“This started out as a freshman prank. An initiation into our house, if you will. But there is one who has taken this too far. She has watched you closely and has much to vindicate. She has heard you sing, as you might be aware. This is a warning. We are no longer involved in this.”
“And what does your house represent?”
“You will tell no one of this if you wish to be acknowledged as a part of the student body,” she said.
“Who heads this club?” I asked.
“You do not ask questions of me!” she said.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I yelled.
“You’re so stupid.”
The person opened the door, and she shut it. “Do not come in. I am not dressed,” she said. Suddenly the light went out. Then she threw the door back. It slammed into my already pulsating foot that was jammed into a three-inch stiletto pump. I heard her run expediently down the hall. Then I heard a slam just outside the door.
“Say excuse me!”
It was Jane’s voice. After peeling myself off the floor, I rushed out the door.
“What are you doing in there?” Jane asked.
I wasn’t sure if the yearbook thing was serious, but I very well couldn’t tell the gossip mill herself what was going on.
“Ohh … I was using the vanity in the back, while she used the mirror. Makeup check.”
“What is that mark on your face?”
“What?” I touched my face to find a crease on my cheek. “Do you have a compact?” I asked. Jane and I walked down the hall.
“Did you see that girl?” I had to be clever. A gossip queen never resisted an opportunity to talk about someone.
“Who?” Jane asked.
Get a clue. “The girl who just ran out of the bathroom,” I said.
“Dude, what was with that hot black turtleneck? It’s ninety degrees outside. Is this or is this not a party? Hello? She was totally uninvited. I can so tell. Nobody invited would dress like that,” Jane said.
“What was with her hair color?” I said, fishing for details. I didn’t get a chance to see her without the mask on. I wondered if Jane had noticed her hair.
“She needed a gloss, and some auburn highlights. That mousy brown look is so junior high, as if anyone has virgin hair these days.”
So we had a match for the black turtleneck from the bedroom incident and this one involved a mask.
Jane handed me the compact. Yeah, it was as I had suspected. I had a tile imprint on my cheek. If I thought the door knob was dirty, every germ on every shoe that had entered that bathroom was now residing on my face.
“I have to go home.”
“I get it. You’ve made the rounds. Talked to Jason and all.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. Jane kept walking about ten feet before she realized I had deferred.
“What?” She looked back at me confused.
“We are not seeing each other. No. Not even close.” I had to make that clear, otherwise I’d be in the morning text report. The day Craig and I had broken up I didn’t receive the morning text. Probably because my name was all over it. It turns out I had mysteriously deleted me from the send list. Cindy made sure to put me back on.
We reached the top of the stairs. Carolina brushed past us. She only dreamed of appearing in the morning report. “The second bathroom on this floor stinks of D-list trash,” Carolina said.
“I’d be careful who I called D-list,” Jane said.
I just ignored Carolina. It was beyond my patience level. Though one thing was weird. Why was she referring to the second bathroom? She didn’t really have mousy brown hair. But it could’ve been a wig. Was she part of the “house” that crazy Taekwondo Girl from the bathroom represented. Taekwondo Girl knew the same moves from gym class. We must’ve had gym together. I had gym with Carolina. But, then again, so did fifty-nine other girls.
I had a feeling that this had something to do with the very group of people I despised—the popular clique. So this “house” was made up of girls? I wondered if Jane was a member. I guess she had to be to have such a strong hold on the tabloid media. It would be weird if guys weren’t members.
“I’m going to look for Cindy,” Jane said.
“I think she’s upstairs with Peter.” I cleared my throat.
“Oh.” Jane shook her head. Then she checked her watch. “I give them five minutes,” Jane said.
“That sounds about right,” I said.
We both looked at each other and laughed.
The thing that got to me was that boys had the power to make a girl popular. I was a living specimen of that. So, if guys were members, why would they send a girl to rough me up? Popularity controlled by a secret society. This whole notion was completely absurd. You couldn’t be a member if you weren’t popular? Yet, you could be popular and not be a member? Uh! Look at me, I was thinking on their shallow level. This was supposed to be all behind me.
I texted Cindy to meet us at the car and copied Jane. I walked out the door to get some fresh air. It felt like I should tell someone, but I didn’t know who that girl was or if she would be back. And this other person she spoke of … It had sounded like she was insinuating that something was looming. What could be next? My mind was racing a mile a minute. I couldn’t even complete a thought. That bathroom incident was downright jarring. I didn’t even know what to call it, but there would be another like it, I suspected. How could I stop it? Was this the type of thing you reported to the dean? What would they do? Sequester every brown-haired girl to the dean’s office for questioning? I hadn’t really been in a brawl since grade school. And at least then I knew who I was fighting and why they hated me.
Jason rolled by in his convertible with the top down. He nodded at me and smiled. Then, when I didn’t respond, he waved. I see you. I smiled and quickly looked away. You can never give a guy too much of your attention, that’s when things start to go south. I’m a living specimen of that, too. Plus, I was beginning to think that if I cut him loose, this might be all over. How could I ever use the bathroom again without getting freaked out after this? I tried not to let the first incident give me a complex, but this would be difficult to let go.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Cindy and I bummed a ride to school with her father.
