“It would look desperate?” Elliott said.
“Exactly. I think our angle is, a vote for Chloe is a vote against Reese.”
I swallowed a bite of turkey sandwich and said, “What about, vote for Chloe because she’s a nice person?”
No one looked at each other, but there was a certain quiver in the air. I could feel myself getting angry. “What’s wrong with that?” I said.
Noelle sounded soothing. “People want to get revenge on Reese. They’ve hated her since kindergarten.”
Hannah said, “ ‘Hate’ is a strong word.”
Elliott elbowed Grady in the ribs and said, “This guy didn’t hate her last year!”
They were all driving me nuts. “Do whatever you think will work, Noelle,” I said. “You know best.” I was trying to sound biting, but I don’t think she noticed.
“Good,” she said. “Chloe, don’t even mention prom queen out loud outside of the Six. Act like you forgot you were nominated. The rest of you, don’t make a big deal about it. If you can work it into conversation naturally, say something like, ‘I heard Reese thinks she’s a shoo-in,’ or ‘I wonder if Reese will have a temper tantrum right there on the dance floor if she loses.’ ”
I thought for sure Hannah would object, but she was nodding along with Tris and Elliott. Grady was the only one who seemed uncomfortable, but even he didn’t say anything.
Wednesday, May 16
It was 80 degrees today, which would be exciting and fun if it didn’t foreshadow the implosion of our species. Bear’s babysitter had a dental appointment, so Grady and I watched Bear. We set up the sprinkler in the backyard, and we all ran through it, even though Bear was the only one wearing a bathing suit. First we did standard runs, then we jumped, and then we jumped while pretending to brush our teeth or eat corn on the cob. Bear was laughing and screaming with happiness. I thought, if I can get through high school, college, a terrible first job, and some less-terrible subsequent jobs, this will be my reward: I’ll get to run through the sprinkler with my own kid, and I’ll love him even more than I love Bear, because he’ll be mine.
After a while Grady and I sat on lawn chairs and watched while Bear kept running.
“Am I a nice person?” I asked Grady.
He paused for much longer than I thought was reasonable. “No one’s nice all the time,” he said.
I’d been fine a second before, but instantly I could feel tears behind my eyes. “You don’t think I’m nice?”
Another pause. “You’ve been a little different the past few weeks. But this is a weird time.”
I stood up. “This isn’t a time. This is how it is now.”
He didn’t say anything. Bear slipped on the wet grass, landed hard on his leg, got up laughing, and kept running, getting ready for his next leap.
Thursday, May 17
I feel almost shy around Tris after seeing him in the show—that’s how good he was. Maybe he sensed that I’m hanging back, because he invited himself over after school. It was a beautiful day, and obviously my mom doesn’t have any private outdoor space, so we sat on the wooden benches by the parking lot. I told him again how incredible his performance was, and he waved me off.
“It’s not like I’m mining coal,” he said. “It’s easy for me, and I love it.”
“That doesn’t make it less amazing,” I said.
We watched a guy in his 30s pull up in an Infiniti, disconnect his phone from its dashboard holder, and start texting.
“Are you happy in general?” I asked Tris. “Is everything good with you and Elliott?”
“Yeah. The Six stuff has been weird. Elliott and I are definitely the most famous gay kids in school now. People watch us. I can feel myself watching us too. Do you know what I mean? Like, I’m walking down the hall with him, but I’m also thinking about how we look walking down the hall together.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.”
“Grady thinks it’s bad.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I don’t know. He seems frustrated with the Six stuff, or with me.”
Tris picked at a splinter on the bench. “ ‘The Six’ used to sound ridiculous to me, and now it sounds normal.”
“I told Noelle we’d never have a group name,” I said. “Now look at us.”
Tris made a sound that I couldn’t interpret: he was either disgusted, proud, disbelieving, or rueful. Or maybe I’m just listing all the things I’m feeling myself.
