The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(22)

“Don’t look down!” the helper barked at Alicia. “You look at me when I’m talking about you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Alicia said, her head snapping up.

“Stop saying sorry!” It was a full-on scream, the woman’s dark hair temporarily losing its shape as her voice shook. She composed herself, seeming to recognize that she’d lost control. “I don’t need you to say it, I need you to feel it. I need to see it in your actions. I need to know that you will never disappoint Headmaster. That you will never again bring Headmaster harm.”

“I will not disappoint or harm Headmaster, Helper,” Alicia said, willing the tears in her eyes not to drop as she registered how ridiculous this conversation was. For the first time that morning, she allowed herself to think about Rex and Leif, to wonder what their take on all this would be. She knew how horrible they were probably feeling, and it gave her some comfort to know they were likely, even at this very moment, coming up with some ludicrous plot to save her. Probably sitting on those stupid rocks.

But she also knew there was no way they’d be able to pull it off. And even if they did, her parents would just send her right back.

“This is embarrassing for us,” her mother had said in June, as Alicia had sat on her bed, staring a hole through the Salt-N-Pepa poster on her wall. Both of her parents had paced around, taking turns lecturing her for pulling down the pants of five mannequins earlier that day.

“Do you understand how this looks?” her dad had said. Alicia did understand. It looked like a teenage girl doing a mischievous prank you’d normally associate with a preschooler. The truth was, it had been an impulsive and cathartic expression of rage, her response to being left out—yet again—by the people who claimed to be her best friends. But Alicia knew the truth wouldn’t help much with easing her parents’ anger.

“It looks like you’re a bad kid, Alicia,” her dad continued. “But we know you’re not a bad kid. You’re a good kid.”

“Can’t I be both?” Alicia asked, sort of kidding, but also not.

That had stopped her parents cold. Her dad took slow steps toward her, which is when Alicia started to get scared. “You think this is a joke?”

“No,” Alicia said.

“How many times do we have to talk about this? This town’s hard enough on kids as it is, but you…you have to be extra careful.”

“I know, Dad.” This wasn’t the first time he’d reminded her that in Bleak Creek, having a black father and white mother (not to mention being a girl with zero interest in acting like a young lady) meant that she would never be given the same margin of error as the other kids in town. She understood where he was coming from—she had watched how hard her father had worked to project strength and pride, even in the face of the whispered comments and snide remarks—but it was still exhausting to be on her best behavior every second of every day.

“Good. Because, Alicia, we’re torn up about this. And we’re not sure grounding you is working anymore.” Her dad looked at her mother, who nodded after a moment, then stared out the window. “We didn’t want to tell you this, but your mother and I have even started talking about…the Whitewood School.”

Alicia internally shuddered as she looked to her mom, who again nodded solemnly. “Because of some pantsed mannequins?”

“It’s not just that,” her dad said. “It’s your whole…attitude lately. Always talking back, rolling your eyes at everything we say. Or else you’re holed up in your room, listening to that Nervous band…”

“Nirvana, Dad.”

“Even worse,” her mother said.

“What’s wrong with Mariah Carey?” her dad asked.

“Or Amy Grant?” her mom added.

“Do you really think Nirvana made me pull down mannequin pants?”

“This is what I’m talking about!” her dad said, exasperated. “That tone!”

“And your little sister looks up to you so much,” Alicia’s mom said. “What if Melissa starts getting these same sorts of ideas?” Alicia knew her parents were using that as an excuse; her sister rarely crossed any lines, and when she did, it wasn’t unusual to find her in her room praying for forgiveness.

“Okay,” Alicia said. She respected her parents enough to take the threat seriously, though she still assumed they were bluffing. After all, pretty much every parent in Bleak Creek threatened to send their kids to Whitewood at some point. Alicia had always thought that was kind of the main reason the school existed at all. Like the hundreds of times her mom had said she was “going to go get the wooden spoon” if Alicia didn’t stop some particular misdeed. She’d never seen her mom use that wooden spoon for anything other than stirring her infamous fifteen-bean soup, which her dad had always secretly called “ruptured spleen” soup due to its legendary gastrointestinal consequences.

What she wouldn’t do for a spoonful of her mom’s ruptured spleen soup now.

“Candidatus.” The helper was suddenly very close to Alicia’s face. “If I catch you daydreaming again, you’re going to the Roll.”

Alicia almost said sorry before remembering not to and simply nodding instead. She guessed the Roll was considerably less fun than this classroom, although it did sound like a ride she’d wait an hour to get on at the State Fair.