The New Girl

  THE NEW GIRL

  PROLOGUE

  Bye, Anna.

  Good-bye.

  Look at her down there, all crumpled. Her dress all crumpled.

  She wouldn’t like that. She was always so neat.

  She wouldn’t like the blood, so dark and messy.

  You were always so perfect, Anna. You were always so bright and shiny, as if you were sparkly new every day.

  “My Diamond,” Mom always said.

  And who was I, then?

  Who was I while you were Little Miss Perfect?

  Well, you’re perfect now. You’re perfectly dead, ha ha.

  I shouldn’t laugh. But it was so easy.

  I never dreamed it would be so easy. Oh, I dreamed about it a lot. I dreamed it and wished it, and, oh, did I feel guilty.

  But I never knew it would be easy.

  One push.

  One push, and down you go.

  Look at you down there, all crumpled. So perfectly crumpled.

  And now the front door is opening. They are returning. And I am starting to cry.

  It is a horrible tragedy, after all.

  A horrible tragic accident.

  I must cry for you now. And I must run and tell them.

  “Anna’s dead, Mom! Come quickly! It’s all too horrible—but Anna’s dead!”

  CHAPTER 1

  When Cory Brooks saw the new girl for the first time, he was standing on his head in the lunchroom.

  Actually, he was standing on his head and one hand while balancing a full lunch tray in his free hand, his black Converse high-tops reaching straight up to where his head would normally be.

  A few seconds earlier David Metcalf, Cory’s best friend and fellow daredevil from the Shadyside High gymnastics team, had suggested that Cory couldn’t perform this feat.

  “That’s too easy, man,” Cory had said, shaking his head. Cory never passed up an opportunity to prove David wrong. He hesitated for only a second, running his hand back through his curly black hair and looking across the large, crowded room to make sure no teachers were watching. Then he flipped over in midair, landed, and balanced on his head and hand, without even tilting the loaded tray.

  And now David was applauding and whistling his approval from a nearby table, along with several other laughing, cheering spectators. “Now do it no hands!” David called.

  “Yeah, do it!” Arnie Tobin, another gymnastics team pal, urged.

  “Do it with no head!” another joker yelled. Everyone laughed.

  Cory, meanwhile, was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. The blood was rushing to his head. He felt a little dizzy, and the top of his head began to ache from pressing against the hard tile floor.

  “I dare you to eat your lunch like that!” David called, always challenging Cory on to greater glories.

  “What’s for dessert? Upside-down cake?” a girl yelled from near the windows. Several kids groaned and hissed their disapproval of this bad joke.

  “Cory—lookin’ good!” someone shouted.

  “What is going on?” called an alarmed voice, the voice of a teacher.

  The jokes, the loud voices, the cheers and laughter all seemed to fade when the new girl floated into Cory’s view. She was so pale, so blond, so light, so beautiful, at first he thought he was imagining her. All the blood rushing to his head must be causing him to see things!

  She was walking against the far wall, heading quickly to the double doorways. Cory caught only a glimpse of her, upside down. She stopped to stare at him. He saw pale blue eyes. His eyes connected with hers. Did she know he was staring back at her? Was she smiling or frowning? It was impossible to tell from his position. Then she shook her blond head, as if purposefully breaking the connection, and vanished from his view.

  Those eyes.

  Who is she? Cory thought. She’s incredible!

  Thinking about the new girl, he forgot to concentrate on the delicate balance that was keeping him upright. The tray fell first. Then Cory fell, his face sliding messily into his food, his chest hitting the floor hard, his long legs sprawling behind him.

  The room erupted in laughter and sarcastic applause.

  “Do it again!” Arnie Tobin’s voice boomed. Arnie could outshout any crowd.

  David hurried over to help Cory up. “Any more bright ideas?” Cory groaned, pulling spaghetti and tomato sauce out of his hair.

  “Next time just get a sandwich,” David said, laughing. He had carrot-colored hair, and freckles almost as orange, and he had a whooping, high-pitched laugh that could make dogs perk up their ears for miles around.

