The Silver Moon Elm Page 5

  “Hey, that’s mean!” Jennifer called out. Catherine was already too far away to hear.

  “Can you believe she—” But Jennifer was already talking to a cloud of gravel and dust. She began to hack as the Mustang ripped back onto the road and through the outskirts of Winona. She pointed across the highway. “Guys, wait up! Don’t you want to get ice cream at the mall or something?”

  Because she could fly normally now, she cruised a few yards behind the Mustang, shifting the scales on her skin to make herself less apparent to bystanders and trying hard to peer through the rear window and see if any silhouettes were getting too close to each other.

  It was not far to Skip’s house, a two-story Cape Cod with brown shingles and a bright red door, which complemented the pale yellow trim. Skip lived with his aunt Tavia Saltin, sister to the late werachnid sorcerer Otto Saltin, who had tried to imprison and abuse Jennifer when she first became a weredragon.

  But there wasn’t anything sinister in view as they pulled up into the short driveway. Out of deference to Skip’s aunt, Jennifer shifted out of dragon form as she opened the passenger side door.

  “All right, lover boy. Out.”

  “In a second.” He didn’t even turn to look at her, Jennifer noticed as his body leaned closer to Susan and his voice sunk to a whisper. She heard Susan giggle, and her grip tightened on the top of the open door.

  If I slam it hard enough, maybe it will blast off its hinges, fly across the seat, and crush them against the fine, leather-trim interior.

  He finally got out, a wide grin on his easy features. Jennifer left the car door open for Eddie, who had quietly gotten out of the back so he could slide into the passenger seat, and followed Skip up the walk to his front door.

  “Well,” he drawled with his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for a fantastic overnight.”

  She returned the ironic lip curl. “Same here. You sure do know how to show a girl a good time. Multiple girls, in fact.”

  “Oh, hey.” His grin lost some of its edge. “Nothing happened with Susan and me. I was just…”

  “Making an ass of yourself? Studying for biology class? Handing me a murder motive?”

  “…trying to get a rise out of you,” he finally admitted. His hand came off the doorknob and rubbed the back of his neck.

  She bit the edge of her tongue, considering. Then, though she didn’t know why she said it, she told him, “Catherine thinks you’re kind of cute.”

  “Does she?” His face twisted with surprise, as though he had never really considered the possibility. Why would he, she told herself. He just met her and insulted her grandmother.

  “Yeah. You know, just if. You know. If you wanted to know that.”

  “Huh.” He kept rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, though. You know. Doesn’t live around here. Northwater, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He whistled. “Ways away. I mean, I don’t see. You know, she’s your. And, a ways away.”

  “Yeah. Though the car.”

  “Right. The car. She has that for when.”

  Her tongue was getting sore from the chewing. “Yeah. Anyway. If you want to ask her and.” Don’t or I’ll stab you both to death. “You know.”

  “I guess I could think about. You know. If I see her again when. Whenever.”

  “Well.” They both jumped at the smooth voice coming from the direction of the door, which was now wide open. Edmund Slider sat in his wheelchair, watching them from just inside the foyer. Mr. Slider was a mathematics teacher who had just moved to Winoka that year, and had begun dating Tavia Saltin. The forced smile on the man’s face betrayed a resigned sort of dismay.

  A long, delicate finger came up and pulled a blond lock of hair out of his face. “As an educator, I am once again humbled by the remarkable display of conversational flair today’s teenagers have stitched together for my benefit. If only you two could keep this up for another few minutes, I might be witness to an actual coherent and complete English sentence.”

  Jennifer coughed and took a step away from the door. Skip’s ears turned maroon with embarrassment.

  “Where’s my aunt?”

  “Out gathering supplies for her musical therapy group. She should be back any moment.”

  “Have any of her patients seen any results from that?” Jennifer knew Tavia Saltin was an ophthalmologist who was pioneering music-based therapy for those who were blind or losing their sight. Whether this therapy used science or sorcery was uncertain. The late Otto Saltin had been one of the rare werachnids who could weave sorceries, and Jennifer assumed his sister, Tavia, could do the same.

