The problem was that a lot of the time what she wanted to talk about was Scott Pickett.
“Want to know something hilarious Scott said?”
“Did you hear what happened to Scott at the game against Bristol yesterday?”
“If a boy doesn’t call his girlfriend for a couple days should she be worried what do you think? You’re a guy, right?”
Right.
You’re pitiful Aaron would whisper. If you don’t either run for your life or set her straight about that jerk then you are a spineless loser of the saddest kind.
By now, Mr. Levesque, you’re probably thinking that Aaron was right. And maybe he was. But how could I tell Mo that I hated Scott’s guts? That I thought he might even be involved in leaving that spooky mobile for us? For 1 thing she might suddenly realize that I liked her and then decide that was the only reason I was cutting him down. For another she seemed so in the clouds about him that probably she wouldn’t listen to me anyway.
In the end I flipped another coin: heads I’d tell her the truth, tails I wouldn’t. It came up tails.
That’s why Thursday as Mo and I made our way along the main corridor I was keeping quiet. That was right before Stella got herself into trouble again. Mo was filling me in on all the drama behind how Scott repaired the ripped Upholstery in the old Honda his dad was letting him use I kept nodding and trying to be as supportive as I could while my eyes secretly scanned the crowd for Lyle.
As usual Aaron was exasperated with me. Pathetic!
We came to that short hallway near the Cafeteria and I happened to notice Olivia at the snack dispensers. I spotted Olivia between classes a lot. I’d see her walking alone in the hallways in that hunched-over way she had. I tried to say hi a couple times but I don’t think she heard me. And now here she was again only this time she wasn’t alone. Standing behind her at the machines were Ray Beech with Patty Norris and Patty Keane—2 stuck-up girls from Dean Eagler’s crowd. I stopped walking.
“What’s going on?” Mo asked.
I nodded in the direction of the machines.
Olivia slid her dollar bill into the slot. Patty Norris reached in front of Olivia and pressed the big soda button before Olivia had a chance to choose anything for herself. When the can dropped, Patty grabbed it.
“Thanks” she said. “My favorite.”
They were maybe 15 yards away but still close enough that I could hear Patty Keane snicker.
Then Ray piped up. “Olivia Whitehead that’s your name, right?” Except the way he said it didn’t sound like a question.
Patty Norris poked the cartoon decal on Olivia’s backpack. “God I just adore your bag. Where did you get it? It’s so retro glam. That’s what you’re going for isn’t it?”
I could practically see Olivia disappear into herself. Like a turtle retreating into her shell. Her face went blank and she stared at the floor.
Patty Keane reached out and stroked the back of Olivia’s head. “And girl, how do you get these lovely locks to hang this way? I think the dead fish look is so in, don’t you? What do you use? Crisco?”
Patty Norris pulled the tab from the soda. With her long red hair and perfect skin and spooky green eyes Patty was practically Opequonsett High School royalty. “What’s the matter Olivia don’t you want to share your secrets with us?”
Olivia didn’t move.
Ray came in closer. “Word has it you’re in that new freshman band. You’re the singer, right? Well well. Why don’t you belt 1 out for us right now?”
“Oh yes please do” Patty Keane said.
All this happened so fast that until then I wasn’t sure what to do but now I started in their direction pushing my way through a crush of kids heading to class.
Mo was already a couple steps ahead of me. “What’s going on here Ray?”
He didn’t seem especially bothered to see us coming. “Oh look who it is. Our very own bass-playing Benedict Arnold.”
Mo walked right up to them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Olivia” I said. “You OK?”
Patty Norris frowned like we were the ones causing the problem. “Relax we were only talking about shampoo it’s not our fault that your girlfriend here doesn’t want to hang out with us.”
“Maybe she thinks we’re not good enough for her.” Ray pointed to the can in Patty Norris’s hand. “Swig?”
“Certainly.” Patty handed it over.
Olivia’s face was so flushed that the acne across her forehead stood out like a neon relief map.