  Cory used the front of his T-shirt to wipe spaghetti sauce from his face. When he looked up, Mrs. MacReedy, the lunchroom monitor, was in front of him. She didn’t say anything. She just shook her head.

  “Sorry about that,” Cory said, feeling more than a little foolish.

  “About what?” Mrs. MacReedy asked, keeping a straight face.

  Cory laughed. Thank goodness Mrs. MacReedy had a good sense of humor!

  “It was all Arnie’s idea,” David told her, pointing back to the table where Arnie was busily shoving pretzel sticks into his mouth three at a time.

  “I don’t think Arnie’s ever had an idea,” Mrs. MacReedy said, still straight-faced. Then she gave Cory a quick wink and walked away.

  Still dripping with noodles and tomato sauce, Cory bent down to pick up the tray, “Hey, David, who was that girl?”

  “What girl?”

  “The blond girl. The one who walked out while—”

  “Who?” David seemed confused. He picked up Cory’s scattered silverware and tossed it onto the tray. “A new girl?”

  Cory groaned. “Didn’t you see her?”

  “No. I was watching you making a total dork of yourself.”

  “Me? It was your idea!”

  “It wasn’t my idea to do a face dive into a plate of spaghetti.”

  “She’s blond and she was wearing a pale blue dress.”

  “Who?”

  “The girl I saw.”

  “You saw a girl wearing a dress to school?”

  “You don’t believe me, huh?” Cory looked to the doorway as if she might still be there. But then his stomach growled, and he remembered he’d just ruined his lunch. “Hey, David, you got any money? I’m starving.”

  “Don’t look at me, man,” David said, grinning and backing away.

  “Come on. You owe me.” Cory put the tray down on an empty table and started to come after him.

  “No way, man.”

  “Where’s your lunch? We’ll split it.” Cory changed direction and headed toward David’s table.

  “My lunch? Forget it. I haven’t—”

  Cory took the apple off David’s tray, then grabbed a handful of pretzel sticks from Arnie’s.

  “Hey—I need those!” Arnie protested, making a futile swipe to get them back.

  “Be a pal,” Cory said through a mouthful of apple. “We’ve got practice after school, right? If I don’t eat, I’ll be too weak to climb onto the balance beam.”

  “Break my heart,” Arnie said as he broke off the pretzels in Cory’s hand and shoved the halves quickly into his own mouth. “Maybe the rest of us will stand a chance.”

  Cory detected more than a little resentment from Arnie. He felt bad about that, but what could he do? He couldn’t help it if he was a more talented gymnast than his teammates. He had been on the varsity gymnastics team since his freshman year at Shadyside. And Coach Welner really thought he had a chance of making the all-state championships the following spring.

  It’s a good thing Coach Welner didn’t see me fall into my lunch, Cory thought. He finished off the last of Arnie’s pretzel sticks and slurped up the last few drops of David’s chocolate m
ilk, then crushed the cardboard container in his hand.

  “A well-balanced lunch,” he said, hiccuping.

  Arnie was busy showing David a new way to slap someone five. He had a serious look on his normally grinning face, and he was slapping David’s hand again and again, trying to get it just right. “Not like that, jerk,” he kept saying.

  Cory couldn’t figure out who was the jerk. “Later,” he told them, tossing the crushed milk carton into a trash basket halfway across the room. They didn’t look up.

  He headed toward the double doors, ignoring some kids who were laughing about his stained shirt and the congealed tomato sauce in his hair. “Hey, Cory—think fast!” Someone threw a milk carton at him. It bounced off a table and hit the floor.

  He didn’t turn around. He was thinking about the girl in the blue dress again. He had seen her for only a few seconds, upside down. But he knew she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

  Hauntingly beautiful.

  The phrase popped into his head.

  He realized he was looking for her as he headed down the hall to his locker.

  Where is she? Who is she? I didn’t imagine her—did I?

