The Shells Of Chanticleer (10 page)

She recoiled. I smiled at her and she mouthed to me, “I HATE this.”

I got a direct kick in the shin that smarted, bad. I hopped over to the sidelines as Regan blew the whistle for a time out. I was trying hard not to freak out; I knew the ball had hit me right on my bad leg where the splinter had gone in. I knew that the splinter was out, that my leg looked normal ever since I’d arrived, but I was doubly sensitive.

I sat on the ground and peeled down my sock. A red bruise was welling up on my shinbone. I rubbed it and the swelling dissipated, dissolving before my eyes. Regan was bending over me, watching my expression turn to amazement.

“It went away,” I said. “How?”

He laughed. “Exactly how new are you?”

“This is my third day,” I answered.

“Welcome to Chanticleer,” was all he said, and he laughed at my startled expression.

I pulled my sock back up and returned to the game. That’s when the trash talking started.

“Let’s get number 12. She’s too clean,” Bailey said, eyeing an untouched member of Zooey’s team. When the action started, Bailey headed straight for her target, guarding her aggressively and sticking her foot in front of her at the right moment, sending her stumbling onto the wet ground. Splat. The mud flew.

Bailey screamed, “Score!”

At the next time out, Rafe, sweaty and dirty, had a plan.

“I cannot believe number 7 is still here. He’s been doing this forever. Let’s get him, bad. He’s a shell waiting to happen if I ever saw one.”

“Yeah, I can see him now in his mud-splattered clothes, holding a soccer ball,” Connor joked, and then he struck a pose and froze. My teammates howled. I didn’t get it.

The whistle blew and Regan was on top of us in what seemed like no time.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” he blustered. Tilting his head toward me, he silenced them.

“We have a newbie here,” he warned.

“Sorry,” Bailey spoke up. “We didn’t know.”

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“Just the other day. This is my third morning,” I explained. Silence ensued and guilty looks were exchanged.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

My teammates scrunched their faces and looked away. Regan blew the whistle loudly, summoning the other team.

“We’re going to call it a day here,” he said. Zooey and her mud-splattered teammates broke into smiles.

“No way,” Rafe complained. “That was too short.”

“No complaining, Rafe,” Regan scolded. “Come back next time, Macy, will you?”

I nodded in agreement. “Sure.”

The game broke up and Zooey complained the whole walk back. “I have to keep playing mud soccer until I enjoy it,” she said. “And I hate it. Hate. It. Did you have fun?”

“I liked it,” I said. “Mud comes right off. It’s no big deal.”

“Yes it is,” Zooey insisted. “It’s full of microbes and germs and deceased insect particles and larvae and cricket casings. It’s horrid. By the way, you need to put these clothes in a plastic bag out in the hall so someone will take them away.”

I did as she said. I took a long hot shower, unwrapping the tissue from the bar of Chanticleer soap and drying myself in the cushy Chanticleer bath towels. No matter how long I toweled off, my thick hair retained water and it took longer than anyone I knew to get it completely dried. Today, however, I didn’t mind. It gave me time to mull over the day. I couldn’t stop sensing that the game was prematurely called off to keep me from hearing something that I shouldn’t. It was the mention of the shells that had stopped the game, I was convinced. I was getting irritated not knowing what shells were. Were they from the beach? No, there weren’t any beaches there; I had already asked Bing. Were they talking about breakfast leftovers? No, that didn’t make any sense. No one would tell me. Not now, everyone said, it was too soon. I was determined to find out and sooner, rather than later. I did not like not knowing what the secret was; it made me crazy.

The next day I was thrilled to see that I had no instructions from Miss Clarice. So far, I was enjoying my free time. That day, Zooey was gone on coursework and I felt lucky to spend the day with Violet. Alone with me, she let her guard down. I sensed immediately that she was not as prim and proper as Zooey. With her large wide-set eyes and never-miss-a-meal athletic build, Violet laughed easily and talked freely, in sharp contrast to Zooey’s controlled restraint. Violet had her blonde hair piled on top of her head in an unkempt, messy topknot, and still managed to look like a model, I thought.

“What do you know about Bing?” I asked her, as we strolled through the town center, taking in the beautiful day, watching the activity around us.