“I’m so sorry about this,” Cindy said.
“What?”
“Uh, this whole carpool thing. Having to listen to my father’s lame jokes. I keep telling him he’s not funny, but he swears my friends think he is.”
Although her dad’s jokes were pretty dry, we only had to endure them for ten minutes on our way to school. It was no problem, really. Dealing with the car ride trumped spending my nights at the all-you-can-eat with my grandparents and sleeping in the guest bedroom that reeked of mothballs.
“So I shouldn’t laugh anymore?” I asked.
“No,” Cindy said firmly. “Looks like you got company.”
Jason was waiting for me at the front entrance. I had totally forgotten about the whole chaperone thing. I should’ve been down on my knees, thanking my lucky stars for some backup. I hadn’t told anyone about last night. And I wasn’t planning on it.
“He’s looking at you. Wait a minute? Is he waiting to walk you to class? Aw!” Cindy said in a mocking girly voice.
“And where’s Peter? Oh … you’ve got no strings attached. I’m sure there’s a girl somewhere who envies you.”
Cindy’s mouth dropped. I didn’t usually talk to her like that. But she was getting on my nerves a little, with her watching every move that Jason and I made.
“That was way harsh. BTW, keep this up and you’ll be in the morning spiel for the next week, Missy.” Cindy winked.
“And maybe I could use a little heat my way,” I said.
She knew I was being facetious. I hoped.
Jason stared me down as I approached him. I acted as if I hadn’t spotted him fifteen feet away. I let Cindy walk in front of me a
bit as I slowed my pace. I looked at him and smiled coyly as I passed him by. He was cute all right—dark black hair, chocolate skin, big, brown, puppy dog eyes, tall, sort of built, definitely not skinny. Why did I keep describing him in my head over and over again? It’s like I forgot how cute he is. I call it the “I like you amnesia”—you forget how he looks because you like him so much.
He casually looked around before practically tripping over himself to catch up with me. He covertly tugged at my arm. “Wait up,” he said.
He was a persistent one.
“Hi,” I said, like I had no idea he’d been trailing me. “Do you have a job, like a part-time job?” I asked him. If a boy had a part-time job, there was always a chance he had a girlfriend at work.
“Are you running a background check?” he asked as he followed me up the stairs. We had the same homeroom.
“You’re the one creeping up from behind. It’s plausible that some background would be in order.” I had to think up that one.
“Just crush the ego, why don’t you?” His tone changed from charming and inquisitive to cold and dry. Note to self: Don’t call him out on his fawning. I liked it better when he played charming.
“So … we’re going to class?” he asked. He avoided direct eye contact with me. He walked ahead a little and held the stairwell door open for me.
“Why? Are trying to weasel out?” I walked through the door. “Thanks,” I said.
“Me? You know you’re not like any other girl. For real.”
I stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Is that a good thing?”
“You tell me.” He shrugged.
This guy was everything I had sworn off. He grabbed my hand and led me up the hallway. The whole time I kept my palm open, refusing to grab back. It was so sudden that I didn’t have any time to think. He had some game, though.
Then I realized we were on the wrong floor. I snatched my hand back. “Jason, we’re on the wrong floor.”
“Yeah, we’ll just take the staircase at the end.”
Could it be that we were holding hands on this floor because he didn’t want anybody to see us? Not that I wanted anyone to see either, because this complicated things. I leaned into him so close I noticed the length of his eyelashes.
“I did want you to take me to class, but now I’m walking alone.” I couldn’t believe it came out like that. I was supposed to say something witty, not petty. Goodness! I turned on my trusty stiletto heel—yeah, the same heel from the night before. I suspected that by third period my foot would probably start throbbing from the lack of blood circulation to my toes, but it would be a damn good-looking throbbing foot. The shoes were Cindy’s. Since I’d been blacklisted socially, I’d rarely worn ridiculously high heels. Sometimes, you have to change it up a little.
I hoped Jason got a mouth full of my hair back there when I turned around and bolted in the opposite direction. Was he attempting to take me to class the back way or what? He may be good-looking, but I was equally as hot! And I was smart. I knew the world was fixated on looks, but having a brain counted big time in my book.
“I am walking you to class. What’s the deal?” he asked.
“What is your deal?” I said furiously.
He didn’t answer me.
“Don’t follow me,” I continued.
The bell rang. In all the four years I’d been at this school, the bell had never come in handy until lately, although I’d never been late to homeroom before, until today.
I ran down the hallway and up the proper staircase. He ran after me. I could hear his colossal footsteps gaining speed. I had only one more flight to go. Everything would be fine as long as I didn’t trip. These shoes were tricky. You could only let the base of your foot touch the step—not the high heel part. Otherwise you could definitely fall backward. By the time I reached the top of the second flight of stairs, I was winded. I stopped to take a breath. I mean, I was late already, no biggie. Wrong! There was a major biggie!
He grabbed me by the waist from behind, knocking me off balance. I jerked backward and then swayed forward in an effort to regain my balance and that I did. I snatched his hands off me.
“Nia! Are you okay?” Jason asked.
