Read Online Deadly Offer by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Caroline B. Cooney
Ads: Link
“Do you want to see if Kimmie-Jo and Dusty will invite you to their parties? If Becky will?”
Althea slid to the bottom step and folded over on herself, like an old sheet in a musty linen closet.
“Of course you do,” he whispered. The vampire’s laugh was like old leaves on dying trees. “Now, get a good night’s rest, Althea. What’s done is done. And nothing has happened, really. Jennie’s just going to be a little tired. And you have better friends than that now, anyhow, don’t you?”
Chapter 11
M ONDAY.
Althea had dreaded Mondays for a year and a half. The terrible building into which she was forced to walk—alone.
That horrible cafeteria in which she was forced to sit—alone.
Each room so grim.
Whether the library or the gymnasium, the English class or the chemistry laboratory, each room seemed designed as a showcase for other people’s friends.
Monday.
And Jennie would not be coming to school.
Althea considered being absent herself. Staying in bed all day. Or perhaps the rest of her life.
But in the end she got up, dressed, drove to school, and parked.
Every move was heavy as lead. Putting the parking brake on left her weak and panting. Pushing down the door locks was like bench pressing. How could she move herself across the pavement? She felt as heavy as the car itself, except that she had no wheels. She had to pick up each foot, and set it down, and then pick up the next one.
Althea trudged forward. Never had the walk seemed longer, the steps higher, the doors heavier.
But the door handle was taken from her, and a larger, stronger hand pulled it open for her. “Hi there,” said a boy cheerfully. “How are you, Althea?”
She did not even recognize him. She did not even know him.
She murmured, “Thank you,” and walked into the gleaming marble foyer.
“Hi, Althea!” called a girl changing the Artwork of the Week exhibit.
“Hey, Althea, you get that math homework?” yelled a voice.
She waved. She called. She answered. She even managed a smile or two. The entire school had learned her name. The power of Varsity Cheerleading! The publicity of standing in front of the entire school for two hours, yelling! These kids knew her; they felt loyalty and affection for her; they enjoyed seeing her cheer. She was theirs.
“Hi, Althea!”
“How are ya, Althea?”
“Sit with me, Althea.”
Her name was used aloud more times that Monday than in all the years of her life.
Althea. The name rang in the cafeteria.
Althea. The name bounced off the gym walls.
Althea. The name was murmured in the library.
“Althea,” as a name, had always seemed both odd and stodgy. Now it sounded beloved and welcome.
Fellow cheerleaders called to her; classmates wanted to chat with her; unknown kids going down the hall actually congratulated Althea on a good game Saturday, as if her cheering had brought about the victory.
Everyone who had been at the party came up grinning and delighted to say what fun it had been, how they hoped she would have another one soon.
And everyone who had not been at the party came up shyly and hopefully, hinting that Althea might include them next time.
But Jennie was absent.
Childhood memories filled Althea like those doughnuts: heavy and lasting. Jennie and Althea going to the petting zoo; Jennie and Althea playing Chutes and Ladders; Jennie and Althea buying spring hats and being too shy to wear them; Jennie and Althea taking riding lessons and being in horse shows together; Jennie and Althea drawing up lists of cute boys, back in elementary school when there was no such thing, and giggling insanely all night long at each other’s houses, daring each other to phone a boy; Jennie and Althea cutting each other’s hair so badly one sleepover that Jennie’s mother escorted them to a mall hairdresser who was open evenings.
Jennie was absent.
Althea found herself behaving vaguely to all who spoke her name. Don’t be rude, she said to herself, pay attention! People
Althea slid to the bottom step and folded over on herself, like an old sheet in a musty linen closet.
“Of course you do,” he whispered. The vampire’s laugh was like old leaves on dying trees. “Now, get a good night’s rest, Althea. What’s done is done. And nothing has happened, really. Jennie’s just going to be a little tired. And you have better friends than that now, anyhow, don’t you?”
Chapter 11
M ONDAY.
Althea had dreaded Mondays for a year and a half. The terrible building into which she was forced to walk—alone.
That horrible cafeteria in which she was forced to sit—alone.
Each room so grim.
Whether the library or the gymnasium, the English class or the chemistry laboratory, each room seemed designed as a showcase for other people’s friends.
Monday.
And Jennie would not be coming to school.
Althea considered being absent herself. Staying in bed all day. Or perhaps the rest of her life.
But in the end she got up, dressed, drove to school, and parked.
Every move was heavy as lead. Putting the parking brake on left her weak and panting. Pushing down the door locks was like bench pressing. How could she move herself across the pavement? She felt as heavy as the car itself, except that she had no wheels. She had to pick up each foot, and set it down, and then pick up the next one.
Althea trudged forward. Never had the walk seemed longer, the steps higher, the doors heavier.
But the door handle was taken from her, and a larger, stronger hand pulled it open for her. “Hi there,” said a boy cheerfully. “How are you, Althea?”
She did not even recognize him. She did not even know him.
She murmured, “Thank you,” and walked into the gleaming marble foyer.
“Hi, Althea!” called a girl changing the Artwork of the Week exhibit.
“Hey, Althea, you get that math homework?” yelled a voice.
She waved. She called. She answered. She even managed a smile or two. The entire school had learned her name. The power of Varsity Cheerleading! The publicity of standing in front of the entire school for two hours, yelling! These kids knew her; they felt loyalty and affection for her; they enjoyed seeing her cheer. She was theirs.
“Hi, Althea!”
“How are ya, Althea?”
“Sit with me, Althea.”
Her name was used aloud more times that Monday than in all the years of her life.
Althea. The name rang in the cafeteria.
Althea. The name bounced off the gym walls.
Althea. The name was murmured in the library.
“Althea,” as a name, had always seemed both odd and stodgy. Now it sounded beloved and welcome.
Fellow cheerleaders called to her; classmates wanted to chat with her; unknown kids going down the hall actually congratulated Althea on a good game Saturday, as if her cheering had brought about the victory.
Everyone who had been at the party came up grinning and delighted to say what fun it had been, how they hoped she would have another one soon.
And everyone who had not been at the party came up shyly and hopefully, hinting that Althea might include them next time.
But Jennie was absent.
Childhood memories filled Althea like those doughnuts: heavy and lasting. Jennie and Althea going to the petting zoo; Jennie and Althea playing Chutes and Ladders; Jennie and Althea buying spring hats and being too shy to wear them; Jennie and Althea taking riding lessons and being in horse shows together; Jennie and Althea drawing up lists of cute boys, back in elementary school when there was no such thing, and giggling insanely all night long at each other’s houses, daring each other to phone a boy; Jennie and Althea cutting each other’s hair so badly one sleepover that Jennie’s mother escorted them to a mall hairdresser who was open evenings.
Jennie was absent.
Althea found herself behaving vaguely to all who spoke her name. Don’t be rude, she said to herself, pay attention! People
Similar Books
