Quiz Queens

by K. L. Denman

  “Are you nuts?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “We don’t want to be caught messing around with that. I say we get out of here and come back when the bell rings.”

  She glances nervously at the door. “You could be right.”

  “I am. Let’s go.” I stride toward the door. A second later, I’m relieved to hear her footsteps following. As we walk out, Ms. Kalkat returns.

  The moment we’re past her, Kiara breathes, “You were right, Jane. Phew.” Then she bounces some more and adds, “I’m so nervous.”

  “Relax,” I tell her.

  But she doesn’t. She lurks in the hall near the door, watching the other kids file in. When Javier passes by, she whispers, “That guy needs help.”

  She could be right. Javier is tall and skinny, and he moves like a drunken giraffe. It’s as if his limbs don’t want to go in the same direction. He also has a peculiar way of bobbing his head sometimes. It’s unclear if he’s nodding hello or trying to duck and hide. I have a momentary pang of guilt over giving him a quiz. It could be confusing for him. But it’s too late now.

  The moment Omar and Liam are through the door, so is Kiara. Once seated, she remains hyperaware of them. She notices when they discover their envelopes. She squeaks when she sees the guys exchange frowns over their quizzes. And she gurgles loudly (a suppressed shriek) when Liam picks up his pen.

  “Kiara?” Ms. Kalkat calls. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Kiara flushes deep pink.

  “Then would you kindly focus on your work? Quietly. Or would you rather do that at the end of the day?” The threat of poop is real.

  Kiara shakes her head and turns over her paper. Today’s assignment is to identify the steps in the decision-making process. We’ve done this before. Maybe the timelines we did yesterday revealed students with poor decision-making skills? So Ms. Kalkat decided we needed a review?

  Whatever. I like the decision-making process. It’s comforting to see all those logical steps. If more people followed the steps, there wouldn’t be so many bad decisions out there. The first time we got a work sheet on this, I showed it to Sherry and told her it would help prevent impulsive, emotional choices. She barely glanced at it. She said her feelings were too powerful to be tamed by some snotty process.

  I finish the assignment and glance over at Kiara. She looks strange. Like maybe she had a seizure. Her head is tilted over her left shoulder, and one eye is fixed on the paperwork. The other eye is aimed in a different direction. Okay, it’s just an illusion caused by her lightning-fast shifts in focus. Paper. Boys. Paper. Boys. Impressive.

  Ms. Kalkat tells us that anyone who hasn’t finished can complete the assignment for homework. It’s time for a class discussion on planning. Her discussions are usually more like lectures, and today is no exception. She repeats her favorite Benjamin Franklin quote on the topic. “If you fail to plan, you are planning to fail.”

  Kiara shoots me a triumphant look. I know what she’s thinking. She made a plan, and it didn’t fail. As soon as the bell rings, she leans over and says, “They did it! I saw them!”

  “Cool,” I reply.

  “Did the letter say to hand the quizzes back to Mrs. P.?” she asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Good.” She claps her hands. “Do you think they’ll take it there right away?”

  “Probably not. We’ve barely got time to get to our next class.”

  She chews on her lip. “Yeah. So maybe at lunchtime.”

  “Maybe.” I sigh. “But don’t they usually hang out with their friends in the cafeteria? Why don’t we wait until after school?”

  “But I’ve got cheerleading practice then!”

  I pat her arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll go get them from Mrs. P., and then I’ll wait for you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She doesn’t look like it’s okay. She looks like she might have a meltdown. But I’m keeping control of this situation, and she will have to wait.

  Somehow we make it through the day. There’s an awkward moment at lunch. Kiara insists on staking out the office. We see plenty of students come and go, including Omar. And Javier.

  “Omigod,” Kiara squeals. “Go get it.”

  “No. Liam hasn’t returned his, and I don’t want to bug Mrs. P. more than I have to.”

  “She won’t mind!”

  The warning bell sounds. “She might. And now we don’t have time anyway. Just chill for a couple more hours, Kiara. I’ll meet you after practice.”

