Pretend She's Here(54)

As soon as I got to homeroom, I got a message that Mrs. Morton wanted to see me. Any blip in my routine filled me with both hope and dread. I walked down to the principal’s office, through the dark hall with stained glass ruby light sparkling the floor. Sarah Royston had lived here, and then girls without homes, and somehow they were all connected to both Casey and Lizzie.

I entered Mrs. Morton’s office, stood before her desk.

“Lizzie, your teachers have been telling me you’ve caught right up with your class, even after missing the first part of the semester,” Mrs. Morton said.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Remember I mentioned how great it would be if you could tell the school about your travels? Well, what would you think about doing that tomorrow afternoon?” she asked. “I know it’s not much notice, but Ms. LeBlanc has to go to a teachers’ conference and it seems everyone on my entire list of substitutes has the flu. Would you consider filling the class time and regaling us with tales of Europe?”

“I’m not sure anyone really wants to hear me,” I said.

“Oh, believe me, they’ll love it. And so will I. What do you say?”

I hesitated, then nodded. What choice did I have? I had learned to adhere to the rules, the schedules, trying to be the Lizzie everyone expected me to be.

*

At noon, right after Carole and I sat down with our lunch trays, Mrs. Morton made an announcement over the loudspeaker that tomorrow afternoon instead of sixth period, Lizzie Porter would be giving a presentation about attending high school in Paris and traveling through Europe.

“Whaaaaat?” Carole asked, her head snapping toward me.

“I know, it wasn’t exactly on my agenda.”

“Wow. This is going to be amazing. Even I don’t know about your fabulous travels, Ms. International Woman of Mystery.”

“Oh, you know, I just don’t want everyone getting jealous of my partying on yachts on the Riviera.”

“Tell all,” she said, leaning close.

“Just joking,” I said.

“I bet. I’m sure you’re saving the juicy stuff. I guess I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to hear along with everyone else.”

I steeled myself to think of what I was going to say, but it was okay—Lizzie would be giving the talk, not me. If I could split in two, I’d be fine. Emily could sit back, check out, and Lizzie could spin the stories and be the center of attention. Every day since being taken, I’d practiced being two different people.

“Hey, Lizzie,” Angelique said, walking toward our table.

“Hi, Angelique,” I said, surprised she’d talk to me.

“So, giving a talk, that’s dope,” she said. “And I hear you’re quite the budding guitarist. Planning to join the band?”

“I’m just starting to learn,” I said.

“We need more woman power,” she said, plunking her tray across from me and Carole.

“That’s the way,” Carole said. “You should do it, Lizzie. Poor Angelique, all alone onstage with the boys.”

“Women for women,” Angelique said.

“Like Sarah Royston,” I said.

“Ah, the mythical Sarah,” Angelique said. “Casey’s ancestor.”

“Lizzie Porter has a connection to her, too,” I said.

“Do you always talk about yourself in the third person?” Angelique asked, and Carole glanced at me quizzically, too.

“Ha-ha, out-of-body experience,” I said quickly. “Anyway, I’m not trying to be in the band. You’re incredible—I’m barely starting.”

Angelique shrugged, trying to be modest, but when you played violin like that and looked like an actual angel, there was no point. She had a salad, and she ate it piece by piece with her fingers. She made eating a salad with pointy fingertips look like the coolest thing in the world. I watched how she took each lettuce leaf, held it above her mouth, then lowered it in.

“You can learn to play well, too,” she said, wiping raspberry vinaigrette from her lips with the back of her hand. I was in awe of her confidence, the way she seemed to be inventing a whole new set of manners that, instead of thinking they were rude, everyone would want to imitate. “In fact, I’ll help you.”

“Well, Casey is,” Carole said. “He’s teaching her.”

Angelique tossed her long, wavy strawberry blond hair and gave me a fake-sweet, secretive, verging-on-devious smile. “Good luck with that, and I totally mean it! But be forewarned, he loses interest the minute he starts something.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry you two broke up,” Carole said, deadpan. Under the table, she banged my knee with hers.

“Love, break up, love again,” Angelique said. “We have our patterns, the dear boy and I. I need my space and I’m not the possessive type. Anyway, he and I traded instruments for a while. I coached him on fiddle; he got me started on mandolin and guitar. Strings are strings, frankly. Anyway, I’d love to help you. Woman power, right. Hey, maybe I should quit Sapphire Moon, and you and I should be the Sarah Roystons!”

“There’s only one Sarah Royston,” Carole said.

“Right, that,” Angelique said. “Later, ladies.” She blew air kisses at Carole and me, left her tray on the table for us to bus, and walked over to where Casey was sitting with Mark and Hideki.