The Clique

by Valerie Thomas

  The Clique

  By

  Valerie Thomas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  “Ugh, fuck school.”

  “Maddie! Language!” Audrey twists to look Maddie in the eye. She’s always liked the floor more than couches. Maybe that comes from being the youngest of four girls in her family: comfortable seating’s at a premium, so the best solution is to get used to being uncomfortable. She secures a lock of her light blonde hair behind an ear.

  “Sorry.” Maddie doesn’t look the least bit sheepish. “But, seriously, why can’t we like extend summer for another month? Or forever. Just summer vacation, all year. That would be spectacular.”

  “I’d be down for that,” Audrey agrees. “We could have parties every night!”

  “Or every other night,” Kate says.

  “Yeah.” Audrey laughs. “Every other night. That would be even better.”

  “Every other night. Let’s do that,” Hannah agrees.

  Audrey cracks her neck. “But I’m not that sad that school’s starting. At least we’ll be together every day.”

  “You just want an excuse to hang out with Gabe more than once a week!” Kate says.

  “Yeah, well, that’s true. But, I also wanna see everyone we haven’t seen all summer.”

  Kate raises an eyebrow. “Really? Like Amanda?”

  Audrey giggles, shaking her head vigorously. “No, everyone but her.” Her hair falls in front of her eyes, and she pushes it up again. “I kinda feel bad for her, though. I mean—“

  “Hold on. First, we didn’t invite her to that party.” Maddie holds up a pink fingernail. “Second, she almost got us in trouble. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but—I dunno, I still feel for her.”

  Hannah stands up. “Yeah, me too. But enough talk about Amanda. Eurgh, you guys remember her greasy hair?”

  “Devon’s brother was really into it,” Audrey jokes. “He was like all over her.”

  Maddie snorts. “Yeah, until I turned on the lights.”

  “God, that was so funny.” Kate frowns at Hannah. “Are you gonna get something?”

  “Yeah,” the other girl says. “I was gonna get a popsicle. Is that cool?”

  “Sure. Here, I’ll show you where they are.” Kate leads the way upstairs, her bright pink sweatpants all but glowing in the dim light of the basement.

  “It’s so funny.” Maddie says once they’re out of view.

  “What?” Audrey asks.

  “How she still puts on the act even when there aren’t any guys around.”

  “Huh?”

  Maddie moves closer, so Audrey can hear her whisper. “Hannah. She tries so hard to be ‘hot.’ And even when it’s just us, she’s still like ‘I want a popsicle.’”

  “What’s wrong with that? Maybe she just wanted a popsicle.”

  “Oh, come on, Aude. I know you’re sheltered and stuff, but when was the last time you honestly wanted a popsicle?”

  She shrugs. “I dunno.”

  “Exactly. You can’t remember. But she eats them all the time. And why’s that? Because she thinks boys like the way it looks.”

  “Seriously, Maddie? I know you’re on this whole ‘don’t dumb yourself down’ thing, but maybe she just wanted a freaking popsicle.”

  “This isn’t a part of the don’t dumb yourself down thing!” Maddie argues. Her voice has risen far above a whisper. “I’m talking about how Hannah always acts so—so slu…“ she lets the sentence trail off.

  “Were you about to say, what I think you were about to say?” Audrey makes no effort to hide her scandalized look.

  “I dunno, what do you think I was gonna say?”

  “You were gonna call her slutty!”

  “But I didn’t.” Hannah and Kate descend the stairs, carrying enough popsicles for everyone.

  “So much for your theory.” Audrey smirks. “See? Sometimes people just want a popsicle.”

  “Fine. Oh, thanks, Hannah.”

  Audrey shakes her head at how quickly Maddie switches back to nice-friend mode.

  * * *

  For Aude, the first day of school means a return to the same, start-at-five routine as last year. She showers, puts on the clothes her parents believe she wears to school—a plain white button-up, long pleated skirt, and underwear that has more in common with an old man’s pajamas than lingerie—and eats a quick breakfast.

  No one in the house stirs as she eats the oatmeal, but that’s to be expected. Now that her last sister, Jenna, has moved out, both of Audrey’s parents sleep in past six. That’s no issue at all; Audrey enjoys the extra time to herself. As she takes baby-bird bites, she wonders what the school year will be like: will the workload be heavy? Is Mr. Silveris a hard or easy teacher? Jenna told her a lot about him, and judging from what she said, he should at least be interesting.

  After breakfast, she steps into the early morning sun, heads to her 2011 Mercedes M-Class—it was Jenna’s, but now hers—and turns it on. The sounds of ninety-five-seven, Denver’s Mile High Hit Music, fill the car as she starts her trip to Kate’s house.

  Kate laughs at her friend as she opens the door. “I swear, if anyone else ever saw you like this—“

  “Why do you think I always change at your house first?” Audrey invites herself inside and jogs up the stairs to her friend’s room.

  Kate follows her. “What I can’t understand is how they never find out.”

  “I’m careful. Very careful.” Audrey undoes the terrible white shirt and throws it on Kate’s bed. She frowns at her friend’s closet; nothing in there screams first-day-of-school material. “Oh, I know! Can I borrow that blue tank?”