“Why do you ask? Do you like him?”

I hadn’t meant that. “NO!” I said quickly, flushing.

“Well, he’s very cute. It’s not a crime to like him. In fact, most girls do.”

“Except for you and Zooey,” I said. Violet nodded and then sighed.

“Let’s go in here,” she said, stopping in front of a quaint café. “I’m famished.” Violet pulled the wooden doors open and we walked into a confection of a room with high ceilings, plush magenta tufted banquettes, white marble-topped tables and frosted glass windows. In the middle of the room sat a large Christmas tree, completely trimmed with sparkling white lights and pink ornaments. Violet pointed at the tree, commanding me to look and admire it with her.

“I love Christmas,” she exclaimed.

“But it’s March!” I said.

Violet laughed. “So what?”

We picked a table and ordered sandwiches and cups of warm caramel sugar off of a large white menu. My sandwich was made of warm chewy bread, soft melted cheese, tangy mayo, and roasted meat. There was a little side salad with lettuce and a sweet dressing.

“I can’t stop eating here,” I said, in-between chewing. “This caramel drink is so good.”

“I know,” Violet said. “I drink the warm caramel sugar all day long. I’m addicted. I think there’s something in it,” she joked.

“So …” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Zooey told me about the people that don’t ever want to leave, and I guess she makes some sense, although I definitely want to go home as soon as possible.”

“Me too,” she agreed, but she didn’t sound sure. I didn’t want to upset her so I changed the subject back to Bing.

“Apparently, I should be worried, because my shadow is Bing and he is the one who tries to convince people to stay longer. Should I be worried? Will he drag me down? I need to get back home, as soon as possible. I’m missing my spring break.”

“No. Bing is happy he’s your shadow. He told me he is going to prove himself by helping you succeed.”

I was about to ask her when he had said that when the door opened and Bing himself walked in. His black bangs fell over his eyes, but as he swiped them back his gaze fell on us and his face lit up. He walked right over and pulled up a chair.

He tapped Violet’s topknot and she squealed with laughter. He said, “Howdy chickies. What’s new?” He sat right across from me and proceeded to grin at me as if I was his long lost baby sister. “Don’t you look well-fed and happy today!” he teased. “So tell me, what’s good here?” He pointed at my sandwich. “What’s that on your plate?”

When I told him he ordered the same and then sank back in the chair, his arms crossed behind his head, taking in the room and oozing his typical sparkling enthusiasm. I noticed that he truly had the most beautiful skin, the perfect olive color. It was hard to take my eyes off of it but I didn’t mean to stare.

Violet surprised me then by forgetting I was there and turning her attention to Bing completely, laughing at his jokes and teasing him about his floppy hair and his ratty sweater. “Throw it in the dumpster, Bing. You look like a street urchin when you wear that.”

Bing feigned sadness as he picked at the holes: a tear on his elbow, a larger one where his shoulder seam had split, and a rip on the bottom with threads hanging out. The sweater was pilled with little balls of fuzz.

“Don’t judge,” he said. “This has sentimental value. It’s my first staff sweater and I don’t want to give it up.”

Violet teased, “No, I think you’re afraid to ask for another one because you suspect they regret making you staff in the first place. Seriously, Bing. They have high standards here. Don’t they say anything to you about that?”

I watched the exchange closely. There was obviously a friendship between Violet and Bing. I thought it was weird because Zooey had said that they were not friends with him anymore, but that was not what I was seeing with my own eyes. Bing was always nice to me, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Violet, nor she off him. Interesting.

Bing didn’t leave me out. “I heard you were good at mud soccer, Macy.”

“I like running. It was fun,” I said, my mouth stuffed full of a cream puff shaped like a swan. “Only they didn’t play that long. I think they stopped the game because someone said something to me that they shouldn’t have.”

Bing held my gaze with his knowing brown eyes.
He would know about the shells,
I thought.
I bet he would tell me.

“You are a new chickie,” he said kindly, in-between bites. “There’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

“I didn’t say I was afraid,” I said. “I just don’t like secrets.”

Bing laughed. He reached for a swan and pulled its head off, popping it into his mouth. “Yum. We’re a lot alike in that way.”