I caught a glimpse of him bolting up the stairs out of the corner of my eye. If he was running up the stairs, then who was grabbing on me? I turned completely around to find Craig standing behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I slapped Craig across his face. “Don’t touch me.”
“What you doin’, man?” Jason asked Craig.
“I thought you were right behind me,” I said to Jason.
“Nah, I stopped chasing you after the first flight of stairs,” Jason said.
“Why are you following her?” Craig sounded like a mechanical tin man. It took him three whole minutes to come up with that thought.
“I asked you a question, son,” Jason said.
“This is none of your business,” Craig said.
“I think it is.” Jason stepped into Craig’s face. I stepped in between them.
“Craig, why did you try to pull me down the stairs?” I asked.
Jason should’ve kicked his butt, but it wasn’t worth it. He could get into a lot trouble. Our homeroom teacher was Mr. Sui. He was like Inspector Gadget. If you were late to class, he would contact someone on his BlackBerry and find out why you were late before you even made it into class.
“I was tryin’ to whisper in your ear,” Craig said to me loudly so Jason could hear.
“Nah, that’s not going on,” Jason said.
“Craig, I don’t even talk to you. Take a hint. Leave me alone!” I walked away.
As soon as I turned my back, Craig pushed up against Jason. I opened the door and held it. When I looked behind me, expecting to see Jason, I saw him all right. He had just shoved Craig into a wall five feet away. Craig charged at Jason. He motioned to grab Jason’s neck. I quickly jumped in between them and put my hands up. The last thing I needed was anyone swinging their arms near me.
“Stop it, Craig. We are not going out anymore. You have a girlfriend! What are you doing?” I said.
“Can I talk to you?” Craig asked.
“No,” I said.
Craig just stood there as if he hadn’t realized that I wasn’t waiting in the wings to take him back.
Now, somewhere between telling Craig off and leaving the stairwell, I had teleported out of my body, and a daring, flirty version of me grabbed Jason by the hand and walked to class confidently. We didn’t look back at Craig. I knew he wasn’t following us. In fact, for the first time in two days, I felt confident that no one was following us.
Our class was only one door from the staircase. The only door open was the front door. Walking through the front door sealed the deal. Everyone awake in homeroom was going to notice, and the rumor mill would start. Cindy’s eyeballs stretched to the size of golf balls upon seeing us. I put one foot in the door with my hand in his. There were gasps. He was walking right behind me. Suddenly, I was summoned back to my body and, upon returning, I dropped Jason’s hand and scurried to my seat, embarrassed.
“What was that?” Cindy sounded impressed. I thought she was going to get out of her seat and bow down. Then again, knowing Cindy, she probably had thought of it.
“What?” I whispered innocently.
“No one has been able to lock that down all year. Do not screw this up with your scary, church-girl act, like you’re a saint or something. You came in looking all cool like this was finally your big comeback and then, at the last second, you punked out. Not cool.”
I’m not sure why Mr. Sui felt compelled to read the morning handouts aloud to the entire class. The words, Graduation Check List, written in large red letters across the top like a warning letter ensured that we were all reading that announcement the moment it got into our hands. Some of us even looked over our neighbor’s shoulder to read it if our neighbor snagged a copy before it came around to our row. There was change
in the air. Cindy and I looked at each other, knowing the same thing was on both of our minds. She shook her head as if to say, “Yeah, it’s coming.”
“Graduation,” I said.
“The big G. I’m just hoping for a new car,” Cindy said.
I wondered what my hopes were for graduation besides putting all this menial popularity, “high school” stuff behind me and excelling based on my brains in college. I looked back at Jason, and he looked up from his graduation notice at me. I smiled. He smiled as his eyes dove back down to his paper. He was like no other boy I had ever met. Now I knew what that meant; it was a really good thing.
I turned back around to my lonely spiral notebook. I pulled out a little folded note that was peeking out right underneath the back cover. I waved the silly note in front of Cindy’s face.
“I didn’t know we’d turned the clock back to paper and pen,” I said.
“I try to avoid using my notebook as often as possible. That did not come from me!” Cindy reached for the note. I pulled it back.
The last time she had gotten hold of a note written to me she read it aloud to the entire class. I quote: “Nia,” she’d said like one of those overzealous beefcake men on the cover of a romance novel, with all this fake bass in her voice. “You look hot today. Pick you up after practice. Craig,” she finished.
I had been mortified. Then the girl sitting next to me—note: I’d never spoken to her a day in my life—leaned over and said, “I would kill to be you right now.” I’d always thought she was so smart. Then it hit me that everyone wanted a life, a boyfriend, and popularity. I was living the dream for every beautiful, smart girl like me. What a crock! That’s the thing about epiphanies, they are highly contextually based. From the inside of the popularity group, things seemed much different than from the outside looking in. I was almost ashamed at how gullible I had become. I was easily beguiled by my fake friends and my fake popular status. Many of those fake friends were in my same homeroom class. They watched me like a hawk when my back was turned. But if I glanced in their direction, they’d put on a forced, uncomfortable half smile in an attempt to be civil. I didn’t waste my time. I just looked right past them.
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