“Money does come in handy now and then,” I said. “For, like, food and stuff.”
“Yeah. There’s that.” She grinned.
“Speaking of which. I looked for a job yesterday,” I said.
“Where?”
“A used-book store. And Save-a-Cent.”
“Any luck?”
I shook my head. “Do you have one?”
“Nah. My mom wants me to focus on school, get a scholarship if I can.”
I hadn’t even asked what had become of my college plans. There was supposed to be a fund for that, but I didn’t know if it was still there.
“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” I said.
“Me neither. It’s impossible to think that far ahead,” said Molly. “I hardly know what I want to be tomorrow.”
I lay back on her bed. “Why did we ever stop being friends?”
“I was ousted. Remember?” The slightest edge came to her voice. “Queen Willow didn’t want me in her court anymore.”
I kept staring at her ceiling, not sure what to say to that. I’d been a member of that court. I still was. I had felt horrible about what had happened at the time but I hadn’t done anything. I hadn’t questioned Willow’s version of the truth. I hadn’t said anything about my suspicions that Willow was the one starting all the terrible rumors about Molly.
I swallowed. “I wasn’t a very good friend to you. I—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand to stop me. “It’s done. I don’t blame you.”
“But I should’ve stuck up for you. I just went along, like a sheep.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I got off the ride and you stayed on.”
I watched her spinning on the chair and realized that was exactly how I felt—like I was spinning around and around on a ride that was moving too fast to get off. I’d been hanging on and trying not to fall, or at least not vomit. Keeping up appearances, being the girl they thought I was . . . it was dizzying.
“I really need to get off that ride,” I said. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Molly smiled. “So do it.”
“Just jump off?”
“Walk away. Don’t look back,” she said. “That’s what I did.”
“But, they’re my friends—I . . .”
Molly stretched her arm out to tap her finger on one of the wall quotes:
A friend is someone
who knows all about you
and still loves you.
I leaned closer to see who said it, which was written smaller. “Elbert Hubbard,” I said. “Who’s that?”
“Writer, philosopher. Died, like, a hundred years ago. Smart dude.”
“So I should just tell them everything.” That about-to-vomit feeling started to come back.
“Or not.” Molly shrugged. “Do you even care what they think? What Willow and Wynn say?”
I bit my lip, afraid to tell her that I did care what they thought. At least what Reesa thought. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I did. I lay back on her bed while she doodled at her desk. What was the worst thing that could happen if I told everyone about the move to Lakeside, the food bank? James didn’t care. Molly certainly didn’t care. I was faking it for the wrong reasons, for the wrong people. It was too much work. I could see what it was doing to my parents, pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. It would’ve been easier if they’d told us all along.
When I got up from Molly’s bed, I still felt a little dizzy, but I knew what to do. “I’m going to ride the bus tomorrow,” I said.
She twirled her chair around to face me. “You want to sit with me?”
I shook my head. “No, actually. I want to try and face it on my own. Is that weird?”
“Nah,” she said. “But I’ll be there if you need me.”
Monday morning, before I left for the bus stop, I checked myself in the full-length mirror Mom had hung on the inside of our front door. She would’ve considered that garish at our old house, but her standards were different now. I looked okay. My hair was still slightly damp so it was behaving itself. Skirt, tights, boots, jacket . . . all good. Since I wasn’t riding my bicycle, I traded my backpack for an oversized tote bag I’d bought at Bloomingdale’s a couple of years ago and used maybe once.
Molly was waiting at the bus stop, swinging her clarinet case, when I arrived.
“Hey,” she said. “Nice bag.”
“Thanks.” I started to say where I’d gotten it but stopped myself.
Lennie drove past us in his Jeep. He was very intently not looking at me, but he did slow down and ask Molly if she wanted a ride. He looked at her and said only her name, to make it perfectly clear I was not invited. “No thanks,” she hollered, and he continued on.
