Crushing on the Geek(15)

“Why should it depend on how some nerds do?” someone at the next table over muttered.

Tamara buried her face in her arms, trying to ignore what was being said. She wasn't participating in the club by choice, Tamara reminded herself.

“It'll be okay, Tam,” Amber said, patting her shoulder, “I'm sure you'll win the next tournament.”

“I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. I suck,” Tamara said, her voice muffled by her arms and the table.

Just when she thought the worse part of losing was over when the weekend ended, Monday had to come along and kick her while she was down. Sunday morning Tamara was surer than ever Sir Bedivere was much more than a statue or Greg and the others were very well versed in the art of practical jokes. She woke to find tiny hand prints in the pattern of giant candy apple on her mirror, complete with shading.

“What the…?” Tamara muttered, standing akimbo before the mirror. She turned to grab her phone, intending to take a photograph, but when she turned back the door the image was gone.

She dropped to the floor and stared at the mirror, examining it closely: running her fingers over the glass and around its edges. Not finding anything Tamara carefully removed it from the wall and lay it face down on her bed. She ran her fingers over the back of the glass, checking for anything that could project an image through the glass. Its surface was cold against her finger tips, but nothing more was there.

Frustrated with the mirror that had played tricks on her two consecutive days, Tamara carried it into her closet, tucking it behind her clothes and shoes. Which she regretted. It was the following morning. Tamara had enough trouble getting started on Monday mornings without having to compete with her mom for time in front of the bathroom mirror. Giving up on doing her makeup, Tamara waited outside. With arms crossed she paced the drive.

A rustling sounded to her left followed by the sharp echo of a twig snapping. Tamara swerved to face the sound. Leaves skittering across the pavement were her only companions. A frigid breeze carried distant laughter to her ears. Tamara shook her head and decided to wait for her mom in the car.

The time in between leaving for school and lunch had blurred by, leaving Tamara feeling disoriented.

“Come on,” someone said, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie.

Tamara looked up to see Hayden, “Come on, Greg and them are heading this way. Unless, of course, you want to hear them nag us about not feeding Sir Bedivere.”

“Who's Sir Bedivere?” Amber asked.

“I'll tell you later,” Tamara yawned, “Hayden's right. I don't want to hear Greg sound like my grandma. I haven't had enough sleep for this crap.”

Tamara followed Hayden out of the cafeteria and into the hallway between the band room and the gym locker rooms.

“What are we going to do?” Tamara asked when Hayden finally came to a stop.

“Nothing. There's nothing we can do,” Hayden shrugged.

“But….”

“We just have to make Greg and the rest of the team sees that Sir Bedivere has nothing to do with their success or lack of, I should say.”

“But….”

“But what?”

“More hand prints.”

“What are you talking about, Tamara?” Hayden asked, “You're not making any sense.”

“Sunday morning I woke up to find like a billion little hand prints on my bedroom mirror and someone was watching me this morning. Maybe not a someone, but a something.”

“Do you know how crazy you're sounding?”

“Yes! Yes, I do, Hayden. I haven't even told my best friend about any of this, because I'm afraid she'd think I've finally lost it!” Tamara stomped her foot. “Hayden, has anything weird happened to you?”

“Outside of my younger brother tying all of my shoes together last night, no.”

Tamara leaned against the walls and closed her eyes, “I think we should just leave an offering before the next tournament.”

“What's up with you?”

“What could it hurt? I mean, what could it hurt to just humor them? If it helps us get our dance, I'm all for it.”

The end of lunch bell echoed through the empty hallway.

“See you at practice,” Hayden said, leaving Tamara alone.

By three-thirty Tamara's mood had soured even more. Her feet stomped with each step and her arms swung at her sides, matching her long hateful strides. She didn't stop by her locker to talk to Amber and ignored the questions buzzing from her volleyball teammates.

“Can't you play chess?”

“Are you happy that we lost the dance as well as volleyball, Tam?”

“Are you sabotaging their team just to be a bitch?”

“You can't even be a nerd, right!” one of them shouted as she dashed up the stairs on her way to room five eighty five.