by Unknown
Now on Monday, as Lacey drives us to school, I’m really nervous, especially since, as of this morning, he hasn’t accepted my friend request.
“Is everything OK?” she asks as she pulls up to a red light.
“Yeah, just had a busy weekend,” I say, as I look out the window. It’s starting to feel like fall now that we are into September. Fall is my favorite season. I love the smell of leaves burning and the crisp cool air. Fall means holiday season and cold temperatures; hopefully, people will stop looking at me weirdly because I’m wearing long sleeves.
“How is Britt?” she asks, looking at me sideways and trying not to make it a big deal, but I have a feeling my hanging out with Britt is a big deal.
“She’s not really as bad as you think she is. She’s stood up for me when she hasn’t had to. What I can use right now is someone who accepts me for me and doesn’t judge me.” This earns me a frown from her.
“I wish you’d spend time with me, Tasha, and Jade though.”
“Those are your friends; all I am is a third wheel.” This is funny because technically I’d be a fourth wheel, and we would be an actual vehicular device. We pull into the parking lot, and as soon as she puts it into park, I jump out. “I’ll see you later,” I call, leaving her sitting there. When I walk down my hall, there’s something in the air. It feels almost tangible, a tension that might choke me. I reach my locker determined to get in and out. Then the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as Amanda leans against the locker beside me. I look around the hall. All the conversations have stilled, and all eyes are on us, on her to see what she’s going to do next. My eyes meet Macy Emmits, and she moves closer with concern on her face. I bet she wants to see the drama unfold.
“Hey, skank,” Amanda coos like we’re best friends still.
“What do you want?” I asked, surprised that I sound so bored as I grab my science books.
“Just to tell you to stay away from Deacon. He said you’ve been calling him.” I stop and stare at her. I can’t believe they are fabricating again.
“You two are just grasping for straws now, aren’t you? You can’t stand that I’m still standing without you.” I turn to walk away, but she trails behind me. I assume she’s done because she doesn’t say anything else—not until I’m just outside of my classroom.
Then she says, “You can’t stand that I’m so much better in bed than you that he stayed with me and not you.” I turn and look at her. She’s got her manicured hands on her hips and is nodding and tapping her foot at me. Something in me snaps.
“You of all people know that none of that is true, whether you believed me then, like you should have, you know you believe me now. I don’t want him; in fact, I want him to leave me alone, both of you. Do you understand? Just leave me alone! You are nothing.” I don’t realize that my voice rises with every word I say, and now I’m yelling in her face, seething. And I’m looking into her eyes, and she’s actually scared because this is what the old me would have done all day long. I would have never taken the crap that I took. I would have dared anyone to challenge me. I thought I loved Deacon, and I was blindsided by his betrayal. It was a landslide from there. In this moment, I realize that I can reclaim my throne if I want it. She’s still scared of me. I step away from her and look around. Everyone is watching us. Everyone is scared of me. Tomas is suddenly at my side.
“Lana?” he questions, ignoring Amanda completely, which endears him to me. It doesn’t matter that she’s still shaken and staring at me, trying to recover as everyone watches.
“It’s fine; we’re done, right?” I ask Amanda, and she just nods. As I turn to leave, I continue in a calm voice. “I mean it, Manda. You know what I’m capable of.” I don’t turn and look at her. The crowd has dispersed, probably because no one wants to be late.
“You’re not the queen anymore.” In her voice I hear her smirking bravely. I assume she’s trying to save face, and I turn to look at her. She’s challenging me again, and I throw my books down on the floor ready to charge at her. I just want to squash her so I don’t have to deal with her, with any of them again, but as I lunge at her, Tomas grabs me around my waist and lifts me off my feet to hold me back.
“Get to class!” he commands her, as his slight Spanish accent thickens. Her eyes widen, and she looks scared again but turns to leave.
“Let go of me!” I scream, pushing him away from me. He sets me down and holds his hands up in the air. I snatch up my books and storm away from him just as a teacher across the hall pokes his head out of his classroom and looks from me to Tomas, probably having heard the commotion. He stands there and crosses his arms, silently telling us to move along.
“Lana,” Tomas says my name again, and still fuming I turn around and glare at him. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just stands at the doorway to his classroom as kids walk around him to get to class. His eyes are locked on mine, and I can’t look away.
“I’ll see you later,” I mutter, trying to convey to him that I’m OK, even though I’m really not. He only nods and disappears into the classroom. I take a deep breath before I enter my own classroom, leaving that teacher with an empty hall.