Friday, May 18
Reasons it’s great to be popular and I should stop fretting and enjoy it:
1. It irritates my mother.
2. By association, my power has brought my friends to power (including Grady, although he doesn’t seem to appreciate it at this moment).
3. The entire class has been freed from Reese’s tyranny.
4. I’ve finally stopped longing to be liked by girls who couldn’t stand me and were casually cruel to me IRL and on the internet.
5. I’m getting revenge on the people who tormented me. Well, not revenge. That sounds bad. It’s more like I’m serving them justice.
6. I’m protecting Hannah from heartbreak.
Reasons it’s horrible and soul-crushing to be popular:
1. I’m not going to make this list. Being popular is wonderful. Writing about all my little doubts and worries will only make them seem bigger, when what I should be doing is ignoring them until they shrivel up and die. End of diary entry.
Saturday, May 19
Noelle and I went to the mall to shop for prom dresses in the palette we’d picked out after hours of deliberation in our Six group text: pink (for me), black (for Noelle), and white (for Hannah). Classic black tuxes for the guys.
Right away, Noelle found a black dress that looked like a trash bag on the rack and expensive and directional on her. It goes all the way up to her neck but ends right below her butt.
I didn’t even bother picking out things to try on, since I knew Noelle would hate whatever I selected. After she’d found her dress, she hunted for me. It’s quite something, watching her sort through options. She whisks hangers along the racks at a high speed, looking disgusted the whole time. When she sees something she thinks she might like, she yanks it out and frowns at it, then either slams it back or tosses it to me to try. I never would have chosen any of the dresses she picked for me, and they all looked so good on. In the end Noelle told me to buy a floor-length pink taffeta skirt, and a silky pink crop top that shows a good chunk of my torso.
“You have to promise not to slouch,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me in the dressing room mirror.
“I promise,” I said. I wasn’t really listening to her. I was imagining the tiara sparkling in my hair.
“I got you a little present,” she said. “It’s something I found on Etsy.”
She was holding her hand out to me in a fist. When I walked over, she turned her hand palm-up and opened it to reveal a pin.
“What does it say?” I picked it up. It was a pink heart, and on it, in black letters, was printed BOO, YOU WHORE.
“Mean Girls!” I said. “Oh my God, it’s perfect.”
“It’s a little on the nose,” Noelle said, “but I couldn’t resist.”
“No, it’s brilliant,” I said. “It’s reappropriating Reese’s slut-shaming!”
“You get it,” Noelle said.
After I paid for the skirt and top, we drove to the thrift store, and Noelle picked out armloads of summer clothes for me from the dollar-a-pound bins. I tried to tell her how grateful I was, but she didn’t want to hear it. “Just promise me you won’t wear those sandals you lived in last summer,” she said. “That’s all the thanks I need.”
Sunday, May 20
At the last minute Grady and I decided to go to the final matinee. I brought giant bouquets for my friends, which was a little awkward, since I had to hold them on my lap through the whole show. The house was packed. Am I w
rong to think that attending the musical has become cooler because Six members are in it?
Monday, May 21
Tris, Hannah, and Elliott look exhausted and depressed. That’s one upside of not being in the show: no post-run blues.
Tuesday, May 22
Great Scott, that was the best birthday of my life!!! Is that what it’s been like for Reese since kindergarten?! Being popular is amazing!! When I arrived at school, you couldn’t even see my locker, it was so thickly covered in pink balloons and pink streamers. It felt like every single person in the school, including most seniors, wished me a happy birthday. Nadia made me a card. Annoying Lianna baked me chocolate chip cookies. My friends brought a big pink cake to lunch, and most people in the cafeteria sang to me. I didn’t understand what I was missing all those years when I was a nobody.
Wednesday, May 23
Mom took me out for a birthday dinner, drank too much, told me the story of my birth (36-hour labor, C-section, breastfeeding problems), cried, and said I was worth every moment of pain I’ve ever caused her.
