It was enraging, the way she pretended to be the sweet one, the nice one, and every single person at MH propped up this lie. She said whatever venomous thing she wanted to, pretending she was only speaking up because she was so concerned/so hurt/so truth-telling, and then she unleashed her minions to do the enforcing while she sat on her throne calmly observing the chaos she’d caused. Maybe I snapped because I couldn’t take her lying, or maybe I snapped because I was always going to snap at that moment, but whatever the reason, I swept my lunch onto the floor and climbed up on the table.
“Hey!” I screamed, and put my arms in the air in a cheerleader V. The cafeteria got quiet fast. Tris and Hannah and Grady looked up at me, worried. Noelle looked up at me with interest. I dropped my arms and smiled down at them like everything was fine, even though my heart was beating out of my chest. “Hi,” I said, looking out at the hundreds of kids now staring at me. A few of them said hi back.
“I know it’s a little weird that I’m yelling at you from a cafeteria table,” I said. “But I have no choice.” I looked at Reese. She was looking back at me with an incredulous smile. I WOULD make her stop smiling if I had to stand up here until the semester ended. “She’s lying about me, and you might not believe me when I say that, because she’s also telling the truth about me.” People were quiet and attentive. They wanted to see what I’d say next. Even the lunch monitor was listening with a rapt expression. “I didn’t invite her up to a bedroom at Noelle’s house and time it perfectly so she’d catch me having sex with Grady. Honestly, I’m not good enough at having sex yet that I’d even be able to pull that off.” Sex! I’d just said “sex” twice in front of a giant crowd of my classmates. And it wasn’t that hard. Courage surged through me. “And I didn’t ask her to have a threesome with us.” As I said it out loud, it sounded so ridiculous that I laughed a little, and from the looks on people’s faces, I could tell that the laugh was convincing. They were wondering if Reese was lying after all. “What really happened isn’t that different from what she said, though. She did catch us having sex. I’m pretty sure she walked in on us on purpose. Not in a creepy way, or maybe in a creepy way. I think she still likes Grady, she wants him back, and she’s mad that I lost my virginity to him and she didn’t. Maybe that’s why she’s telling you all I have HPV, which I don’t, because I got vaccinated. You should too, if you haven’t yet. It’s only two shots and it prevents cervical cancer.” People were glancing at each other, exchanging shocked, excited looks. This was going to be so fun to text about later. I was giving everyone the gossip fodder of their lives.
“I know I’m the freak with pink hair and you think you’ll never be like me, but you could be tomorrow,” I said. “She could do this to any one of us, and you know I’m right. If she comes after you, be brave. Don’t let her lie about you. Don’t let her make you feel ashamed of yourself. Stand on a table and tell the truth. That’s all. Thank you.”
Reese wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked furious. I didn’t care. Let her spread a million more rumors about me. I’d get back up on that table every day if I had to.
I was hoping no one would boo me or throw food at me, and no one did. And although it wasn’t like a slow clap started in the front row and slowly spread and turned into a roaring ovation, a few kids actually did clap as I climbed down. A few more yelled, “Wooo!” And as Reese’s minions formed a phalanx and escorted her away, someone called, “Bye-bye, Reese!” and maybe I’m imagining things, but it sounded like a bye-bye to her entire reign of terror.
Friday, March 23
My friends are freaking out. Tris keeps sending me quotes from my speech followed by the skull and crossbones emoji. Noelle is suddenly all up in my biz. She’s never texted me so frequently or politely before. Even Hannah seems proud of me, and she’s not one to approve of dramatics. “You spoke truth to power,” she said.
I thought Grady might be mad or embarrassed that I told a cafeteria full of kids we’re doing it, but I was forgetting that for guys it’s simple: if you’re having sex, congratulations; you’re getting laid, and every other dude is happy for you and jealous of you. Even if you’re boning someone who’s supposedly not attractive, congratulations are still in order: once again, you’re getting laid, and that’s the most important thing. Guys don’t get slut-shamed. Apparently freshmen have been following and friending Grady like crazy, and boys he’s never met before are coming up to him in the hallway and asking questions. Some of the questions are sweet (“I like this girl. What should I do?”), some are nosy (“How long did she make you wait before, you know . . .”), and some are pervy and porny (“Have you gone in the back door yet? KNOW WHAT I MEAN?”). Actually, I would hate it if I were him, but so far he seems entertained, not annoyed.
Reese didn’t even come to school today. She had her squad tell everyone she might have mono, and she even posted a picture of herself lying in bed looking wan, but I’m not sure people fell for it. Her core friends posted sympathetic comments, but she didn’t get the usual hundred extra remarks from sycophants trying to butter her up.
Saturday, March 24
Sleepover at Hannah’s, just the two of us. Her parents ordered pizza, and after we ate, we fled to her room.
“So what are you going to do?” she asked me as soon as she’d shut the door.
“Do about what?”
She paused. “I’m not sure. After the cafeteria, it seemed like something else was about to happen.”
