Rated

by Melissa Grey

  Summer smacked her gum. The sound was obnoxiously loud. “What are they gonna do? Kick me out? Pretty sure Wood’s already working on that.”

  “Might as well rebel while you’re at it, huh?”

  Summer heaved a drawn-out sigh. “What do you want, Tamsin? I don’t know how you did it, but you won. You don’t have to rub it in.”

  The defiance seemed to bleed out of Summer in slow spurts, like a wound expelling the last blood pumped by a dying heart. She looked small in a way she never had before.

  “They won’t talk to me, you know.” Summer held up her phone and wiggled it at Tamsin. “No one’s responding to my texts. It’s like I don’t even exist.”

  Tamsin really didn’t want to ask what she was about to ask. She didn’t. She really, really didn’t. Except, she kind of did. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, but the sight of the girl who’d nearly tormented her to expulsion sitting on a stump and crying wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it would be.

  “Are you okay?” Tamsin asked.

  Summer hastily wiped at her eyes again. All it did was smudge her eyeliner. “What do you care?”

  “Because I’m not a complete jerk,” Tamsin said.

  Summer snorted. That was answer enough.

  “Okay, fine. I’m kind of a jerk, but I’m trying this new thing where I’m not as much of one,” Tamsin said. And because she was kind of a jerk, she added, “You should try it some time.”

  Summer let out a startled little laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Tamsin sat down on the bench beside Summer. The other girl shot her a confused glare but didn’t object. Not out loud anyway.

  “It’s just … why?”

  Why did you try to ruin my life? Why are you like this? Why are you so cruel? Why was I cruel in return? All those questions, filtered into a single, effective word.

  “When Steve was with Sasha, he showed her the stuff I sent him. Like, all of it. Every text. Every email. Every photo I’d ever sent. Even the ones I’d only ever meant for him to see.”

  “Oh,” Tamsin said. “That’s messed up.”

  “And that wasn’t even the worst part. They put them online. The texts … those weren’t a big deal, but the pictures …” Summer scrubbed at her tearstained cheeks with her sleeve. “My parents saw them. And I just … I cannot explain to you how mortifying that was. My parents tried to get them taken down but …”

  “But once something’s on the internet, it’s on there forever.” A twinge of sympathy coiled in Tamsin’s gut. No one deserved that. Not even Summer.

  “Yeah, and they told me you did it. That someone sent you the pics and you put them up. I could just imagine you up in that music room laughing at me. It drove me crazy.”

  “That sucks and all,” said Tamsin, “but you know that wasn’t my fault.”

  “I know,” Summer said. “I never really believed it was. None of us would ever be caught dead texting you, it’s just that … god, you made such an easy target.”

  “Wow,” Tamsin said with a startled laugh. “It’s kind of impressive how you can just come out and say that.”

  Summer shrugged. “What have I got to lose? I’m about to get kicked out of Maplethorpe. Every generation of Rawlins has graduated from this school for the past hundred years. I’ll be the first to leave in disgrace. Might as well clear my conscience as well as my locker.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be back,” Tamsin said. “There’s nothing Rawlins money can’t buy.”

  Summer snorted. “You’re not wrong there.”

  Tamsin looked out over the rolling hills of the Maplethorpe campus. The verdant trees just beginning to change. In a few weeks, instead of a sea of green, the school would be surrounded by waves of autumn gold and crimson. “It’s kind of messed up when you think about it.”

  Summer just shrugged. “It’s how the world works.”

  “Yeah,” Tamsin said. “For now.”

  Summer took her gum out of her mouth, holding it in a dainty grip between two fingers, and then flicked it toward the center of the walkway. Perfect for someone to step on later. “Never would have pegged you for the optimistic type.” She stood, wiping her hands on her artfully ripped jeans. “Well, I’m out. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

  “I make no promises,” Tamsin said. She really, really didn’t.

  “Course not.”

  “I never hated you, you know.” Tamsin wasn’t sure why she said it, only that it felt right to say it.

