Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 26
“As a matter of fact, we do!” Maggie seethed through clenched teeth.
Bridgette scoffed, and glared at her.
“Okay! Laters, Pretty Dude! Laters, Blue.” He gave Bridgette a peck on the cheek, walked over to Maggie and tousled her curls and then quickly bounded away before Maggie was able to get a good shot at him with her clenched fist.
“What are you doing, Maggie?” Bridgette repeated—her brown eyes devoid of their usual sparkle.
“What do you mean,” she retorted. “You've only known him a day and you're all over him!”
Bridgette gasped. “Well, excuse me, Miss Morality Police! Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?”
“But Bridge, you hardly know him! And you haven't even talked to me . . . your best friend about . . . .”
Bridgette cut her off mid-sentence. “Hold it right there, Maggie! I’ve tried to talk to you! But you were either too busy or off who-knows-where doing who-knows what and worrying your poor dad and me to death! So don't even lecture me about talking to you!” She spun around, turning her back on Maggie. “I . . . I've got to get to class,” she sniffled.
Maggie rolled her eyes. Bridge could never get mad at someone without bursting into tears. “Yikes, Bridge, wait,” she sighed realizing that she might have overstepped her bounds just a bit. “I guess you're right. I haven't been around. I'm sorry.”
Bridgette slowly turned to face her. “Can't you just be happy for me,” she whined.
Maggie put her hand on Bridgette’s arm. “Of course I'm happy for you. If you're happy, I'm happy,” she soothed.
Bridgette locked her arm around Maggie's and smiled. The sparkle was back. “C'mon. We’ll talk more at lunch!” She led Maggie into the school and down the hall toward Mr. Lee's classroom. “Gosh, it feels like we haven't seen each other for days,” she gushed.
They reached the door and Maggie started through it.
Bridgette peeked in around her and blew a kiss to Holden, who was at the back of the room, leaning back in his seat with his hands clasped behind his head.
He winked and blew one back.
“See ya, Maggs,” Bridgette beamed. “Oh, I can't wait to hear what you were up to yesterday! You really had your dad goin' crazy!” She flipped her silky hair with her hand and slipped back into a crowd of students who were hurrying down the hallway.
“Yeah, great!” Maggie moaned, “more lies.”
“Lies, Miss Baker?” The familiar gravelly growl of Mr. Lee's voice scraped through the air behind her. “Who are we planning on lying to now?”
Maggie didn't want to look at him; he really freaked her out, but slowly she turned and faced her snarling teacher. “What? Um . . . oh, no one, Mr. Lee.” She shivered at the mere sight of him. “It's well, uh . . . me. I'm the one who is being lied to.” She tried to maintain eye contact so she would seem believable, but it was difficult. Mr. Lee's stare was creepy and intimidating, to say the least.
“Well, let's just hope you're not planning on lying to me.” As usual, his scrawny mustache twitched as he spoke. “Oh believe me. I can, and will, make things very uncomfortable if I even have the slightest inkling that you are being deceitful, Miss Baker.”
Maggie just nodded.
Mr. Lee sniggered and turned to go to his desk, but as he did he smacked right into Holden, who was standing directly behind him. Maggie had no idea how he got there without her seeing him, but she was relieved that Mr. Lee would have a new target on which to vent his frustrations. What happened next, however, was not at all what she expected.
Holden's face became chillingly serious. He stared Mr. Lee boldly in the eye, and in a quiet voice only audible to the three of them, and so daunting that it didn't even sound like his own, he gave Mr. Lee a dose of his own medicine.
“Mr. Lee,” he began, “you will never use that tone with her again!” He didn't break his intense stare. “I fully expect you to treat her with the esteem and dignity that she deserves or I will have you removed from this school permanently.”
Maggie was dumbfounded. Mr. Lee actually appeared to be trembling in fear.
Holden continued, “Do you understand me, Wilbur?” The Math Nazi slowly bobbed his sweaty head up and down. Holden raised his eyebrows condescendingly. “Good! Now take your seat.”
Without a word, Mr. Lee obediently shuffled over to his desk and sat down, as if in a trance. Holden glanced at Maggie and then returned to the back of the class where he resumed his casual position—leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head.
