Saving Phoebe Murrow: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

Kendall knew her name, and moved inside, hoping to find someone she knew.
    â€œHey, Phoebe!”
    Phoebe glanced around in search of the familiar voice. Jessie! Their eyes locked. Friendly, smiling Jessie. New at Woodmont last year, she’d been Phoebe’s lifesaver, rescuing her on more than one occasion from the wicked Skyla. Now Phoebe ran to her, her book bag sliding off her shoulder as they embraced, clutching each other for a solid minute. As if they were long lost sisters. Then Jessie latched onto Phoebe’s arm and together they continued into the large central foyer called the Great Hall.
    They caught up on the last few weeks while each had been away. First, Phoebe had visited her uncle on Martha’s Vineyard, then she’d visited her paternal grandfather on Cape Cod. His wife, her Nana Helen, had died shortly after she’d taught Phoebe how to sew a few years earlier, the two memories intertwined, making her both weepy and wistful at times.
    Jessie spoke animatedly about her family’s trip to the Jersey shore as Emma, their tall, dark-haired friend, joined them. In her skinny black jeans, simple white t-shirt, and assemblage of silver studs and hoops, Emma affected a Goth look. In contrast to Jessie, and now the budding Phoebe, Emma was all angles, flat-chested and narrow-hipped.
    â€œGroup hug,” Emma said. The three threw their arms around each other for a lengthy, laughter-laced embrace. Though Phoebe’s friendship with Emma was recent, she admired this artistic, free-spirited girl. For at least ten minutes, they chattered and giggled, and talked over each other in a stream of gaiety and delight. All the while, Emma snapped a few shots with her new iPhone, capturing this milestone event for later scrutiny.
    At once, though, Phoebe stopped, her forehead wrinkling. It couldn’t be. But yes, there it was, across the Great Hall. A ponytail. Skyla’s ponytail. About twenty feet away. The blonde-haired girl, squeezed inside a knot of tittering girls, turned slightly to reveal the set of mesmerizing emerald eyes Phoebe had come to fear and loathe.
    Dr. Sharma had suggested that “without the head of the snake,” Skyla’s minions would be rendered powerless. Phoebe had counted on it. Now she groaned.
    â€œWhat?” Jessie said, glancing around, trying to follow Phoebe’s gaze.
    â€œLook. Would you look?” The color had drained from her face.
    In tandem, Emma and Jessie located the source of their friend’s distress. Emma’s fingers intertwined Phoebe’s and gave them a squeeze.
    â€œAw, geez,” Jessie said, releasing a slight whistle. “What the hell’s she doing here?” Then going into typical Jessie rescue mode, she instructed, “Act like you haven’t seen her. Just keep walking. She’s nothing. You’re twice as pretty. Honest!” As if that were Phoebe’s chief concern.
    It seemed as if Skyla had heard Jessie’s remark, because the pink-clad girl turned toward them, her eyes dismissing Jessie and Emma and zeroing in on Phoebe. She gave her a long appraising look, then turned away and continued on, several girls trailing in her wake like minnows.
    The morning’s excitement vanished. In its place, a lump the size of a small fist lodged itself in Phoebe’s throat. She simply couldn’t survive another year like the previous one, no matter what her mother said. (“Don’t let her get to you, honey, you’re stronger than that.”) No, I’m not , she wanted to shout. I’m not! And Dr. Sharma’s instructions vanished. Clutching Jessie’s arm and Emma’s fingers, she moved forward, staring vacantly as last year’s disasters flashed before her, one by one.

    Mother and daughter arrived home at nearly the same time. Isabel had left work a little early to make this day a memorable one. When Phoebe entered the kitchen, Isabel could hardly contain herself.