Uncovering Sadie's Secrets (5 page)

“We have been unable to reach you to schedule an appointment to discuss this matter, so would you please call us at your earliest convenience,” the letter ended. Hardly the stuff of moping looks and tear-stained cheeks.

I stacked the books neatly on top of the table, being careful to place the note in its folded position exactly where I had found it.

A few moments later, Sadie returned with a tray full of food. She had opted for the hot lunch, a full meal of roasted chicken breast, mashed potatoes, lima beans, applesauce, a brownie, and both a milk and a bottle of iced tea. It looked like she was stocking up for a rainy day. As soon as Sadie sat down, Carmen turned to her and wasted no time finding out what we all wanted to know.

“You’re from California, aren’t you?” she asked brightly. “Dale Levy said you were.”

“Uh-huh, that’s right. San Jose,” Sadie said between bites. She ate like it was her first hot meal in a week.

“Why’d you move east?” Carmen continued. It was amazing how much information you could get through direct questions.

“My mother has some family here. A cousin,” Sadie said. “And she wanted to be closer. . .”

Carmen nodded. “Must have been hard leaving California.”

“Not really,” Sadie said, finishing up the mashed potatoes and opening up the brownie wrapper. “I like it here.”

“How about your friends? Wasn’t it tough to leave? I mean, after freshman year?” Nicole asked.

This was great. My friends were doing the interrogating and all I had to do was sit back, listen, and finish my peanut butter sandwich.

“No. This school is much nicer. And. . . I can write to my friends. . . or call,” she said, but it was such a half-hearted claim that I doubted she had spoken with even one old friend since moving to Maryland.

I was hoping that Nicole or Carmen or Kerrie would continue with questions about Sadie’s family, her old school, and what she was doing at Doug’s last night, but the effervescent Hilary chimed in with her requests for try-outs for the show.

“Everybody’s going to do it,” she said breathlessly. Hilary only knew how to speak breathlessly. She didn’t have any other way of communicating. “You ought to come. It would be a great way to meet people.”

Sadie smiled, and it was a genuine smile, which made me feel both good and guilty at the same time. I was, after all, human, and I knew it must be tough to try to fit in at a new school all the way across the country from what had been familiar. So, my heart went out to her and wanted to make her feel wanted. But on the other hand, I had only invited her to eat with us because I wanted information, so I also felt two-faced. To make up for my moral deficiencies, I decided to be as hospitable as Hilary had been and then some.

“Yes, you should come,” I said with conviction. “I’ve heard you sing in chorus and you’ve got a great voice.”

Sadie beamed at that compliment and her face took on the same look she had sported when I first invited her to sit with us—a sort of desperate joyfulness. “Thanks,” she said shyly.

A
T THREE
o’clock, we were all sitting in rows in the auditorium, snickering and giggling and kicking at each other’s seats. Doug had come in with some of his friends and Kerrie was skillful enough to get up at just that moment and move us all down a few seats so that he could sit next to me. Which he did. I needed oxygen.

Well, not really. But I did blush with nervousness as his elbow glanced against mine on the armrest between us. He smiled at me again, and asked me if I had ever been in a show before.

“Just in grade school,” I said.

And I gave a stellar performance too, I thought, as one of the shepherds in the Christmas tableau. Of course, it would have been even better if I hadn’t snagged Joseph’s fake beard with my crook and he hadn’t fallen over the creche trying to reach for it, but then again Mary didn’t have to let out a mild expletive when he stepped on her sore toe and pulled down the set when he grabbed for something to keep his balance. It wasn’t my fault he thought the painted canvas stable was steady enough to support him.

But I kept this nostalgic memory to myself.

“I was in ‘On the Town’ my sophomore year,” Doug said in a low voice that sent a shiver up my spine. “It was fun.”

The room hushed as Mrs. Williston called out the first name from the roster of those of us who had signed up. A timid-looking freshman with bright red hair went up to the stage after giving some music to old Mr. Baker, the accompanist. Then she started to belt out “Tomorrow” from
Annie
and was actually pretty good, but we all hated that song, and were super glad when it was over. Mrs. Williston had the girl read a few lines, then called out the next name, and the next and the next.

Most of the kids were, like us, new recruits with nothing special planned. Mrs. Williston asked such auditioners to sing the first verse of the school song, which got kind of embarrassing because a lot of us didn’t really have it committed to memory. She gave up on that after a few tries and just asked for the first verse of “Silent Night” from then on.

Hilary, of course, was the star of the auditions, singing YumYum’s aria with perfect poise. When even Mrs. Williston burst into applause, there was no doubt she had the part. When my turn came, my knees were knocking so hard I was afraid they’d throw Mr. Baker’s rhythm off, but I managed to chirp out a verse of the Christmas carol without completely embarrassing myself. I’d get picked for chorus for sure. I could tell from Mrs. Williston’s “thank you” she clearly wanted me to know I was welcome in her troupe, just not too welcome.

Almost everyone in our crowd had auditioned when Sadie came into the auditorium and found us. She scooted down the row of seats in front of us so she could turn and talk to us.

“I almost forgot about this,” she explained. “I was in the library.” Then she turned to Doug. “Hi, Doug,” she said.

To reclaim the center of the universe, I started talking, or whispering rather, since people were still auditioning. A senior was on stage bleating out “Send in the Clowns.”