It was several seconds before Mr. Lee moved again. Finally, he blinked once or twice, looked up at Maggie and said, “Miss Baker, would you please take your seat so we can begin?” There was nothing spiteful or vindictive at all in his tone. Maggie glanced over at Holden who was grinning widely as she walked slowly to her desk.
Math class had never been more pleasant. Although Mr. Lee was far from sappy sweet, he'd actually behaved decently. He hadn't growled, grimaced or glared at anyone. And, when Cynthia Dix asked him to repeat the page number of the assignment, he praised her for having the courage to ask. At the end of the period, he announced that the students were free to take extra time to finish their assignment—something he'd never done before—and informed them that it would be due the next morning.
The bell sounded and the buzz of comments began. Some students guessed that he'd gotten in trouble with the administration. Others assumed that he'd gone to the doctor after his “near-heart attack” the day before, and been told that death was imminent if he didn't relax. Whatever the reason, they were all sure that the change was temporary, and that the Math Nazi would surely return with a vengeance.
Maggie waited near the door as everyone exited. As Holden passed her she grabbed a hold of his sleeve and yanked him into the hall. “Okay,” she insisted, “you and I need to talk!”
Holden shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Sure, Blue Eyes.”
She pulled him down the hall and out a door that led to the football field; she continued down the steps between the bleachers and out onto the field.
A group of four or five kids who obviously had no plans to attend any of their classes huddled across the field from them, and briefly acknowledged the intrusion.
Maggie got straight to the point. “Okay. Who are you,” she insisted—finally letting go of Holden's sleeve.
He straightened his shirt and casually replied, “I'm exactly who I say I am, you?”
Maggie stomped her foot. “You know what I mean, Holden! Stop playing around and tell me what's going on!”
He strolled over to one of the benches alongside the field and sat down. “Listen, Blue,” he began, “it’s no big. I’ve had some trainin’, that's all. Ya know . . . taught how to handle bullies? Doesn't matter if they're kids or adults, I know how to deal with 'em.”
He stood up and gave Maggie an awkward squeeze around the shoulders with one arm. “Ya know, Blue, I accept that I'm D-I-F-ferent. Most people just gimme my space, which is cool, but you and Pretty Du . . . uh, Bridgette . . . you've been like totally great.”
A twinge of guilt twisted in Maggie's gut. She hadn't been “totally great” at all. She'd yelled at him, stopped him from kissing Bridgette, dragged him through the school like a mother punishing a five-year-old, and practically accused him of being—well—something strange.
“Holden,” she sighed at length, “I haven't been that cool. I've actually been kinda mean.”
“Hey! It's all good, Blue,” he assured, “you're just stressed. I get it . . . been a couple of whacked out days. Nothin’ like the boring stuff you’re used to.”
“Yeah . . . well . . . .” She looked at him suspiciously again. He knew somehow. She could see it in his emerald eyes. There was something hiding there. She took a deep breath and went for broke. “Holden, have you ever heard of Lor Mandela?”
He didn't answer right away; he seemed confused by the question. “Huh,” he finally muttered, tilting his head to one side. “I dunno, seems kinda familiar. Are they a band?”
Maggie frowned. “Uh huh . . . um, never mind.”
Just then a bell sounded from within the school.
“Dang it!” She grabbed Holden by the sleeve again and started pulling. “Come on! We're gonna be late!”
They dashed up the steps and back into the school. Maggie pointed down the hall that ran to the right. “Drama,” she shouted.
“Chem,” Holden replied, pointing straight ahead.
“See ya!” She turned and sprinted off toward the auditorium, and barely made it as the final late bell sounded.
“Ahhh, Jolie, Maggie,” Ms. Devereaux greeted as she burst through the purple curtain completely out of breath. “You look much better today.”
Maggie gasped a bit, and then replied, “Thanks. I . . . I am.” She quickly joined the other students who were sitting in a circle on the stage floor.
