What Would Emma Do? Part 4

Bike: Wheaton isn't exactly a Tour de France kind of town. For some reason, once you outgrow either your BMX or banana seat roadster with the ta.s.sels on the handlebars, no one bikes. I'm not even sure they sell adult bikes in town. If Lance Armstrong came to town, everyone would wonder why he was wearing those funny tight pants.

Own a car: This requires funds or generous parent(s). I have no money to buy a car. As for generous parent(s), see point one above.

Hoof it: I walked to get everywhere, and eventually I wanted to get there quicker, so I started running. The rest, as they say, is history.

The track meet was in Van Wert. I stood near the blocks, shaking my legs and ignoring everyone else. Track is one part speed, one part guts, and one part psychology. You need to focus before a race. Find your inner Zen kind of thing. Visualize yourself crossing the finish line way out in front of everyone else. The girl on my left apparently didn't get the memo, because she kept blathering on. It was like she had Tourette's and was incapable of shutting up.

"I love your shoes! They match our uniforms. Isn't that funny, I mean that they would match our uniforms versus yours? Are they Nikes? I love Nike. I think it's the swoosh. I tell myself I'm going to swoosh." She giggled.

I looked over. She wore her hair in pigtails. Pigtails. It's debatable if one should ever wear pigtails over the age of seven, but certainly not to a track meet. Do you see serious athletes wearing pigtails? I rest my case.

"Is my number on straight? I can't tell." She picked at the pins that held her number to her chest.

"It doesn't matter," I said.

"Huh?"

I placed my foot in the blocks and took a deep breath. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog out of my brain. I was tired and could feel a headache starting from the lack of sleep. Thanks, Colin.

"It doesn't matter if your number is on straight, because I won't be able to see it." I shot her a look with a smile. "I'll be in front of you the whole way."

"READY?" The call came out over the PA system. I felt my heart slow down and my vision narrow. I pulled in deep, slow breaths. I could smell the cut gra.s.s from the soccer field next door. I kept my eyes on the track ahead of me. I could hear a hum, which would have been Pigtails chattering, but I wasn't focused on her anymore.

The starter pistol went off, and I shot out of the blocks. I could feel everything slide past me. I had been training this year with ankle and wrist weights, so when I ran without them during the meets I felt lighter than air. The only thing I could hear was my heart and the sound of my shoes (Asics, by the way-they kick Nike a.s.s) hitting the track and pus.h.i.+ng me forward. On the final corner I could see a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. Someone was really piling it on. My breath was ragged and my legs felt heavy. I closed my eyes for just an instant and pictured Chicago in front of me and Wheaton behind me. My legs found the extra steam and pushed through the last few meters. I heard the whistles and cheers, but I couldn't tell who won. I slowed down and walked bent over, sucking in deep breaths. I could see Pigtails cross the line last. I was right; her number didn't matter. I looked up to see Coach Attley punching the air with a victory fist. Looked like a win. I let myself break into a smile.

"PROCTOR!"

I yanked my head around to see who was cheering for me. No one comes to my track meets. Fair enough, watching people run around in a circle isn't the most exciting thing. My mom sometimes comes to the big regional meets, but otherwise my only cheering section was the other members of the track team. The rest of the student body at TES couldn't be bothered. As far as they were concerned there were only two sports: basketball and football. Track was what people did to stay in shape for other sports or to have something to list on their college apps. I was the only one who took it seriously.

Colin was standing by the fence. He gave a wave. Colin was here. Colin was at my meet. Even though the race was over, my heart sped up again, and I felt myself give a huge smile. Was this a sign? Maybe sometimes you have to take a risk without worrying about the potential disaster. I shouldn't a.s.sume things have to go badly. We needed to talk. I saw a few people jostling for position around the fence line. Was it?

It was.

Joann had woven her way through the crowd to Colin. They stood together, waving and cheering. They were waving so wildly it looked like they were trying to flag down low-flying aircraft. The smile dropped off my face. I waved but didn't go over right away. I went over to our bench and grabbed my water bottle and warm-up gear. I needed a second. By the time I jogged back, they were already standing at the gate. Holding hands. Not that it mattered.

"Did you hear?" Joann asked as soon as I got close.

"Hear what?" I looked back and forth between the two of them. Colin wouldn't meet my eyes, but he threw his arm around Joann as if staking a claim. My chest felt tight again, as if I still hadn't gotten my breath back.

"Kimberly Ryan is in the hospital. She was staying the night at Darci's house, and apparently she had some kind of seizure or something," said Joann, her eyes wide. "Everyone is freaking out."

