Be the Girl: a Novel

by Tucker, K. A.

  I purse my lips, and nod. That’s what they all say.

  Though, Ms. Moretti seems different from other teachers I’ve had. Maybe she is the real deal; maybe she is different from all the rest of them.

  If I gave her a list of Holly’s indiscretions thus far, what would she do with it?

  Her lips spread into a broad, beautiful smile. “Okay, everyone! Two more minutes and then we work off that turkey!”

  I make my way over to Richard and begin stretching my legs. “Hey, Rich.”

  “My grandfather calls me that. Richie Rich. Except we’re poor.” He adjusts his yellow sweatband. “Good Thanksgiving?”

  I consider that for a minute. “Yeah, it was.” Despite all the drama. “You?”

  “I went up against a gelatinous cube.” He pauses for effect. “And won.”

  “I take it that’s something from your little dragon game thing?”

  “Uh … it’s not little and it’s only a dungeon dweller who consumes living tissue.” He stares at me like I’m the strange one.

  I give him two thumbs up. “Good job, you.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs and then takes a moment to bend down and check his shoelaces. “Saw Adam Levic, by the way.” He stands to flash me a wide-eyed exaggerated look. “How’s Emmett’s fist?”

  I guess everyone has heard. “Better than that jerk’s face, I’m sure.”

  Richard snorts. “Is it true what he did to Cassie?”

  “Yup.”

  “Man … who does that?”

  An idiot with a big-boobed temptress whispering in his ear.

  “So, what’s Cassie like stoned?”

  “She wasn’t. She was fine. Thank God Adam doesn’t know how to use a scale.”

  Richard barks out a laugh. “I’m not surprised. I tried tutoring that guy in Math 9.” He shakes his head. “Lost cause.”

  “We have something in common, then, because I’m going to fail my math midterm tomorrow.” It’s always been my worst subject and with the way Lewis tests us, I’m doomed.

  His face furrows in thought. “What lunch do you have?”

  “Fourth.”

  “Same here. If you want to come to the library, I could try and explain some things to you.”

  “You’d do that?”

  He shrugs. “Sure. It will cut into my dungeon battle planning, but I guess I can spare an hour. For you. Because you’re nice to me.”

  “Yes. Okay?” This is doubly perfect. Help with math and a valid excuse for avoiding the cafeteria, because there’s no way I’m eating lunch in public while that stupid Instagram account is still up. “Thanks, Rich.” He holds his hands up in the air. “I mean, as long as Emmett is okay, you know … with you and me … together, alone.”

  I wait for his serious expression to crack, but it doesn’t.

  I plaster the most somber mask I can manage over my face. “I think he’ll understand.”

  Ms. Moretti’s whistle sounds. “Let’s get started!” She claps her hands and backs up, waving us off like we’re race cars and she’s the flag carrier.

  I take off in a light, slow jog.

  “Moretti told you to run with me because I’m slow and your knee is messed up, didn’t she?” Richard says.

  “No,” I lie.

  “That’s okay.” He taps his head. “It’s this big brain of mine. It weighs too much. I can’t move as fast.”

  I smile. He’s funny without meaning to be. No wonder Cassie likes him.

  Feet pound the pavement from behind. “Be careful you don’t trip again, AJ,” Holly calls out as she jogs past, her blonde ponytail swishing, my nickname mocking on her lips.

  The simmering anger that bubbles deep inside me rises. The urge to retaliate.

  Just ignore her.

  Just ignore her.

  Just ignore her.

  I repeat it over and over in my head as I watch her gain distance on us.

  “She pretends to be nice, but she’s not, is she?” Richard asks when she’s safely out of earshot.

  “No, she’s not.” I hesitate. “She tripped me on purpose at the meet last week.”

  Richard’s eyes narrow as he scrutinizes Holly up ahead. “What a gelatinous cube.”

  Despite my dark mood, I burst with laughter.