  “Hey, Cory—you swim in your lunch?”

  He didn’t turn around to see who that was. He realized he must look pretty bad. Suddenly he hoped he wouldn’t run into the girl now. He didn’t want her to see him with tomato sauce in his hair and all over his shirt.

  He stood in front of his locker, trying to decide what to do. Was there time to head down to the showers? He looked at his watch. No. The bell for fifth period would ring in less than two minutes. Maybe he could cut English. No. Mr. Hestin was explaining the term paper assignment today.

  Lisa Blume walked up and began turning the combination lock to open her locker. She pulled the lock open, then looked at him. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” He looked down at his shirt. “This remind you of when we were little kids?”

  “No. You were neater then.” She laughed.

  Cory and Lisa had lived next door to each other in the North Hills section of town for their entire lives. They had played together since they were toddlers. Their two families were so close, they were like one big family.

  Living so close together, Cory and Lisa had managed to stay friends even through those years when boys only play with boys and girls only play with girls. Now, as teenagers, they knew each other so well, they were so comfortable with each other, their friendship seemed a natural part of life.

  Lisa had long black hair that tumbled in curls down to her shoulders, and dark lipsticked lips that curled into a half smile whenever she said something funny, which was often. A lot of kids said she looked like Cher. Lisa pretended not to be flattered by the comparison, but she was secretly pleased.

  Now she stared at Cory in front of their lockers. “I was standing on my head in the lunchroom,” he told her as if that fully explained his appearance.

  “Not again,” she said. She bent down to pick up some books from the floor of the locker. “Who were you showing off for this time?”

  Her question annoyed him. “I didn’t say I was showing off. I just said I was standing on my head.”

  “David dared you to. Right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” She stood up, her arms filled with texts and notebooks. “You can’t go into class like that. You smell like a pizza.”

  “What can l do?”

  “Here. You can borrow a T-shirt.” She bent down again to rummage in the cluttered locker.

  “A girl’s shirt? I can’t wear a girl’s shirt!” He grabbed the sleeve of her sweater and started to pull her up.

  She pulled out of his grasp. “It’s not a girl’s shirt. It’s from the Gap. It’s for girls or boys. You know. It’s just a shirt.” She pulled the black-and-white-striped T-shirt out and tossed it up to him. “But wash your hair before you put it on.”

  The warning bell rang. Locker doors slammed. The hall grew quiet as kids disappeared into their fifth-period classes.

  “Get real. How can I wash my hair?”

  She pointed to the water fountain across the hall. He smiled at her gratefully. “You’re smart, Lisa. I always said you were smart.”

  “That’s a real compliment coming from a guy who puts his head in his spaghetti,” she said, her mouth sliding into that familiar, wry half smile.

  “Hold the water on for me,” he said, walking quickly to the low white fountain. He looked down the hall to make sure no one was watching. The hall was nearly deserted.

  “No way, Cory. I don’t want to be late.” She followed him anyway. “And I certainly don’t want to be seen with you.”

  “You’re a pal, Lisa.”

  He didn’t see her frown. She hated that word. She hated to be a pal. She sighed and turned the water knob. Then she stood there hoping that no one would come by as he plunged his head into the fountain and frantically struggled to scrub the dried sauce from his tangled curls.

  The bell rang. She let go of the fountain. “Cory, I’ve got to go.”

  He stood up, water pouring down his face. “Good thing the water in this fountain never gets cold,” he said. He pulled off the stained T-shirt and dried his hair with it.

  “Cory—really. I don’t want to be late.” She tossed the clean T-shirt at him and, struggling to hold on to her armload of books, ran to class.

  The striped shirt fell onto the floor in front of Cory’s sneakers. Still rubbing his hair dry with the dirty shirt, he bent over to pick it up.

  When he stood up, he saw her again.

  First he saw her blue dress. Then he saw her blond hair.

  She was halfway down the hall, hurrying to class.