“I’m cultivating a reputation as a badass,” she told me, “and the state pen bus is a key part of my strategy.”
“Is it as awful as they say?”
“Nah,” said Molly. “Most of these tough guys are just big talkers. Talk back and they usually leave you alone.”
She kicked at the gravel a bit. A few pieces went into the grass. Brady will get those later, I thought.
Our bus, number thirteen, rumbled up and we climbed on. The so-called “cool kids” were sitting in the back, the ones who were afraid of them in the front. I found an empty seat in the middle. Molly sat across from me diagonally and slumped down, propping her knees on the back of the seat in front of her.
I tried to assume an equally relaxed pose, but it was a little more difficult to accomplish in a skirt. The bus wasn’t crowded, so nobody bothered me for my seat. Then this guy got on who looked like he should’ve graduated three years ago. He strolled down the aisle, giving a couple of the kids in front a less-than-playful shove. I kept my eyes focused on the dark-green faux-leather seat back in front of me and waited until he passed to let out the breath I’d been holding.
Too soon.
He stepped backward and sat right next to me. “Mind if I join you?”
He angled his body toward me with one arm draped over the back of the seat. I could feel his hand grazing my shoulder. “I’m Mick,” he said. “What’s your name?”
Turning my head slowly, I considered a fake name. But I’d had enough of the lies. “Ivy.”
“Where you from?”
“I live here in Lakeside.” Time to own it.
“I didn’t ask where you lived,” he said. “I asked where you’re from. ’Cause you sure ain’t from Lakeside.”
Someone in the back of the bus yelled, “She’s one of those snobby Westside bitches.”
“Thought so.” Mick grinned, looking me up and down. “Aww, what happened? Lose your trust fund, sweetheart?”
“Get lost,” I said.
“Now, don’t be like that.” He slid his thumb down my arm.
I jerked away from him, and he laughed but pressed even closer. His knee jabbed into my thigh. I felt a surge of anger, like everything I’d been holding in these weeks was about to explode. In one swift movement, I scooped my hands under his leg, lifted it off the seat and shoved him away. I may or may not have let out one of those tennis-player grunts in the process.
He fell backward, his arms flailing but unable to grasp anything. The surprise on his face was matched by my own. I had toppled the guy. He landed with a loud thwack in the aisle, his arms and legs sticking upward.
“Hey!” He scrambled to right himself and lunged for me, but another set of hands came out of nowhere and pushed him back down.
“You heard her,” said Molly. “Beat it, asshole.”
“What the . . .” Mick’s face reddened, whether in anger or embarrassment I couldn’t tell.
Molly leaned into him before he could regain his balance. “Back off,” she snarled. If she hadn’t been saving my ass at the moment, I would’ve been more scared of her than Mick.
He ambled away, trying to salvage his tough-guy image. There was a smattering of “nice try” and “don’t take that shit” remarks fro
m the back of the bus. Molly reached her hand out and said, “C’mon,” and led me to her seat.
“Thanks.” I slid toward the window, strangely calm now that my anger had found an outlet.
“He did the same thing to me when I moved here. The jerk-off.” She plopped down, flushed and breathing heavily.
“How long ago was that?” I said.
“Last fall.”
Beginning of sophomore year. Months after Willow had ousted her from our circle, which explained why I hadn’t known about it at the time.
“Did one of your parents lose their job or something?”
She didn’t answer right away, and I thought perhaps I’d gotten too nosy. “Sorry, none of my business,” I said quickly.
“No, it’s not that.” Molly looked down at her hand and began tracing the lines of her palm with a finger. “My dad died.”
I closed my eyes. “God, Molly. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” She sighed. “Anyway, we couldn’t afford the house in Westside after that.”
“We lost our house, too,” I said.
“Sucks,” said Molly.
I nodded. “The worst part is losing my piano. That’s why I went to the band room to practice that day.”
