Nevermore (Nevermore #1)

Nevermore (Nevermore #1) Page 107

“She’s okay!” shouted someone from the squad—probably Stephanie. Clapping all around. Yes, Isobel thought, as Coach helped her up, then led her off the court and into the locker room, A-OK, thanks for asking. She raised a hand to show the masses she’d live.

“You know she’s just doing it on purpose” came Alyssa’s sour voice from behind as she trailed them, arms folded. Isobel turned to scowl over one shoulder at her as Alyssa added,

“She did the same thing at lunch today.”

“That’s enough, Alyssa,” Coach said. “Go check on Nikki.”

Alyssa smiled to herself, then spun away with a sweep of her platinum ponytail.

“Iz, are you okay?” Coach asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I slipped.”

“You’re sure?”

Isobel nodded.

“You know,” said Coach as she pushed the door open, ushering her into the locker room. She bent to retrieve a water bottle from the cooler and, twisting the top off, handed it to Isobel. Isobel took a long swig, gulping down half the bottle before lowering it again. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Alyssa, but whatever it is, I tell you, Izzy, you both had better find a way to patch it up and fast. I’ll leave your butts here and we’ll go to Dallas without the two of you, and don’t think we won’t.”

Isobel nodded, even though right now, Dallas and Nationals were the furthest things from her mind.

“Certainly Nikki is upset, and I don’t think you’d do something like that on purpose—pull a stunt like that—but let me also say that if there’s any truth to what Alyssa just said—”

Isobel looked up. “I didn’t fall on purpose,” she said, her voice rising. She looked down again, not wanting it to seem like she was trying to pick an argument.

“Good,” Coach said. “Because I don’t have any time for drama queens, and neither does anybody else on this squad. Now listen, you’re not stunting tonight, but I still want you at the game anyway. Is that clear? You can join in for the cheers, but I don’t want you flying.”

Isobel scowled as she was unceremoniously handed the role of benchwarmer. She knew this meant that Alyssa’s words had carried more weight with Coach than her own, and the thought of it burned her. But she nodded in spite of herself because there were bigger things to worry about now than her rivalry with Alyssa or her place on the squad.

And far more important things at stake, too.

35

Tell-Tale Heart

The stadium lights glared camera-flash bright suspended above the sea of gathered faces. Isobel sat on a bench on the sidelines, her back facing the crowd. Somewhere behind her, her father sat in the stands, watching the game.

To her relief, her dad hadn’t said much of anything after reading the note from Coach about her little trip to the floor. He’d only picked up drive-through fried chicken (which Isobel had devoured in the car, starved from skipping lunch) and asked her if she was sure she wanted to go to the game. When she’d said yes without hesitation, he’d seemed satisfied, and for once he’d said no more. He didn’t even mention her supposed “accident” to her mom once they got home. Instead he kept the spotlight of their dinner conversation on the success of the project. Then talk switched easily to the scary movie party Danny was going to with his Boy Scout troop later that night, after trick-or-treating. It seemed that Mom would be going too, since they’d come up short on chaperones at the last minute. Consequently, Varen’s name never came up, and it was this one omission that Isobel felt most grateful for.

Even now, though, sitting on the cold bench, watching grass grow as the game played, she couldn’t keep him from her thoughts. For the first time in her cheer life, Isobel found that she couldn’t care less who they were playing, let alone what the scoreboards showed. Only she knew that she hadn’t insisted on attending the game out of some sense of duty or school pride that might have motivated her before, but because this had been the predetermined point of rendezvous with Gwen. She hadn’t seen any sign of her yet, though, and the closer it got to halftime, the more Isobel began to fidget.

Every few minutes she scanned the stands behind her, keeping a watchful eye out for more of those creatures—what had Reynolds called them? Nocs? How many of those things were there, anyway? Distractedly, she wondered why she hadn’t seen any of them since she’d left school. She wanted to think that it was a good sign, but that felt like a false hope.

On the field, the squad disbanded and let the marching band take over. Isobel turned to look toward the stands again, this time hoping to find some evidence of Reynolds’s presence. He said he’d be near, but where? Why did he always have to be so cryptic?