Authors: Laura Ellen
Blind Spot (32 page)
“I don’t think she would’ve taken her cloak off if she meant to kill herself.” I shrugged. “But I don’t know what to believe.” We’d reached the cars. I looked up at the sky—the sun was illuminating the horizon with soft strokes of orange, pink, and gold, while the moon hung nearby.
“I wish I knew for sure,” I whispered.
Greg folded his arms around me. I leaned back against his chest, his heart thudding in rhythm with mine.
“You may never know,” he said as he rested his chin gently on top of my hair. “Some truths stay hidden, no matter how much you want to unearth them.”
“T. S. Eliot?” I mumbled.
“No.” He hugged me tight. “That was all me this time.”
It was junior prom, and after a crazy couple of weeks full of hearings and legalities, which had resulted in my reinstatement at Chance with a short stint of probation, Greg and I decided we would rather spend prom night watching a movie with our friends.
That afternoon, however, Abbey showed up at my door.
“I want you to keep it.”
I stared at the soft brown bundle in her out-turned hands. “Your mom made it for her. You should keep it.”
“She admired you. You didn’t take crap. Her words, not mine.” Abbey forced it into my hands. “I know she’d give it to you if she had the choice. Especially after everything you did to find the truth about what happened that night.”
“But I didn’t find the truth.” I tried to shove it back.
Abbey just smiled and backed away. “You tried, though, like any good friend would. Have fun at prom tonight, for Tricia. She never missed a chance to dance.”
“Oh, I’m not—” I hugged the cloak to my chest. “I will.”
And I would. For Tricia.
The prom theme was Life Is Beautiful. Everyone was dressed accordingly. Billowing ball gowns and parasols, fancy updos and tuxedos. Satin, taffeta, lace, and silk. All Chance High’s beauty was there in soft spring colors, layered with elegance, sophistication, and grace.
“This isn’t Halloween,” Liz Cobler gasped when we walked in. “This is prom!”
“We’re in the right place then.” I smoothed Tricia’s cloak before giving Liz a big smile. “Come on, guys, let’s go dance.”
The rest of my caped entourage followed me—Greg, Heather, Fritz, JJ, Jeffrey, and Ruth. We descended onto the dance floor like vampires attacking an unsuspecting city. We pulled out cans of Insta-Whip and began spraying
T-R-I-C-I-A
across the polished floor.
Dancers shuffled to the side. Girls clung to their dates. Everyone stared.
The music stopped.
No one breathed.
“Don’t worry,” Greg told two teachers approaching us. “We plan to clean it up.”
Dellian stepped from the shadows. “I’ll make sure they do.”
Heather smiled at the stunned band onstage. “Hey, you guys know ‘Copacabana’?”
The lead singer and guitarist shook their heads, eyes fixated on the caped gang that had crashed the party.
“Wait.” The guy at the keyboard cocked his head. “Manilow’s ‘Copacabana’? Yeah, I know it.”
“Play it for us?” Heather cooed.
The keyboardist grinned. “A little sappy for a party-crashing song, don’t you think?”
“Just play it!” Rona’s deep voice threatened from the crowd.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Heather climbed onstage. “This is for Tricia Farni; may she be happy wherever she is!”
The keyboardist began to play. Heather sang, “Her name was Lola . . .”
Ruth and I stepped carefully into the center of the whipped-cream floor and began to twirl, twirl, twirl, like little girls on Easter morning. The more I turned, the freer I felt. I didn’t think about how silly I looked or how much I stood out. I just twirled.
Greg and Jeffrey joined us, while JJ and Fritz spun wheelies in their chairs. Missy climbed onto the stage and began belting out the lyrics alongside Heather. Like zombies awakening from a trance, the rest of the prom came to life. Some who knew the words joined Heather and Missy onstage, while others danced.
I twirled close to Greg and said, “There’s something I’ve been dying to do all night.” I reached my hand up to his face.
Instinctively, his hand wiped at his chin. “Ink?”
“No.” I gently pulled his face down to mine and kissed him.
As our lips parted, he grinned. “Just all night?” He drew me closer. His lips found mine again and he kissed me back. “I’ve been dying to do this for years.”
That old saying “it takes a village” also applies when writing a book. There are so many people who have helped me along the way. I’d like to give a shout out and a thank you to all of them.
That old saying "it takes a village" also applies when writing a book. There are so many people who have helped me along the way. I'd like to give a shout out and a thank you to all of them.
First and foremost, I owe so much to my awesome editor Karen Grove who, from the beginning, understood my vision for
Blind Spot
and knew what I needed to do to achieve that vision. I owe just as much to my agent-extraordinaire Jill Corcoran. If she hadn’t taken a chance on me,
Blind Spot
may still be a file on my computer, instead of a novel in a teen’s hands.
When it
was
simply a file on my computer though,
Blind Spot
and I went through many bumps, bruises, dead-ends, and drafts, and through it all I had the unfaltering support of my critique group: Sharon Blankenship, Jennifer Carson, Todd Gerring, Dawn King, Katena Presutti, Jacqui Robbins, Diane Telgen, and Jacey Yunker; my writing friends: Linda Gerber, Patty Hoffman, Kristin Lenz, Elizabeth Mosier, Su Shekar, and Renee Matthew Singh; and my Eastern Michigan University grad school writing group: Kate Ahmann, Teresa Asiain, Bill Barr, Pam McCombs, Dina Sowers, and Alicia Vonderhaar. To each and every one of you, thank you. You guys rock.
I also want to thank the SCBWI Michigan chapter for the great support system you have given me through the years, as well as the editors, agents, and authors who have critiqued my work at both regional and national SCBWI conferences—I learned something from each and every one of you and my novel was better for it. I want to especially thank Michael Stearns, the first industry professional to make me believe in myself. I will forever be grateful to him for taking the time, not once, but twice, to read my novel and give me invaluable advice that pushed me out of “potential” into “publishable”. Thank you, Michael. I know you say it was nothing, but to me, it was everything.
Thank you to Larry Voight who teaches psychology courses at Washtenaw Community College for answering all my questions about date rape drugs and their psychological effects; Ann Arbor police officer Dawn King (and fellow writer) for her expertise and fact-checking as I wrote
Blind Spot
; and my beta readers: Cheryl Bullister, Leslie Figueroa, Patty Hoffman, Nikki Lang, and Jenny Tith for making me keep it real.
Writing and having a family don’t always mesh as well as one would hope, so thank you to my children Breanna, James, and Megan for eating more than their fair share of pizza and for understanding when I needed to shut my office door and write; thank you especially to my husband, Jeff, who, through the years, has supported me, rearranging his busy schedule so that I could attend conferences, critique meetings, and grad school, and for taking the kids out, often overnight, when I needed quiet time. You are the biggest reason this dream became a reality.
Thank you also to Jenny Tith and Julia Stier for always stepping in and babysitting when my oldest daughter or my husband couldn’t be home. Thank you to my family and friends who have stood by and cheered me on through this entire process.
And finally, in writing
Blind Spot
I based much of Roswell’s experiences on my own as a teen struggling with macular degeneration, and a big part of that struggle occurred at school. I have the greatest respect for all the teachers I have had through the years—even those who didn’t understand and therefore unintentionally made my life harder. But I’d like to acknowledge my high school English teachers BJ Craig and Susan Stitham, and the school nurse, Laura Rima. Their understanding and support taught me that there is always a way around an obstacle.
L
AURA
E
ELLEN
was born and raised in Fairbanks, Alaska, and now lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, with her husband, three children, and a dog. Legally blind, Laura drew upon her own life in her portrayal of Roz.
Blind Spot
is her first novel.