  “I don’t know why,” Summer said. “I’m pretty easy to hate.”

  “Maybe that’s why we don’t get along,” said Tamsin. “We’ve got too much in common.”

  For perhaps the first time since they’d both started at Maplethorpe as two opposing poles of the social spectrum, Summer Rawlins and Tamsin Moore smiled at each other. And they both almost meant it.

  On the appointed day, at the appointed time, six teenagers approached the abandoned music building on Maplethorpe’s campus. Flashlights illuminated their path. The security system had been disabled—another act of Tamsin’s brilliance—but they tried to be quiet anyway. It wouldn’t do to get caught this close to having answers. Real, substantial answers.

  Tamsin led the way. She didn’t need a flashlight to illuminate the ground before her. She knew the path by heart. The building had been her refuge from a place that never belonged to her and to which she had never belonged. Until the possibility that it would be taken away from her became alarmingly real, she hadn’t thought she would ever miss it. But Maplethorpe, with all its flaws, all its blemishes and sins, had forged her into the person she felt herself becoming. She would always be a misanthropic cynic, but she was beginning to think that maybe she could be that and more.

  Hana held on to the sleeve of Tamsin’s wool sweater (a nice deep eggplant color to complement the rest of her outfit). She worried about tripping over something in the dark, like a rock or a fallen branch. She’d run out of excuses to skip practice with Dmitriev. In six hours, she had to be on the ice, ready to give the triple Axel another try. She knew she would likely fall, again and again and again, but nothing was ever gained by giving up. Her coach had also made an appointment for her after school in lieu of practice. He hadn’t said what the appointment was for, but she’d googled the name of the doctor. A sports psychologist with experience dealing with elite athletes. Hana didn’t protest. She hadn’t thanked him either; she wasn’t sure yet if she was grateful for the intervention, but she was aware that she needed it.

  Bex wrapped her arms tight around her middle. It was cold, despite the fact that autumn had only just begun to set in. The Hudson Valley was like that. Warm one minute and then cold as an arctic wind the next. Chase’s jacket hung from her shoulders, sealing in some of her body heat. She hadn’t asked for it. She’d simply shivered and then felt its solid weight dropped onto her shoulders. She glanced at him. He was close enough that she could just make out his facial expression. A small smile and a hand self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck. She whispered a soft thanks and tried to make it not so obvious when she breathed in the scent of him from the collar of the jacket. It was nice. And it would probably distract her a great deal in the days to come, but maybe, just maybe, distractions weren’t all bad. It certainly felt nicer than having her brain run circles around itself like a distressed Pomeranian.

  Chase was cold. He tried not to show it, but it was cold out. But the sight of Bex being swallowed up by his jacket warmed something deep inside that he couldn’t quite name. Earning that letter jacket had meant so much to him. It had symbolized all the things he craved so desperately. A chance to be something, to be someone. A road out of Jackson Hills and away from a life that fit him so poorly. He’d never let anyone else touch it. He’d cared for it, spot cleaning it in the privacy of his own room while his father relived the glory of his own letter jacket days downstairs. It had been a lifeline. An opportunity. But now, he thought that maybe Bex wore it better than he ev
er did. And now that he was living in her guest room, he’d get the chance to see her wearing it a lot more often.

  Noah’s hand was warm in Javi’s. Neither of them had spoken when Javi reached out and took it. A part of him had worried that Noah wouldn’t be receptive to the sort of casual contact Javi craved. An even bigger part of him thrilled when Noah gave his hand a quick squeeze in return, holding on as they walked toward the music building. Javi was a tactile person. Always had been. He’d stepped into the void left by his parents, cared for his little brothers and sisters when they were sick and his abuela was overextended. He’d tucked them into bed, and felt their foreheads for fevers, and rubbed their backs when they cried, and held them when they had nightmares and crawled into his bed, their faces sticky with tears. Love meant being there, physically. He knew it was too early to drop a bomb like that on Noah, but the feeling still exploded in his chest in the most pleasurable way. One day, Javi thought. One day, he’d tell him.

