So I get out of the front seat and go around to the back—and the next thing I know, Shelby hits the gas and disappears into the traffic.
At first, it was like one of those out-of-body experiences some people have when they almost die, and they can look down and see themselves. Only in this case I was downtown in my shorty pajamas—the new ones, luckily—and my bunny slippers, with my hair in all these ugly pink rollers and no way to brush it out.
I could’ve screamed.
People walked by, smiling, and one guy said, “Isn’t it a little late for Halloween?” I stayed calm by reciting the Lord’s Prayer and thinking about what I would do to Shelby’s hair the next time she asked me to streak it.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Shelby’s car pulled up beside the curb. I got in laughing, like I’d really been having fun.
“We didn’t know she was going to do that!” Ashley sobbed, and the other Girls agreed, and I believe them.
“Sorry,” Shelby said. “I was just kidding.”
“Oh, it was too funny!” I said. “You should’ve seen the looks on people’s faces!”
“You should’ve seen yours.” Shelby smirked.
So we all laughed some more, after Ashley stopped crying, then we drove to the mall, and Shelby treated me to an ice cream cone, orange sherbet and chocolate chiffon. But she’s nuts if she thinks that settles it. Tiffany Spratt does not forget. Tiffany Spratt bides her time.
Have I said enough stuff about my family? I guess I can always add more later, about how they’ve supported and encouraged me, et cetera. I just wish my mother would try to see things from my point of view. She was in here a while ago, complaining about the way I’d done the dishes.
“You didn’t even scrape off the food!” she said. “We could serve the plates as leftovers!” et cetera.
She keeps bugging me about doing my homework. Haven’t my grades always been fine? She looks me over so coolly sometimes, as if she’s wondering what I’d sell for by the pound.
Hey, that’s a pretty good line! Miss Jones always says I’m a lazy writer. She’s really being tight about my famous women essay. She won’t let me write about Little Tina. She’d never even heard of Little Tina!
I explained that Little Tina has a TV talk show, a gold record, a best-selling book—SHORT BUT SWEET: The Little Tina Story—her own line of active sports and underwear, et cetera. But Miss Jones said no; she meant someone like Margaret Walker, our first woman president, or that lady who went to Mars, people like that. I know they were important, but for heaven’s sake, they’re dead! Miss Jones just doesn’t get it.
She reminds me of my mother, going on and on about my potential. Don’t they realize I realize how intelligent I am? I could’ve graduated early and got going on my career, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to be Head Yell Leader or graduate with all of my friends.
Sometimes when I think about graduation night, my eyes begin to prickle with tears. Like right now, as I picture leaving my classmates and teachers behind, and we go our separate ways into the future.
First, of course, there’ll be a beautiful ceremony. The Girls and I will lead the official school cheer. A bunch of people will give inspiring speeches. Then the choir will sing a beautiful song, maybe that new one of Little Tina’s, as our hearts swell with Dolphin pride and memories.
And then it will be time to say good-bye.
Good-bye, hallowed halls of Hiram Johnson High! Good-bye, dear friends and Senior Quad and Snak Shak! Good-bye to all those happy times!
I just wish school wasn’t so boring.
Chapter Five
I should hold a daily news conference or hand out press releases or something, so people will know what’s going on in my life. I have to keep explaining everything!
No, Wally and I have not broken up. It’s just that we’ve agreed that we should see other people while he’s gone. Which I’m sure he would agree with if he could write or call me. He’s on restriction. All because he got on the phone one night and tried to hire a lawyer.
But, like I told him the last time I wrote, “We’ll always be together in our hearts.” Too bad Shelby sent him that picture of me and Cannibal, I mean Campbell, being crowned King and Queen of the Homecoming Dance.
It was such a glorious night! The Girls and I rented a white limousine, and we felt like movie stars or something! Then we picked up the boys and they kind of wrecked everything by arguing about how much the limo cost and saying why should they have to pay; we were the ones who rented it, et cetera.
Then Campbell said—and I could’ve kissed him on the spot—“Come on, guys. Let’s not spoil the evening.”
So the boys agreed to pay for it. But I’ll never understand why Shelby goes with that cheapskate Bryan. He wanted to take us to Smorgas Bob’s for dinner!
I explained to him that Smorgas Bob’s was out of the question; that we already had reservations at Les Chattes, in his name, and if we didn’t show up, they’d charge him anyway. So we went to Les Chattes, but he was a bad sport about it, pretended to burp all through dinner, et cetera.
That’s another thing I admire about Campbell. He never thinks burps are funny. I thought I was going to lose my mind when Ronnie kept talking about his socks! I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear about anyone’s stinky feet, especially while I’m eating dinner.
Anyway, the evening could not have been more perfect! The deejay played all of my favorite songs, and Campbell is a fabulous dancer. Which is not to say anything against poor Wally, who just pushes you around like a shopping cart. When I complimented Campbell on his dancing, he laughed and said his mom made him take lessons in junior high. Talk about an all-around athlete! Track, basketball, swim team. He even knows how to do karate! I asked him if he’d show me some moves sometime, and he smiled and said, “We’ll see.”