“Are we?”

Bing didn’t answer me; he just let my question linger in the air. Then he turned to Violet and said, “Can I speak with you alone?” Looking at me, he winked. “Macy, do you mind?”

Ouch. I was being kicked out, but it was okay. I had a stack of reading materials I had barely delved into and was feeling guilty about that. I was always a conscientious student but suddenly I was slacking off. Chanticleer was proving a little more distracting the more I got to know it. I was happy to go off to the library on my own. I drained my cup of warm caramel sugar and immediately felt the glow trickle through me. It was strange how the caramel never cooled down, no matter how long I lingered over my drink. I stood up from the table and Violet smiled at me.

“I’ll join you in the library in a bit,” she said sweetly.

“Hey, just so you know,” Bing said, grabbing my arm. “I looked at the calendar today … you and I will be spending some time together soon!”

My heart dropped. I had just had three lazy days of hanging around, no school, no chores, nobody wanting anything from me. I suspected that would end eventually, I just didn’t know when.

“Don’t look so disappointed! The Prime Minister is a bad way to start. It gets better, I promise,” he said.

“Thanks for the heads up. Have fun with your talk or your whatever.” I waved and headed off alone but not lonely. I was actually glad to break away and have a chance sort out the facts as I headed back to Summer Hall to check my mailbox. Obviously Violet and Bing were friends. So either Zooey was lying to me about their feelings toward Bing or Violet had changed her mind about him and Zooey was the one who didn’t know. I didn’t think Zooey was a liar. I thought it was more likely Violet was hiding her friendship with Bing purposely. A little mystery, I chuckled to myself. I wondered what they were up to.

As I suspected, my mailbox was brimming. There was more reading material stuffed in the box and also a large envelope made of textured creamy paper. My full name was written elegantly across the front in black ink and the back was sealed with an uneven glob of blue melted wax. A large C was embossed in the center of the wax. I took the pile back to my room and sat on my bed with it all. I slit open the back of the envelope. It was an invitation that read:

You are hereby invited to join

the residents and staff of Chanticleer for

Positively Medieval!

A celebration of our first quarter successes.

March 21, 6pm @ Cornish Manor

Medieval attire will be provided.

There was a button on the invitation that said PRESS HERE. When I did, a short trumpet tune played. So this must be one of the festivals that Zooey mentioned. I was a little excited, turning over the heavy cardstock and studying the map to Cornish Manor that was affixed to the back. I hadn’t seen the building yet in my travels there. I would be looking forward to the festival more if I didn’t have the coursework appointment with Bing to get through beforehand.

The Prime Minister’s had been rough for me, even though Miss Clarice had been encouraging afterward. There had been a lot of ups and downs that day. I was determined to do better the next time. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore, but would remain cool and composed. If anyone yelled at me I was sure I would know to ignore it.

I laid my head down on the pillow and drew the fur blanket over me. There was nothing better than sitting under the covers in the early afternoon. On a regular school day at home I would have been in history then. Instead, I was content to snuggle under and wonder.

Zooey had said that there were many wonderful times in Chanticleer and that one day I might not want to leave. I didn’t feel like that; I couldn’t imagine I ever would. I definitely still wondered what I was doing there and fretted about my state of health back home. They were serious about the fact that I might die. Every now and then I remembered that reality, wondered if the pink-sky world would suddenly dissolve into instant blackness, my organs fatally infected, my life over. I pushed that thought into the back of my mind. For the moment, I had to deal with Chanticleer and its mysteries.

First off, I wanted to get rid of the awkwardness that I couldn’t shake, feeling like the odd man out. I knew it was all part of being new and that eventually that feeling would fade away. Everyone was so up about Chanticleer, I was anxious to feel like that too. Maybe someday I would. For the moment, I couldn’t imagine how to get myself there.

I got really nervous thinking about my next coursework and what it would be. What would happen to me if I failed completely? When I was standing by the gate my first day, refusing to go back into the Prime Minister’s house, I remember Bing said that I didn’t know what it meant to fail in Chanticleer. And that weird story that Violet was telling me in the library when Zooey got mad at her. What were they saying about their friend’s hair? What made them cry? It didn’t add up.