  It’s very important that I get to the quizzes before Kiara has a chance to see them.

  Chapter Seven

  It works out exactly as I had hoped. Almost. I don’t expect to bump into Liam as he’s leaving the office. Literally. He’s staring at the phone in his hand as he rounds the corner, and boom. Full collision. He reaches out and grabs my arm to steady me.

  “Whoops. Sorry, uh…” He doesn’t remember my name.

  “Jane,” I mutter. He’s still holding my arm, and the contact is…stunning.

  “Right. Jane.” He grins that grin. That one. And then he releases me. “You okay?”

  I nod. I can’t trust my voice.

  “Cool. Later.” And he’s gone.

  I rub my tingling arm. I think maybe I should rub my knees too, because they’re wobbling. Bizarre. And then I get it. Some traitorous part of me is attracted to him. How icky is that? How is it possible? Did I inherit a serious flaw from Sherry? Maybe there’s a gene that makes a person like swaggering bad boys?

  But before I can analyze my reaction, Mrs. P. spots me. “Jane. There you are.” She picks up the familiar envelopes and waves them. “You’ve got some responses here.”

  “Great,” I croak. I clear my throat and move to take them. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck with your results,” she trills.

  “Thanks again, Mrs. P. For everything. Really.” I head for the library. I find a private spot and tear open the envelopes. The first quiz is almost blank. The favorite-color question is answered with Blue. And then, scrawled into the space for favorite animal, is the word Me.

  “Yeesh,” I mutter. “Probably Liam.” But, as instructed, he didn’t put his name on it. I put the quiz into a fresh envelope and seal it.

  The next quiz is fully completed. Wow. I don’t take time to read it. I check to make sure there is no name on it, and then I seal it in a new envelope. I repeat this process with the third quiz, which is partially completed. It also contains the cover letter I wrote. I shove that into my pack. There. Now I can hand them over to Kiara and…

  And she’ll learn an important lesson. I’m not kidding myself. I know she’ll be angry. At first. But once she sees my point, she should be fine. She might even thank me.

  I refuse to let Kiara open the envelopes until we’re in her room with the door closed. Her hands are shaking when she finally gets hold of them.

  “I can’t breathe,” she says.

  “Just open them already.”

  “Wait.” She blinks in confusion. “Why are there three of them?”

  “You’ll see,” I tell her.

  “But…” She gives me a piercing look. “Jane. What did you do?”

  “Are you going to open them or what?”

  That gets her. She tears open the first one and scans it. “Favorite color is blue. And oooh! He’d like to have invisibility for a superpower.”

  “That’s a bit creepy.”

  She’s not listening. She’s frowning at the quiz. “But who wrote this? There’s no name on it!” She flips the paper over and checks the back. “No name,” she repeats. “Jane.” Her voice is high with panic. “You forgot to put a place for them to write their name.”

  “Um…” I push my glasses into place. “I didn’t exactly forget.”

  “What?”

  “I thought they’d be more likely to do it if it was anonymous. So I just put numbers on them.”

  “Oh. So who got this one? It’s number fi
ve.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her eyes bulge. “You didn’t keep track of their numbers?”

  I could lie. I could tell her I messed up on the numbers. But I won’t do that. “No, I didn’t track them. I thought it would be more fun for you to figure out who wrote what.”

  Her lower lip is trembling. “But what if I can’t?”

  I shrug. “I’ll bet you can.”

  “I don’t know. This wasn’t what I planned, and you…” She stops and gives me a hard look. Her jaw tightens as she finishes reading over the first quiz. Without a word, she folds it and sets it aside.

  She opens the next one. I can see it’s the one I suspect Liam returned. Kiara is done with it quickly and sets it aside. Her hand is shaking worse than ever as she opens the third and reads. And reads. Finally, she speaks. “Wow. This is just—wow.”

  “Can I see?” I ask.

  She looks at me suspiciously. “Why? It almost looks like something you’d write.”

  This is insulting. “No way,” I scoff. “Believe me, I didn’t write it.”

