Free Circle of Silence by Carol M. Tanzman Page A

applauded.”
    Jagger laughs. “That’s because everyone’s asleep by the
end.”
    She leans back in the chair. “Do you have to be such a jerk? Every time?”
    “Can you two call a truce? Please!” The constant bickering
between Marci and Jagger is getting to Omar. “At least during lunch. I want to
talk Halloween. I’m having a party.”
    “Cool,” I tell him. “Corner table by the far window?”
    Everyone nods except for Jagger. Luckily, Marci’s not looking
his way.
    * * *
    Before heading to the cafeteria, I twirl my locker
combo, fling open the door—and immediately slam it shut.
    Tracy Gardner’s got the locker next to mine. “What’s the
matter, Val? Forget your sandwich—”
    “It’s nothing.” With a “no problem” wave, I barrel down the
hall. “Marci!”
    The screech is louder than I intend. Marci and Phil turn at the
same moment.
    “What’s wrong—” she starts.
    I grab her arm. “Come, too, Phil. You’re not going to believe
what I just saw.”
    The looks we get as I drag them through the crowd make me
realize I need to slow down, stay cool. Just in case someone’s watching. I pull
the two of them into the gap by the nurse’s office. “Wait until the hall
clears.”
    “For what?” Phil asks, at the same time Marci says, “Tell
me!”
    “Hold on.” I wait a bit before peering around the corner. Halls
empty quickly at lunch. “We’re good!” I move to my locker, turn the combo and
swing the door open. “Voila!”
    Marci pushes Phil aside and then shrieks, “What on earth—”
    “Crazy, right?”
    A dead bird hangs inside the locker. One end of a string is
tied around his neck; the other end loops to the coat hook. The left wing droops
crookedly.
    “It’s fake, right?” Marci whispers hopefully.
    “Hell no,” Phil tells her. “This is, or was, a real animal.
Sparrow maybe. Or wren. Look at the eyes. That is not plastic.”
    “This is way creepy!” Marci says. “And disgusting.”
    Phil reaches into the locker. “I’ll get rid of it—”
    “No!” I breathe. “I mean, not yet.”
    “You don’t want to keep this—”
    Marci shudders. “She does. At least until she can shoot
it.”
    The light dawns on Phil’s face. “MP! He’s the one—”
    “Or they,” Marci scolds. “Didn’t you watch the broadcast this
morning?”
    My phone buzzes. Text message. “It’s Raul. They’re waiting for
us in the caf.”
    “Give me that.” Marci takes my cell.
    Phil gestures to the locker. “Do you really want to show this
to the whole school? It might give people ideas.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re advocating censorship!”
    He shifts, confused. “Um, not if that’s a bad thing.”
    I toss my head. “Yes, it’s a bad thing. Marci, give me my phone
back. I need to tell them to bring equipment—”
    “They’re on it.” She shudders. “Can you at least shut the door
while we wait? That thing’s weirding me out.”
    “You’re not going to faint, are you?” Phil sounds worried.
    “I just need to sit.” She settles on the floor, her back
against Tracy’s locker. “That poor bird….”
    “I’ll wet some paper towels,” Phil says.
    Marci watches her boyfriend jog down the hall. “So sweet.”
    “Uh-huh.” He’s a little too troglodyte for my taste, but I’ll
never say that out loud. “How do you think someone got into my locker?”
    “What?” She looks startled. “I don’t know.”
    Both Phil, carrying a boatload of dripping paper towels, and
the team arrive at the same time.
    “Ran into Jagger,” Omar tells me. “He’ll be right here.”
    Marci rolls her eyes. “After the work is done.”
    I pull open the locker door and Raul whistles. “Now, that’s a visual.”
    Phil might have some caveman in him, but Raul understands news.
After the lights are set, Omar starts to shoot. He gets straight on, side, and
low angles.
    Just as Marci predicted, Jagger strolls down the hall the
instant we finish. “Miss much?”
    “Take a look,”