Cryer’s Cross. Lisa McMann

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СКАЧАТЬ Fear like that is constant, tiring. But the psychologist over in Bozeman helped. Explained OCD—obsessive-compulsive disorder—and eventually that particular phase of worry went away, only to be replaced by other obsessions, other compulsions.

      She’s not crazy. She just can’t stop thinking things when weird ideas get lodged in her head. She also can’t stop glancing behind her—it has become her latest compulsion. This whole thing with Tiffany has set her back some.

      So she’s glad to be back at school, though feeling a little desperate because of how last year ended. And anxious to start this year fresh. Anxious to have new thoughts, new assignments bombard her brain, keep her mind occupied with non-scary things. Soccer practice starting up again. New DVD dance routines to learn. New things to keep her busy, body and mind. It’s a relief.

      On this first day she tidies up the classroom in a way that old Mr. Greenwood doesn’t, turning the wastebasket so the dent is in the right place, straightening the markers on the dry-erase board and putting them in color order to match Roy G Biv as closely as possible, opening the curtains just so. Lining up the desks into their proper places in neat quadrants, one quadrant of six desks for each high school grade. Kendall creates aisles separating the quadrants to give the teacher room to walk between them, so she can address each grade individually rather than having all twenty-four desks together. It’s the way Kendall likes things.

      Nobody’s ever complained.

      Nobody even knows.

      The desks are ancient and sturdy beasts from the 1950s, recycled by the state from who knows where. It’s a workout moving them all, but Kendall feels better when everything is back to normal. She sees where her old desk ended up, over in the freshman quadrant this year. Now the tenth graders will have an empty seat, unless the rumors are true. There’s a new family in town, according to Nico, though Kendall hasn’t seen anyone new around town yet. Kendall hopes they have a sophomore to fill the spot left by Tiffany, to make things in that section neat again. Though Tiffany coming back would be the best thing, of course. But Sheriff Greenwood and the local news anchors say that’s just not likely. Not after all this time has passed.

      Kendall opens the curtains wide enough so that the edges of them hang in line with the sides of the windows. Her irrational fear gets the better of her and she checks the window locks, first struggling to open the windows to make sure the locks are sturdy, then running her forefinger over each lock in the same manner. “All checked and good,” she says. No one is there to hear her, but she has to say it out loud or it doesn’t count.

      When she sees students walking up the yard to the little school, Kendall looks over her handiwork. The door creaks open. Kendall moves to her new desk in the senior quadrant, takes out an antiseptic wipe from her book bag, and cleans her desk quickly before anybody can see and make fun. She’s not a compulsive hand-washer, like some. But she likes to know the germ status of her own personal work space at the beginning of a school year. Doesn’t everybody?

      Nico spies her and comes over. His straight white-blond hair hangs in his eyes. He’s got his father’s Spanish name but his mother’s Dutch looks. Nico swishes his hair aside and gives Kendall a half grin. Throws his book bag onto the floor and shoves his body into the desk just to the right of Kendall. “These desks aren’t getting any bigger,” he mutters, trying to fit his knees under the metal basin. He leans over and pecks Kendall on the cheek. “Hey. Sorry I was late. You want to go up to Bozeman this Saturday?”

      “What for?”

      “I gotta look at Montana State. Check out the nursing school.”

      The guy behind them snickers. “Nurse Nico.”

      “Shut it, Brandon,” Nico says in a calm voice. He whips his arm back without looking, and it connects with the side of Brandon’s head.

      “Sure,” Kendall says. “I want to check out their theatre and dance program, just in case.”

      Nico flashes a sympathetic smile. “Still no word?”

      “No.” The chances of a rural girl with very little formal training in theatre or dance getting into Juilliard are probably less than zero, but Kendall sees no reason not to start at the top.

      Kendall idly counts bodies as everyone else files in. She subtracts last year’s seniors and Tiffany Quinn, and adds the incoming freshmen. Ms. Hinkler explains the seating arrangement to the freshmen, new to this building. She also announces to the noisy room that there will be two new students this year, which is practically unheard of. The rumor of the new family must be true. Cryer’s Cross is, apparently, a boom town.

      “Looks like it’ll be a full house this year,” Kendall murmurs. Twenty-four students. Perfection.

      The two new students enter the room and everyone watches curiously. Ms. Hinkler checks them in and assigns them seats. She directs one of the new students to the senior section. He looks beyond Kendall and frowns.

      “Hey,” Kendall says when he stops at the only empty desk, to the left of hers.

      The guy mutters something, but he doesn’t look at her. He sits down and puts his backpack on the floor under his desk.

      Nico leans over Kendall’s desk. “Hey. I’m Nico. How’s it going?”

      The guy nods, almost imperceptibly, but remains silent.

      Nico raises his eyebrow.

      Kendall laughs. “Okay, then,” she says. “This should be fun.” She studies the new guy. He’s tough-looking and muscular. Medium-brown skin, his hair black and wavy. His clothes aren’t anything special, but they’re clean and neat. His shoes are dusty like everyone else’s. Cryer’s Cross could use some rain.

      The other new student, a sophomore girl, has brown skin too, with a spattering of darker freckles across her nose and cheeks. Black wavy hair. They’re both striking. “Is that your sister?” Kendall asks.

      The new guy closes his eyes, feigning sleep, arms crossed over his chest. Kendall sighs. She turns her attention to her new desk, reading the graffiti. But it’s already familiar—she’s been reading and memorizing desk graffiti for years now. She knows every desk by heart. She can’t help it. It’s one of those OCD things.

      Being Kendall is exhausting.

      Once Ms. Hinkler has all the freshmen students checked in, she introduces them to the rest of the class. Like everyone else, Kendall pretty much knows them all. Some of their parents work on the Fletchers’ potato farm. But all eyes are on the transfer students. They are introduced, brother and sister indeed. The girl is Marlena and the guy is Jacián Obregon. Ms. Hinkler stumbles over his name.

      “Not JAY-se-un,” he says, suddenly awake again. “Hah-see-AHN.”

      Ms. Hinkler blushes. “My apologies.” She repeats it the right way. Jacián Obregon. It sounds like a melody. Or a tragedy.

      It’s a boisterous, testosterone-filled day for Kendall, wedged between Nico and Jacián, with stupid Brandon directly behind her and two more guys on either side of him—Travis Shank, and Eli Greenwood, who is the son of the sheriff and grandson of the janitor. It’s always been like this. Kendall’s the only girl her age in the entire town. It figures that when they finally get a new kid in her grade, it’s another guy.

      But Nico’s there like always. He’s been her best friend ever since they were babies. СКАЧАТЬ