“Sadie’s from California. Did you know that?” I asked, hoping Doug didn’t know. If he did, he didn’t let on. “The weather must have been great there.”

“It was okay,” she whispered.

“I bet you saw a lot of movie stars all the time,” I said. Boy, was that a sophisticated observation.

“Not really,” Sadie said. “I lived in kind of an artsy area but no movie stars or anything like that.”

Artsy? My Internet search came to mind.

“You wouldn’t be related to Sadie Mauvais Sinclair, would you?” I asked, trying to sound intellectual. I turned to Doug to explain. “She’s a Tahitian-born artist who deals in neo-primitive island themes.”

I hadn’t expected Sadie to recognize the artist’s name or even to give a rat’s petootie about her. I had merely thrown it in to show off, but I didn’t pick up any admiring glances from Doug, just a blank stare.

But Sadie’s face—it was as if she had seen a ghost. Her face drained of the little color it had and her smile faded immediately. Her eyes widened with fear and her brows furrowed.

“Sadie Sinclair,” Mrs. Williston called, and Sadie turned and went to the stage like a condemned woman walking to the gallows.

W
HEN
S
ADIE
mounted the steps to the stage, I felt a simultaneous surge of unease and anger. Unease because, obviously, something I said had upset her. Her face was whiter than parchment and her bouncy mood had completely vanished. She now walked slump-shouldered to center stage, awaiting the moment when Williston would give her the signal to begin.

But I was also angry. Why did Sadie have to step on every move I made with Doug? Even without Marsha broadcasting it all over the school, it had to be obvious to Sadie that Doug was—well, special to me. And I was angry for feeling uneasy, too. I hadn’t done anything wrong, right? I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered at the chair in front of me.

“Ah, yes. Sadie.” Mrs. Williston’s reedy voice cut through the auditorium, which had grown strangely silent. It occurred to me that Sadie Sinclair was viewed as an odd bird by everybody in the school, someone who kept to herself and tried not to stand out. I straightened and leaned forward.

“She looks nervous,” I whispered to Doug.

“Aw, she’ll be okay,” he said.

But she didn’t look okay. She managed to squeak out a “yes, ma’am” so low that Williston had to ask her to repeat it. Staring at Sadie over her little half-glasses, Williston sighed with such bravado that even the balcony seats could pick up her little bit of stage business.

“My dear, please try to project. Now, what would you like to sing?”

At first, Sadie said nothing. She looked at Williston, then at the stairs on the other side of the stage as if contemplating a break for the door. Then her eyes lit on me, and by golly I couldn’t help myself. I gave her a big, go-get-’em grin and then—I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this—a thumbs up sign with my right hand. A wan smile flickered at the corners of Sadie’s mouth.

“Uh. . . I can sing a folk song. . .”

“Okay, dear. What is it? Do you need accompaniment?” Mrs. Williston was tired. Sadie was the last to audition.

“No. . . I can do it a capella. . .”

A capella?
Where had this girl learned music terminology?

“The Streets of Laredo,” Sadie announced. Then she stood stock still, fixed her eyes on some unknown point above the balcony and, like a meadowlark, proceeded to warble the old cowboy song about death and sadness. She had a sweet pure voice, just the kind that was made for folk songs.

The auditorium had been built before microphones were commonplace, so its acoustics provided a natural amplification that enhanced a good singer’s voice. Sadie’s carried to the last slat of the last seat of the last row. When she was finished, we all applauded. It seemed to come from us spontaneously, as if we weren’t in control of our hands. At least that’s the way I felt as I smacked my hands together. Or maybe I was making up for the guilt.

Mrs. Williston, too, was impressed. She stood up and asked Sadie to come talk with her privately.

“What a nice voice,” Hilary murmured from down the row. Call me crazy, but I don’t think Hilary was all that happy about Sadie’s nice voice. Until this moment, Yum-Yum was hers for the taking.

With no one left to audition, we all stood getting ready to leave. Sadie continued talking with Mrs. Williston while the rest of us aimlessly tried to make conversation.

“I was thinking of having a Halloween party,” Kerrie chirped. This was news to me. “Costumes and all. My folks said it was okay.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Sadie swiftly walking up the aisle. Instead of joining us, her new friends, she rushed out of the auditorium with the same red-faced look she’d worn coming into the cafeteria earlier. Despite my desire to stand alarmingly close to Doug, I broke away and ran after her.

“Be right back,” I murmured to my circle.

I caught up with Sadie outside the big double doors to this wing of the school. She stood shivering in the cold, her arms wrapped over each other. Her face was mottled from unshed tears.

“Sadie!” I called over, trying to sound casual. “You were terrific!”

She smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

“We’re talking about a Halloween party,” I said lamely. Then again, blurting out “what’s the matter with you” didn’t seem like the right thing to say either. “Kerrie’s house.”

“Oh. . .”

“I’m sure she’ll invite you.” After I told her to, that is.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to go inside? We were just kind of hanging out.” To make a liar out of me, Doug and Kerrie and Hilary and Nicole came out the door just then. Doug handed me my jacket and backpack, a small gesture of kindness that nearly made me hysterical with joy. But I controlled my emotions.

“There you are!” Kerrie said to me, then turned to Sadie. “What a voice. You’re full of surprises, Sadie.”

“I was just telling Sadie about your party,” I said.

“Well, yeah, I have to pick a date. It’ll be a weekend.”