  “Then who did? Who is the third guy, Jane? Is it even a guy?”

  “It’s a guy. But I’m not going to tell you who.”

  “What?” She glares at me. “Why not?”

  I raise my hands, palms up. “Because it doesn’t matter.”

  Her mouth falls open. She looks dazed as she murmurs, “It doesn’t matter?” Then she shakes her head. “How can you say that? You have to tell me!”

  I probably should tell her it was Javier. But for once, I feel like the one with the power. It feels surprisingly good. And scary and slimy all at the same time. I want to keep it at least long enough to figure it out. Besides, giving her what she wants won’t prove my point. Which is that you can’t truly like someone you don’t know. “Not yet. Maybe later. I’m trying to help you figure this out.”

  “No, you’re not. All you’ve done is screw it up. And now I don’t have a clue which guy wrote what. It’s impossible!”

  “Nothing is impossible.” I decide to stall her. “Let me see them.” I hold out my hand. After a moment she reluctantly passes a quiz to me. It’s the one with me for favorite animal. “Okay. Think about it. Which guy is most likely to call himself an animal?”

  “I don’t know. It’s obviously a joke.”

  “Either that,” I say, “or he’s really into himself.” I hold up an arm and flex my bicep.

  She doesn’t pick up on my hint. This is unlike her. Normally, she’d be happy to talk about which guy might be conceited enough to be his own favorite animal. Instead she says, “The only other thing on it is favorite color blue. Which they all say.”

  “Really? So no clues from color. Huh. Imagine that. Let me see another one.” She hands me the one with the invisibility superpower. It says Dog for favorite animal. And Not really to the question about cheating. A perfect day is Sleep in, hang out with friends and eat pizza.

  “See?” Kiara says. “That could be anyone.”

  She’s right. I could make my point now, but instead I ask to see the third quiz. She looks like she might refuse, but then she tosses it over. I find this:

  What is your favorite color? Blue

  What is your lucky number? 3

  If you ever become famous, what would you like to be famous for? I’d like to be famous for bringing about world peace. Also, possibly for the invention of a time machine.

  Have you ever cheated on anything or anyone? No

  How important is honesty in a relationship? It is very important. Without honesty, there is no trust.

  Describe your perfect day. Take a jet to Africa and go on safari. Meet unusual people. Feast with family and friends. Sleep under the stars.

  Which is more important, beauty or brains? Beauty Why? Because true beauty is on the inside and being smart doesn’t make a person good.

  What’s your favorite animal? Wolf

  What superpower would you like to have? Flight

  What are your plans for the future? I plan to follow my curiosity.

  Wow. I never expected anything like this. I look up to find Kiara glaring again. She’s also winding the end of her ponytail around and around her finger. She only does that when she’s tense. “Um…this one is really interesting. Who do you think wrote it?” I ask.

  “How should I know? Since you’re so clever, why don’t you tell me?”

  “No idea. I’ve never talked to any of them.”

  She makes a weird little sound in her throat, like a muffled scream. When she speaks, her voice oozes sarcasm. “So that’s all you’ve got, Jane? Nothing?”

  “Who do you want it to be?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Omar? But thanks to you, I can’t be sure. All I know is, whoever it is, he would be the one.”

  “The one?”

  “Don’t mock me, Jane. You’ve put me in a terrible predicament.”

  “I think you put yourself there,” I reply.

  “Oh, really? And how did I do that?”

  I’ll have to explain it to her. “Okay. You said you like Omar and Liam. But how is that even possible? You don’t know them at all. You know nothing about who they are as people. Which is exactly how Sherry operates. And look where that got her.”

  “I’m not Sherry! And I was trying to get to know them.” She shakes one of the quizzes at me. “With this.”

  “But you went about it dishonestly. By trickery. I mean, again, look at this question about the importance of honesty.” I point to the fully answered quiz. “Whoever wrote this answer gets it. Without honesty in a relationship, there is no trust.”

  “You know who doesn’t get that, Jane?” she hisses. “You! You don’t get it. You deceived me. So I don’t trust you anymore. You see?” She looks like she might cry. “I think you should go.”