I opened my mouth to give my opinion that there was nothing wrong with Kimberly that a few hours of sobriety wouldn't cure, when Colin caught my eye, shaking his head slightly. Right. If I wasn't at the Barn last night, then I didn't see anything. I swallowed down my comment. Joann's face was flushed; she was loving the drama. Nothing a small town likes better then drama.

"Wow," I mumbled, at a loss to say anything of any use.

"She still hasn't come around. Reverend Evers is planning a prayer meeting at the church for her, and everybody is going."

"Why bother with modern medicine when you've got the power of prayer on your side?" I said. Joann pulled back as if I had slapped her. I could feel my headache coming back.

"They're asking for all of her friends to be there," Colin added.

"We aren't really friends," I said.

"At a time like this, all of us are friends," Joann said. She saw my expression. "I know she can be a pain, but this could be serious. Healthy girls don't just pa.s.s out and not wake up."

"Yeah. It's a mystery, all right." I watched Colin; he looked straight at me with his chin thrust out.

Joann was gesturing to Colin's truck and didn't notice. "We're driving into Fort Wayne to pick up a lunch meat tray and sheet cake from the Meijer's to take over to the hospital."

There's a long-standing belief in small towns that there is very little that can't be made better by a potluck. Funerals, weddings, Girl Scout meetings, you name it, add a spiral honey-baked ham and you've got a party. If people were buying food in bulk, then it truly was a serious event.

"We came down to get you so we could go together," Joann said.

I pictured myself sitting in the truck sandwiched between the two of them. It was enough to put a girl off her processed lunch meat.

"I have to wait until the end for the medals. I won my race."

"Do you have to?" she asked, disappointment in her voice. I'm sure both of them were on the verge of congratulating me on my big win, except for the more pressing need to rush to the side of someone they didn't even like that much. Both of them knew how much track mattered to me, and neither of them could work themselves up to express even the slightest interest. h.e.l.l, they didn't have to really be interested, but would it be asking too much for them to act interested? I certainly did plenty of acting in our relations.h.i.+ps; you'd think they could return the favor.

"I should go back with the rest of the team." I shrugged and wiped the sweat off my face. I'll bet I smelled foul. Joann and Colin both looked perfect, like some kind of ad for wholesome teens. If you were playing the game of which one of these things doesn't belong, you could have a ma.s.sive brain injury and still pick me out of the lineup as the odd one out. I couldn't believe I gave up sleep for this. What the h.e.l.l had I been thinking?

"You sure? We could wait if you need to stay a bit longer," Joann offered.

"No, you guys better go. You don't want to hold up the sheet cake."

"You okay? You seem upset."

"Yeah, what's the problem? You won, didn't you?" Colin added, his voice leaning toward bitterness.

"I'm the winner, all right." I turned away from both of them and looked back at the track team. "I'm fine, just focused."

"Well, maybe we should go before we distract you, huh?" Colin said.

"I'll catch up with you later," I said, fighting the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

I watched them for a minute as they went back to the truck. Joann was keyed up from all the drama and excitement. She was practically skipping; the only thing that kept her tethered to the ground was Colin's hand. They made a great couple.

10.

G.o.d, are you still paying attention? In fairness, I got bored with Lost after the first season, and 24 got weird after a few years too. There are only so many nuclear bombs that can go off before you start thinking there has to be something more upbeat to watch. And don't even get me started on America's Next Top Model. After season three, even Tyra's hair extensions look tired. So I figure if I get bored with a show after a few years, you must get sick of keeping an eye on everything down here. A few millennia of watching Earth: The World's Only Real Reality TV-it's understandable that you're sick of it. However, and don't take this as a criticism, it is kind of your job, and if I'm not mistaken, lately it seems like you haven't had your eye on the ball. You might want to tune in.

I used to love watching cartoons. Sometimes they would show a tiny, itsy-bitsy snowflake falling onto the top of a big hill, and it would begin to roll down, becoming a tiny s...o...b..ll, gathering speed along the way, and by the time it got to the end it would be a s...o...b..ll the size of a house, consuming everything in its path. The situation with Kimberly was like that.

Kimberly regained consciousness but couldn't (apparently) recall anything about what had happened. The doctors declared that her problem had been "drug related." They might as well have come out and said her problem was that she was kidnapped and probed by aliens. People were shocked. Kimberly was a "good girl." Her dad was the chief of police and her mom volunteered at the church-being good was in her genetic makeup. Then there was the fact that she was best friends with Darci, everyone's favorite hypocrite. In Wheaton good girl versus bad girl status was established in elementary school. Changing sides rarely happened, no matter what reality might lead you to believe.

