Chapter 34
“Why didn’t you call me last night?” Stuart slumps into the seat and lets out a sigh. “I was up all night.” He runs a hand through his hair, sending it sticking straight up. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I guess I fell asleep.”
The bus bounces along its route, picking up kids who squeeze down the aisle with their loaded book bags and puffy coats. Next week is Thanksgiving break, which is another reason I didn’t want to miss school. The civics club will be helping at the shelter, and I want to sign up.
Stuart and I hold hands, but neither of us talks. Maybe he’s just tired, or maybe, like me, he can’t think of a single thing to say. Looking down at our fingers clasped together, I lay my head on his shoulder. “Do you think Grover’s going to prison? I had this dream…”
Stuart faces me full-on, his glasses magnifying his eyes so that they look twice as big. He squeezes my hands. “You got this, Darcie.”
My backpack strap suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world because looking up feels impossible.
“Information is power, right?”
I finally do look up. “What if it’s not enough?”
If I thought today would be chill, I was definitely wrong. Five minutes before the bus pulls into the school parking lot, cell phones buzz and ding all over the bus. A familiar dread creeps up the back of my neck, and I’m right back in Oregon with Veronica.
Stuart pulls his phone from his pocket. “Oh boy.” He raises his eyes. “This isn’t good.”
“What?” I say, pulling the screen over. It’s a picture of me gazing out a window. The caption reads, ‘Waiting for the Shadow Man to text back.’ “How did they get this picture?” I pull the phone closer. “It looks like Math class.”
“Look,” a kid behind us calls, “Darcie must have just gotten a text!”
I sink down in my seat and cover my head as at least half the bus erupts in laughter.
“It’s a good picture though,” Stuart says. “Ignore them. Let’s just get through the morning.”
“Easy for you to say, Stuart. You’re not the one everyone’s laughing at.”
His phone—along with fifty others— dings again, and again. For once I’m thankful my parents won’t let me have one. As we enter the building, the buzzes and dings are unbearable. Everyone—I mean everyone—is obsessed with their screens. I slip away to my locker and head to class.
In math class, it’s the same as always with Mr. Farnswiddle, but in the hallway snickers follow me as kids check their messages.
“Did you see the one about the Shadow Man fan club? That was hilarious.”
“I liked the missing person’s poster…last seen under her bed! Hahaha!”
I duck my head and force my way through the crowd.
Stuart catches up with me. “Darcie, hold up.”
I keep walking. Leave me alone, Stuart. It’s not gonna be good for you to be seen with me.”
He grabs my arm and spins me around. “Stop. Please.”
“What?”
“I have something to show you.” He holds the phone in front of my face.
“Are you kidding me, Stuart? You want to rub it in my face? Don’t you care about my feelings at all?”
"Just look at it.”
I blow out a breath and stare at the image on the screen. It’s me—in cartoon form—a red cape on my back. ‘Fighting for truth, justice, and the right to be weird.’
“Okay. That’s not…horrible.”
“And there are others. Hold on.” He scrolls until he finds what he’s looking for. “This one’s good too.”
I pull the phone closer. ‘Darcie Reynolds: Defender of the Unpopular.’
“Who’s making them? Because they’re nothing like the others.”
“No clue. But there are people on your side.” He bumps my arm. “Like me. Don’t forget that.”
Inside the locker room, there’s a full out debate going on.
“Oh my god! The cape one’s seriously the best.” A red-haired girl with a turkey headband says.
“I know! Like she’s about to fly into court,” she laughs.
I groan.
“It’s good,” another girl says, pulling up her socks. “But the notebook one is way better.” She stands on the bench. “Lady liberty! That cracked me up.”
Crystal, one of the Peaks, slams her locker. “Seriously, you guys need to calm down. She’s really not that big a deal.”
“Maybe she is.”
I step between them. “I’m here, in the room you know.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Can we maybe stop making memes about Darcie?”
The room goes quiet.
“You know we’re on your side, right?”
“Yeah.” I stuff my book bag into my locker and spin the lock. “It’s just…it’s alot. Whether it’s laughing at me, or laughing with me…”
Across the room, Amelia steps from the shadows. “Don’t you get it? She’s saying she doesn’t want to be a meme—even a good one.”
No one answers. It’s the first time anyone’s heard her speak in days. Finally, Coach blows her whistle and everyone moves toward the gym.
“Thanks.”
She turns away, limping off in the opposite direction.
I pretty much just steer clear of everyone as much as possible the rest of the morning. Lunch isn’t bad because Stuart has made sure no one mentions the memes.
We decide to lay out our lunch items—buffet style—and share them in honor of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Chips, cookies, pudding and yogurt cups, some sorry looking sandwiches and a couple of bananas litter the table.
I pluck a bag of pretzels from the pile. “So what’s everyone doing for the Holiday? We’re going to my grandparent’s house in Idaho. They raise alpacas.”
“Alpacas? That’s sick!” Terrance says with a mouthful of pimento cheese. “By the way, whoever brought this—it’s…”
“SICK!” we all say at once, then laugh like we’re all a bunch of comedians.