“I can’t practice at home either.” She drummed her fingers on the clarinet case sitting in her lap. “Mom works nights, sleeps days. It’s too loud.”
“Sucks,” I said back to her, and we both laughed.
Having someone to talk to—and laugh with—was helping, but not enough to completely calm my anxiety about stepping off that state pen bus in front of everyone. When we pulled up to the school, I was surprised that nobody seemed to notice I even existed. Molly nudged me with her elbow. “It’s really not that bad. You think everybody’s watching you, but they really only care about themselves.”
I looked around as we walked into the school, at the girls smoothing their sweaters and skirts and hair from the rumpling of the bus. At the guys shoving each other in the arm, nervously glancing at the girls derumpling their sweaters and skirts and hair. At kids who laughed a bit too loud. Or rolled their eyes at the kids who were laughing too loud. Everyone was pretending to be something—cool, aloof, carefree. Something they weren’t. I was so tired of pretending.
Willow and Wynn were already taking out their containers of organic vegetables and finger sandwiches when I got to our lunch table later that day. Jenna Watson was there, too. She sat with us when she was between boyfriends. But Reesa was nowhere in sight. She had sat in stony silence through AP English and had breezed past me and James when we stopped to talk after class. I kept trying to catch her in the hall, but she kept disappearing. I never got a chance to tell her what I planned to do at lunch.
I sat down at our table with the apple I’d brought from home and a carton of chocolate milk. There was no way Taco Surprise would make it down my throat today.
“Did you see that skirt Chandra Mandretti is wearing today? Sooo cute. Must be vintage,” said Willow.
Wynn’s eyes lit up. “She probably went into the city. There are some amazing vintage shops in Manhattan.”
“Remember that Pucci dress I found last summer?” said Willow.
Wynn mewed appreciatively, but Jenna stayed quiet. Did she know Chandra was more likely shopping at the Goodwill or Salvation Army these days? She caught me watching her and looked down at her uneaten sandwich, pushing it back into its wrapper.
Reesa finally appeared and sat in her usual spot across from me, but she refused to meet my eye. Her silent treatment further weakened my already-dwindling courage, so my voice came out in barely a whisper. “I have something to tell you all.”
Nobody but Reesa even noticed I said anything. She kicked me under the table, gave me a warning shake of her head. At least she cared enough to do that.
I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “I have something to tell you. All of you.”
Wynn’s head snapped in my direction. “Ohmygod, you’re pregnant.”
“What? No! Why would you think that?”
“She’s not even dating anyone,” said Willow. “Please.”
“You got a car,” Wynn declared.
“Did she ask you to guess? Stop guessing!” Willow scolded, turning a patronizingly patient face toward me. “What’s the big news, Ivy? I hope it explains why you didn’t show up Saturday to shop for our costumes for the Halloween party.”
A guilty expression came to Reesa’s face briefly. So she’d gone without me, without telling me. “So much for honesty,” I muttered.
She looked down at her lunch and I turned my attention back to the other girls. “I just wanted to tell you that we moved. My family. We moved to a new place.”
My announcement was met with a chorus of surprise. “I didn’t know you were moving!” “Why did you move?” “But you have the best house!” “Where?”
I took a bite of my apple to buy some extra time while I formulated my next sentence. Every coherent thought seemed to evaporate from my mind. I chewed thoroughly, took a sip of chocolate milk. And a deep breath.
“My parents decided we needed to downsize, because of the shaky economy and all that.” I decided not to get into the part about the foreclosure and the expense of Brady’s therapy. “We’re renting a place. It’s out past Jackson Boulevard,” I said, waving my hand in that general direction.
“Oh. My. God,” said Willow. Her eyes were huge. “It’s in Lakeside, isn’t it? My sister came home last week rambling on about Kaya living in the slums and I did not believe her. Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” I said as breezily as I could manage. “No biggie. It’s not that bad. It’s temporary, anyway.”
“Oh, my God,” said Wynn.