If Kimberly had drugs in her system, then the question remained, how did they get there?

a. Kim took the drugs on purpose. (A good girl like her? Never.) b. Kim took the drugs by accident. (Perhaps she tripped and they fell into her mouth.) c. Kim was slipped the drugs by some evil, nefarious person who clearly intended to harm her while she was engaged in some innocent activity, like knitting socks for orphans in some cesspool of a Third World country.

Only in Wheaton would (c) be chosen as the answer. Darci and Kimberly maintained they were at Darci's house all night, having an innocent sleepover. They would tell this story with wide, blinking eyes, their hands folded under their chins. If the preacher's daughter says she was home, then she was home.

Going to church in Wheaton is a mandatory activity. There is no obvious attendance taking-it isn't like Reverend Evers calls off roll at the start of service-but mark my words, everyone is aware of who's there and who isn't. You'd have to have a major organ falling out before you would be excused from service. Even then they would encourage you to drag yourself in (perhaps holding your liver in a plastic shopping bag) and be prayed over before returning to the hospital. Sometimes Joann and I sat next to each other in the back, where we would be free to whisper about the seemingly direct relations.h.i.+p between faith and big hair. Reverend Evers's wife seemed to style her hair taller each week, as if trying to be closer to G.o.d. Today when I came in I noticed that Joann and Colin were sitting together, sandwiched between their families. Their mothers looked like they might be swapping Crock-Pot recipes while their dads talked over the Colts' chances to make the Superbowl. Joann waved me over to join them, but I couldn't imagine squis.h.i.+ng into the pew. It was clear to me there wasn't any room.

You would think if they wanted you to attend church, they would make it a welcoming place, but the pews at Trinity Evangelical were carved from some type of hard wood designed for maximum discomfort. I s.h.i.+fted again; I was stiff from the meet yesterday. My mother shot me a look indicating I should sit still. I swallowed a sigh. This is why we don't usually sit near each other. Reverend Evers was on a rant. He had that little white spit blob in the corner of his mouth, and he was gripping the pulpit like a man going down for the last time. I snuck a look at my watch.

"Make no mistake, the devil is among us. He's on the radio singing along with the hip-hop. He's on the TV and in the G.o.dless movies that come out of Hollywood. He's in our children's books, which glorify witchcraft."

Reverend Evers has a serious hatred for Harry Potter. In his opinion, the boy wizard might as well grow horns. He takes the success of the books as a personal affront. He can't understand their popularity. Not that he's ever read any of the books, mind you, but apparently he could tell by the covers that they weren't worth the paper they were written on. So much for the "don't judge a book by its cover" theory. Reverend Evers tried to schedule a book burning after the last book came out, but only three people showed up. Three books on fire looks less like a political statement and more like a small barbecue.

"We have seen ourselves as safe. We have built a community based on G.o.d, but the devil creeps in even here. Now our children are at risk. The devil is coming for our babies!" Preacher Evers rumbled.

A few of the small kids peered around, looking a little fearful. The adults were nodding. I couldn't look over-if Joann and Colin were nodding too, I would have to run screaming from the church. Kimberly's parents were in the first row, with Kimberly between them. She looked pale, but otherwise fine. Darci sang in the choir along with her mother, and if I wasn't mistaken, she had on a touch of glitter lip gloss and her hair looked sh.e.l.lacked. She was in tall hair training.

"Someone has come into our community and tried to take one of our own, to poison her. I say we will be a voice in the darkness crying out NO MORE! We will create a wall of unity that shall protect our families and keep out those who would harm us. Linked arms and linked hearts. We will keep our children safe in the arms of the Lord, as Mark 10:14 tells us, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of G.o.d." Today we give thanks that our little lamb Kimberly has been returned safely to us. We thank G.o.d for listening to our prayers, and we vow here today as a community to ferret out those who did this. We will not rest until we have thrown the devil out of our town!"

Reverend Evers dropped his head. I had the sense he was waiting for applause. I was terrified it was going to be like a horror movie and he would bop back up and keep going. He was the Jason of preachers, but instead of a chain saw, he wielded a Bible and a serious case of judgment. Thankfully, he seemed done. We were in the home stretch. A couple of prayers, a song, and we would be out. I really needed him to wrap it up. I still hadn't done my paper for English cla.s.s on A Tale of Two Cities.

That's when it happened.