  Mr. Slider shrugged. “I’m not an expert on music, or on eyesight. So Skip, am I to understand that your overnight trip to the Twin Cities with Jennifer’s mother was a smashing educational success?”

  “It was awesome,” Skip answered. “I’d never seen surgery done before, and Dr. Georges-Scales is amazing. I gotta say, I thought Career Day was kind of a stupid idea when Mr. Pool suggested it, but I’m actually thinking medicine might be kind of a cool career for me.”

  Jennifer was quick enough to nod at the same time as Skip. “Mr. Pool’s a good guidance counselor. He told me I should do another Career Day with someone different, since I’ve seen surgery with my mom before.” She turned to Skip. “You think your aunt might be willing to let me watch her work for a day or two?”

  Skip’s look was pure gratitude to her for going along with the cover story.

  “Wow.” Mr. Slider gave a gracious laugh. “You two are really good under pressure. I can’t believe I made fun of your conversational skills. All right, let’s cut to the truth: I am not as naïve as your aunt, Skip. We all know you two were off on an unapproved overnight teenage outing. May I at least assume that you were intelligent enough to avoid truly irresponsible behavior, in the absence of adult supervision?”

  Jennifer turned to Skip. “Okay. You’re on your own, Skip. Nice knowing you.”

  She turned and walked back to the car, careful not to look back as Skip gave an exclamation of protest and Mr. Slider began to laugh.

  By the time they got to Jennifer’s house, they had agreed that Susan should leave the car there. The Elmsmiths lived just a few houses down Pine Street from the Scales.

  Jennifer insisted on walking Susan home. After unlocking the front door at home for a very quiet Eddie—Elizabeth’s shift at the hospital had not yet ended, so there was no one to let him in—and letting her collie-shepherd mix, Phoebe, out, the two girls started off down the road together. Jennifer let the dog trail them at a respectful distance; Phoebe was fairly obedient to voice commands.

  They were both quiet for a while until Susan finally said, “Jennifer, I’m sorry about Skip. I didn’t—”

  “Forget it.” She tried to sound stern, but in truth Jennifer was delighted her friend had broken the ice. “I know you two were just messing with each other. And me.”

  Her friend exhaled. “Thanks. And thanks for taking me to Crescent Valley. Jennifer, it’s so beautiful! And I know it’s an important place to you.”

  They could see Susan’s house now, an older brick house (“Built in 1890,” she would often say with a sigh, “long before things were cool.”) with faded shutters and a curiously long, deep garage where horses were once kept. It was set into part of the hill that dominated this end of Pine Street. With no wind on the chilly air, their footsteps on the asphalt were the only sounds that broke through the early twilight.

  “I wish I could take you back there.”

  “Don’t worry.” Susan squeezed her hand. “I’ll go there again someday. I know we’ll find a way.”

  They approached Susan’s driveway. Jennifer let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not looking forward to going back home right now.”

  “Yeah, I don’t expect Eddie will be great company tonight. Where’s he gonna sleep while he’s staying with you?”

  “Mom was going to make up the guest room for him, before she headed off to w
ork. Honestly, Susan, I’m glad we can help him out, but I’ll be super-happy if he just goes into his room and closes the door for the next three weeks. I was thinking of bringing him back with my mom and me tomorrow. But there’s no way I’m doing that now. Every time I look at him, I just want to strangle him.”

  “He’ll enjoy having the run of your house while you’re away,” Susan offered. “How long do you think you’ll be gone this time?”

  “We’ll leave after school tomorrow, probably stay overnight. I don’t expect we’ll be back in time for school Tuesday. You wanna get together Tuesday night?”

  “I can’t do weeknights this week. I’ve got an advanced sculpting class at the community college. Dad says I may have potential.”

  “That’s great! Good for you. Um, okay. Friday?”

  “Friday.”

  “Mall?”

  “Mall.”

  Jennifer started to tiptoe into her house, then jumped as Phoebe bolted in behind her and realized how foolish it seemed. She clomped into the kitchen and found Eddie eating a banana and peanut butter sandwich (blurgh!) and flipping through Popular Mechanics.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  She thought about saying more, but couldn’t. She spun away from him and went upstairs, telling herself it was because of the sandwich.

