by Mary Strand
“What does MIT care? And what about Josh?” I turned bright red, wondering how a guy could possibly get turned on by a girl whose brain wouldn’t fit in our living room. Especially when that girl was Mary. “I mean, isn’t he . . .”
“What?” Mary frowned. “Threatened by the fact that I’m smart? Even though he has a full ride at MIT, too?”
“Well, yeah, but guys like to be smarter than girls.”
“Then you need to find different guys.” Mary gave me a weird smile, like she knew something I didn’t. “Actually, Josh is my main competition for valedictorian. He thinks it’s hilarious, but he hasn’t exactly eased up on studying.”
“So that’s what you’re doing with him. Studying.”
“I’m not even with him all the time.”
“No, you’re babysitting me. Or practicing your guitar. Or, like you said, studying.”
Talk about a boring life. Almost as boring as mine, but at least Mary had a boyfriend. Not that I’d want a skater as a boyfriend. I just wanted someone who—
Actually, I had no idea what I wanted. Not Drew, obviously. Not anymore. But someone who didn’t just want to hook up once or twice. He wouldn’t even have to worry about me being smarter than he was, because—unlike Mary—I didn’t need to compete. Besides, I’d never sailed through a class in my life, and now I wouldn’t even do it with Drawing.
Crap! I forgot about Mr. Reiman!
My feet slid to a halt in the middle of the icy parking lot. “I forgot. I have to go see Mr. Reiman.”
Mary snorted. “Yeah, right. Asking for an extra-credit assignment? Too bad. I have to get home.”
I turned to head back inside, but I was not going to tell her about my detention. She already lorded it over me enough as it was.
“Cat! Come back here!”
Heads whipped around as I raced through the parking lot, footsteps thundered behind me, and I heard Mary wheezing. She and I had something in common, after all.
“Cat, I don’t have time to screw around.”
“But I have to see Mr. Reiman.”
Mary stayed hard on my heels as she followed me to the art classroom. The door was shut, the lights out, and no Mr. Reiman. I frowned, not sure if this was good or bad.
Mary glanced inside the room. “Had to see Mr. Reiman, huh? Maybe you should’ve told him.” She grabbed my arm, practically yanking it out of its socket. “No more games, Cat. Seriously. I’m tired of it.”
We reached the Jeep without another word from Mary. But what happened to Mr. Reiman? I hadn’t been that late. The final bell rang only about ten minutes ago.
“By the way, I met a friend of yours.” Mary turned the key in the ignition and started backing up. “Nice guy.”
“Oh?” I glanced out the passenger window, casually, trying to pretend it wasn’t too horrifying that Mary had spoken to a guy I knew. Drew?
“Jeremy Fisk.” Mary pulled out onto the main road. “He said he knows you, almost like you’re best buds. You’ve never mentioned Jeremy.”
Jeremy? Ew. “We are not best buds.”
“No offense, but I think he likes you.”
“Gross.” And even more gross that Jeremy would let Mary or anyone else think we had something going. Even if Drew didn’t like me, it still didn’t clear any space in my life for Jeremy.
Like, ever.
“He’s not gross. He’s really good on drums.”
I stared at Mary. “And you know this because . . .”
She turned the corner onto our street before quickly giving me a tight smile. “Because I’m playing in a band with him and three other guys.”
Mary? In a band with four guys? I nearly fell out of the Jeep. I should’ve pushed her out instead.
My family spent the entire evening hovering over me or, in Dad’s case, twisting himself into weird yoga positions in the middle of the living-room floor. Mom made me do my homework at the kitchen table. I refused to think about Mr. Reiman and the terror awaiting me in Drawing tomorrow. At least he hadn’t emailed or called Mom or Dad.
I sleepwalked into English class the next morning, saw Jeremy and his goofy grin, and almost ran right back out. Only the thought of getting stuck in detention for two classes kept me plodding to my desk.
I barely sat down before Jeremy started to lean over, way too close. Cringing, I leaned the other way, but the guy on that side of me obviously never got The Lecture from his parents about deodorant, if you get my drift. I shot back to neutral position, halfway in between Jeremy and him.
Jeremy nailed me on his second lean of the day.
“Your sister Mary is cool.”
I couldn’t help frowning at him.
He held up a hand. “I know. I mean, I know what the kids used to say. And I can’t believe she just learned to play guitar a few months ago. She’s really hot.”