Darci gave a small cry and tumbled off the choir riser. She slumped to the floor. She lay still for a second and then began to shake and shudder. It appeared to be a very stylish seizure. Everyone stood up at once, as if we were planning to break into a round of "Amazing Grace." Darci's mom and dad ran to her side and dropped to the floor next to her. There was no sound for a split second; it was absolutely silent in the church, as if everyone was waiting for the sound waves to ripple out of the room.

"Someone call 911!" a voice yelled out, and then everyone began to panic. Kids cried, and there was a crash as someone dropped her purse, its contents clattering down on the tile floor. Some people pushed up toward the action, while others tried to start herding their families out of the church. A few more stood in place, as if they weren't sure if they were coming or going.

I think it was safe to say church service was officially over.

11.

G.o.d, you know the Bible story about the tower of Babel, where no one can understand anyone else? Sometimes I think I'm living out that story. Everyone around me is speaking English, but we don't understand one another at all. I have to tell you, if I were going to pick a Bible story to live out, this wouldn't be it. I would prefer to be in the garden with a cute Adam (no fig leaf required). No disrespect to Eve, of course. To be honest, I would prefer Noah's ark, even with the catastrophic flood aspect. I like animals. In fact, I like animals more than I like most people I know. Then again, if I have to live out a Bible story, the Babel story is better than most of Revelation. The hors.e.m.e.n of the apocalypse freak me out.

"You have to help me with this. I've got to send it in next week and I have nothing." I looked down at the computer screen in disgust. The curser blinked, and I'm fairly sure it was blinking in Morse code, "You're an idiot, you're an idiot." Every time a letter from Northwestern came in the mail my heart would speed up, and every time it was a demand for something else. You ask people for a few zillion dollars so you can go to their school, and they keep demanding things of you. I wished they would just let me know if I had the scholars.h.i.+p or if I was going to have to sell off a kidney to go there, because there was no way I was staying here. I looked at the letter again and wondered if instead of answering the question I could just send in a copy of the results from the meet that weekend.

"What part are you stuck on?" Joann asked.

I doubted she was taking my crisis seriously, since she wasn't even looking up from Vogue. Of course, in fairness, I hadn't told her about not applying anywhere else either, so it's possible she didn't grasp the severity of the situation. She held up a page of the magazine to me.

"Do you think I would look fat in this?"

"Everyone would look fat in that," I said.

"Huh." She scrunched her eyes up at it. "Keira Knightley doesn't look fat in it."

"Keira Knightley is a human hanger. I suspect she considers a single grain of rice to be a well-rounded meal."

"I still like the pants, plus Colin loves Keira."

"You realize, of course, that while you're debating the pros and cons of the wisdom of high-waisted sailor pants, my future hangs in the balance?"

"Okay, sorry. I'm paying attention." She put down the magazine.

"This scholars.h.i.+p application has this stupid essay requirement."

"What's the matter with those snooty colleges? It's like they want you to be capable of thought in order to go to their fancy school. It sounds discriminatory to me."

I started to nod in agreement when I realized that she was making fun of me.

"Your wit is not appreciated."

Joann tossed a pillow at my head with a laugh.

"You're good in English. What's the problem?"

"How are you supposed to answer a question like 'Why have you chosen Northwestern University and what do you hope to get from your educational experience?' How am I supposed to know what I want to get? You just know the correct answer is not the truth." I mimed typing on the computer. "Dear Admissions Officer, by attending your fine ivory tower of higher learning I hope to get as far away from my hometown as possible."

"You need to put stuff like, 'Through athletics I have learned the importance of preparation and effort, and I hope to transfer these skills to the world of academics and win the most important race: life.'"

I looked over at her with my mouth open. I had no idea Joann was capable of such huge volumes of BS. You think you know people.

"That was so good. Scary good. Hang on, I want to write that down before I forget." I started typing feverishly on the computer.

"With everything going on, I bet you won't be the only one thinking about going away to school now."

"What are you talking about?"

"The poisonings?" Joann sat there looking at me, as if she suspected I had a head injury. "Didn't you hear? They got Kelly, too."

Joann looked out the window, as if she expected someone to be sneaking up on her from behind. I tried not to roll my eyes.

"Now Kelly is sick?"

"Uh-huh. It happened at the Spirit Squad! meeting after school. They were making a big get-well poster for Darci and apparently, all of a sudden, she told people she was feeling funny, lightheaded, and then wham, she fell over." Joann snapped her fingers. "Just like that. Cut down in her prime."

"I bet Darci is not too happy to share the spotlight even more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you find it the tiniest bit odd that Darci sees Kimberly getting all this attention and then suddenly she has the same problem?"