That’s when I noticed Stella watching us from the end of the corridor, her book bag slung across her shoulder and a paper lemonade cup in her hand. She’d obviously seen what was going on. But there was no time to think about Stella just then with Ray looking like he might lash out at Olivia or Mo at any second. So before I thought better of it I blurted out the 1st thing that popped into my head.
“You’d better leave her alone.”
Ray’s lip curled. “What was that Buffalo Boy? A threat? And if we don’t who’s going to make us?” He put the can to his mouth. Patty snickered again.
OK I’m no runt or anything but Ray was probably the biggest kid at school. So what could I do? But all of a sudden I was tired of watching these guys act like they were better than everyone else. I couldn’t see Olivia’s face anymore but I could hear her breathing in short rapid breaths that pulsed like a heartbeat.
“Me” I said trying to sound confident. “I guess I’ll have to be the one to make you.”
With his free hand Ray grabbed my collar and yanked me toward him he laughed right in my face. A few droplets of soda sprayed onto my nose. Then he let go of me and shoved me back against the wall. “Sorry man” he said wiping his mouth and still chuckling. “I just couldn’t help it you’re so funny.”
“What’s the matter with you Ray!” Mo shouted. “You’re acting like a complete creep! Were you the one who left that mobile thing for us downstairs? Wait until Scott finds out about this!”
“Look” I said “let’s try and be reasonable. We can talk this through.”
“Don’t bother” said a calm voice right behind me. “This is just oppression plain and simple. You can’t reason with people like these.” Stella. She’d walked up when I hadn’t noticed. When I turned she was setting her book bag on the floor. She took a long sip of her drink and eyed Ray and the Patties coolly.
Ray sneered. “Well if it isn’t the ringleader of the freaks. How are you Stella?”
But Stella didn’t say another word. She pushed past Mo and me and then planted herself directly between Ray and Olivia. She flashed Ray a grin.
Mo and I exchanged glances.
And that’s when it happened. While everyone watched, Stella stood on her toes and blew a giant mouthful of lemonade slush all over Ray’s face. My heart nearly stopped. Patty and Patty’s jaws dropped. Ray put his arm up to block the spray but it was too late. Yellow goo dripped from his nose and ears and his skin was shiny with it. He cursed and looked ready to take a swing at Stella.
But I’m sure you remember what happened next, Mr. Levesque, because that’s when you rushed over from the main corridor. I remember how your face was all red. “What exactly is going on here?”
“Nothing” Ray said, wiping his face on his sleeve. “We were just trying to purchase a soda when these freshmen came over and started threatening us. The next thing we knew, Lemonade Mouth over there let loose!”
Patty looked ready to explode. “She ought to be locked up!”
I watched you take in the scene: Ray looking every bit the Victim with his wet face and hair and a dark stain forming on the top of his shirt, and Stella still holding the lemonade with a satisfied grin. Suddenly I had new respect for this strange, fearless girl.
That’s when the bell rang.
Everything ended quickly after that. Sure Stella ended up getting another detention but even at the time she said it was no big price to pay. I hear she didn’t even p
ut up a fight about it. Later, of course, everybody knew it’d been worth it.
After all, word got around about what happened.
And besides, our band finally had a name.
CHAPTER 4
Lemonade Mouth wasn’t that great. Everybody talks about them like they were superheroes or something. Well they weren’t, all right? They sucked.
—Dean Eagler
MOHINI:
Suspicious Minds
It’s Thursday night and I’m in my room on the phone complaining to Charlie about the number of irregular Latin verbs I have to learn. It’s funny how before Lemonade Mouth happened, Charlie was just another Metal Shop kid. With his uncombed hair and his perpetually half-tucked shirt, he was only some slob in my grade, probably not too bright either. But lately we’ve had sort of an unofficial routine where we grab a Mel’s together on our way to Spanish. We also talk at lunch, at practice and sometimes even during study hall. Whatever’s on my mind, Charlie always seems to understand. He has a way of calming me down, distracting me so I don’t completely stress out.
