Drummer Girl (15 page)

24 |
paradiddle in the fourth beat

Sid got to see Taylor twice on Saturday. The first time, he had woken up but was really groggy. His parents had told her that his hallucinations on Thursday had caused the doctor to change his medication. Regardless, there were some serious drugs flowing in his bloodstream. The second time, she'd sat with him for over an hour, but he hadn't once cracked open an eyelid.

Sunday morning was more of the same. In the afternoon, James dragged her home to spend a few hours doing the homework from the previous week. Brock had phoned both days, to check in, he'd said, but had missed her so had just left bland “hang in there” messages. And Monday, James was adamant: she was going to school. He was actually going into work late so he could drive her there. It felt like having a police escort.

Sid slipped on a pair of her old baggy jeans and discovered she actually preferred her new ones. Snug, yes, but they had something in them that made them a bit stretchy. So she
changed jeans, but decided on an album
t
-shirt. Metallica's
Ride the Lightning,
with its electrocuted skeleton on the back, seemed graphically appropriate this morning. She did the ultra-light version from Heather's makeup instructions, ran a comb through her hair and met James by the front door.

He had the car out of the garage and ready to go. He glanced at his watch, motioned Sid to move, and ate up the distance to the car with long strides. Sid got into the back seat. James gave her an odd look but said nothing. At the school, he twisted and gave her a lukewarm parental frown. “Well?”

Didn't he understand how much she wanted to be at the hospital? How much she dreaded school? How could he when she hadn't told him anything? Sid settled deeper into the seat and, with a flick of her wrist, said, “Home, James.”

“Sidney...”

She sighed dramatically. “Sorry. I've always wanted to say that.”

“School. Now.”

“You have no idea what a den of horrors you're sending me into. Have you been in a high school recently?” Sid hoped for a quirk of lips. She got a blank stare. Flippancy was not working.

“Out.”

“Yeah. Whatever. See you around, James.” She slammed the door behind her.

Mr. Franklin was on supervision in the front entrance.
She ignored him when he greeted her and speed-walked to her locker. She stowed her gear and headed for the library wing. Just before it she changed course and took the nearest exit.

With a sickening lurch in her gut, she realized she was standing beside the spot where the video had been made. Had Clem been the one with a camera? Like she could've noticed anything with Rock almost smothering her. Gurgling sounds rose from her stomach. She pulled a roll of antacid tablets out of her pocket that she'd snatched from beside the phone. James had them scattered all over the house; he'd never miss one. Was she getting an ulcer now?

“Hey,” said a male voice from right behind her.

Sid spun and backed away. A guy who looked familiar followed her. Then she remembered: carpentry class, the guy who was in love with using the lathe. “Simon. What's up?”

“I thought it was you. Saw your vid.” He scratched at a pair of zits on his cheek. Nice cheekbones; bad skin. “Thought we could have some fun.”

Worse attitude. Sid shook her head for emphasis. “You thought wrong.”

“What? You only go for musicians?”

“Didn't your mother ever teach you to not believe everything you see on the Internet?” Sid's heel bumped a ridge of grass. She almost tripped.

Simon used the opportunity to grab her. Without thinking, Sid brought her knee up hard and fast. She felt it sink into soft flesh. Simon dropped like a hammer knocked off a roof. He clutched his groin and groaned; his eye balls almost rolled up into their sockets. Sid had never seen that before. Part of her mind was instantly curious. But the rest of her was already moving, across the field, off school grounds and to a bus stop two blocks away.

It took her forty minutes to get to the hospital. As she was walking down the sidewalk from the bus stop toward the main entrance, she saw Mr. Brock approaching from the parking lot. She slipped behind the nearest pedestrian, a heavy-set, grey-haired woman in a flowered dress, with tensor bandages winding around her legs and a cane that looked to be wrapped in leather. Brock let someone go through the hospital's automatic doors ahead of him and glanced around. Sid was sure he was looking for her. He disappeared inside.

The woman she was shadowing had a bag of groceries. Sid stepped up and offered to carry the brown paper sack for her. The woman looked immediately suspicious, but Sid gave her best smile and explained how her friend had been in a motorcycle accident but visiting hours hadn't started yet so it would be a huge favour to give her something to do until she could go up to his room.

“I suppose,” the woman finally said. “But if you try to run, I'll use this cane. I've tripped up would-be thieves before and I'll do it again.”

“I believe you. That's one tough-looking cane.”

The woman snorted, pointed with the cane to the high-rise a block away and said that was their destination. “I'm delivering a few items to a friend who can't get out very well.”

What Sid could have walked in three minutes took them almost ten. The woman didn't seem frail, just slow. She wasn't talkative. When they reached the apartment building, the woman held her hand out for the bag.

“I can take it up if you want.”

“So you can find out the unit number of a helpless woman? No sirree, Bob. You can consider yourself thanked and move on.” As Sid shifted the bag to her, she narrowed her pale eyes. “Why aren't you in school? You look of an age you should be in school.”

Sid hesitated. “My friend really was in a motorcycle accident. I'm skipping so I see him.”

The woman huffed. “Don't you be stupid enough to drop out. That's what I did. Spent my life as a waitress and got the varicose veins to prove it.” With that she entered the high-rise.

Sid watched through the glass doors until the woman got on the elevator. She lingered as long as she dared, then walked slowly back to the hospital. Would Brock be waiting to ambush her? She imagined dropping him the way she'd dropped Simon. Maybe not. For one thing, she didn't think he'd ever actually touch her. For another, she still sort of liked him, even with that shock tactic he'd tried to use on her on Friday.