As the day progresses, I begin to feel worse and worse for snapping at Tomas the way I did. I mean, he was only trying to help. If he hadn’t stepped in, I would have had Manda in a head lock or worse. She’s not much of a fighter, and in seventh grade I got into a few scuffles with Deena Simms, the area tomgirl bully. Of course, after our third scuffle, I spread the rumor that she tried to kiss me and had a lesbian crush on me, and that was why she kept challenging me. She denied it profusely, and it made girls completely shun her. All her bully cred went out the window. I feel really bad about that now because whether or not she is gay, which the jury is still out on, it was never my place to say. It shouldn’t have been me who out-ed her. I should apologize to her. But I digress. The point is Manda wouldn’t have stood a chance against me. And if it hadn’t been for Tomas, I would probably be suspended. Now that I think about it, that might have been Amanda’s intention all along. So just before lunch,I shoot him a text, apologizing and asking him to eat lunch with me. He doesn’t respond, which only makes me worry that he might be mad at me. That makes my stomach turn upside down as I begin picturing all types of scenarios in my head. Like, he didn’t really give me his number, and this is just a sick joke, or now that he’s seen the ugly side of my temper, he doesn’t want to give me the time of day. Maybe he’s heard all the rumors, and this is just securing my friendless fate. I search the lunch room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I take my now usual spot on the hall floor when Britt skips school and put in my ear buds. I sip my juice and munch on chips while listening to Animal Kingdom as I stare at nothing while legs walk past me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him come out of the cafeteria with a lunch tray. He comes over and stands by me a moment before he squats along the wall and takes up residence beside me. I pull out one of my ear buds and smile at him.
“Thanks for joining me,” I say softly.
“A table would have been nice,” he says but watches me out of the corner of his eye before breaking into a wide smile.
“Think of it like a picnic,” I say, before chomping into my pear. Once I swallow, I continue, “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m usually not such a loose cannon.” I avoid his eyes and rub the butterfly I drew on my hand between the knuckles, smearing it.
“It’s OK. She was pushing your buttons. I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret later. Thanks for texting me.” He gives me a shy smile before looking away quickly, and my stomach completely flops on itself, sending the butterflies up my throat. I bravely look at him for a long moment. He’s cute with scattered moles over his neck and cheeks. His skin looks sun-kissed or a maybe a nice natural light caramel color. He looks like he needs a haircut; his hair is wavy and uneven. He still looks away from me, maybe self-conscious because he can feel my eyes on him. I look away and we finish eating in silence
.
Lacey
As I enter my free period on Tuesday, all the whispering and before-class rumble stops. I sit down at a table beside Stacey Gibson, still holding on to my books and ask, “What’s going on?” She is my best bet for the latest gossip and seems to be one of the few people who didn’t judge me after ruining her party last spring. She looks at me with sad, pitying eyes.
“Apparently, Lana went nuts on Amanda and threatened to kill her yesterday. They are saying she’s going to be suspended or worse.” I know that can’t be the case. Stacey just shrugs and gives me an “I don’t know” face. I survey the library, but Deacon must be spending his free time somewhere else. When I get up to leave, I almost run into Byron who looks from me to Stacey accusingly.
“What does this freak want?” he asks her venomously. I know it is only a matter of minutes before Henry will be here too. I do not want to see him. It is getting to the point that I avoid him more for myself than for his ego.
“We were just talking about a freshman rumor.” I appreciate Stacey not airing Lana’s business, but I imagine that will happen after I leave.
“Better be careful, Stacey, before the freak rubs off on you,” Byron snipes a me.
“Didn’t anyone tell you we live in a freak-free zone?” Bea approaches as she chimes in. And here I thought I’d be able to make my escape smoothly. I guess that’s my new nickname. Freak. Hey, I’ve been called worse.
“Some face toner might fix that,” I say as I make a T motion across her forehead and nose with my index finger. “Freaks are great for your completion.” Both Byron’s and Bea’s mouths fall open as Stacey hides a smile behind her hand. I turn and leave on a high note, glancing back to find Bea looking at her face in a compact mirror. As I enter the hall, I begin to worry about Lana all over again. I already know that I won’t be able to find her until school is out. All of our classes are on opposite sides of the school from each other. I send her a text ask if she’s OK. She doesn’t respond, so I text Chase and ask him what he thinks I should do. I already know Jade, being her logical self, will tell me there’s nothing that I can do about it, and Tasha will just tell me what she’s heard. I slide down the wall and sit on the floor waiting for a response.
Where r u?
Just outside the library.
Within a minute Chase is there holding a bathroom pass. He sits beside me and bumps me with his shoulder.
“Do you know exactly what happened?” he asks, picking at a rip in his jeans and fraying it more at his knee.
“Just what Stacey Gibson said.” I tell him our conversation, and his eyebrows furrow.
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
“I know, the old her maybe would have done that, but not now; she avoids Amanda and Deacon. She really avoids everyone, except for Britt.” I frown. Chase looks at me anxiously.
“Don’t do that. You can’t pick her friends; she has to learn some things on her own.” I lean my head on his shoulder, and he lets out a deep breath. “You always do this, blaming yourself for other’s decisions or choices. You can’t control them anymore than you can control the clouds over our heads. Do you want me to go to the office to see if I can figure out what’s going on?” I know he’s right about me. I just wish he wasn’t. I think it’s sweet that he wants to fix things for me. I shake my head no, though.