Ms. Devereaux—who today was wearing grey and black horizontal striped tights under black shorts that were rolled to just above her knee; a long grey jacket, a white T-shirt, a charcoal beret, and black ankle-high boots—strolled slowly and dramatically toward the circle.
“Today, loves, we will pair off and practeese for our production of ‘Meet Me in St. Louis’. . . Gabby?” She touched a lovely auburn haired girl on the head, “You with Michelle.” She pointed toward a skinny boy with glasses. “Michael, you with Robert.” She smiled and nodded at Bridgette. “Brigeet, you and Maggie.” She clapped her hands twice and instructed, “Everyone else, peek a partner.”
Two by two, the students paired off and found a corner or secluded spot to run lines. Maggie and Bridgette went to the very back of the auditorium in a corner lit only by the green rays of the exit sign overhead.
“We're not really going to practice this again, are we?” Bridgette sighed, “I can recite these lines in my sleep.”
Maggie smiled. “Oh really, Ms. Ballard?” She turned her nose up and dramatically continued. “Well, that’s only because you're an Eastern snob!” The two of them giggled quietly.
Bridgette pretended to look at the script in her hand. “So, we're okay . . . aren't we?”
“Yeah, we're okay,” Maggie smiled. “That boyfriend of yours is really . . . ummmm . . . interesting.”
Bridgette, who spied Ms. Devereaux glancing in their direction, made a bold gesture with her arm. “I know the two of you didn't get off to a good start, but . . . .”
Maggie stopped her. “No, really, we're totally cool now. We talked for a minute after Math. That's why I was almost late.”
“Why, Lon . . . you're down for the first dance!” Bridgette grabbed Maggie's arm as Ms. Devereaux ambled past. They heard a quiet, “lovely,” as she continued on.
“So, where were you yesterday? After school?” Bridgette whispered.
Maggie knew this question would come up, but had neglected to think of what her answer should be. “Uh well, I . . . I thought . . . I thought I heard your voice out by the baseball diamonds,” she smiled nervously. “Turns out, it wasn't you, of course . . . but I sat down out there to wait for my dad. I musta fallen asleep.”
Bridgette squinted her eyes. Something wasn't right, and Maggie could see it. She'd been caught. She braced herself and waited for the blow.
Bridgette said nothing. She didn't have to. After a few seconds of silence, Maggie looked down at her shoes and mumbled, “You checked there, didn't you?”
Bridgette nodded. Big tears were welling up in her brown eyes again.
Maggie reached for her arm but Bridgette yanked it away. “Bridge, come on. I'm sorry,” she whined. “Yesterday was so weird! I'll tell you the truth . . . the real deal . . . but I promise; you'll never believe it.”
Bridgette just stared. Maggie pulled her gently by the arm to one of the auditorium seats and motioned for her to sit down.
“Okay,” she breathed, “this is what really happened.” She started with the bizarre light incident at her bedroom window. She explained in detail what had really gone down the day before at her locker. Then, she told Bridgette all about Lor Mandela, Kahlie, and the rynolt—and of course, Ryannon.
When she finished, she tried to read Bridgette's reaction, but there was nothing to read—no emotion, hint of an odd expression, or anything.
After several moments, Bridgette muttered, “Wow,” and stood and walked away.
Maggie quickly followed. “Bridge? Bridgey?”
But Bridgette completely ignored her.
She rushed after her best friend but had to be quiet, so as not to disturb the other students who were rehearsing.
Just then, the bell rang and everyone stampeded back toward the stage. Several students pushed in front of Maggie, preventing her from catching up to Bridgette—who was grabbing her purse and making a beeline for the stage door.
Maggie quickly gathered her things and resumed the chase. Down the corridor outside of the auditorium, she watched Bridgette nimbly weave her way in and out through a sea of people. She tried to keep up but it wasn't working. After just a few seconds, Bridgette disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall.
Maggie stopped and sighed. Suddenly, a knowing look came into her eyes. “She's got geometry now,” she whispered to herself, “and Brian's an Office Aide.” She smiled mischievously, turned around, and headed off in the opposite direction. She reached the school's Main Office, and waited outside the door. About two minutes later, a tall, beefy guy in a letterman's jacket came toward her. “Bri Guy!” she shouted and waved cheerfully.