  * * *

  “This is perfect. There’s nothing to take a picture of, except the back of your head.” Jen chomps on a celery stick.

  We’ve moved from our usual table to one in the corner where I can keep my back to everyone and, hopefully, eat my sandwich in peace. It’s a flag of defeat, a sign that I’m bowing under Holly’s game, and I hate that.

  But the sooner I ride this out, the better.

  At least my math midterm is over. Meeting Richard yesterday helped. I might walk away with a C thanks to him.

  Jen frowns at something behind me. “I thought Emmett had class now?”

  “He does.” I look over my shoulder to see Emmett strolling across the cafeteria, his stride fast, his gaze steely, his target obvious.

  Holly watches him approach, her eyes flittering toward me a moment.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Josie says softly.

  He stops in front of her and leans in, resting his hand on the back of her chair.

  I can’t hear him from here, but I can read his lips without problem. “Shut it down, now,” he mouths, each word enunciated, his face hard and unfriendly.

  Holly bats her eyelashes as her forehead pulls with concern. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I read from her lips.

  People at surrounding tables have quieted and are watching the confrontation. The caf monitor, a tiny, dark-haired lady, weaves through the tables, approaching cautiously.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Holly,” he says, his voice now carrying, “and if it’s not down within the next ten minutes, I might have to share a few pictures of my own.”

  Her face blanches.

  With that, he peels away, before the monitor can reach them.

  He pauses to seek me out. Spotting me, he heads for our table. And everyone’s watching.

  “Hey, what are you doing out of—”

  He cuts my question off with a kiss that most certainly breaks the school’s PDA policy, one that makes Josie duck her head and Jen clear her throat and me blush.

  “Just wanted to say hi.” He smiles softly as he slides cool fingers beneath my hair to tickle my neck. “Better get back to class, before I get caught.” He kisses me once more and then heads for the door at a quick pace.

  “I’ll bet that was about the Instagram account.” Jen watches Holly’s table. “She looks rattled.”

  “What kind of pictures does he have of her?” Josie asks.

  My stomach turns. I don’t want to think about that, or why he would still have them.

  “Look.” Jen nods.

  I glance over my shoulder again.

  Holly is rushing out of the caf with her things, head down, avoiding eye contact.

  * * *

  “This was a long day.” Jen slams her locker shut and turns her combination lock.

  “Agreed.” I stuff the last of my textbooks into my backpack. My shoulders are always sore by the time I walk home, compounded by the fact that a fifteen-minute walk always takes double the time with Cassie.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Call me later if you want.” I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to exchange numbers.

  Seconds later, a heavy arm lands on my shoulder. “Need a ride home?”

  I spin to find Emmett smiling down at me. My spirits are instantly lifted. “Don’t you have, like, puck practice tonight?”

  “Look at you. Learning the lingo.” He pinches my cheek playfully.

  I swat his hand away but laugh.

  “It’s canceled tonight. Come on. Let’s get Cass. I promised I’d take her to get ice cream.”

  I shut my locker and we head down the hall, his arm ho
oked over my shoulders. Several guys call his name or bump his shoulder as they pass by. I don’t think there is anyone in this school who doesn’t like Emmett. Besides Holly and Adam, that is.

  “How was the rest of your day?”

  “It was … better. Thanks, for what you did at lunch.” By the time I ducked into the bathroom to check my phone, the SWF account had vanished, like it had never existed. I wish I could erase it from my memory just as easily.

  His jaw tenses. “How long have you known about the account?”

  “A few days.”

  “Next time, tell me right away.” He gives a delayed chin-up greeting to someone. “You shouldn’t deal with that alone.”

  “Whatever. It’s over. She’ll get bored and move on.”

  A vacant look passes through his eyes. “I can’t believe I ever dated her. It makes me sick, thinking about it.”

  Ms. Moretti is striding down the hall toward us at a brisk clip, her heels clicking against the tile, her eyes narrowing on us. I brace myself, waiting for her to remind Emmett of the PDA policy, but she merely gives me a thumbs-up. “Training hard this weekend?”