  CHAPTER 4

  Monday

  Winoka High School was a large public school, built on the east edge of town near some of the last farmland within city limits. The school had been rebuilt about a decade ago, after beaststalkers demolished one of the last few public buildings they had left standing after invading Pinegrove and renaming it fifty years prior.

  The faculty and staff of Winoka High worked hard at their jobs and were highly productive, torturing over 1,500 teenaged souls on a daily basis. A few veteran teachers were unsurpassed in their ability to bore even the most enthusiastic students; others were at various stages of disillusionment with their chosen career path.

  Pockets of resistance persisted: Jennifer had several favorite teachers who had not yet let go of their dreams, and who could engage her and other students in lively discussion. Mr. Slider, despite his dry and occasionally chilly manner, inspired Jennifer with his challenging classes and calm wit.

  However, she wasn’t looking forward to geometry class this morning: What with all the doings over the weekend, she hadn’t finished any homework. Slider was likely to be merciless and cutting, which she supposed she deserved.

  So she and Susan were scrambling next to Jennifer’s locker to copy each other’s notes—a strategy that seemed likely to fail, since Susan hadn’t had time to get homework done either—when a voice interrupted them.

  “Jenny!”

  Jennifer recognized the voice immediately and nearly fell into her open locker. Putting on as fearless a smile as she could manage, she turned to behold the most popular sophomore girl in Winoka High a mere two feet away, beaming at her.

  Well, not her. Amanda Sera’s baby blue gaze was riveted to the small silver compact she held as she touched up her lip gloss. Meanwhile, her three most famous satellites—Amy Collins, Anne Hutchinson, and Abigail Whittier—clustered behind her back. This foursome was known as the A-List. Every boy at Winoka High wanted any one of them. Every girl scrambled to get out of their way, lest their combined fury destroy an innocent reputation. Until this day, they had not had a word for Jennifer Scales. Ever.

  “What’s up, Jenny? Hey, Sarah.”

  “Susan.” To her friend’s credit, the tone held no impatience.

  “Hey, guys.” What on earth could you possibly want?

  “My parents are out of town Friday night.” Amanda smacked her lips and kept her bright eyes on her mirror image. With her spare hand, she twisted three perfect curls so they fell over the left side of her face. “Sooo, party at my place. You wanna come, Jenny?”

  “You bet,” Jennifer blurted without thinking. Wait. She didn’t ask Susan, even though she’s right here. That was rude. And why do I want to go to this girl’s—

  “Cool. Bring a mack.”

  Ugh. “Um, yeah. Sure.” Who the heck am I going to bring?

  “You got a mack, Scales?” Amy Collins sneered under carefully coiffed brunette bangs as she put a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “’Cause I hear you and Skip Wilson are history.”

  “Too bad,” observed Abigail Whittier, her thin cocoa features betraying boredom as she stared at random students walking by. “Skip’s a stud.”

  “Yeah, why’d you dump him, anyway?” Anne Hutchinson was the only one of the four who appeared remotely interested in Jennifer. Her reddish-blonde curls danced around curiously freckled cheeks.

  “He, ah, you know. Changed.”

  “Yeah, I getcha.” Amanda snapped her compact shut and checked her jeweled watch. “Word’s out that Bob Jarkmand’s kinda sweet on ya. Bet he’d go.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Jennifer doubtfully. Hadn’t the A-List heard about her stiffing Bob already? Heck, Eddie and Susan had known. Of course, she had told them—but she always assumed the A-List knew stuff like this instinctually. Like how a little seagull chick knew to peck at its mother’s throat to get regurgitated food, so must high school girls know—

  “Omigod, here he comes! See ya, Jenny, bye, Stacy!” Amy pushed Amanda away, which appeared to form a sort of gravity well of popularity down the corridor. Abigail and Anne fell into it, giggling, and the four of them were gone in an instant.

