Twisted by Francine Pascal Page B

next one started. A couple of pieces of plastic, some plywood, and twisted-up metal. But every time Gaia looked atit, she heard this weird kind of wailing down deep in her brain.
    She wondered if she was going crazy—even more crazy than usual. But Gaia didn’t think she was the only one who heard the screaming.
    All day, other people kept glancing over at the desk. The Empty Desk. And every time they looked that way, they’d get this expression on their faces. Instantly zoned. Even the teachers seemed to be looking at it as if they expected the desk to answer a question or make a comment on the class.
    It was profoundly weird.
    Gaia knew they cut a couple of hours off the day, but by the time the last bell rang, she would have sworn that she had been in school for at least three weeks.
    If anybody had asked her what had been covered in her classes that day, Gaia couldn’t have repeated a word. Not that she was ever Ms. Perfect Attention. But ever since the morning announcement the only sound track in Gaia’s head was the screaming desk and a running loop of her conversation with Cassie.
    As far as Gaia knew, it was the first time she had ever talked to Cassie. And the last.
    The thing that really bugged Gaia, the thing she just could not get around, was this:
    What in hell was Cassie Greenman doing in Washington Square Park at night? It didn’t make anysense. Cassie had seemed genuinely scared of the killer. She had even talked about dyeing her hair to take her off the victim list. Cassie Greenman might not have been a rocket scientist, but anyone smart enough not to play on subway tracks would have known better than to go into the park.
    Except Gaia, of course, but that was different.
    Gaia took a last took at the screaming desk as she staggered out of class. It had eyeball magnetism, that desk. It was like a tooth missing right in the middle of someone’s smile. You couldn’t stop looking at it. Gaia wondered how long it would be before someone else sat there and filled in the gap. She was willing to bet that desk was going to be empty for a long time.
    Gaia made it down the hall, pounded her locker into submission, and shoved her stuff inside.
    Why hadn’t she seen Cassie in the park? It wasn’t exactly teeming with people. How could Gaia have missed her?
    Thoughts of Cassie grew so thick, it was like walking around in a literal fog. Gaia trudged slowly along the hallway, lost to the world. Then she started around the corner by the school office and ran smack into what felt like a concrete wall.
    She gave a mumbled “sorry” and started to move on.
    â€œIt’s all right. At least this time you didn’t knock me down.”
    Gaia looked up at the voice. “Huh?”
    â€œHi,” said David. “Remember me? David Twain, boy obstacle.”
    Gaia blinked away the tangle of twisted thoughts. David hadn’t felt like a wall yesterday. Last night must have taken more out of her than she thought. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
    David grinned. “It’s school. They make you go.”
    â€œI mean . . .” Except Gaia didn’t know what she meant. Her brain was still deep in the Cassie zone , and she was having a hard time getting it back in the real-world dimension.
    â€œI’m going to have to start wearing football pads,” David said, rubbing at the back of his neck. Gaia watched his forearm where he’d rolled up his sleeve. He was better looking today. Somehow the thought pissed her off.
    â€œSorry” Gaia said again, stepping around him. “I’m not all here at the moment.”
    â€œYeah, I’ve seen the studies,” David said, shoving his hands in his pockets. His binder was tucked under his arm with one book. There was no backpack. Gaia brought her hand to her forehead, confused by her inadvertent observations. Since when was she interested in this kind of thing?
    â€œWhat studies?” she