  “Sure. I think it’s one of yours anyway.” As part of their agreement to work around Audrey’s strict parents, and the resulting early-morning changing trips, Aude helped Kate stock her closet with about twice as many clothes as she would have otherwise.

  Audrey takes off her skirt and awful underwear and picks a bra and matching panties from Kate’s dresser. The bras they buy are always a little snug on Audrey, a little loose on Kate—but they’re close enough to share even those, when they buy sizes in the middle. “There, now I feel human again,” Audrey says as she pulls on the underwear, followed by a sky blue tank and a pair of stressed skinny jeans.

  “Yeah, you look human again,” Kate agrees. She’s already dressed for the day, in a white polo and knee-length turquoise skirt. She checks something on her phone. “Did you already eat breakfast, Aude?”


  “Yeah. I had oatmeal.” Audrey heads for Kate’s bathroom to apply her makeup.

  There’s only enough room in the bathroom for one girl, so Kate heads downstairs while Aude finishes. In another half-hour they’re both ready; they give each other a once-over, decide they did a pretty good job of applying eyeliner—considering the sun’s barely up—and go to school.

  Since freshman year, Aude, Kate, and their friends have gathered at the foot of the central stairs of the school. She and Kate are the first to arrive, fifteen minutes before first bell. “So what’s your schedule look like?” Aude asks.

  “AP Lit, then Swimming, Greek Myth, and then two hours for lunch. After lunch I just have Econ and Physics, and then I’m done.” Kate glances over at a couple of underclassmen who linger a little too long as they pass the pair.

  Audrey smiles and waves. “Hey!” The boys scurry away. “Freshmen frighten so easily.”

  “Only around you.” Gabe—Aude’s tall, handsome boyfriend—scoops her up into a hug. “Hey babe, how are you?”

  “Oh, I’m good. A little tired.” Aude has never gotten used to waking up at five am, even though she’s been doing it for three years.

  “You always say that.” Gabe nuzzles Audrey’s shoulder. “How about you, Kate? Are you tired?”

  “Naw, I slept in this morning.” Kate laughs and waves at Maddie, who joins the three. “How are you?”

  Maddie sighs. “Still wishing we could have summer vacation forever. Ugh, seven is way too early for school.”

  Gabe leans in so only Aude can hear what he’s saying. “How was your summer?”

  She giggles. “You were there for most of it. You know how it was.”

  “Okay, well what about the parts I wasn’t there for?”

  Aude shrugs. “They were good. It was all good.” She jerks away from Gabe. “Hey, Hannah!”

  Hannah, her sandy blonde hair rumpled in her typical, trying hard to look like she’s not trying fashion, joins the circle of friends. “Hey, guys. Where’s Sean?”

  Kate rolls her eyes. “Still in bed, probably.” The bell rings, signaling the start of passing period. One by one, the friends say their goodbyes and head for their respective first-hour classes, until only Aude and Gabe are left.

  “Gabe, I gotta go. I’m gonna be late!”

  Gabe shrugs. “So? It’s only the first day. Just say you got lost or something.” Around them, freshmen frantically search for their classrooms, while everyone else trudges to destinations they know all too well.

  “I can’t,” Audrey says. “But I’ll see you in Advisory.” She leaves him and climbs the stairs, getting off on the second floor right outside the English department. Room 211 is right next to her English classroom from last year, and she finds it without any difficulty.

  Kate’s sitting in the front, middle seat, with her legs kicked up on the desk beside her. Aude approaches, and Kate sits upright. “Hey, I saved you a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Audrey looks at the assembled class before sitting down; a sea of acquaintances and half-friends looks back at her.

  The end-of-passing-period bell rings, and still no sign of the teacher. Late on the first day? Well, Aude’s sister did warn her that Mr. Silveris had his own way of doing things. The door opens and everyone in the class turns in anticipation, but it’s only Hannah.

  “Where were you?” Audrey asks as her friend finds a seat behind her and Kate.

  Hannah shrugs. “I didn’t feel like rushing. Besides, I heard Mr. Silveris doesn’t take attendance… Speaking of which, where is he?”

  Her question is answered when Mr. Silveris kicks the door open. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to kick that hard,” he apologizes. Audrey has to take a moment to take him in: scruffy, dark-brown beard, hairy arms, one of those Hawaiian shirts with the orange flowers on it, khaki pants, and hair pulled back with a—well, it looks like a rubber band. She stifles a giggle.

  Mr. Silveris sets his coffee mug on the computer table in the corner. He strides to the whiteboard, opens up a dry-erase marker, and writes his own name and “AP Literature”. Then he turns to the class. “I’m Mr. Silveris. Welcome to AP Literature.” He smiles at Audrey, skips back to the door, and pauses as if confused. “Well, come on. You can leave your things here. We’re going on an adventure!”

  Audrey, Kate, Hannah, and the other kids follow Mr. Silveris out to what can only be described as George Washington High’s backyard—a hill overlooking the cafeteria, and further on, Ralph Waldo Emerson Elementary. He doesn’t stop until he’s reached the apex of the hill, and then he turns to face his class. “Breathe it in. This is the morning. Your first class of the morning. You could be out here, but instead you’re in there—“ he points to the windows and gray concrete of George Washington.