  It was nice, Noah thought, to be touched like that. He hadn’t realized how starved for touch he’d been until Javi had started doing it so casually. A shoulder leaning against Noah’s own. Their thighs touching under a table at Lucky’s. A hand holding his as they picked their way across the Maplethorpe lawn, toward what he hoped would be a conclusion to the odd series of events that had led them to this moment. Every time Javi’s skin brushed his own, Noah was reminded that he was there. He was present. He was wonderfully alive. He’d thought he liked experiencing the world through the filter of a lens, had found comfort in the distance, but he was beginning to think that maybe immersion could be just as fascinating as observation.

  When they reached the building, Tamsin paused, one hand on the door. “You guys sure about this?”

  “Not really,” Bex admitted.

  Chase just shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “There could be an ax murderer lying in wait,” Hana supplied.

  “Yeah, but what are the odds of that happening?” Javi asked.

  “That sounds like exactly the sort of thing someone would say right before they got ax-murdered in a horror movie,” Noah said.

  “Okay, great, so we’re all gonna die.” Tamsin rolled her eyes and pushed the door open, the creaking of its hinges loud in the quiet of the night. “Let’s go.”

  They went.

  It was dark inside, but a sliver of light shined from the upstairs landing. They shared glances ranging from curiosity to concern. But still, they went, following the siren song of that light up the groaning staircase. Tamsin knew which steps to avoid to keep her tread light, but the others didn’t. This was her domain, not theirs.

  The door at the end of the hall was open just enough to emit a triangle of amber light. It flickered as they approached. Candlelight then, perfect for dancing in the persistent breezes that made their way through the building’s old bones.

  The door swung open under Tamsin’s gentle push, silent and slow. They crowded at the threshold, each of them just as silent.

  Chase broke first. “What the—”

  “Headmaster Wood?” Bex pushed her way to the forefront of their little group.

  The headmaster was alone. He wasn’t dressed the way he normally was at school. Gone were the immaculately tailored suits and the pressed slacks and the shining wingtips. He looked younger, clad in dark jeans and a thick burgundy sweater. He smiled when he saw them.

  “Oh, good. You all decided to come. I was a bit worried one or two of you would get cold feet.”

  “Again,” Chase said, “what the—”

  “Is this a trick?” Tamsin asked. “Are we getting expelled? Are you messing with us?”

  Wood held up his hands in a gesture of placation. “No one’s getting expelled. Especially not now that you’ve cracked the code.”

  “The code in the messages?” Noah asked. “Or …”

  “The ratings code,” Javi said, his tone hushed with realization. “It was a test.”

  Tamsin’s glare darted from Wood to Javi and back again. “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah, wait, what?” Hana looked as puzzled as Tamsin, if not as outraged.

  “You made it look easy, Javier,” Wood said. “It’s not. Trust me, we would know.”

  “Who’s we?” Bex asked. She stood in front of the group, the shortest of them all but no less fierce for her stature.

  “I think you know, Rebecca.” Wood gestured for them to come farther into the room. They did but not without a great deal of reluctance. Of all the faces to find behind that door, his was not the one they were expecting to see.

  “What do you mean it was a test?” Tamsin asked.

  A strangled little laugh escaped Bex. “To see if we could manipulate the Rating System.”

  “And not just that,” Wood said. “We wanted to see if you would do it for someone else. If you would work together for the benefit of a person you barely knew.”

  “Why?” Chase asked.

  “Because it was the right thing to do. We had to make sure that you understood the distinction between legal and right. Between crime and sin. How one isn’t always the other.”

  “That’s super philosophical and all,” Noah said. “But why us?”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Tamsin waved her hands, shushing the others. “I was a test. A test? You almost ruined my life for a test?”

  Wood had the decency to look at least somewhat apologetic. “It needed to be real. There had to be something at stake. Something important.”