“I wish she had someone like you in her life, someone that she could confide in and who would look out for her best interest, not their own.” He puts his hand in mine and my pulse quickens. I try to calm my heart for fear that he can actually hear it.
“She’ll figure it out; she has to do it on her own though. You figured it out for yourself, eventually. And she will too. Just give her space. If she threatened Amanda, then she should be suspended. If she didn’t, then all we can do is hope that the truth comes out. If everyone is talking about it, the school will have to do something.” His pocket vibrates, and he silences his phone and sighs. “You can’t do anything but wait to see what happens.” It’s funny. When Jade says it, I feel reprimanded, but when it comes from Chase, I feel better.
“How’d you get to be so smart?” I ask quietly.
“It’s just one of my charms,” he says as he leans his head against mine.
The rumors only get worse as the day progresses. Lana doesn’t answer any of my text messages, but just before school is dismissed, my mom texts me.
I picked up Lana earlier.
My worst fear revealed is in that text. She was suspended. This is all she needs—a month and half into school and she’s in trouble, on the radar of the administration as a troublemaker. Instead of going home after school, I go to the strip mall in Brownsburg and wander from store to store. I look at formals at a department store, but nothing stands out. Besides, it feels wrong to think about a party when Lana is obviously going through something. I make my way home. When I enter the house, I hear the voices of my parents. I linger outside of the kitchen, listening to their conversation.
“Did you see the way she glared at me?” my dad asks disbelieving.
“I noticed,” my mom answers dryly.
“I just feel like our little girl is learning some hard lessons.” I can almost see him shaking his head. Poor dad; all he wants is for us to be happy.
“Well, one of those is that she can’t threaten the lives of other students, former best friends or not. I want to believe that she didn’t do it. Even that Thomas kid said she didn’t, but who knows really. I think with everything going on with her, we can’t let her go to the dance. It’s a good idea to let her still spend the night with Brittany on Friday. She seems nice and makes Lana happy,” Mom says, and I hear her voice getting closer so I race down the hall to the stairs. “Hi, Lacey. No work this evening?” she asks very formally, maybe disappointedly as she comes down the hall.
“No, I’ve just been dress hunting for homecoming,” I say looking down at my hands trying not to breath too heavily as my heart races from almost being caught. Things are so strained between my mom and me, I’m surprised that she’s speaking to me now. But I guess I’m not the delinquent today.
“Well, when you find your dress let me know. Cara can whip up the corsage and boutonniere in no time. You do have a date, right? You’re kind of cutting it close, aren’t you? I’ll call Maurice for your hair and nail appointments. I’ll make sure he gives you a discount.” I take an escaping step up the stairs before I answer.
“Chase is taking me; I wouldn’t go stag or with anyone else. Thanks in advance for calling Cara and Maurice.” It’s not lost on me that Mom just told me I’ll have to pay for my hair and nails.
“It’s fine,” she says, dismissing me as she waves her hand and picks up the mail from the side table. I climb the stairs at a brisk pace, and once I dump my things in my room, I go down the hall to Lana’s room. I knock on the door, but I don’t hear anything. I crack open the door; she’s lying on her bed with her ear buds in and is texting with someone.
“Hey,” I say, pushing the door further open. She cuts her eyes over to me and pulls the head phones out of her ears.
“Hey,” she smiles weakly. “So you heard?” I must be wearing my “I’m so sorry” look.
“Some; are you suspended?”
“Yeah, but I totally didn’t do anything; I would have if Tomas hadn’t stopped me.” She sits up and pats her bed. I sit at the foot of it.
“Who’s Tomas?” I ask.
“This new kid; he’s a sophomore, Hispanic, really nice.” My eyes must widen to the size of saucers. How come I haven’t heard of this new Hispanic, sophomore boy named Tomas?
“Do you like him?” I ask, completely obvious. Her face darkens, and she looks away.
“No, he’s just a friend,” she rushes and fidgets.
“Hmmm,” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at her.
“Seriously, he doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him. It’s nice to have a friend.” I remember her telling me how she felt like a third wheel with Tas
ha, Jade, and me. At least he’s not Britt.
“So is he your Valderama?” I push, teasing in my voice; Lana is still addicted to re-runs of That 70’s Show.
“Wha—No!” she exclaims and throws a pillow at me. I catch it but almost fall off her bed doing so. I recover nicely, if I do say so myself, and stretch out across the bottom of her bed and fill her in on my weekend since we haven’t talked since last week. She laughs at my description of Emily, totally picking up on my jealousy, which launches us into a whole analysis and deconstruction of my friendship with Chase. What does every conversation, touch, and look mean? She swears we’re meant to be together, but I’m not so sure. I begin to feel inadequate again and tell her so because really we’re that close now. I love this intimacy that she and I share. Secrets, hopes, and feelings. She doesn’t judge me for being neurotic because, as she says, “I’ve seen her on the inside.” I think it’s kind of gross, but also kind of cool.