Sylvie didn’t know how long she had been standing there, leaned up against the high school cafeteria wall. An array of disco ball lights spun past her, casting vibrant beams of color on her face. Beads of sweat trickled down from her forehead as the heavy beat of the latest Eurythmics song pulsated through her body. She felt the room sway as a rush of heat flushed her cheeks, making them burn. Where am I?
Sylvie searched for something, anything to ground her. She eyed the banner that hung over the cafeteria doors. WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE, it said, in all caps. The banner stood out like a neon sign among the collection of green and brown streamers that dangled from the ceiling. Various construction paper palm trees decorated the dingy brick walls. Teenagers swarmed the dance floor in a chaotic whirl of bodies that electrified the air. Well, except for the ones too embarrassed to dance. They stood along the sidelines near the teachers, eyeing the scene, like Sylvie.
Homecoming, Sylvie remembered.
Did someone spike the punch? She looked down at her watch. Seven-fifteen. That’s weird, she thought. She swore it had just been six-thirty.
“Are you okay?” a boy with Coke-bottle glasses hiding out by the vending machine asked.
“I—” Sylvie paused. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She jumped forward, pushed past the crowd, then through the cafeteria doors. In the bathroom stall, she puked.
Ugh, Sylvie thought. So gross. She wiped the vomit from her lips, trying to ignore its stench. Sylvie had never puked before. At least, not that she remembered. It had been an oddity she liked to brag about to June, who always threw up when she got a stomach bug. But not Sylvie. Until now. She leaned against the bathroom stall. What am I going to do? And what is that disgusting taste in my mouth? It tasted bitter and numbing, like metal.
Sylvie wiped the sweat dripping down her forehead. She was going to need a ride home, which meant she was going to have to find June.
June. The very thought of her older sister made her want to gag. June, Ms. Perfect. June, the queen of smiles and sunshine who never did anything wrong. Except Sylvie knew June had done something wrong.
June wasn’t especially good at being sneaky. Her grades were slipping. Her interest in cheerleading had drained. She’d started coming home well past her curfew and disappeared most evenings when she was supposed to help Sylvie make dinner for Sebastian. Mom worked second shift at the container factory most weeknights. Dad always worked late at his pawnshop. Without June, Sylvie and Sebastian came home to an empty house. Sylvie was sick of babysitting and eating frozen pizzas, while June was nowhere to be found. Even when June was around, all she did was blast dramatic love songs from her bedroom. Sylvie had to walk around the house with her Walkman blaring heavy metal on full blast just to drown out the melodramatic beats. If I hear one more sappy love song, I swear I’ll die, Sylvie thought.
Who does June think she is, anyway? Seeing that slimy, too-old-for-her sales agent, Rick Greene? Sylvie felt disgusted all over again, thinking about the way June had fawned over him when he sold Nonna’s house over the summer. Not only that, but June hadn’t turned in any of her college or scholarship applications. The ones Mom and Dad were betting her future on. Her sister seemed to be stuck in some kind of love-struck delusion. That was why Sylvie had to tell Dad. Someone had to snap June out of it.
June was angry Sylvie told.
Still was, probably.
A sharp pain shot across Sylvie’s forehead, making her feel lightheaded once more. She leaned against the bathroom stall to catch her balance. June’s drama didn’t matter right now. Sylvie was sick. Her body heaved with pain. Her head pounded. She needed to find her sister, even if the idea of heading back into the dance with the blaring music and flashing lights churned her stomach again. Get yourself together, Sylvie thought. There was no time to waste. She needed to go home.
Sylvie looked at her watch once more. The yellow minute hand had only moved fifteen minutes. Seven-thirty. Only thirty minutes left of this pitiful homecoming dance. The weird thing was, aside from throwing up, Sylvie barely remembered being a part of any of it.
