"Now?" She nodded and walked away. Heather had been ignoring me most of the evening, so I was surprised at her urgency. I followed her until we were far enough from everyone to speak privately.
"What is it?" I said, gazing back at the party. I wished it could go on forever, the music, the lights, the great food and excitement.
"I just overheard my aunt talking about you," she said. It was as if we were in a movie and suddenly the camera stopped and the picture began to melt on the screen. The party actually turned hazy as my eyes clouded with fear.
"What do you mean?" I asked in a breathy, thin voice.
"I know you're an orphan and your parents are not really your parents," she said. "You never even saw your real mother, and you don't have a real father. You know what they call someone without a father?"
I shook my head "I don't want to hear it," I said.
She smiled coldly. "I just thought you should know that I know," she said, full of self-satisfaction. Her smile faded and was quickly replaced with a look of rage. "No wonder you play sports like a boy."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
She smirked as if I should know. "Just don't act like such a big shot around me," she warned, and walked away.
My heart was pounding. The me I imagined floating above the victory celebration slowly sank down to earth. With trembling legs, I rejoined the party, but I didn't really listen to anyone or hear the music. Every once in a while, I caught sight of Heather staring at me and smiling, her eyes full of satisfaction.
In fact, I was grateful when Peter arrived to take me home. He was introduced to people who immediately congratulated him on my achievements.
"I'm so sorry I missed the game," he told me as we started for the car. "From the way everyone was talking, you were really something. Didn't you tell Pamela? She didn't mention a word of it when I stepped into the house."
"I tried, but she was too concerned about my photographs. I almost missed the victory party," I complained.
"She just doesn't realize . . . explain it to her," he promised. "Slugger," he added with a big smile. He sensed something wasn't right. "What's wrong?"
"I'm just tired, I guess," I told him I desperately wanted to keep anything from spoiling this day and this night.
"No wonder. Catching up on schoolwork, keeping up, learning how to play piano, bringing the girls' softball team to victories . . . talk about an overachiever. I'm proud of you, Brooke. I really am," he said.
It made me feel better. Pamela was already in bed when we returned. He hurried up to tell her more about the ball game and make her understand. I went to bed, and when my head finally hit the pillow, I felt as if my body had turned to lead. I sank into a deep sleep and didn't wake up until the sunlight hit my face in the morning.
Peter received a phone call early in the morning that ruined his Sunday. Even before I went down to breakfast, he had to leave to go to his office. It made Pamela angry, and she was in a sulk. I spent my time catching up on studying for exams. I didn't get half as many phone calls as I had expected. Peter didn't get home until nearly dinner, and I could tell that there was still a lot of tension between him and Pamela. It was one of the quietest meals since I had arrived.
All of it caught up with me that night, and I fell asleep with my books in my lap. When I woke Monday morning, it was later than usual, so I had to skip my piano practice and I didn't spend half as much time on my makeup. Fortunately, Pamela was sleeping late and didn't get a chance to inspect me as she often did before I went off to school. She did, however, leave word with Peter to remind me that I had a doctor's appointment after school tomorrow. I told him I thought it was silly. There was nothing wrong with me.
"It doesn't hurt to get yourself a checkup," he said. "Think of it as that."
If there was a compromise in the wind, Peter would smell it, I thought. Anyway, at the moment, he was obviously avoiding any more arguments with Pamela.
I felt something different in the air soon after I attended homeroom. Everyone has to come down from a peak of excitement, I thought, and this was what it was like. We were back to our usual day of work. The victory was already fading into the past, and there were looming final exams to consider and new work to do.
I was late for lunch because I had remained after class to talk about a math problem. When I arrived in the cafeteria, I heard what seemed like a little hush in conversation, and when I looked at the girls, some of them dropped their eyes guiltily. Why? I wondered. I got my food and joined ray new friends at the table.
"I thought Mr. Brazil was going to keep me right through lunch period," I said, laughing. "You know how slowly he talks." Eva smiled, but no one else did.
I started to eat and noticed everyone was being rather silent. "Is something wrong?" I asked.
No one replied. It was as if I wasn't even there. The bell rang to move on to class almost before I had finished my lunch. Everyone started to move away.
I reached out and seized Lisa's wrist. "What's the matter with everyone today? They act like someone died," I said.
She gazed at the girls who were moving toward the door. "Someone did," she quipped.
"What does that mean? Who died?'
"Many of the girls think you're a phony," she replied coolly.