Now he’s telling me all about this theory he has about universal balance. It’s long and complicated, but what it more or less boils down to is that, according to Charlie, everything that ever happens is bound to set off some equal and opposite cosmic reaction somewhere.
“I guess it makes sense,” I say when he’s done. “It’s kind of like physics.”
“Yeah, maybe. But it sure explains a lot, doesn’t it? Like why, even as things change, some ultimate realities stay the same, you know? Maybe you find money lying on the ground, but then later somebody steals your bike. Maybe your TV breaks, but then you read a terrific book. Somebody cries and then they feel better. You see? Two sides to everything. Equilibrium.”
I ponder this for a moment. “In a way, it’s kind of like how the Hindu gods have two forces, a male and a female. Like, there’s Shiva, the god of destruction, and he’s paired with Parvati, the goddess of love? Two opposites forming a whole?”
“That’s it!” he says. “You get it!”
After that he asks me about India and Hinduism, so I tell him how tomorrow is the first day of Durga Pooja, and that my mom is downstairs cooking like a maniac, and that right now the house reeks of fish. He wants to know all about my family, which is kind of nice. Scott never expresses an interest.
After I hang up, my dad knocks on the door and asks me what I’ve been doing. “I was on the phone,” I tell him.
“Why weren’t you studying? Don’t you have your Latin exam tomorrow?” He’s standing in the doorway in his kurta and flip-flops.
“Baba,” I protest. “Cut me some slack. I took a break.”
His eyebrows wrinkle with concern. “Who were you talking to?”
“Just Charlie.”
For the tiniest of moments, a look of panic flickers across my dad’s eyes. I’ve seen that look before, but not often. Like a tightrope walker momentarily losing his balance. I’m not sure why he would have a problem with Charlie. My dad met him yesterday afternoon and it went fine. There was no practice because I had to help out at the store. I hadn’t expected to see anybody, but he and Olivia surprised me with a visit.
“What are you guys doing here?” I said from behind the register.
Charlie grinned. “Just dropping by to say hello. Plus, we’ve never been in your store before so we wanted to see what it was like.”
I was surprised how glad I was to see them. Olivia went straight for my dad’s ornate, fading poster of the elephant-headed Hindu god of prosperity. “This is Ganesh, right?” she asked me.
“That’s right.”
“He’s . . . beautiful,” she said in her quiet, earnest voice.
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. But I was glad she liked the picture. “It’s always been one of my favorite parts of the store. When I was little I used to stare at it for hours.”
She stood there for at least a full minute taking in Ganesh’s golden skin and the layers of complex jewelry he wore on his head and body. Finally she said, “This poster is absolutely the most breathtaking thing I’ve seen all day.”
Olivia can be kind of spooky sometimes, but I like her.
My dad was in the back room but then he poked his head around the doorway. “Monu, are these friends of yours? Why don’t you introduce me?”
So I made the introductions and everybody was super polite. Charlie even bought some chai tea. At the time, my dad seemed pleased to meet them but now, with him standing in my bedroom doorway, I’m beginning to wonder. His eyebrows press even closer together and he eyes me like a crime suspect.
“Don’t get any ideas with that boy.”
This takes a moment to sink in. Suddenly I realize what my dad is saying, that he actually thinks there might be something going on between Charlie and me. Charlie and me! It’s almost funny. Here I am drowning in an ocean of guilt about going out with Scott, and yet my dad is concerned about Charlie, of all people.
“Baba . . . ,” I say, my face burning. “We’re just friends.”
The next day Naomi meets me at the clinic and we walk home together. I tell her what my dad said. As usual, her reaction surprises me. “Well,” she says thoughtfully, “do you like Charlie?”
I’m so caught off guard by her question that at first I don’t understand what she means. “Sure I like him,” I say. “He’s nice.”