Sylvie flushed the toilet and opened the stall door. She squeezed into the crowd of girls at the shared sink, swarming the mirror as they applied their lipstick. All the girls, including Beverly Fox, shot Sylvie a nasty look. What’s her problem, Sylvie wondered. Sylvie worried she had puke in her hair. Or maybe she was so pale, she looked like Frankenstein. She felt her cheeks flush, growing hot the more she worried. Is there something strange on my face? She certainly felt like there was, like some lagoon creature from one of her science fiction novels at home had taken over her body. Sylvie scrubbed her hands fast, then shook them dry as she headed back to the dance. Who cares about Beverly Fox and those other girls, anyway? Sylvie convinced herself she didn’t as she swung open the cafeteria doors.
“It’s time for the homecoming king and queen announcement!” A group of freshmen squealed as they pushed past Sylvie.
Sylvie sighed, remembering how naïve she’d been freshman year. She was smarter now, even if she was still just a sophomore. It was no mystery who the king and queen would be. Sylvie wished that, just once, someone else would get a chance. Like, why couldn’t the lead trombone player be homecoming king? Why not nominate the quiet girl in calculus as queen? Sylvie thought of the positives, though, of June being queen yet again. At least it’ll be easy to find June, Sylvie thought. The other bonus? The dance is almost over. Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief. No more standing by the soda machine contemplating life. June could get her crown and then they’d go. Sylvie would tell June she was sorry.
She just didn’t want her sister to get hurt.
Sylvie pushed through the crowd of sweaty teenagers trying to get as close to the DJ as possible. The overpowering scent of perfume, cologne, and body odor seeped into Sylvie’s nostrils. A flash of heartburn swelled from her throat to her belly. An air of anticipation grew with each drum beat from the DJ’s mix as the crowd waited to hear the results.
“And now, your Lowridge High’s homecoming king and queen…” the DJ said in his best announcer’s voice, “Bruce Martin and June Mitchell!” He screamed it into the microphone.
Sylvie rolled her eyes. Does he really need to scream when he has a mic?
Applause and cheers filled the room.
But no one came up.
“Bruce Martin! June Mitchell! Come on up! Don’t be shy!” the DJ teased.
Still no one.
Sylvie scanned the crowd. Where was June? Even if her sister was “over high school,” Sylvie couldn’t imagine her giving up one last chance to wear that crown. And where was Bruce?
Flashes of red and blue lights shone in through the blinds from outside. A teacher ran through the front door of the cafeteria, panicked. The crowd turned their heads.
A boy lifted the drawn blinds, exposing the swarm of police cars in the parking lot. Two stoner guys, Conner Smith, and Joey Pierce, waved their hands as they talked to the police, along with the gym teacher.
Other cops headed toward the woods behind the school, flashlights in hand.
Soon, a crowd gathered by the windows.
“There’s been an accident,” someone said.
“I heard it was a murder,” said another.
“Tommy said he heard Conner and Joey tell Ms. Lin to call the police. They’d been in the woods, smoking weed. They even admitted it. They had to after what they found. Tommy said he heard them say there was blood everywhere.” The surge of chatter was hard to keep up with.
The music stopped. The principal grabbed the DJ’s microphone. The mic shrieked an ear-piercing squeal.
“Now, everyone, please calm down and move away from the windows,” the principal urged.
No one listened. Half of the crowd went to the windows, while the others pushed through the cafeteria doors to leave. Only Sylvie was left in the middle of the dance floor among the silver balloons, flickering lights, and strewn confetti.
Eyeing the scene, Sylvie turned to the cafeteria doors. She watched as a tall police officer walked in, scanning the crowd. The principal walked over to him and the two began to talk.
The principal’s face drew sullen as he gazed at Sylvie.
Sylvie felt her heart drop to the floor as the officer walked her way. Her throat tightened.
“June Mitchell,” she heard someone say. “June Mitchell was in the woods.”
Sylvie felt unsteady.
Accident.
Murder.
Blood.
The words swirled in her brain like the blur of the disco lights still spinning.
Did they say June?