“She has a boyfriend.”
What? How did that come out of my mouth?
Jeremy blinked. “Yeah. Josh Lawton. Good guy, right?” He gave me a weird look, like everyone else knew Josh was a good guy, so why didn’t I?
I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”
Turning away from Jeremy, I pretended to focus on my desk, but the only thing on my desk was my English notebook and Pride and Prejudice, the bane of my existence. As I stared at the cover, I wondered if Jane Austen named a character “Kitty” to be cute or because some cat once scratched or bit her and she hated cats for the rest of her miserable, pathetic life.
Seriously. I mean, Jane Austen really unloaded on Kitty, even if a clueless moron might think she picked on Mary or Lydia. But Mary was a loser and Lydia actually scored. Maybe not in a traditional way, but Lydia was happy about how things turned out, so who am I to question it?
But Kitty was nothing. Sure, she was Lydia’s sidekick for a while, but nobody else noticed her. Just like my life. Not that there’s anything even remotely similar about the lame-o sisters in The Book and my own sisters and me. Nothing!
I frowned at The Book, getting more pissed by the second, until Jeremy’s voice finally broke through.
“Cat? You’re kinda shredding the pages.”
Huh? I shook myself out of my red haze and looked down at the fingers of my right hand—which were clutching the pages of the book so hard that I was totally wrecking it.
I felt a flush zoom up my face that had nothing to do with how pissed I was at Jane Austen.
“You don’t like the book?”
“Nope.” But I didn’t mean to destroy it, at least not intentionally. “Her attitude is pretty lame.”
“Yeah. But it’s a chick book.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I might not like Jane Austen, but I also wasn’t a big fan of Neanderthals. “If a book isn’t about football or hockey or some guy thing, you won’t read it?”
Jeremy shrugged. “It’s, like, five hundred years old.” Or two hundred, as the case may be. Jeremy wasn’t in AP math. “No one does anything. Not even the guys.”
“We don’t see what the guys are doing, unless they’re in the same room with the girls.”
“They’re always doing stupid stuff like dancing.” He made a face. “You couldn’t pay me enough. But drummers don’t dance, even if they’re not playing.”
I frowned, drawn in despite myself. “Why not? Aren’t drummers the guys who keep the beat?”
Jeremy didn’t have an answer for that one—go figure—but knowing he didn’t like dancing was actually good. One less thing he’d bug me about. Not that anyone was exactly bugging me, for instance, to go to the school dance this Friday. But I definitely didn’t want Jeremy to ask me. Gross.
I glanced back at my mutilated copy of Pride and Prejudice, wondering why I was talking to Jeremy and why I wanted to know anything about drummers. Especially drummers named Jeremy.
“Hey, do you wanna—”
Jeremy broke off as Ms. Mickel staccato-stepped into the room on another pair of pointy-toed heels so high they’d give me a noseblee
d, but for once I was relieved to see her. Between Ms. Mickel and Jeremy, I’d take Ms. Mickel. Any day.
Which pretty much said it all.
I peeked at Mom’s lunch after third period and before braving the gauntlet in the cafeteria. One glance inside the paper bag—tuna fish, even though I’m vegetarian, with ground-up potato chips on revolting rye—and I made my decision. Starting tomorrow, I was getting up ten minutes earlier and making my own stupid lunch.
But that didn’t fix my life today.
Only seniors could leave the building during lunch period. Sure, I’d sneaked out plenty of times without getting caught, but this wasn’t exactly my lucky month. I plugged some quarters into the vending machines just inside the entrance to the caf, grabbed a Diet Coke and a package of Reese’s peanut butter cups, and bolted. I didn’t bother to look for my friends. The only kids I could count on speaking to me lately consisted of one art geek—Megan—and Jeremy. Talk about no life.
Outside the door to the media center, I paused. They didn’t allow food or backpacks in the media center, and my jeans were too tight to stuff anything inside. Ditto for the sleeves of my shirt. And I didn’t dare tuck the Diet Coke underneath my shirt. Way too cold against my skin in February, and I’d probably look pregnant.
I went down the hall to my locker, grabbed a stack of books big enough to hide my lunch in, and headed back to the media center. I slipped inside without seeing anyone. Whew.
“Cat?”
My head whipped around as my hand gripped my Diet Coke convulsively, even though I knew without looking that the high-pitched voice didn’t belong to Ms. Kieran, the dragon lady of the media center.