They didn’t laugh, but the looks they gave me were far worse. It was a horror-disgust-pity combo of facial expressions that made me want to crawl out of my skin and under the table. Then Reesa opened her mouth. Maybe she thought she was coming to my rescue, or maybe she was trying to throw me under the bus.
She said, “Aren’t you going to tell them about your billionaire boyfriend?”
Willow and Wynn and Jenna and everyone else within earshot swiveled their heads to hear more, and Reesa delivered. “The guy’s loaded, and he doesn’t care where she lives. Apparently.”
I shrank at her mention of his wealth. I didn’t care if he was loaded, and we didn’t know that for sure.
“Who are you talking about?” said Willow. “I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”
“We just started dating,” I mumbled. “His name is James Wickerton.”
“Does he go here?” said Wynn. “Why haven’t we met him?”
Reesa crunched a carrot stick and waved it as she spoke. “He’s in our AP English class. Really cute.”
They were clearly finding it hard to believe a cute, rich guy had been roaming our halls undetected. “He’s homeschooling part-time,” I explained. “He only takes two classes. That’s probably why you haven’t seen him.”
“I’ve never heard of anybody doing that.” Willow turned to Reesa. “Have you ever heard of anybody doing that?”
Reesa looked to me for an explanation, but I had none. I hadn’t questioned it. And when we’d gotten in trouble for ditching, Mrs. Lanahan had been aware of his part-time status. She’d referred to it as unusual, but clearly he was attending our school. As dreamy as he was, I was pretty sure I hadn’t conjured him entirely.
“He got special permission to take AP English and art history. That’s all I know.” I slurped my chocolate milk.
Willow wouldn’t let up. “Do you have a picture of him?”
I shook my head.
“I do,” said Reesa, pulling her phone from her bag. “Snapped it in class the other day when he wasn’t looking.”
She scrolled through her images until she found the one of James and turned it toward Willow, who leaned in to get a better look.
Her face lit up. “That guy?” she sa
id, a wide smile spreading across her face. “I’ve seen that guy. And believe me, he’s no billionaire.”
I didn’t care if James was a billionaire, but Willow’s bait was too tempting not to rise to it. “How would you know?”
“I’ve seen him,” she said, “doing things that . . . let’s just say no billionaire would ever do.”
“Like what?” I tipped my chin up. “His own grocery shopping?”
“Oh, no.” She batted her eyelashes. “It’s much worse than that. You really need to see for yourself. How about I pick you up at Reesa’s house after school. We’ll all go on a little field trip.”
“Just tell me,” I said.
She pinched her lips together and motioned turning a key and throwing it away over her shoulder.
“I have to be home by four,” I said.
“No worries,” Willow said, smiling as she nibbled her sandwich. “It won’t take long.”
After school, I got on my old bus to Westside Falls with Reesa. She begrudgingly let me sit next to her.
“Do you know what this is all about?” I asked.
She shrugged, still not talking to me.
As the bus pulled out and circled around to the exit, I found myself gazing longingly at the state pen bus. I should’ve gone home with Molly.
“Why am I doing this?” I muttered.
Reesa sighed. Said nothing.
“I didn’t care if he was a billionaire, you know. I don’t care.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Honestly, I was hoping he wasn’t, because it would only make me feel poorer than I am.”
She stared straight ahead. I was clearly having a conversation with myself, so I stopped talking. We got off the bus when it pulled up to her gate, the ornate letter M flaunting her family’s wealth in my face. I used to love that sculpted gate, but now it seemed over-the-top.
Reesa punched her code in the keypad by the little foot entrance at the side, and it clicked open.
“Aren’t we waiting here for Willow? She’s supposed to pick us up any minute.” She had driven her Miata to school that day and had to switch to a bigger car.
Reesa stood at the little gate like she was about to shut it in my face. “I’m not going,” she said, and then she did. She shut the gate in my face.
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