  “Always.”

  “I’ll make sure to chase her around Miller’s Park for ya,” Emmett offers with a grin.

  “I’ll bet you will. And you know where to find me when you’re ready to talk, Aria.” She winks and keeps going.

  “What’s that about? Ready to talk about what?”

  “Nothing.” I wave it off. “Cross-country stuff.”

  “You ever get the feeling that Moretti has her tiny little finger on everything going on in the school?”

  “I’m beginning to.” I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good or a bad thing.

  Cassie is ready to go, standing by her locker, her backpack sitting over her shoulders. Her curious eyes search passing faces to find the familiar ones so she can call out their names and wave. Some wave back at her, some smile and offer their goodbyes.

  Some keep their heads down, though I doubt they missed her voice.

  And with each one of those people, I see that bright light dim in Cassie’s eyes for a second as she watches them pass, ignoring her. I feel an unexpected urge to slap those people across the head.

  Is it really too much to acknowledge her? Just give her a nod?

  We’re maybe ten feet away when a cluster of three guys—young, I’m guessing ninth graders—stroll past, catching her residual smile. The brown-haired one on the left waves at her, earning her curious frown.

  “I don’t know you,” she says out loud.

  “Then why are you waving and smiling at me like that?” he throws back, his tone full of scorn. He follows it up with a rendition of her, only he adds a goofy laugh that is clearly meant to mock.

  Her smile slips. Not entirely, but enough to make me think she’s picked up on the teasing.

  Emmett’s arm disappears from my shoulder and he charges forward, grabbing hold of the guy’s shoulder and yanking him around.

  “You have a problem with someone waving at you?” Emmett’s voice is low and even, and yet it sets the hair on the back of my neck on edge.

  The guy’s amusement vanishes as he peers up at Emmett’s towering form. “Uh … no, man,” he stammers. “No.”

  “Because that’s my sister back there.”

  The boy’s eyes flash to us, fear in them growing by the second. Has he heard what Emmett did to Adam Levic’s face? “I didn’t know.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you knew. Don’t be a dickhead to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” He gives the guy a small shove, just hard enough to make the guy stumble a few steps before he takes off briskly down the hall.

  Cassie giggles, but then scowls, as if catching herself. “Why did you push him, Emmett?”

  “Because he’s a—” Emmett cuts off abruptly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You ready to go?” He begins walking toward the doors.

  Her eyes trail after the guy. “That boy was being mean to me,” she says after a beat, as if she needed to roll the last few moments over in her mind to decide that.

  “Yeah, he was.” I smile softly.

  “Yeah … sometimes kids are mean to me.” She says it in an offhand way, but I notice the way her shoulders droop. “Is it because I have autism?”

  An ache forms in my throat at the fact that she’s made that connection, that she’s not wrong. “It’s because they don’t know how awesome you are.”

  “Yeah.” She frowns, her doubt lingering. “I don’t think anyone’s going to ask me to prom.”

  It takes me a second to jump onto her new train of thought and think of a suitable answer. “Lots of people go without a date. Friends go together.”

  “See you tomorrow, Cass!” a girl with long white-blonde hair and bright green eyes calls out as she strolls by.

  “Oh, bye, Allie! See you tomorrow!” Cassie’s blue-gray eyes follow the girl, her wide smile back in place. “She’s nice to me.”

  “She is.”

  After a moment, Cassie adds in a deadpan voice, “She knows how awesome I am.”

  * * *

  “I took ten, see, AJ …? AJ …? AJ …?”

  “Hold on …” My eyes are glued to Emmett as he speeds and weaves with quick hands around first one player, and then another, before stopping and passing the puck to his teammate, who shoots.

  The puck sails into the net as Cassie’s elbow prods my side.

  “What?” She is so impatient!

  Unbothered by my sharp tone, Cassie holds her palm out to show me the Junior Mints cupped within. A ring of hot chocolate surrounds her lips. “I took ten. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” I dismiss her, my attention back on Emmett, who’s bumping gloved fists with his teammate.