I knew exactly what she meant. But what am I supposed to do next? Usurp Reese?? How would I even go about it? What would I do if I managed to pull it off? These questions scare me. My mind skitters away whenever I think about them.
Sunday, March 25
Mom met Grady for the first time. It wasn’t a big thing. I’d invited him over because she’d said she was going out with a friend from the studio, but her plans fell through, and I didn’t want to bail on him for no real reason. A few minutes before he arrived, I said, “My boyfriend’s coming over, if that’s OK.”
She put down her book and said, “Boyfriend?”
Urhhaggahhhh. If parents didn’t make such a big deal about everything, kids would talk to them more. Don’t they remember this from their own youth? Why do they gasp and make shocked faces?
“Tell me more!” she said. “Chloe, this is thrilling!” I saw something occur to her. “Is this the reason—no, no. I won’t ask.”
She looked at me hopefully, like I would say, “If you’re referring to my UTI, yes, Grady’s penis is the reason I got one.”
When I didn’t say anything, she went on. “What’s his name? How long have you two been an item? What do his parents do?”
I was about to answer her when the doorbell rang. She leaped up.
I didn’t think I cared about the meeting, but when I saw Grady standing in the doorway, partially obscured by her body, I realized I did care. Not what she thought of him, but what he thought of her.
We sat in the living room with her for maybe 20 minutes. She interviewed Grady, and he was relaxed and nice. She was on her best behavior, and aside from a few dramatic hand gestures and one reference to her chakras, she didn’t say anything too humiliating. I was wondering if we’d sat there long enough that it wouldn’t be rude to go to my room when she said, “So, Grady, what’s Chloe like at school?”
“She’s great,” he said.
“But describe her as you would to a total stranger! What does everyone think of her?”
“Mom,” I said.
Grady looked at me. “I think people would say she’s a theater kid.”
“Not anymore,” I said.
“No, still,” he said. “And as of, like, a week ago, she’s popular.”
“Really!” my mother said. She didn’t sound pleased.
Grady smiled. “She is if she wants to be.”
“This is certainly a surprise,” Mom said.
Sitting there with Grady made me see my mother in a slightly different light. I could i
magine how someone who didn’t know her—Grady—would find her interesting and appealing. “Were you ever popular in high school?” I asked her.
“Hardly,” she said. “Shakespeare-obsessed non-athletes don’t generally attract the adulation of their peers.”
Mom was a theater geek, like I am. Like I used to be, I mean.
She said, “Grady, tell me: how did Chloe come by this popularity?” She looked like she was settling in for a long chat.
“Well,” I said, standing up, “we’ve got a lot of homework to get to.”
I didn’t think she’d let us leave, but she gave us a knowing look and said “Have fun!” in a disgustingly suggestive tone of voice.
“We can’t mess around,” I said, as soon as we were in the room with my door closed. “She’d love it too much. She’d probably wait outside to say a bunch of sex-positive things.”
“All right, but I wore the boxer briefs you like,” Grady said.
“Don’t tell me that!” I said.
We sat on my bed. Grady picked up my hand and kissed it.
“I don’t know if I want to be popular,” I said.
“Yeah, it might suck,” Grady said.
It probably would suck. Or would it be amazing?
Monday, March 26
Reese is back. According to her Instagram, the mono turned out to be “just a horrible stomach flu. #blessed #yayforflu?” She’s still ignoring me. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I think the ignoring has a different quality. She’s less haughty ice queen, more Marie Antoinette pretending not to hear the peasants screaming for blood.
Also, Tegan showed up with her hair dyed pink! I did a double take when I saw her in the hall. She looked at me and gave me a shy smile. Was it a coincidence? It probably was, right?
Tuesday, March 27
Two more girls have dyed their hair pink.
A senior, this artist everyone thinks is so cool, including the cool kids, came up to me in the hall to introduce herself and ask if she can take my photo for a series she’s working on.
Kids still whisper about me when I pass by, but it’s different. No one’s laughing.
Someone named NachoGirlfriend tweeted, “If you use #chloeho you’re part of the problem and you missed the movement.”
Ella Green replied, “Can we reclaim it tho? #chloehoforpresident.”
It was sunny and warm for the first time this spring, and Noelle and I met up in the clearing to eat lunch. We had it to ourselves, aside from a few skater kids sitting on a log, smoking weed and whispering together.
“So what’s it like to have fans?” Noelle said.
“The pink thing? Is that really because of me?”
“Oh my God, Chloe.”
“Well, I don’t know! I don’t want to assume anything!”
“You’re like a folk hero, dude.”
Joy flooded my body. I wish I didn’t care so much, or at all, about what other people think of me, but I care soooooo much.
Wednesday, March 28
Noelle and I went back to the clearing, and it was packed. Packed. Kids were sitting on every free inch of grass and dirt.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Noelle.
“Take a wild guess,” she said.
No one actually talked to me, but I could feel people watching me, and I’m almost positive this freshman whose name I don’t know took a picture of me with her phone when she thought I wasn’t looking.
This is really happening. People are studying me. They’re copying the things I do. Suddenly I have power, and it’s scary. I’m not sure what to do with it or if I even want it.