Brian almost dropped the football he was carrying. “Um . . . Maggie,” he sniggered and tried to act cool, “Whu . . . whuzzup?”
“I need a little favor, Bri.”
Brian looked like he had just been handed the Heisman. “Um, yeah . . . sure . . . anything!”
“Can you get Bridgette out of Martin's class? I need to talk to her really bad!”
Brian looked around from side to side. “We're not supposed to . . . .” he breathed.
Maggie interrupted. “I know,” she pouted playfully, “It's just really important.”
Brian looked at her big, blue, doe-eyes and blushed. “Okay,” he sighed, “I'll try.” He smiled widely, displaying the gaping hole where his upper left central incisor had been prior to last year’s championship football game.
Maggie bit her lip to keep from giggling. “Thanks, Bri. I owe you one! I'll be waiting over there,” She pointed toward a stairwell across from them. “Down by the dance studio.”
Brian nodded and headed into the office.
A few minutes later, Maggie heard Bridgette's voice. “Brian, I swear, if you don't tell me what's going on I . . . baby,” she squealed. “You did this? Just so you could see me?”
Maggie climbed up a couple of stairs and peered out. Bridgette was across the hall from her, hugging, none other than Holden Guarlo. “Great! This guy's everywhere,” she whispered.
Brian just stood there with a blank, bewildered stare—Holden did too.
Bridgette took his hand and started leading him toward the very stairwell in which Maggie was hiding. Quickly, she jumped back down to the bottom, and darted into the girl's locker room which was, thankfully, abandoned at the moment. Through the door, she could hear Bridgette's voice.
“She's totally ticking me off! You wouldn't believe the story she told me!”
Maggie knew who the topic of this conversation was.
“What'd she tell ya?” Holden asked.
Bridgette’s paraphrased version hit all the pertinent points and Maggie realized how totally far-fetched the whole story sounded. Hearing it from someone else simply confirmed that no one in their right mind would ever believe it.
Apparently, Holden was not in his right mind. “So, what's the pro-blemo? Are ya mad ‘cause you didn't get to go with her, or what?”
Bridgette's reply was louder than it probably should've been. “The pro-blemo is that she lied to me! She’s my best friend and she lied to me! Best friends don’t lie to each other!”
Holden's voice was calm and almost too quiet to hear through the thick wooden door. Maggie leaned in closer to it. “I don't think she was lyin', Pretty Dude, and it sounds like you didn't give her too much of a chance.”
Maggie could only imagine Bridgette's face at the moment.
“But Holden, there's no way,” Bridgette whined.
“Blue doesn't seem like she'd risk losin' you by lyin', Babe. Besides, what if she's like totally tellin' the truth? If you had all that crazy biz goin' down, down, down, wouldn't you want your best bud to believe ya?”
Holden had once again stunned Maggie. He was her ally, and despite what happened next, she knew that it would be better to face Bridgette with him there than it would be to do it alone.
Slowly, she opened the door. Bridgette was facing her, and Holden, having had his back to the door, turned to face her as well. There was silence for a moment—but then a whoosh and a crack—and Maggie disappeared…right in front of them.
CHAPTER XXX
LORTU OF THE SHADOWS
In a dim, misty cave with a roaring river running through the center, Maggie materialized with a pop. This was, once again, a new and unknown place. Just to her left, a tall, pointy, stone pillar seemed like the logical thing to dodge behind—just in case she turned out to be in unfriendly territory again. She glanced around the pillar toward the river. Neither Ryannon nor Kahlie were anywhere in sight; but she did spy what looked to be a chair of some sort, made out of twisting, mangled tree branches, perched on a platform, facing out into the cave. Suddenly, the branches of the chair moved. Maggie pulled back behind the pillar, but only far enough to hide herself a little better. She watched from her sheltered location, as a cloaked figure stood up from the chair and walked to the edge of the platform.
“It's useless for you to hide from me, Lortu.” A woman's voice—deep, rich and silky—floated out from under the cloak. “I can sense Shadow Dwellers, surely, you know that.”