  There was something strange about the way she moved. Her feet didn’t make a sound as she ran. She was so light she seemed to be floating a few inches above the ground.

  “Hey, wait—” he called to her.

  She heard him. She stopped and turned her head, her blond hair swirling behind her. Once again her blue eyes connected with his. What was that in her eyes? Was it fear?

  Her lips moved. She was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear her.

  “Please don’t.”

  Is that what she had said?

  No.

  That wasn’t it. That couldn’t be it. Cory was a terrible lip reader.

  “Please don’t?”

  No.

  What had she really said? Why did she look so frightened?

  “Please, wait—” he called.

  But she vanished into a classroom.

  CHAPTER 2

  Cory slammed the gym locker shut and angrily pounded his fist against it.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with you, man?” David asked, still in his practice sweats.

  “I stink!” Cory shouted. “I looked like a newbie on the bars today.”

  “So what else is new?” David said with a shrug. “At least you didn’t sprain your ankle.” He rubbed the ankle, which was swollen nearly to the size of a softball.

  “Later,” Cory muttered disgustedly. He tossed his wet towel over David’s head and angrily shoved his way out through the locker room door. He’d just had the worst practice of the year, maybe of his life. And he knew why.

  It was the new girl.

  Cory had been looking for her for three days. He hadn’t seen her since that brief moment in the hall before fifth period on Monday. But he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind ever since. She was just so beautiful!

  He had even dreamed about her that first night.

  In the dream he was eating lunch in school. She seemed to float across the lunchroom. She came up to his table, her blue eyes shimmering like the ocean in sunlight. She leaned down and her hair fell over his face, soft and fragrant.

  She started to kiss his face, his cheek, his forehead, his other cheek, soft kisses, so soft he couldn’t feel them.

  He wanted to feel her kisses. He
tried to feel them. But he couldn’t feel a thing.

  He reached up to touch her face. His hand seemed to go right through her.

  And he woke up.

  The dream stayed with him. It should have been a nice dream, an exciting dream. But it wasn’t. There was something eerily cold about the dream. Why couldn’t he feel her kisses or touch her face?

  For the next three days he had looked for her in the lunchroom and in the halls between classes. He had even waited by the front doors after school, hoping to get a glimpse of her. But she had never appeared. And none of the guys Cory had asked knew who she was or even remembered seeing her.

  Now, as he trudged through the empty corridor, he tried to think about why his timing had been so off during gymnastics practice, but her face kept floating into his mind. And once again he imagined her floating across the hall.

  “Are you real?” Cory asked aloud, his voice echoing off the tile walls.

  “Yeah, I’m real. But what are you?” a girl’s voice replied, nearly startling him out of his high-tops.

  “Huh?” He spun around to find Lisa behind him, a questioning look on her face.

  “Talking to yourself these days?”

  He could feel his face reddening. “What are you doing here? It’s after five o’clock.”

  “It’s my school, too, you know. I can stay as long as I like. You jocks think you own the place.”

  He shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to joke around with her.

  “I was working on the Spectator. We were pasting it up today.” Lisa was assistant editor of the Shadyside High School paper. “I suppose you were doing flip-flops in the gym?”

  “It’s not flip-flops,” he said grumpily. “We have a match against Mattewan Friday night.’ ”

  “Good luck,” she said, punching his shoulder. “They’re pretty good, right?”

  “They’re not that good.”

  They walked down the hall, their footsteps echoing loudly. At their lockers they stopped to pull out jackets and bookbags.

  “You going home?” Lisa asked. “Want company?”

  “Sure,” he said, although he really didn’t.

  They walked out the back doorway and stepped down into the teachers’ parking lot. Beyond the parking lot stood the football stadium, a concrete oval with long wooden bleachers on two sides. And behind the stadium stood Shadyside Park, a wide, grassy park dotted with ancient oaks and sycamores and sassafras trees, sloping gradually down to the banks of the Conononka River, actually a narrow, meandering stream.