Thursday, May 24
Senior Costume Contest! That’ll be us next year—me, Noelle, Grady, Tris, Elliott, Hannah—showing up half in the bag, dressed as Disney villains or Minions, dominating the hashtag, winning the top prize in a romp. I can’t wait.
Friday, May 25
Dad called and left a voicemail. “Hi, Chloe. Just wondering what time you want to come over tomorrow. Marian’s been craving steak, so I’m planning to grill. Hope you can join us for dinner. Give me a ring.” I texted him back. “Hi so sorry but I can’t make it this weekend. Sooo much homework. Bummed to miss steak.” Lies, lies, lies.
I texted Mom to tell her I’d invited my friends over after school, and she texted back, “Make it a sleepover. I don’t want anyone driving drunk.” When I got home, she was waiting there with a case of beer. “I remember how this works,” she said. “If you don’t have beer, you’ll resort to shots. You understand I’m not trying to be a cool mom, right? I’m facing facts and keeping you safe.” She was attempting to sound serious, but I could tell she was delighted with herself.
Saturday, May 26
When I pictured high school, I assumed I’d live with my parents in our old house. I thought Dad would drag me out of bed to help with yard work, review my report cards with me, let me go to parties only after making me sign a contract that I’d respect curfew and stay away from alcohol. Never in a million years did I picture living in a condo with my negligent mother, sleeping with my drunk friends and boyfriend in a pile on the floor.
Sunday, May 27
I know I shouldn’t drink. I don’t even want to. I’ll never forget those MRIs they showed us in health class. These scientists found some sober kids and some drinkers, and they made them all take a memory test, scanning their brains while they did it. The non-drinkers had all this pulsing healthy pink activity. The drinkers had empty white blobs with black squiggles, plus one tiny pink chip. So I do understand how bad alcohol is for my body. The problem is that drinking is so fun! It makes me feel happy and relaxed and like I can say anything to anyone. When I’m about to do it, some quiet dark part of me says, Don’t forget the MRIs, but then the brittle sequiny part of me shrieks, Who cares about the stupid MRIs! Don’t miss your youth! It’s one beer! Relax!
Monday, May 28
Is this how Uncle Julian felt when he was my age? I don’t want to turn into him. I have to keep myself under control.
Tuesday, May 29
Intense lunchtime discussion about our non-campaigning campaign. Reese has been handing out key chains and stress balls and cellophane bags of Reese’s Pieces, all printed with the words VOTE REESE RILEY FOR PROM QUEEN!
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Tris said. “Maybe personalized pencils?”
“No,” Noelle said. “We have to stay the course. The more money Reese spends, the more desperate she looks.”
“Maybe Tris could run his own campaign,” Elliott suggested. “He could do pencils even if Chloe doesn’t.” We all looked at him, appalled, and he blushed and dropped it.
Hannah and I got a few minutes alone together after lunch, and I asked her about Zach.
“Did he rent his tux? Is he acting excited about going, or just tolerant? Will he appreciate how beautiful you look in your dress?”
“Please don’t worry,” she said. “I’m fine. He’s good to me. He’s doing all the right things, OK?”
I said OK, but I’m not sure I believe her.
Wednesday, May 30
On my way to fill up my water bottle during fifth period, I ran into Nadia in the hallway. From the way she said hi, I could tell she wanted to talk to me, so I paused and smiled at her.
“I just wanted to say good luck,” she said shyly. “It’s so cool that you might be prom queen. Are you excited?”
I smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ll actually win, so not really.” I hadn’t prepared this answer, but it sounded good as I said it.
“I bet you will win,” Nadia said. “I would vote for you if I were in your class.”
“Thanks, Nadia,” I said. I gave her a hug before I left, which was extra nice of me, since there wasn’t even anyone around to witness my niceness.
Thursday, May 31
I asked Noelle how the campaign’s going, and she said, “Hard to tell. There’s a lot of excitement about voting against Reese, so that’s promising.”
