“Why?”
“Because it isn't nice!”
“I never claimed to be nice.”
“Well, you should be.”
“I'll make sure to apologize to Sir Bedivere.”
“Good, maybe I will too,” Tamara said with a trembling tongue.
Chapter Five
Monday was dragging by and Tamara had a feeling the principal's voice ringing out over the loud speaker at lunch time was going to worsen matters. Her eyes were heavy and instead of eating she rested her head against the table. Amber and Josh was chatting away, leaving the brain-dead Tamara alone, since she couldn't keep up with their constantly changing babble about books. She heard the word fandom a half dozen times, but she didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Why couldn't the world just shut up for a minute?
No sooner had she completed her thought the intercom's pitched beep sounded and the voices in the cafeteria fell silent. Last year, the beep had sounded just once during lunch and that was to announce that Junior Sammy Kirish had died in a car crash. Tamara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to prepare herself for anything Principal Hashings might say.
“Good afternoon, students of Central Glade High School. I hope you're all enjoying your lunch or study periods. Before I share some sad news with you, I want to assure all of you that to the best of my knowledge all of your classmates and teachers are safe, sound, and alive. I know many times through the decade of my leadership of Central Glade lunchtime announcements have brought news of someone departing our company,” Principal Hashings began.
Tamara opened her eyes and exchanged a worried look with Amber.
“Today that is not the case. As many of you have likely heard our chess team lost the tournament yesterday. They did not place in the top three teams of the tournaments. What some of you may not know is every year of Halloween dance is funded by our excellent chess team placing high in the two tournaments held in October. The top three teams earn money for their school or academic establishment.
“Without this funding Central Glade cannot afford to host its annual Halloween dance. There is the slim possibility of the dancing taking place if our team can win first place in the tournament the weekend before Halloween. Please give your support and encouragement to the chess team. Each of member of the team works very hard to ensure many of traditions are upheld,” Principal Hashings finished her announcement by reading off the names of the team members.
The quiet of the cafeteria echoed around Tamara's skull when her name was read. Up until now she thought she had done an adequate job of keeping her membership of the chess team away from gossiping ears and lips, but Principal Hashings had just undone all of her hard work.
“What does she mean we're not going to have the Halloween dance?” someone across the cafeteria asked.
“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 o