Down the Strings by Nancy Means Wright

Author:Nancy Means Wright [Wright, Nancy Means]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1982-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I’m on that merry-go-round again. A black-and-purple one this time, with electronic music shrieking up out of the floorboards. Bells jangle. Sirens howl. Someone is beyond me on the green horse. She wears a pink silk scarf on her head, like Mother’s. I reach out my hand, but she doesn’t turn, she just rides on ahead, careening from side to side. Now and then she half turns her head to laugh back at me or blow a kiss. The carousel spins faster and faster, like a falling planet. Everyone is screaming, clutching their wooden mounts.

The music stops. The squealing and screaming go on, and through it all a low moaning noise, coming up from the bowels of the carousel. If I can reach the ring—if I can grab on to its solid brass circle—pull Mother and myself down to safety—down . . .

I wake up. Struggle to shake the dream out of my head. Pull myself off the pillow. I squint through the dim light at the other bed, but see nothing. I sink down again into the pillow. Push deep, deep into the warm blankets.

The morning sunlight strikes my face. Outside in the hall feet shuffle back and forth. I peer at my clock. Five past ten! I thump out of bed. Heidi’s bed is the way I left it. I wonder what she found to do all night out there in the snow? Or in the gym? Or behind the library stacks. That must have been some hot Greek.

I remove the pillow, leave the bed rumpled as if it’s been slept in. Snatching towel and toothbrush, I go out into the hall. My stomach complains. Henry and I will gorge at the brunch.

Across the hall there is movement in Nina’s room, more than normal. The door is ajar. But I ignore it for now and plod down the hall. The bathroom is jammed with girls chattering in hushed voices, like in a football huddle. Karen Clapper seems to be quarterback. I slip into the nearest toilet.

“They said it was bar-bi-tu-rates. Watting found some bottles stashed away in her drawer.”

“Aspirin, I heard.”

“A combo, dummy! I told you she was a druggie. Nobody believed me. Just because she was so damned re-li-gious.”

“They’re the worst kind. I believed you, Karen.”

“Well, at least there wasn’t any bul-lood. I know a kid at home slashed her wrist. Right in the bath-tub. There was blood all over the place. On the walls, on the—”

Voices descend on Karen Clapper. I sit paralyzed on the toilet. If I throw up, I want to be right here.

The door bangs open. “God. I just heard about Nina! Is she dead?” The word rams into my chest like a bullet.

“Nobody knows. They took her to Hanover. Karen here found her.”

“Watting sent me,” Karen’s voice says. I opened the door —holding my nose, you know—” Someone giggles, and is shushed. “The bed was all rumpled, but no one was in it. I went over to leave the note—and then I saw her.

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