Surprisingly, there are alot of students missing today in civics. Parents probably picking kids up early to leave on a trip to Grandma’s. The room is a mixture of nerves and excitement as Ms. Kendrick goes over how things will go at the courthouse.
"We’ll gather on the lawn in front of the courthouse. Bundle up, because we may be outside for quite a while. The room for the hearing is small, so it won’t be able to accommodate everyone. They’ll only allow a certain number of people in. Most everyone will have to stay out side.”
Pressure builds inside my ears, making everything sound far away. I swallow, hoping I can make them pop. It doesn’t help.
Stuart leans over. “You nervous?”
“Yeah. Very.”
He threads his fingers through mine, squeezing. “I’ll be right there with you. You’re going to do great.”
“But what if I don’t? What if I can’t remember what I wanted to say? What if I choke…again.”
“You won’t.”
I look him straight in the eye. “Stuart, how can you be so sure? I mean, this is serious! It’s not a presentation. Someone’s life is on the line. In a few hours, I’ll be sitting in a courtroom with everyone staring at me while I try to explain that even after the cave, even after my brother, Grover isn’t a monster."
Stuart’s thumb glides over my hand. “You know what you’re gonna say?”
I think about Grover chewing up that old man’s beard for Amelia’s leg, the way Andrew would look at him, so trusting. About how scared he looked when the rangers stormed the cave.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I do.”
After class Stuart walks me to the office where Mom is waiting for me.
He kisses my cheek. “See you at the courthouse.”
“See you.”
Mom and I make the trek home without actually talking. Typically, it’s non-stop chatter, but Mom turns the radio to The U, and instead, we sing along to our favorite Taylor Swift songs. It’s exactly what I need to drown out my racing thoughts of the hearing.
When we pull into the driveway, she puts a hand on my arm. “Just focus on getting ready. Turn on your music and sing. You’ve got about forty-five minutes until we leave. Dad’s on his way.” She turns off the motor, then adds, “I laid some clothes out for you.”
Seriously, what am I, five? “If it’s not my navy cords, I’m not wearing them,” I say, sliding out of the car. “I've already picked out what I want to wear.”
“It’s not your navy cords.” Snow crunches under our feet as we head to the front door. “Wear whatever you want. I was just trying to help.”
My radio is already turned low, along with my bedside lamp. It reminds me of one of those rooms where they give you a massage—not that I’ve had one, but you know—TV. I dump my backpack beside my desk and move further into the room. Laid across my bed is an outfit I instantly love—high waisted flared jeans, a cream knit sweater, and a caramel suede vest. The suede brushes against my fingertips, and for a moment I’m somewhere else entirely.
Movement behind me makes me turn. Mom leans in the doorway. “Still wearing the blue corduroys?” She knows I’m not.
“Thanks Mom. This is perfect. I love it.”
Snow-covered pines line the driveway as we make our way toward the road. Traffic is light, which means it won’t take long at all to reach the courthouse.
“Hey Andrew, want to play I spy?”
“Yay!” He claps his hands.
“I spy something blue.” I say, hoping this will help me forget what’s about to happen.
“Dad’s scarf.” He says.
“Nope.”
He looks up, then down. Examines his gloves, his car seat, his boots. That’s when he sees it. He laughs and points to the corner of a book sticking out of the back pocket of Mom’s seat. He raises his hands over his head and claps. “Bluey!”
“You are so good at this, buddy!”
“I spy something pink!” he calls, bouncing in his seat.
“Pink?” I say, looking around. “Are you sure it’s pink?”
He holds his hands over his mouth and giggles. “Uh-huh. I’m sure.”
“I dunno, my lips? my cheeks?”
“Nope.”
“Looks like a couple of kids from your school showed up.” Dad says as the courthouse comes into view.
A couple? Probably Stuart. Maybe Sebastian and Terrence. I lean between the front seats to look out through the windshield. Not a couple. At least a hundred kids crowd the courthouse steps shoulder to shoulder, winter coats and hats in every color. Neon pink poster boards bob above their heads: Free the Shadow Man! We Want Justice! Listen to Darcie! It’s like the whole front lawn is alive.
I laugh. “The pink posters?”
Andrew throws his hands over his head. “Yay!”
Dad rolls down the window, and everyone goes crazy yelling my name and chanting, “Release the Shadow Man!”
Kids jump up and down, waving their signs, their mittened hands slapping against the car as we crawl toward the parking lot. I can’t stop smiling as I scan the crowd for Stuart. When I finally spot him, he’s sitting on Terrance's shoulders, yelling like a die-hard football fan. I lean out the window and wave. “Hey Stuart!”
"Go get ‘em, Darcie!” he calls.
We park the car and push through the crowd to the courthouse steps, where we’re swarmed with more people wanting to wish me luck.
“Darcie! Darcie! Good luck!”
“You’re gonna kill it.”
Security guards order the mob of kids to back away, and we enter the building. The courthouse doors hiss as they slide shut and the roar of the crowd mutes to a pulse in the distance. Suddenly, the squeak of wet boots and the beep, beep, beep of the metal detectors is all I can hear. No one cheers as I step through the screening archway—that stays outside.