  “These are my favorite, too.”

  “Watch the game, Cass.”

  She shoves the entire handful of mints into her mouth, and then shifts her focus to picking at her fingernails for the rest of the game, not uttering a word until five minutes before the end of the last period, when she inhales sharply. “Holly!” She grins and waves.

  I follow her gaze and find Holly sitting on the other side with a few girls. “What is she doing here?” I mutter.

  “Watching hockey.”

  “Yeah, but why? This is Emmett’s game.”

  Cassie shrugs. “She’s his friend.”

  “No, she isn’t,” I say evenly. “They broke up and they’re not friends anymore.”

  “So, they’re enemies?”

  I stifle my groan. Emmett wasn’t kidding—everything is black or white with Cassie. “They’re just not friends anymore, okay?”

  Cassie shrugs, the eager smile on her face falling with each moment she watches Holly and Holly ignores her.

  “Didn’t Emmett tell you not to talk to her anymore?”

  Cassie goes back to picking her fingernails, mumbling, “But she’s my friend.”

  “No. She isn’t. Holly was pretending to be your friend so she could get close to Emmett.”

  Her fingers pause as she glowers at her hands. “She’s not my friend.”

  “No. And she’s not a nice person.”

  More picking.

  I cringe as the sight of her nails, ripped off to the quick, her cuticles torn and bloody.

  “Are you my friend?” she asks suddenly.

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Will you still be my friend next year when Emmett is gone?”

  When Emmett is a sixteen-and-a-half-hour drive away—I mapped it out of curiosity—at college, with college girls and college life. I can’t help but hear another meaning behind her words: when Emmett and I break up, because I’d be a fool to think we’ll last. My chest tightens with that thought.

  But that’s not even what she’s asking. Cassie wants to know if I’ll still walk home with her after school every day, if I’ll watch movies with her that I miss half of because I’m answering her bizarre questions; if I’ll still
tolerate her mindless chatter and scattered conversations.

  If I’ll still be nice to her.

  This girl who speaks slowly and runs awkwardly, who can only manage short spurts of eye contact and stiffens under anyone’s touch, who struggles to match appropriate emotions with situations.

  Who finds joy in the simplest things, who will never sit at a cafeteria table or in a bathroom and say mean things behind people’s backs.

  Who understands more than most people give her credit for.

  Whose heart can’t seem to hold animosity, even toward those who have been cruel to her.

  Who has only ever wanted to be a friend to me since the moment she stepped out of her mom’s car with a bag of cookies.

  “Of course, I will,” I promise.

  “Yeah, okay.” She finally looks up to offer me a wide grin and a nod. “Are you going to eat those Junior Mints?”

  * * *

  “Three more slides, and then you can have another kiss.” I roll off Emmett’s bed and plant myself on the floor, my lips still tingling.

  “Are you make-out bartering with me now? Is that what this is?” he says, flashing a lazy smile, his voice laced with amusement.

  “I just want to get this done.” I pull his computer onto my lap. “And the sooner we finish, the sooner you can get back to explaining those hockey plays,” using his fingers as players and the full canvas of my torso as the ice rink. Cassie and Heather are at swimming, and Mark is camped out in his office on another conference call with Vancouver, so, while our shirts have stayed on, our hands have wandered liberally.

  He groans and rolls onto his side to rest on the edge of his bed, his fingertips toying with my hair. “Okay. I think we should focus the last three slides on why kids bully, why the victims don’t report, and possible solutions.”

  “Okay … Reasons.” I start a fresh tab. “Need for attention, learned behavior, low self-esteem …” All those sessions with Dr. C. are paying off in a way I never anticipated. “Desire to fit in. Jealousy.” I feel Emmett’s eyes on my profile but I keep my focus on the screen, wanting to be finished with this project so I can go back to happier things—namely, kissing Emmett.