About Jerry Harris, though, she had no doubts at all.
"Jerry promised to get in touch with Marty Ames this morning," Elaine went on. "I'm sure that whatever's happened to Mark, it isn't anything serious."
"Like nothing 'serious' happened to JeffLaConner?" Sharon blurted out. She wished she could retrieve the words as a dark look flashed in Elaine's eyes. But a second later Elaine was shaking her head sadly.
"Jeff was never very stable," she said, and Sharon felt a chill as she realized that Elaine was almost parroting what Blake had told her only a couple of days ago. "I suppose he inherited it from Charlotte. But that doesn't have anything to do with Mark, does it?"
Sharon bit her lip, determined not to say anything more to Elaine. "No," she said. "I don't suppose it does."
When she remained silent, Elaine looked uncomfortable, as if the visit hadn't gone quite the way she'd hoped it would. Her eyes darted around the foyer, as if she were looking for something but wasn't sure what, then came back to Sharon. "You were going somewhere," she said, and left the words hanging as if waiting for an explanation.
Sharon's mind raced as she searched for something plausible that wouldn't arouse any suspicions in Elaine. And then she knew what she had to do. "Actually," she said, managing a rueful smile, "I was just about to hike out toTarrenTech to get Blake's car." She glanced up toward the second floor. "I'm afraid most of Mark's room is going to have to go to the dump, and I'm damned if I'll start dragging a bunch of ripped-up bedding through the streets of Silverdale. I'll look like a bag lady!"
For a split-second she was afraid Elaine didn't believe her, but then the other woman smiled. 'Tell you what," she said. "Why don't you just walk home with me, and you can borrow my car. I'm not going to need it today."
Sharon breathed a silent sigh of relief and agreed that Elaine's idea certainly beat hiking all the way out to Blake's office. She put on a coat and left the house, not bothering to lock the door.
Aside from the fact that there was no real need to lock doors in Silverdale, Sharon had just made up her mind what she was going to do, and it occurred to her that there was no point in locking a house she had no intention of ever coming back to again.
For as soon as she got Elaine Harris's car, she was going to the high school to pick up Mark, then to the grade school to pick up Kelly.
And then, without telling anyone at all where she was going, she intended to drive away from Silverdale and never come back again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The headache began during first period.
It crept up slowly, and for a while Mark hardly noticed it at all; it was nothing more than a slight throbbing at the base of his skull. But as the hour progressed, the pain inched up the back of his head, and when the first sharp pang struck, Mark flinched, his head coming up and his eyes widening with surprise. The math teacher, Carl Brent, happened to be looking right at Mark when it happened. He paused in his lecture.
"Do you have a question, Mark?"
The flash of pain was already ebbing, and Mark shook his head. Brent frowned, then went back to his lecture.
The next pang was stronger, and as it drove straight into Mark's skull, he bore down on the pencil he was holding until it broke with a sharp snap. Carl Brent's frown deepened and he gazed at Mark uncertainly. The boy's face looked pale. "Is something wrong, Mark?"
Mark hesitated. The pain was easing, but not as quickly as the first quick stab. "I-I just have a headache, that's all," he said. He leaned over to pick up the broken pencil, and as blood rushed into his head, a sickening wave of pain came over him. For a second he thought he might throw up. He straightened up quickly, but already his forehead was beaded with sweat. He wiped it away, then scrunched down in his seat.
He rummaged in his book bag for a pen, and tried to concentrate on the lesson, but then his vision blurred and everything in the room seemed to be tinged with red. And as Carl Brent went on with his lesson in plane geometry, a tiny flame of anger began to burn deep inside of Mark.
The third wave of the headache made Mark's whole body break out in a cold sweat, and suddenly he was afraid he was going to have an attack of diarrhea. He felt dizzy, and finally bent his head forward, as if trying to duck away from the pain.
"I think maybe you'd better go see the nurse, Mark," Carl Brent said. The rest of the class had turned to look at Mark now, but he made no move, and finally Brent spoke again. "Mark, did you hear me?"
Mark swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, and managed to nod. He stood and took a step up the aisle. Another wave of searing pain slashed through his skull, and he had to put out a hand to steady himself against the wall.
Instantly, Linda Harris rose from her seat and went to him, instinctively glancing at the teacher.
Brent hesitated, then nodded. "Go with him."
"It's okay," Mark mumbled. "I can make it. It's just a headache. It's no big deal." The flame of anger inside him burned brighter.
Brent said nothing, but looked pointedly at Linda, who took Mark's arm.
"Come on," she said.
Mark's eyes met hers, and a pang of sudden fear shot through Linda. Mark's eyes-sunken even deeper than they'd been last night-seemed to bore into her. For a split-second she had a horrible feeling he was going to strike her. Then his eyes cleared and he winced as yet another wave of pain broke over him. Saying nothing, he started once more toward the door, Linda beside him, clutching his left arm to give him a little extra support.
Verna Sherman heard the door to the waiting room of her office open, and called out for whoever was there to come straight into her office. She quickly finished putting a final notation in the file she was updating, then put it to one side as Mark Tanner, leaning heavily on Linda Harris, lurched inside then sagged into one of the chairs, cradling his head in his hands.
Verna felt her stomach tighten as she saw Mark. It wasn't the first time she'd seen that strange look in the eyes of one of the boys. She reached for the phone and punched in the intercom code for Phil Collins's office. As soon as she heard his voice at the other end of the line, she told him to come to her office right away. "It's Mark Tanner," she said. "It looks like we have a problem. He… well, he looks just like Randy and Jeff did when they first started getting sick."
She put the phone back on the hook, then stood up and hurried around the desk. She laid a hand on Mark's forehead, but quickly withdrew it as he flinched away from her touch. She picked up one of the thermometers arrayed on the shelf above her sink, automatically swabbing it with cotton soaked in alcohol. "Headache?" she asked.
Mark nodded. Another wave of pain was cresting in his head, and he was unable to speak.
"It just started a few minutes ago, Miss Sherman," Linda told her. "M-Maybe he needs some aspirin." Even as she made the suggestion, Linda was certain that whatever was wrong with Mark, aspirin wasn't going to help. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked anxiously as the nurse tried to slip the thermometer into Mark's mouth.
Instantly, Mark's hand came up and knocked Verna Sherman's away. The thermometer clattered to the floor and rolled beneath the desk. Linda gasped, but Verna waved her away.
"Leave it," she snapped as she reached down to retrieve the thermometer. Then, sensing the lash of her own words, she spoke again, more gently. This wasn't, after all, Linda's fault. "It's all right. I can take care of him now. Just go on back to class."
"But-" Linda started to protest.
Verna shook her head. "I can't take care of both of you," she insisted. "I'm sure Mark will be fine, but not if you and I waste time arguing. All right?"