Free The Unquiet by Jeannine Garsee Page A

Kessler.”
    “Shut up, Fishgills. You’re not even on this committee. Why aren’t you splashing around in your aquarium tonight?”
    Before I can suggest that both of them shut up, Meg falls down on my mattress next to Tasha. “Oh, I’m sick of this whole thing.”
    Last week she was so psyched. Now she’s sick of it?
    “Blah-blah,” Lacy says rudely. She then gestures at my walls. “Yuck, this color is
gross
. But I guess it’s perfect for this room.”
    “Meaning?” I demand.
    “Meaning, doesn’t it bother you one bit that some old lady hanged herself”—she points upward—“from one of those very beams?”
    She is
such
a pain. “Can we not talk about it? I have to sleep here, you know.”
    Tasha sits up on one elbow. “Maybe she went insane, like Miss Prout.
She
took off in the middle of the night. Never said a word. Left everything behind.”
    Meg speaks up in a whisper. “Maybe
she
did herself in, too.” To me: “They were friends, you know, Miss Prout and Mrs. Gibbons.”
    Enthralled, Tasha adds, “Or maybe she never left. Maybe someone murdered her and buried her in Rinn’s cellar!”
    I’ve had enough of this. “Are you guys
trying
to freak me out?”
    “You wuss.” Lacy rubs her stomach one last time, then throwsback her hair with an evil smile. “Okay, Rinn. Show us what you’re gonna wear to the dance, then.”
    Rats
. “I didn’t buy anything.”
    “Are you kidding? Why not?”
    “I hate shopping,” I confess.
    “Could’ve fooled me,” Tasha remarks, nodding at the loaded laundry baskets and piles of clothes on the floor, all covered with sheets so I don’t splatter paint on anything.
    Okay, so it’s not “shopping” I dislike. It’s shopping for a
formal
. There is no Homecoming dress on earth that’ll hide my scar. Now I’m almost sorry I agreed to go. But if I try to explain this to my friends, I’ll have to explain other things, too …
    “No biggie,” Meg says, sounding enough like the old Meg to brighten me up. “We’ll take you to Barney’s. Everything’s used, but in mint condition. Tasha got her dress there.”
    Tasha speaks up in a tight, funny voice. “You mean the dress I’m not wearing?”
    Now we all stare at
her.
Meg asks, “What’re you talking about?”
    “I can’t go. I’m swimming that night.”
    “On
Homecoming
night?” Lacy shrills.
    “I have to. Nancy reserved the pool at the Aquatic Center for me.” To me, Tasha adds, “Nancy’s my coach. It’s over in Kellersberg and it’s the best pool around. I mean, Nancy really,
really
went out of her way, and—” Tasha’s face falls. “I told my mom about Homecoming. But I can’t get out of it.”
    “This is bullshit,” Lacy announces.
    “I bet
your
mom never missed a dance,” I put in. In fact, to hear Mom talk about their old school days, she and Millie never missed a social function, period.
    “I know,” Tasha says sadly. “I told her that, too, and you know what she said?” She mimics Millie perfectly: “‘That’s different! I was popular! You don’t even have a
date
.’”
    “Harsh,” Meg murmurs.
    “Oh, and, ‘If you’re serious about the Olympics, then you gotta make sacrifices.’”
    “She’s ruining your life,” Lacy says bluntly.
    “Do you want to go?” I’m disliking Millie more and more.
    Tasha shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t want to fight with my mom. I mean, she works her butt off to pay for my coach, and my fees, and to book these pools, and …” She trails off, and then abruptly lifts her chin. “Yes, I want to go. It’s not fair!”
    “Just tell her no,” Meg suggests. “She can’t drag you there, right?”
    “Yeah,” Lacy agrees. “You already swim, what, three or four days a week? Plus gymnastics? One night off won’t kill you. It’s Homecoming! Stick up for yourself!”
    Tasha’s huge brown eyes take us all in, one at a time. We
are
kind of ganging up on her, I guess. But it’s Homecoming, a once-a-year event. How could