But the thing I love most about Campbell is his modesty. When we got elected King and Queen, he actually looked surprised! Like he doesn’t even know how gorgeous he is! I mean, not just his looks, but inside, where it counts.
Everyone clapped and threw confetti, and Mr. Brewer took our pictures for the yearbook. The night was like some wonderful dream come true, so perfect that it made me feel humble, like, too bad more people can’t have my life. But then I guess it wouldn’t be so special.
After the dance I drove Campbell home, but first we stopped here for some hot chocolate. My brother was watching TV but I told him to get lost, and my folks were already in bed, thank heaven. I made hot chocolate, then we went into the TV room and talked. One thing I don’t get: When I’m trying to be funny, he just looks at me; and when I’m being real serious about stuff, he laughs.
We were sitting close together on the sofa, and I was thinking he’d put his arm around me, but he just kept watching this dumb old war movie.
I guess I must’ve sighed.
Campbell looked at me. “You must really miss Wally,” he said gently.
“Yes,” I answered. Which in a way is true, but not what I wanted to discuss at that time.
“Have you heard from him lately?”
“No,” I said. “He’s on restriction.”
I explained that Wally can’t write letters or use the phone for a whole month, and that they’re making him do a bunch of extra chores, like go out into the exercise yard and clean up after all the monkeys.
“That sounds pretty rough,” Campbell said.
My eyes filled with tears. But I have to be honest: Was I crying for poor Wally or for myself?
“I’m glad I could be there for you tonight, Tiff,” Campbell said. “You’ve really been there for me, too. It’s not easy being the new kid at school.”
I thought for sure he’d take my hand then, but he didn’t. Then suddenly I realized: Campbell’s like the guy in this stupid movie who threw himself on the bomb to save his friends! Campbell would never steal another guy’s girlfriend! He’s too true-blue and loyal—and he doesn’t even know Wally!
I really
started crying then. Good thing my mascara was waterproof. Campbell took me in his arms and tenderly held me.
He said, “I’m sorry you’re so sad, Tiff. I know this is hard on you.”
“Sort of,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Wally will be back soon.”
How could I explain that, although in a way I still love Wally, I really love him, too?
“You’re so nice, Campbell,” I said.
“So are you, T-Rex,” he answered.
What is it with this T-Rex business? “Campbell, there’s something I have to tell you,” I began. “Wally and I—”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Spratt.”
I couldn’t believe it! My mother was standing in the doorway. In her nightgown! The yucky one the cat likes to suck on. Talk about bad timing!
“Hi, kids,” she said. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“Yes, it was great,” Campbell said. “You’re looking at the King and Queen of the Homecoming Dance.”
“Really!” she said. “That must’ve been exciting. Tiffany, are you all right?”
“She’s sad about Wally,” Campbell explained gently. “She wished he could’ve been there tonight.”
“Hmmm,” my mother said.
I said, “I guess I’m just tired.”
“Yes, it’s getting late.” Campbell stood and pulled me to my feet. “Tiff, would you see me to the door?”
I wanted to see my mother to the door. Campbell’s hand was strong and warm. I followed him meekly.
“I can give you a ride home,” I offered.
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’ll walk. It’s a beautiful night.”
“The most beautiful night of my life,” I said meaningfully.
Campbell leaned down, and I thought: This is it! But instead, he just kissed me on the forehead.
“Good night, Queenie. I’ll see you on Monday.”
And before I could speak, he was gone, fading into the darkness like a falling star, like a beautiful dream at dawn.
Chapter Six
It’s over. Cannibal and I have broken up.
I can’t believe it, but it’s true.
I’ve been crying so much my eyes are all puckered up.
Behold: the face of tragedy.
Maybe I should—no, I was just thinking maybe I should fix myself up a little before I record my journal entry tonight. But why hide the truth? Why pretend? Just let me get rid of these raccoon eyes.…
That’s better. All of The Girls have been calling. I’ve got such great friends! The best friends in the whole wide world! Ashley and Kendall said not to worry; they think everything will turn out fine. Barbie says I’m too good for Campbell. She’s going to call him up and bawl him out. And Shelby said my face looked puffy, and that if I dab a little Preparation H around my eyes, it will really bring the swelling down.
I found some in my dad’s medicine chest, but then I started wondering, is it true or just another weird joke that Shelby’s playing and I’ll end up with a permanent squint?
I can’t go to school tomorrow looking like this. I’ve never been so sad in my whole life! I keep picturing Campbell’s angry face. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Besides my mother, of course.
It all started when we were having lunch today. We were sitting in my favorite booth at the Hot Spot, and I’d ordered the cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milk. Then the girl asked Cannibal, I mean Campbell—I am so upset!—for his order, and he said a Garden-burger.
I said, “What the heck’s that? Made out of worms and dirt?” And Campbell smiled and said, “No, it’s made out of cereal and vegetables.”
So that was fine, and we were joking and laughing and I was sitting there thinking how handsome he is, but not too handsome, so rugged and strong, when I suddenly realized he’d stopped talking.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “What were you saying?”