  And just like that, Bob Jarkmand was right in front of Jennifer and Susan, his massive, jacketed torso sporting the school’s colors and a prominent “W” for his promising young career as an offensive lineman at Winoka High.

  “Hey.” His massive-shouldered posture was nonthreatening, his acne-pocked face seemed bland. Possibly vacuous. He turned to Susan. “Steph, can you give me ’n Jenny a sec?”

  Susan’s face narrowed. “I promise to leave, just as soon as someone in this school gets my name right.”

  “Susan, please?” Jennifer’s heart fell. She already felt bad about how the A-List had blown her off, worse that she had accepted their party invitation anyway, and worst of all that Susan now had to leave to give this dimwit a moment of Jennifer’s time.

  Without taking her glare off of Bob, Susan backed down the hall exactly four steps, and then waited. Her intransigence seemed to confuse the hulking boy.

  “Uh. ’Kay. Um, Jenny, there’s a party at Amanda’s this Friday.”

  “Yes, there is.” Jennifer’s head began to ache, and his voice sounded far away.

  “I was thinking maybe you and me could—”

  “Go together? Yeah, that would be great.”

  WHAT?

  Don’t worry, the other half of her brain desperately tried to assure the first half. I’ve got a plan. I must have a plan. Don’t worry, the other half of her brain desperately tried to assure the first half. I’ve got a plan. I must have a plan.

  “Wow!” Bob’s simian face brightened. “Really?”

  And your plan is?

  Um. It’s a secret?

  Idiot.

  “See you Friday night,” she said quickly, and turned to shuffle past Susan, who was gaping.

  She was halfway to geometry class before her friend’s voice caught up with her.

  “What was that?”

  “That was a date,” Jennifer replied simply.

  “A date? With Bob Jarkmand? For a macking party?”

  “Geez, Susan, what do you want me to do? Go to this thing without anyone?”

  “No, but what about going with an actual member of the human race?”

  “Hey, Bob asked me. Amanda and the others find him acceptable. I’m taking what I can get.”

  “What a terrific way to pursue true love. Will you let him down your pants if Amanda and the others say it’s okay?”

  “That’s cute, Susan. Could you be a little more insulting?”

  “Sure, how about this: Since when did the Almighty Dragon
Princess start blowing off her friends to go to parties with those bitches?”

  Jennifer stopped short and faced Susan. “Is that what this is about? Them?”

  Her friend stared at her as if she had polka dots on her nose. “Duh! Yes!”

  “I’m sorry I said yes to Amanda, okay? And I’m sorry I said yes to Bob. But I don’t have lots of choices, Susan. Bob’s a beaststalker, or a beaststalker-in-training, anyway. And haven’t you ever noticed? His family hangs out with Amanda’s family, and I’ll bet Amanda’s one, too. Heck, the whole freaking A-List could be beaststalkers. Someone’s got to reach out to them. Eddie’s not stepping up. That leaves me.”

  “So because Eddie punked out, you’ll ditch me and become an A-List whore?”

  Jennifer let a hiss escape through her her teeth. “Will you stop overreacting? It’s one stupid night. I’m not blowing you off—”

  “We were going to go to the mall together Friday night. Remember?”

  The words hit Jennifer across the face like a dasher’s spiked tail. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “I guess not. Like I said: Blowing Me Off!” Susan raced off to geometry class.

  Jennifer stood there—still in shock—for a good few seconds before she caught movement in her peripheral vision.

  “So how’d it go, Jenny?”

  It was Amanda. She was focused on using a tiny lint roller to remove invisible specks from her perfect wool skirt and cashmere sweater. The other three girls were in tight formation behind her.

  “It went fine. I gotta go to geometry.”

  “Bob’s coming to the party with you?”

  Aggravated, Jennifer pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. “Of course he is. What, you think he’s saying no to this?”

  That got Amanda to look up and grin. Abigail let out a whoop of laughter, and the others tittered nervously.

  “He’ll have his hands full,” Amanda said, scanning the length of Jennifer’s body as if recognizing her for the first time. “Make sure you don’t tell anyone else about this party. I don’t want to wreck the place or my parents will kill me. Sally’s cool with not going?”