  “Kiara—”

  “No. I mean it, Jane. We’re done.” She snatches the quiz from me and points at her bedroom door. “Leave. Now.”

  She looks serious.

  I try again. “But—”

  “No buts! Get out of here. I’m sick of you and your superior attitude. The only reason I stayed friends with you so long is I felt sorry for you. Get out.”

  Chapter Eight

  She feels sorry for me? I’m too stunned to even ask what she means. My entire body feels numb as I grab my bag and fling myself out the door. By the time I’m home, being stunned has worn off. It’s been replaced by near-total confusion. All I know is, she’ll call. She will. She’ll call and apologize. I’ll ask what she meant about feeling sorry for me. And I’ll get a chance to explain that I was trying to protect her.

  I wait all evening, and she doesn’t call. I finally go to bed but don’t sleep well. I have disturbing dreams that I can’t remember, even when they wake me. When my alarm goes off in the morning, I’m groggy. The first thing I reach for is my phone. There are zero missed calls. No text messages.

  Wow. Kiara and I have had squabbles before, but none ever led to her kicking me out of her room. Nor did they last this long. This is bad. I toy with the idea of sending her a text. But what would I say? I could say I’m sorry, but for what? Trying to be her true friend? Which is what I am. A friend trying to save her from trouble.

  Maybe she needs more examples of how crappy boyfriends can be. Obviously, I’ve told her all about Sherry’s troubles. But what if she thinks that’s only a Sherry problem? Kiara has a fairly charmed life. She probably believes she’s immune to mayhem of the heart.

  I’m not immune. I can’t believe she said that about staying friends because she felt sorry for me.

  No, I’m not going to apologize. I need to stand by what I did until she figures it out. She can be stubborn, but so can I. She’s used to getting her way, and now that I’ve done what I think is right, I need to stick with it.

  I check my phone again, and there’s nothing.

  She avoids me at school. I glimpse her in the hall at lunchtime, walking with a grou
p of cheerleaders. Career and Personal Planning is last period today, so I bide my time until then. Once we’re sitting right beside each other, she’ll cave. I know she will.

  But she doesn’t show up for class. Unbelievable. I risk detention poop by sending her a text: Where are you?

  I don’t get a reply. I do get the poop. Ms. Kalkat confiscates my phone and doesn’t return it until I’ve passed a dazed half hour after school. I trudge home to our empty apartment. It’s dingy, and the air smells stale. There’s also a lingering whiff of Sherry’s cheap perfume. No warm scent of pecan cookies baking. I open a window and consider making something nice for supper. Meatloaf? Chicken pot pie? Chiles rellenos?

  Who am I kidding? I don’t know how to cook those things. And the chances of us having the ingredients are slim. A check in the cupboards confirms this. Canned spaghetti will have to do.

  I could catch up on cleaning. I wander into the bathroom, and yes, there are long Sherry hairs everywhere. She has been dying her hair auburn for years. The last time she did it, her hair turned out more orange than auburn. I look at my own hair in the mirror. It’s an ordinary shade of brown, the color Sherry’s would be if she didn’t dye it. I usually wear mine in a braid so I don’t have to waste time on it. I experiment with changing the part to the other side—until I realize I’m doing a Sherry thing, and that’s just wrong.

  I’m bored. Maybe I could get a cat. A black one. Or one of those striped tabby cats. Possibly a calico. Pets aren’t allowed in our building, but I decide to look up cats online. Instead I find myself signing into social media. I rarely bother with it (another time waster—so many cat videos), but I have time today. I can also check who else is online. And what their status is.

  Kiara has blocked me. How immature is that? I block her too, then immediately unblock her. I refuse to stoop to that level. Instead I read a post by my second-favorite scientist, Neil deGrasse Tyson. My number-one favorite is Jane Goodall. Tyson is writing about how Batman can beat Superman. Hmm. Then I find his list of the eight books every intelligent person on the planet should read. I review the list and find I have a lot of reading to do.