“Okay,” she says, “but would you go out with him? If it weren’t for Scott, I mean.”
I roll my eyes at the suggestive gleam in Naomi’s eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Me and Charlie? It’s not like that with us.”
She shrugs. “I’m only asking. After all, you talk about him almost as much as you talk about Scott.”
“No, I don’t. You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not.”
But she is. Charlie and I like each other, but not that way. Plus, we’re so different. “It wouldn’t work out and we both know it. He’s just great to talk with and get a guy’s perspective. We’re just friends.”
She still looks skeptical. “So you’re saying there’s no chemistry at all?”
I shake my head.
“Whatever you say.” She adjusts her backpack on her shoulder. “But I’ve seen you two together. There’s chemistry there somewhere.”
I really don’t think so, but she seems so sure. Is it possible I can be attracted to someone and not even know it?
Still, I roll my eyes again. “If I want chemistry I have Scott.”
But saying that brings on a fresh pang of unhappiness. The thing is, over the past few days I haven’t been telling Naomi or Charlie the whole truth about Scott. I’m not sure why. Maybe a part of me thinks if I tell anybody about my unhappy suspicions it might make them come true. I would never say it out loud, but sometimes I wonder if Scott only asked me out because he saw me as exotic, his little Indian princess. And now the novelty has worn off. It isn’t that Scott and I aren’t talking anymore, but it definitely doesn’t feel the same lately. We pass each other in the hallways and say hi, but hardly more than that. He’s always in a rush to get somewhere else. I’ve been trying not to panic but to be honest I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. Like the last time I saw him at lunch—which happened even before the snack dispenser incident. Holding my tray, I searched the cafeteria crowd for him. Scott and I share the same lunch period only every other day because of the rotating schedule, so I always look forward to eating with him. Today he was sitting alone at his usual table, smiling and calling out to a passing buddy. But the moment I joined him he got all gloomy and quiet.
“What’s the matter?” I said, setting my tray down. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
After that brief sullen moment he shrugged and managed a smile. “Sure I’m happy,” he said, putting his hand briefly on mine. “Just a little distracted. State finals coming up and everything. It’s not you.”
“You sure?”
But that’s when Dean and Ray joine
d us, crashing their trays onto the table. And then the conversation abruptly changed. After that, I tried to read on Scott’s face whether he was telling the truth. A part of me felt sure that something was different, but another part of me didn’t really want to know.
By now, Naomi and I have been walking silently for about half a block. I’m listening to the crunch, crunch, crunch of the leaves beneath our sneakers. Eventually I look over to try and read her expression. I feel the need to hear myself say it aloud again. “If I want chemistry,” I say once more, this time trying to sound extra confident, “I have Scott.”
Naomi shrugs again. “Whatever you say.”
WEN:
The Freak Table
Even after a couple of weeks, kids wouldn’t let the Social Studies incident drop. I tried to laugh it off, but being called Woody was getting old. The good news was that the Halloween Bash was only two weeks away. Plus, I now had my own little group of friends to hang out with. Whenever our schedules allowed, the five of us would sit together for lunch at a round table at the back of the cafeteria. We ignored the whispers from some of the kids who were already calling it the Freak Table. It was a lot easier for me to ignore everybody else when we were together.
Not that sitting at the Freak Table was always comfortable.
“Do you ever stop to think about what you’re eating?” Stella demanded of all of us one day. “One minute a cow is grazing peacefully in the middle of a field, and then a few days later it’s sliced up and served on your plate.” She gave a meaningful glance at Olivia, who was working on a roast beef sandwich. “I have news for you people: meat is murder.”
Olivia hardly seemed to notice her.
Stella looked around the circle for support. That was the thing about Stella, she acted like she didn’t care what anybody thought, but she really did. I sometimes saw in her eyes that deep down she desperately wanted us to like her. And even though she could be tactless and stubborn, this vulnerability actually did make me like her.
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