“Why do you say it’s hard to tell, then?”
“It’s a three-way race, which is dangerous. You and Reese might split votes.”
“Me and Reese? Wouldn’t it be me and Izzy splitting votes? The two nice girls?”
Noelle looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “I guess that’s possible.”
Friday, June 1
At Dad’s, hiding in my room. Snickers is sitting on my old bed looking anxious. At this point he understands that we don’t live here, and I think he’d rather not come at all than hang out for two days and then leave. Or maybe I’m projecting.
I asked Dad if I could have my friends over tomorrow night, and he said, “Oh. Sure. I was looking forward to spending some time alone with you and Marian, but I don’t want you to feel you have to put your life on hold while you’re here.” After that of course I had to text everyone and say the hangout’s canceled.
Saturday, June 2
Things I’ve learned about Miss Murphy’s pregnancy this weekend:
1. It’s turned the inside of her belly button purple.
2. She has heartburn so bad she can’t sleep at night unless she’s sitting up.
3. It’s making her break out (that one I’d already noticed).
4. The tip of her nose is always itchy.
5. She can’t stop Googling cord death.
6. Her tailbone hurts, and the only thing that helps is sitting on her exercise ball.
7. She’s not going to hire a doula because her best friend from college did and said it was like paying someone $2,000 to stare at her while she had contractions.
A few different times Miss Murphy said things like, “I’m so sorry, Chloe. This must be incredibly boring.” But I said, “No, no, it’s interesting.” That wouldn’t be a lie if I were in my 30s and also pregnant. Unfortunately, I’m 17 years old, and hearing about Miss Murphy’s heartburn makes me want to run away screaming.
Sunday, June 3
There isn’t a worse point in the month than the moment I step into Mom’s condo after a weekend at Dad’s house. I’ve left this place that’s beautiful but doesn’t feel right, and I’ve stepped into this place that’s objectively depressing and also doesn’t feel right. When I go to the pink bathroom to wash my hands, I look at my reflection in the mirror and think, You don’t belong anywhere. I run to my bedroom, but even FaceTiming Grady or pressing my eyes into Snickers’s fur doesn’t really help.
Whining in my diary helps a little. I have to get through a few more hours of this weekend, most of which I’ll spend asleep, and then I�
��ll be back at school, where people like me and want to be around me.
Monday, June 4
Now that the show’s over and Tris and Elliott and Hannah aren’t busy with rehearsals and performances, there’s nothing preventing the Six from texting and talking about prom details whenever we’re awake.
Noelle: We need to finalize the limo
Grady: I was thinking we should rent a fire truck
Noelle: Very funny now do we want black or white?
Tris: Either is fine but we need to discuss flowers
Chloe: I’m not wearing a corsage, I refuse
Noelle: Fine by me
Hannah: Zach is gettingme one
Tris: Good because I’m wearing a boutonniere!
Elliott: Same
Grady: What’s a boutonniere?
Tris: I’ll pick one up for you so you me and Elliott match
Is that OK Chloe?
Chloe: Yep
Noelle: Hannah have your shoes arrived? Text pics
Hannah: They came, but none of them fit.
Noelle: !!!!!!!! Send me links to new options ASAP
Etc., etc., etc. I’m enjoying it, but it’s stressing me out, too. I didn’t realize my first prom-going experience would be so visible. Not to sound conceited, but the fact is that everyone’s going to be staring at us all night long. We have to do it right.
Tuesday, June 5
Tris and I were late to class because we were talking about how long we should allot for pre-prom photos, and when we finally agreed we had to get going, we loudly continued our conversation while walking backward in opposite directions. Mr. Hicks popped his head out of his classroom and said, “No loitering after the bell, and that applies to future prom queens!” Then he winked at me. Does he have inside info?? Even if he does, there are three days of voting left before the final tally, so he can’t know for sure. Anyway, he was probably messing with me.
Notes from a Former Virgin Page 22