“Well, I’m definitely not going first,” Mackenzie said.
“Just slide down the damn pole,” Wes said, retaking his place. “There’s not going to be anything dangerous down there.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Eight minutes.”
“Um, guys?” Neela said. “Could we hurry this up?”
“Nothing to be afraid of, right?” Kevin said.
“Right.” Mackenzie was quick to respond, though not as quick to act. As Kevin and Wes resumed their positions and the door slid open, she still just stood at the edge of the hole, frozen.
The threat of imminent failure might not have been able to spur Mackenzie into action, but Persey was pretty sure the threat of competition would. “If you’re too afraid,” she said, “I’ll go first.”
Kevin grinned down at her, his face upside down like an evil jack-o’-lantern. “You’re so badass, Persey.”
Mackenzie instantly stiffened. The idea that Kevin might heap praise on someone who wasn’t her was enough to get her moving. She hooked one leg around the pole with the ease and fluidity of an exotic dancer about to launch into a routine. “No, I can do this.” She blew Kevin a kiss. “See you downstairs!” Then she leaped onto the pole, grabbing it with both hands, and swirled down through the floor.
Persey heard a dull thud as Mackenzie hit the ground below. “You okay?”
Mackenzie’s reply was slightly delayed. “Yeah.” Seconds later, an orangish glow emerged from the hole. “But you guys aren’t going to believe this.”
“Next.” Shaun didn’t even wait for a discussion of who would go, but broke his pose from the Star Wars section and grabbed the pole with both hands. He shook it vigorously, testing its sturdiness, then hurled his body onto the pole, disappearing into the orangey darkness.
Riot was next, and as soon as he disappeared down the rabbit hole, Kevin reached his hand to Persey. “Your turn.”
Persey eyed the fire pole. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to see what was at the bottom. “I’ll go last?”
Kevin shook his head. “You don’t want Mackenzie to think that you’re as scared as she was.”
He had a point, but she still hesitated.
“I promise there won’t be any dead bodies down there, okay?”
Persey pressed her lips together, irritated. “You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” His boyish grin spread across his face.
“Fine.” Persey took his hand, and he yanked her up with more strength than she was prepared for. She went airborne for a split second before her feet touched the floor—the move might have looked balletic if she hadn’t almost fallen over.
“You good?” Kevin asked.
Persey nodded. “I’m good.”
“I’m glad you decided to come today.”
The comment was so out of left field that Persey did a double take. “Um, yeah.” I’d be gladder if someone hadn’t died.
She felt her face burn up, and she turned her back so Kevin wouldn’t see her confusion, then hurried across the floor, gripping the shiny brass bar with both hands before wrapping her legs around it and slipping into the unknown.
PERSEY’S GRADES WERE SLIPPING. IT SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE (not really) that after two years of mediocrity—one at private school, one at public—things could get any worse, but only two months into her junior year, Algebra II was already kicking her ass per (more than) usual and Chemistry was an albatross around her neck.
There had been a slight reprieve sophomore year, a momentary miracle where it looked as if Persey’s academic performance might be improving. Geometry made more sense than algebra, biology was a friendly science, and American history certainly wasn’t as rough as econ. Plus, the change in schools had given her a boost. By second semester, Persey managed to pull all Bs and B-minuses—a first in her academic career—and though her dad still spent much of that summer once again ignoring her presence, there were moments when he’d forget that he loathed his daughter, especially after she took that stupid SAT exam. Moments when, if she closed her eyes and imagined hard enough, Persey could almost pretend that she had a normal family.
But even that sad little glimmer of normalcy evaporated with the first progress report of junior year.
C-minuses across the board except for an A-minus (study hall) and a D (algebra, of course.) Her math failure was dragging everything else down, even affecting normally stress-free subjects like English and political science. It wasn’t as if much had changed since sophomore year, either. She still had almost no friends, definitely no social life other than working on the stage crew, and studied just as hard.