Page 43 of Jar of Hearts
Tess’s arm shot up, but the other girls looked at each other with wide eyes, completely unsure if this was real or not.
“Stop it,” Geo said, alarmed. “You can’t—”
“You’re always late for practice,” Angela said. “And when you’re here, you’re distracted. Our pyramid almost collapsed last week because you didn’t know where your arms were supposed to be. You’re lazy, unreliable, and we all know you don’t want to be here. And, I hate to say it, but you’ve gained weight.”
Gasps all around.
“I havenotgained weight,” Geo said hotly, and that’s when her best friend smiled. Angela knew she hadn’t gained any weight, but she also knew it would get a rise out of Geo if she said it. She’d done it to be nasty, and to embarrass her in front of the other girls. “You know what? Calvin’s right.” Geo could be nasty, too. “You are a bitch.”
More gasps. One girl’s hand even flew up to cover her gaping mouth. Nobody at St. Martin’s had ever called Angela Wong a bitch.At least not publicly, and most certainly not to her face. Several of the girls took a step back, away from Geo, as if to distance themselves from the social pariah she had just become.
“Get out.” Angela’s own face was a deep shade of maroon. She took several breaths but remained calm. “We’ll need your uniform back first thing tomorrow, and your locker cleaned out by lunchtime.”
Cheerleaders had extra-wide lockers, same as the football players. It was a privilege to have one. Like it was a privilege to be a cheerleader.
“You heard her,” Tess said, her face filled with triumph. It made her look ugly. “The gym is reserved for cheer practice right now. And you’re not a cheerleader anymore. So get out.”
Fighting back tears, Geo turned and left the gym, running smack into Kaiser outside the lockers. He was dressed for soccer practice. She pulled back, looked up at him, and then burst into tears.
“Whoa,” he said, his face filled with alarm, grabbing her shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s the matter? Talk to me.”
“Leave me alone.” She shook him off and continued down the hallway.
She was still crying when she paged Calvin from the pay phone outside the cafeteria a moment later.
“Come get me,” she said, sobbing, when he called back a minute later.
He was out front within ten minutes. She had calmed down by then, her despair turning into anger. She told him what happened, and he listened quietly, nodding, murmuring soothing things, his hand on her thigh, squeezing every so often to comfort her.
Finally, he said, “Cheer means this much to you, huh?”
Geo nodded. She did love cheer. She loved being part of a team, wearing the uniform to school on game days, cheering in front of thousands of fans under the Friday night lights. She might have lost some of her focus lately, but that didn’t mean she wanted out. Hell, it was the very thing she and Calvin had almost argued about earlier.
“Okay, then,” he said. “We’ll fix it.”
“How?”
“We’ll fix it,” he said again. “I’ve known girls like that my wholelife—self-entitled girls, girls who think the whole world revolves around them because they were born beautiful, something they had no control over, anyway. Give it a few days, then apologize. And when things are a bit better, set something up for the three of us to get together. She resents me because she doesn’t know me. I should let her get to know me. I’ll charm her, and she’ll give you your spot back. Trust me.”
It was a sensible idea; smart, even. He leaned over and kissed her, gently at first, then passionately, and slowly she felt herself begin to relax. Because she did trust him.
God help her, she did.
17
The room is too dark, the bed too soft, the blankets too warm, the house too quiet. Geo had a routine in prison, specific times of the day when she ate, showered, used the toilet, socialized, cut hair, watched TV, and slept. Rinse, repeat. It will take some time to get used to her new life, which is really her old life, which feels strange and foreign to her now. Things on the outside look the same as they used to, but they don’tfeelat all like they used to. It’s strange to not have a routine, to not be told when she can or can’t do something. She feels untethered, and it isn’t as liberating as she’d imagined.
Sleep won’t come, and she stares up at the ceiling at the glow-in-the-dark stars that have been there since she was five. Her father came home from work one day with several packs of them, in various shapes and sizes, and they spent an hour sticking them on. Her mother had died a month earlier, and she was having awful nightmares. Her father promised her that as long as the stars were shining down on her, nothing bad would ever happen.
He was wrong, of course.
A little after tenP.M., she finally gives up on sleep, padding downstairs to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Her father is scheduled to work at the hospital till midnight, and she probably won’t be able to fall asleep until he’s home. It’s weird being in the house alone. After all, she hasn’t been alone in five years.
On her way to the kitchen, she glances out the front window, and stops. A black car with tinted windows is parked at the curb, its headlights off. But its interior light is on, and she can detect the shape of someone sitting inside. She freezes.
Then the car door opens and Kaiser Brody steps out. Exhaling, she heads to the front door. She has it open before he even gets to the porch.
“What are you doing here?” she asks him, her breath trailing her words in a mist of white in the cold night air. The chill doesn’t bother her. She never got to see her breath in prison; the inmates weren’t allowed in the recreation yard at night, when temperatures were the lowest.