  Mr. Silveris assumes a fighting stance, hands up and legs apart. “I know a lot of you probably feel like you dragged yourself out of bed this morning. Like you would rather be anywhere than here, or there. But remember this, my kiddos: this is life, and you live it no matter what you do. Nothing can pull you out of your life, because what you do is life. While you are here, while you are with me, I will teach you how to live. In the morning, we will win.” He turns away from them, toward the lower parking lot.

  “Whitman sounded his barbaric yawp over the treetops. Well, my friends, these are our treetops. Now, come on, yawp with me. Yawp!”

  Audrey shares a perplexed look with Kate. She can tell her friend’s wondering if the man’s crazy, and Aude doesn’t blame her. Despite the question, she can’t help but admit the speech has her fired up.

  “Yawp with me!” Mr. Silveris shouts. “Yawp!” This time, some of the class joins in. He points to Audrey. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

  “Aude.”

  “Odd?” He shakes his head. “Okay, Aude. Yawp with me! And your friend, too. Everyone! Yawp!”

  Audrey smiles and yawps. What is a yawp anyway? she wonders. Oh, who cares! “Yawp!”

  Mr. Silveris grins broadly. “Great job. Now, we’re going to get really crazy. Who wants to roll down this hill with me? When was the last time any of you actually rolled down a hill, just for the fun of it? Come on, guys!” He does a cartwheel that ends in several somersaults down the hill.

  “Oh my god, I think our English teacher’s crazy!” Hannah whispers. But Mr. Silveris is looking at Audrey, and she knows what he expects.

  Aude log-rolls down. When she stands up, she feels dizzy and a little sore where she rolled over a rock—but giddy as well. “That was fun!” she exclaims.

  Kate gives a what-the-hell shrug and follows Audrey down. She’s followed by nearly the entire rest of the class. Mr. Silveris waits a few minutes, until only Hannah and a few others are left standing at the top.

  He brushes a leaf from his hair and parades back to the room. Once the class is reassembled, he resumes his fighting stance, facing them from the front of the room. “In the morning we will win. In here, I won’t teach you how to crunch numbers, or, god forbid, how to figure out the trajectory of a baseball. In here, I’ll teach you the very essence of life. I will teach you how to fly. But you know what Nietzsche said…“ He pauses, apparently waiting for someone to come up with a relevant quote. “No? Well, that’s alright. You, sir, in the back, could you please read what’s on the wall behind you?”

  “The wall behind me?” The boy twists in his chair. “Oh, okay. ‘He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.’”

  Mr. Silveris smiles and nods his head. “One cannot fly into flying. Exactly. Nietzsche was the man. If you look over at my desk, you’ll see I only have two pictures: one of my lovely daughter, and one of him. One cannot fly into flying. In the morning we will win.” He pauses, looking a little confused. “Now, where was I going with this? Oh, right. I do not expect you to write like Nietzsche on your first attempts. I only care that you reach for the heavens. In this class, we’ll be reading and analyzing
some of the greatest works known to man. In the morning, we will win.”

  He paces in front of the desks. “We’ll learn how to describe everything from the wonderful to the grotesque. We’ll study the work of the great masters of English, from Dante to Shakespeare. In the morning, we will win. We’ll write poetry, prose, essays, and—sometimes—complete nonsense. In the morning, we will win.”

  Aude shares another bemused look with Kate.

  “This class is more than just a class. This is the class. If you learn one thing from me, I want it to be this: inside each of you, there’s a chaos. And only through the beauty of language can you give birth to a star.”

  The bell rings. “Oops, I forgot the time.” Mr. Silveris grabs a pile of packets from his computer table. “Here, take one on your way out.” He stands at the door and pays each of the students a compliment as they exit.

  “Well, that was…“ Kate trails off.

  “Fun,” Audrey says, as Hannah says, “Strange.” They look at each other and laugh.

  “Both,” Kate agrees.

  After the exhilarating start to English, Aude feels ready to carpe some freaking diem. Or go to AP Statistics—you know, whatever.

  Chapter Two

  Fifth hour, between twelve and one, is the only period that can reasonably be construed as entirely lunchtime. If Kate brings her own lunch and eats at twelve, it’s not too early. And if she goes out and doesn’t get food till the end of the period, it’s not too late. So much better than sixth hour lunch, which always feels rushed, or fourth hour, where hardly anyone’s hungry.

  Kate has both fourth and fifth periods off this year; she went with Aude, Maddie, and Hannah to Wendy’s last hour, but didn’t get anything. As they all head for their next classes, Aude’s hair catching the sunlight, Kate stays in the front courtyard. The large paved area is where everyone usually mills around on the first day, hoping to meet up with their friends who have the same off-hours.

  Kate examines a strand of her own hair while she waits out the final few minutes of fourth period. She thinks about how, with a bit of dye, she could have the exact shade as Audrey. Her hair isn’t bad, but Aude’s is a perfect, honeyed color.