Moving through the building like she was in a third-rate spy movie slowed Sid down even more. She browsed in the gift shop while casing the area near the elevator. When it was clear, she darted over, pressed the button and a scene flashed through her mind, of the elevator opening and Brock standing right there. She took the stairs.

On the third floor landing she peered through the narrow window at the slice of hallway she could see. Voices in the stairwell above her pushed her into action. She could feel her blood thundering in rapid flams.
Da-doom. Da-doom.
No sign of anyone but staff. Sid started toward Taylor's room. She was almost there when she heard Mr. Janzen's voice. She paused mid-step, straining to hear the reply. It was Brock. She ducked into the closest room and hid behind the open door. A man was asleep a few steps away, hooked to a machine that wheezed like it was breathing for him. Brock's voice was louder now. Sid held her breath, heartbeat still racing.
Calm down,
she told herself.
I'm not a criminal.

Brock was saying, “...appreciate it. And I hope Taylor recovers quickly.” His footsteps receded down the hall.

Sid gave it a minute and eased out from her hiding place. Brock was nowhere in sight so she walked into Taylor's room to see Mr. Janzen at the window, looking down at the street. He must have seen movement in the glass because he turned before she was two steps into the room.

“Hi, Sidney,” he said. “You just missed that nice Mr. Brock.”

“Yeah, I know.”

His brow wrinkled and cleared in three beats. “Wanted to miss him, did you? So he was telling it straight when he said you were skipping class?”

Sid nodded. “You going to turn me in?”

“Should I? He asked me to call him if you showed up. He was certain you'd be here and seemed pretty worried that you weren't. Didn't say anything about getting you back to class.” He winked. “You should be safe now. He said he couldn't stay.”

Sid released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

“I'd like to call him, though, set his mind at ease.” He held up a piece of paper that probably had a phone number on it.

“I don't want to go back. I want to stay with Tay.”

“Understood. I'll call your dad so he knows what's up, then I'll call this Brock fellow.”

Sid gave a short nod.

“Good. I have to leave the building to turn on my cell, so why don't you sit with Taylor? His mom and brother are having a coffee break at the shop across the street.”

He left and Sid took his sentry position by the window, though she kept her back to it and her eye on Taylor. No sign of improvement. His bruises were more vivid – they looked like they'd been coloured by a five-year-old with garish crayons. They matched the balloon bouquet floating above the wheeled bed tray. Sid looked at the card.
From the staff and students at Edwards High.
The balloons looked fresh; her bet was that Brock had bought them in the gift shop this morning.

She sat beside the bed and slipped her hand through the rails to cup her fingers under Taylor's left hand. His fingers lay limp against hers. She stared at the hand for a long time –
it was the only part of him she could see that looked normal. A nurse bustled in, checked the drips, took Taylor's pulse and made a few notes, then left, all without looking at Sid.
I'm invisible,
she thought.

The fingers twitched. Sid's head jerked up. Taylor's eyes were open, barely, and he was looking at her. Better yet, he was
seeing
her. Sid offered a smile. “Hey. Welcome back.”

His gaze down drifted from her face and she thought he was going back to sleep, but it rose again. “Hey, yourself.” His voice was a thin rasp. “You're back, too.”

Sid glanced down at her Metallica shirt. “Yeah, well. Don't get used to it. I don't think I can go back to all baggy all the time.”

His breathing grated and the corner of one eye flinched. Sid had no idea if that was a response to what she'd said or something else. She scooted the chair as close as she could get it and cradled his hand in both of hers. “Tay, please tell me you didn't believe that video.”

His eye twitched again, more like a series of tiny spasms. “Knew it...after I'd cleared my head with a ride. Last thing...remember wanting to get home, call you.”

Relief surged through Sid. She gave his hand a squeeze. “I'm sorry we argued, Tay. This is all my fault.” He said nothing, just breathed like it was taking a lot of effort. She continued, “My great plan hasn't worked out so well. And I've missed talking to you, you stupid jerk.”

His mouth almost lifted but then sagged into a grimace.

“Did I ruin things between us, Tay? I mean, will you ever be able to think of me as your friend again? I don't know what I'll do if you can't. You've been my best friend for years. Almost my only friend, except maybe for Narain, but he puts up with me because of you, mostly.” Sid clamped her mouth shut. She was spewing like a busted fire hydrant.

“Didn't think you'd want to be friends after, after what I said,” Taylor whispered. “You looked...horrified.”

“I was surprised, that's for sure. You've got to know nothing's going to stop me wanting to be your friend. We've got history. You're stuck with me for life, if you can stand to be around me. I'm not really very hot at all.” The corner of Taylor's mouth rose. Sid smiled. “You were a little tough on me, though. You were pissed off, I guess. I don't blame you because I was choked when I saw the video. I'm sure Wes set that up. Or Clem got him to. I wanted to kill them both. It's still tempting. Makes me sick to think I was that stupid.”

“Why?”

Sid hesitated. It looked like Taylor was taking every bit of strength he had to listen. And it looked like he was in a lot of pain. “Are you okay? Should I call a nurse?”

“Not yet. Tell...”

So Sid told him about Wes leading her into the trap and how she'd gotten backed up against the wall by Rocklin. “Thanks to the editing job on that video, Wes probably has the drummer gig sewed up.” Sid couldn't believe she'd just said that. Could a part of her still want to join
tfd
? Rocklin had forced a kiss on her and told her to get lost. She didn't want to hang around jerks like that. “As a bonus, his hassling campaign will be picked up by other guys.” She told him about having to knee Simon that morning when she'd been leaving the school.

His eyebrows hung low, obscuring his eyes. His fingers had curled into a hot fist in the cocoon of her hands. But it was his breathing that alarmed Sid. It had grown louder, more irregular. She placed Taylor's hand on the bed and darted to the door.