  “Oh my god.” Tamsin threw her head back, laughing a deep, full-bodied laugh that made the others jump. It was more of a cackle than anything else. “The Hanged Man. I was the freaking Hanged Man for your weird social experiment.”

  “Why would you do that to her?” Hana was less puzzled, but her outrage was building.

  “Because,” Bex said, “it brought us together. It brought us here.”

  “But why?” Noah added. “Why us?”

  “Change has to start somewhere,” Wood said. “It has to start with you. With people like you. People who look at something wrong and say, ‘No more.’ People who see the chains we’ve built for ourselves.”

  “ ‘Man is born free,’ ” Bex recited. “ ‘And everywhere he is in chains.’ ”

  Wood smiled at that. “I’m glad that message reached you. I was worried it wouldn’t. After all, how many kids remember the things they read ten years ago?”

  “Bex would,” Chase muttered.

  “Indeed.” Wood sat on the corner of a table and clasped his hands loosely across his lap. “I have to admit, defacing poor old John Maplethorpe wasn’t my idea, but you can’t deny the efficacy of good theater.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.” Noah walked farther into the room. He’d dropped Javi’s hand, but the warmth of it clung to him still. It made him feel stronger. Not quite invincible but almost. “Why us specifically?”

  “A number of reasons,” Wood said. “Some of you have reasons to hate the system.” He looked at Noah, like the tragic backstory of his life was written across his skin. At Chase, like he could see the ghosts of faded bruises. At Tamsin, who had never hid her disdain for something that always felt so unfair. “Some of you are already uniquely poised to take up positions of influence, to become people others look to for guidance.” He looked at Bex as he said it. “For inspiration.” Now at Hana. “Or for their unique skills.” Javi. “All that matters. All that will matter.”

  “You want us to change the world,” Bex said. She’d understood from the moment she’d stepped over that threshold. Perhaps a part of her had always understood precisely what was being asked of them.

  Wood nodded. “To go big, sometimes you have to start small. Tamsin was a test case.”

  “Still not sure I appreciate that by the way,” Tamsin interjected.

  “But,” Wood continued, “things will get harder from here on out. Helping one person is only the start. We mean to help a lot more people than that.
And eventually, we want the ratings to disappear. We want them to be nothing more than a dark chapter in our history. One we can look back on and learn from.”

  “What if we don’t want any part of this?” Hana asked.

  Wood gestured toward the door. “You’re welcome to leave.”

  “Bull,” Tamsin said. “We know too much.”

  “Maybe so.” Wood fixed her with a knowing look. “But I don’t think any of you want to leave. You came here for a reason. You helped one another for a reason. You didn’t turn around the second you saw me—for a reason.”

  The words resonated in the silence.

  “So,” Hana started, her voice soft, “I can leave?”

  Tamsin’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

  “You can,” Wood replied. “But do you want to?”

  Hana looked at each of her friends in turn, Tamsin last. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “You realize,” Javi said, “that you’re encouraging us to commit illegal activity for the sake of destabilizing a governmental agency, right?”

  “Is that a complaint?” Wood asked.

  Javi smiled. Noah smiled with him. “No way.”

  Tamsin giggled. She hadn’t thought herself capable of such a sound, but she supposed stranger things had happened. Stranger things were happening in that moment. “This is wild. I’m in.”

  “So am I,” Chase said. He was almost taken aback by his own readiness, but he couldn’t deny the rightness of it. It felt like an anchor, like a certainty, when all he’d ever felt was anything but. He reached for Bex’s hand, brushing aside the thick fabric of his own letter jacket to take it.

  Bex looked at him. Then she looked at the others. Her resolve solidified. It felt right. It felt good. “I’m in, too.”

  “I just have one question … how did you get the messages to us?” Hana asked. “Mine was hidden in my diary.”

  “And mine was on the back of a photo I took,” Noah added.

  “Mine was in my locker,” said Chase.

  “And mine was taped to my locker when I was in your office,” Tamsin said. “With you.”