Saving Phoebe Murrow: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

“How was the first day of high school, sweetie?”
    Phoebe’s eyes slid across Isabel’s face and stopped somewhere beyond her left shoulder. She slipped into a kitchen chair and propped her elbows on the table, her head heavy in her hands. Then her chin trembled and Isabel was certain she was about to break into tears. She stared at her daughter, trying to decide what to say or do. What could have happened?
    She crossed the room and ran her hand over Phoebe’s hair and across her shoulders, saying nothing. A few moments later, Phoebe wiped her eyes with her sleeve and finally told her mother about Skyla. In the process, her eyes darted about, as if frantic to find shelter. “I can’t do it, Mom, I can’t go back to that school.” She sounded forlorn, like a child someone had abandoned in the woods. Like the fairy tale Gretel.
    As she looked at her, Isabel’s morning gratitude turned to dust.

Chapter Three
    For the rest of that first week of school, Isabel pumped up her daughter. “It’ll be okay. It will. You’re not a little girl anymore. You can handle this. You can.”
    And each day Phoebe told herself that eighth grade belonged to the past, as her mother and Dr. Sharma directed. “I can handle it.” She mouthed the words, as she looked herself up and down in the mirror, selecting just the right clothes and the right amount of make-up, wearing her reddish-blonde hair in a long smooth curve that ended about two inches below her shoulders. Isabel would enter her room, smile at her and tell her what a smart girl she was.
    Nevertheless, each day when Phoebe stepped through the doors of the school, she couldn’t help peering around skittishly, just waiting for Skyla VanDorn to pounce and again make life miserable. At least, as her mother had observed, they didn’t share a single class.
    On those occasions when Phoebe couldn’t avoid Skyla’s gaze, usually across an acre of students, it seemed that Skyla directed a fabulously friendly smile at her. No matter how hard she tried, Phoebe couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder in search of the real recipient of that winning expression. But it seemed the waves and smiles were meant for her.
    No way she would trust that, though. No way would she fall into one of Skyla’s malicious traps. “No way,” Jessie and Emma would say, buttressing their friend and peppering her with silly jokes about stupid Skyla.
    Then on Friday, at the end of the second week of school, it happened.
    In the morning, just before school started, Phoebe was hanging out with Jess, and she noticed that Skyla had again spotted her in the Great Hall. Surrounded by her usual clique, Skyla beelined toward them. Though of average height, Phoebe’s nemesis seemed tall, very tall, and her stride purposeful. Her blonde-streaked ponytail flipped maniacally from side to side as she pushed closer to Phoebe and Jessie. No fewer than five girls shadowed her like bodyguards, maneuvering their way between clusters of students.
    Phoebe grasped Jessie’s arm. “Oh, my gosh, here she comes,” she said in a breathy whisper, her hard-won courage all but failing her.
    â€œIt’ll be okay,” Jessie said softly, her eyes tracking Skyla’s dogged movement toward them. “You’re fine. Just be cool.”
    A few seconds later, Skyla wore a triumphant grin as her assured walk ended and she stood before them. “Isn’t this sooo exciting?” she gushed at Phoebe.
    â€œWhat?” Phoebe said, her brow furrowed in confusion.
    â€œFour grades of boys to choose from! Not just one like last year. Isn’t that sooo awesome? Every day I can hardly wait for lunch. My friend Kevin says that’s where they check you out.” She arched her eyebrows dramatically. “At lunch in the cafeteria.”
    Phoebe’s palms grew sweaty and her throat constricted, making it almost impossible to talk.