. The good news, if could be called such, was that Felicity shared this class with her, in fact their tables sat side by side. Getting the phone, unless it was guarded over should be no problem. The problem would come when Jesse threw it down and stomped on it. There would be some frowning at that she was sure and then a trip to the principal's office and then no masquerade ball.

Of course, she could get lucky. There could be fire that consumed half the building, or maybe, for once, no one would notice her and she would be left alone. Neither seemed at all likely. In fact the second far-fetched chance was gone the moment she walked in the door. Everyone of the students glanced her way and more than one snickered.

As the class started and Ms Weldon began issuing orders, Jesse kept her head down but her eyes up, looking for a chance to snatch the phone. It was sitting hooked to Felicity's backpack and would be relatively easy to grab, but also relatively easy to get caught doing so as well. Jesse needed a distraction, unfortunately
Jesse
was the distraction.

Snippets of limericks whispered around the room and the students took way too much of their time trying to catch her eye. Ten minutes into the class, Jesse resigned herself to making as inconspicuous attempt at the phone as possible and letting the chips fall where they may.

Just then Ms Weldon came up to her table shaking her head. "Miss Clarke, either begin working on the assignment or go to the principal's office."

"Yes ma'am." With the teacher right there, Jesse couldn't exactly grab the phone nor did she exactly want to work on the project...but she could fake it long enough for the teacher to wander away. Jesse headed for the supply closet and once there went about gathering anything that might allow her to fake her way through the project long enough to go for the phone.

She even grabbed a can of red paint, but just as she turned away she had a new idea for the paint. Quick as she could, she unscrewed the lid almost all the way and then left the can as precariously balanced as possible on a shelf. There was a good chance that anyone not really paying the closest attention would inadvertently knock it over.

With her arms full, she stole back to her table and started arranging her supplies all the while under the glaring eye of Ms Weldon.

"If you're looking to fail, you're on the right track," the art teacher said quietly. Ms Weldon's attitude was strange that day. She seemed resigned to disliking Jesse, yet at the same time it seemed to pain her to do so. "None of this is correct. You are supposed to be using pastels chalk, not crayon...this isn't the second grade."

There hadn't been much in the closet. "Yes, ma'am. My parents weren't home...and I couldn't really go out...alone," Jesse explained. This was the truth. There was a point the night before when she had remembered her art project and had given all of two seconds of thought about getting the needed materials. "I'm using the crayons to get an idea what sort of colors and image I would like to use."

Ms Weldon's right eyebrow shot up, she couldn't look more skeptical. "The paper is wrong as well. It's supposed to be three feet by five feet."

The largest paper in the closet was two feet wide and one and a half feet tall. "I'm going to draw it to scale," Jesse said, proffering perhaps her lamest excuse of her teenage life, which was saying something.

A sigh escaped Ms Weldon. "Do your best," she said, and walked away to the next table. There her demeanor changed to one of enthusiastic encouragement.

"
Poor Jesse had really quite an itch...Too bad that she was such a bitch,"
a boy recited from behind her as soon as the teacher had stepped away. The limerick from the day before hadn't been topped in popularity...yet. However, if the video of her crying on Felicity's phone made it onto the internet that could change in a hurry, and so would Jesse's life. That video was the sort of thing that could haunt a person forever.

Jesse cast a wary glance back. Her antagonist from the day before Ronny stood a little too close.