“I said sometimes I get the feeling you’re not listening to me, Tiff.”
“That’s not true,” I insisted. I practically hang on his every word! “I was just looking at you.”
“Well, do you think you could listen at the same time?” he asked.
“Sure.”
We laughed and it seemed like everything was fine; then the waitress brought our orders. And that’s when things went to heck in a bucket of chicken.
Looking back, I think maybe Campbell’s right. Maybe I am blind and living in a world of my own, because the signs had been there all along, but I wouldn’t let myself see them. Because it seemed like we were made for each other, and things had been going so perfect.
I asked if he wanted a bite of my burger and he said, “No, thanks,” and I said, “Are you sure?” because his burger was flat and kind of gray and mine was so nice and red and juicy.
That’s when he told me, and I was so shocked, I thought I must’ve misunderstood him.
“You can’t be a vet.” I smiled. “You’re still in high school.”
As usual, he thought I was trying to be funny! Then he said, “No, Tiff. Not a veterinarian. A vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.”
I realize now that I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I laughed and said, “You’re kidding! I’ve never even met a vegetarian before! You mean like, what, for health reasons?”
“Not really,” he said, calmly chomping. “I don’t eat anything that has a face.”
“My burger doesn’t have a face, you silly!”
“No,” Campbell said, “but the cow did.”
I thought I was going to vomit through my nose. I’d never heard anything so disgusting! It was like he was calling me a murderer or something!
“What about fish?”
“Fish have faces,” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “but they look like—fish!”
“Tiffany, why are you getting so upset?”
“I’m not upset!” I said. I’d torn my napkin into shreds. Shelby and Bryan came in just then, so I tossed the shreds into the air like confetti and laughed, but my heart was breaking. Why did Campbell have to turn out to be a nut? Why hadn’t I seen this coming? I should’ve guessed the other night, when we went out after the show, and he wouldn’t even try the chicken fingers—even after I’d explained that they weren’t really fingers!
“You can eat whatever you want,” he said. “But look at it from an environmental standpoint, too. It took tons of grain to grow that burger, and cow poop is a major pollutant.”
“That’s hardly the point!” I whispered furiously. Shelby and Bryan were sitting nearby. “I just don’t want you to be one of those people!”
“What people?” he said.
“The kind that thinks animals have rights!”
“They do,” he said.
“I can’t believe this! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!”
“Tell you what?” Campbell’s face was getting red. “I’ve mentioned it before, but you probably weren’t listening. It’s like you’re living in your own little world.”
“That’s not true!” I denied.
“And another thing,” he said, “why do you keep calling me Cannibal? You can’t even remember my name.”
“If you’re going to pick on every little thing I do—”
“I’m trying to be honest with you, Tiff,” he said. “Don’t you want to be real friends?”
“Of course I do,” I said. “But why can’t you be like everybody else?”
“Millions of people all over the world are vegetarians!”
“Yes, but they’re not Americans!” I pointed out.
“Tiffany, you’re not making any sense,” he said.
“Neither are you!” I said. “What about Noah’s Ark? If God didn’t want us to eat meat, He wouldn’t have given us all those animals!”
“It was called Noah’s Ark, not Noah’s Diner,” Campbell said.
My mind reeled with shock as Campbell kept talking. He said I shouldn’t buy any products from companies that do ani
mal testing—products I have to use every day, like deodorant and mascara and shampoo!
“Are you saying that animals are more important than us?”
“I’ve got news for you, Tiff. We are animals,” he said.
How could Campbell be so irrational?
I said, “The next thing you know, you’ll be having protests, or freeing all the cats in Biology Lab!”
“It’s a little late for that; they’re dead,” Campbell snapped. “But I wouldn’t dissect one. Mimi Durning and I went to the library instead.”
“You went to the library with Mimi Durning?” I gasped. “Now everyone will think you’re a weirdo, too!”
“Why, because I don’t want to play with dead cats? What’s the matter with you, Tiff? You’re too smart to act dumb. Do you always have to be so superficial?”
I almost slugged him. But I could feel Shelby watching us with her greedy little eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was argue with my boyfriend in public!
“You see?” Campbell said. “You’re doing it right now.”
“Doing what?” I demanded.
“You care more about what Shelby thinks than what I’m saying.”
“That’s not true!” I said.
“Then why are you smiling?”
“I’m not smiling!” I insisted.
“Yes, you are.”
I felt my lips. The corners were turned up! I thought I was going to freak out!
“Campbell, you don’t understand,” I stammered. “I’m too upset to talk to you right now. Maybe I’ll phone you later.”
“Whatever.” He threw down his napkin and stalked out. He didn’t even recycle his soda can! He just left it right there on the table!
I couldn’t go back to class. I drove home and collapsed on my bed, crying. My father heard me and knocked on my door.
“Honey,” he said, looking worried, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Daddy,” I told him. “It’s just cramps.”
He must’ve called my mother because she came home early. She sat beside me on the bed and said, “Tiffany, what’s the matter?”
The Cannibals Page 3