Thursday, March 29
Reese and the squad were sitting on the top step this morning, as usual. As Hannah and I walked up the stairs toward them to get to homeroom, someone called, “Hey, Han!” It was Zach, jogging up behind us. “Do you have a second?”
I thought she might say she was busy, but she said “Sure” in a calm voice, and went off with him after saying goodbye to me.
I looked at Reese, who was watching Hannah and Zach walk away. She sat there motionless and expressionless. Hannah’s in big trouble, I thought, before remembering that Reese will think twice before she messes with any of my friends now.
Friday, March 30
That’s it. I’ve decided. I’m seizing the throne.
Before lunch Jacqueline pulled me aside in front of the main office and said, “Is Hannah OK?” Her voice was hushed.
Even though I didn’t know the specifics, I instantly understood what was going on, and I saw what I was going to have to do. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“She sent this super-long text to Zach begging him to take her back. Did you see them running off together before classes started? Right after that, he told her she has to stop stalking him.”
“Jacqueline, that’s not what happened.”
She bristled. “Yes, it is. I’ve seen the text! Zach sent it to Reese because he wanted her advice about how to turn down Hannah.”
I put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Jacqueline, I would bet my college tuition that Reese wrote that text herself and has been sending it around saying it’s from Zach.”
She didn’t believe me, but I didn’t care. In a few weeks no one will be interested in Reese’s forged texts.
Saturday, March 31
I think Zach might like Hannah again. Oh, the irony! Apparently the real reason he wanted to talk to her on Thursday was to apologize for cheating on her with Reese and to see if she’s still mad at him.
“We have to tell everyone the truth,” I said to Hannah on FaceTime.
She shook her head. She was sitting on her bed, leaning against her flowered sham. “No one would listen. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“No, it does matter. It does. It’s evil, the way she lies. She lies about you, the nicest person in our school! And for what—because her ex-boyfriend talked to you in front of other people and she’s jealous? She thinks she can control you and put words in your mouth like she’s playing dolls with you. You’re not a doll! You’re a real human, with human dignity!”
Hannah smiled. “I might as well be a doll. She has all the power.”
I brought the phone closer to my face. “I’m not going to let her do this to anyone else.”
“You mean you’re going to . . . What are you going to do?”
“You know.” It seemed melodramatic, to put it into words, but we both understood: I’m going to lead a coup.
Sunday, April 1
I never should have waited this long. I hope I haven’t lost all the momentum I got from my cafeteria speech. And now that I’ve decided on a course of action, how do I set out? What do I do exactly? I need help.
Monday, April 2
Another day of pink hair (three new dye jobs today alone!) and respectful hallway glances. I’m walking differently. Less hunched in on myself. I take up more space. I hold my head up.
Between classes Nadia came up to me. “Hi!” she said. “I don’t know if you even remember me.”
“Nadia, we worked together all summer. I remember you,” I said.
“Oh good!” she said. “I just wanted to say the cafeteria thing was so cool. You’re really brave. There’s a girl like Reese in my class—”
“Hang on,” I said. Across the hall I’d spotted Noelle and Reese. Noelle was standing with her head bent, listening to something Reese was saying in her ear.
“I don’t want to be rude, but I have to go,” I said to Nadia. I started to walk away, then turned back. “Listen: whoever your Reese is, she’s not as scary as you think.”
Nadia seemed awed. I crossed the hall and touched Noelle’s arm. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Reese looked at me directly for the first time since the cafeteria. “Noelle and I are busy,” she said.
I looked back at her. Is she beautiful? I don’t know what an objective observer would think. We’ve all agreed, as a
class, that she looks like a movie star. It’s a conclusion we reached together as kindergartners. This whole time we’ve probably been confusing strength and mercilessness with beauty! And even supposing she is beautiful: Who cares? Why did we ever assume we should be governed by whoever is the most conventionally attractive person in our class? What are we, a bunch of fashion magazine editors?
“Are you too busy, Noelle? Or can you come with me?” I said. Nadia was still watching from across the hall. A bunch of other kids were too.
Noelle looked back and forth between me and Reese with her eyes narrowed.
“I’ll come,” she said.
“Noelle,” Reese said.
“We’ll talk later,” Noelle said.
“Bye,” I said to Reese, and waved in her face.
As we turned the corner, Noelle said, “This had better be good.”
When we got through the double doors that led to the underused staircase off the math wing, I stopped. “You have to choose between me and Reese,” I said.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s not a good look for me,” I said. “One of my closest friends is also close with Reese? It makes me seem weak.”
She crossed her arms. “Why should I care how you seem?”
“I’m going to do it, Noelle.” I didn’t explain further, because I knew she’d understand what I meant.
She got closer to me. “You’ve been waffling for days now. You had a good moment, but you haven’t done anything with it. You’re like freaking Hamlet.”
“I’m not waffling anymore,” I said. “Come on. Do it with me. Help me. You said I’m a folk hero! Everyone’s scared of Reese. Everyone loves me. Wouldn’t you rather be on my side?”
Notes from a Former Virgin Page 18