I finally spied Megan’s friendly face. Her friendly, squeaky-clean, way-too-sweet face.
“Hi.” She came up beside me, a crease running down the middle of her forehead at the Reese’s peanut butter cups I was pulverizing in my left hand and the Diet Coke tucked into the crook of my right elbow. “You usually eat in the cafeteria, don’t you?”
“Um, yeah.”
Ms. Kieran’s beady eyes caught mine from the far side of the media center, and I felt a trickle of sweat roll down my spine. I turned right, toward the stacks of books and away from the rows of computers. My survival depended on hiding behind the fattest book ever published, Megan not saying another word, and Ms. Kieran falling down and breaking her neck.
In other words, I was toast.
As soon as I was out of sight of Ms. Kieran, I set my Diet Coke and Reese’s on a shelf.
Megan raised one eyebrow. “Why’d you—”
“Shh.” I jerked my head in the direction I’d last seen Ms. Kieran. Any second now, she’d come looking for me. I mean, Cat Bennet spending time in the media center? No way.
Megan nodded, shocking me. When she grabbed my Diet Coke and Reese’s, though, I tried grabbing them back. She put a finger to her lips and motioned me to follow.
Even though my instincts flashed the word “DETENTION!” in big bold letters in my brain, I shrugged and followed her.
She whipped around a corner, past rows of tall bookshelves, and into a dinky little room tucked in the farthest corner of the media center. I had no idea rooms like this existed, but I was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be in here. After I followed her inside, she shut the door with a soft click.
I glanced around, wondering what we were doing and whether the length of my detention would now be measured in months, not days. “Where are we? I mean, what is this?”
“We’re in the media center.” Megan grinned, softening the sting of her words. “Haven’t you ever used one of these rooms?”
I shook my head as my gaze kept darting around. One small table cluttered with paper and a sketchpad, a couple of chairs, and a few shelves filled with art books.
“It’s for special projects. Student special projects. You can sign up for a room for a week at a time, but it’s pretty hard to get one near finals, so I usually grab one early in the term. Even if I don’t have a project going.”
“Why do you need it?” The place was barely big enough to make out in, and something told me Megan didn’t spend her time making out in the media center.
She shrugged. “Sometimes I just like to get away.”
I knew the feeling. “Thanks. I needed to eat something, and Ms. Kieran would’ve busted me.”
Megan glanced down at my loot, then handed it to me. I didn’t trust Ms. Kieran not to find me in here, so I tucked the unopened Diet Coke behind a huge art book about portraits. Part of me itched to take a look at the book, but the sane part of me kept an eye on the door as I ripped open my Reese’s, peeled the wrapper off one of the cups, and stuffed the semi-melted yumminess in my mouth.
Crap. I knew I should offer Megan the other Reese’s cup, just to be nice, but I was starving. Mom’s lunch was already stuffed in the bottom of a trash can, and I’d rather not go back into the cafeteria. I needed a day off from that hassle. Or maybe a lifetime off from it.
Biting my lip, I held out the remaining Reese’s.
Megan smiled. “No, thanks. Is that all you’re having for lunch? Do you need money?”
“No.” My forehead wrinkled. She saved me from detention, and now she was offering me cold, hard cash? What was with her? She wasn’t desperate for friends. Bethany worshipped her, and a cluster of art geeks always followed her around.
Was I her charity project of the week?
Thanks, but no thanks.
I stuffed the second peanut butter cup in my mouth, swallowed hard, and tossed the balled-up wrapper in a small wastebasket in the corner. Two steps and I was at the door, leaving my Diet Coke behind.
“Cat?”
I turned back to Megan. “Thanks again. I owe you.”
But I didn’t need any anyone’s charity. I just wanted my friends back. I’d given up on Drew—I wasn’t completely stupid—but maybe I shouldn’t have given up on my friends so easily. At least I understood them. Megan? Not a bit.
“Did I do something?”
My hand on the still-closed door, I offered a tight smile. “Yeah. You saved my butt, and I appreciate it. Really.”
“But?”
I tilted my head, pretending not to understand. “But what?”
“But I must’ve said something wrong.” She glanced at the floor, like she was too shy to handle this conversation, but anyone with so many friends couldn’t be that shy.
“No, you were great. I didn’t want to hang in the caf today, so I hit the vending machines and headed in here. To the media center, I mean.” I glanced around the claustrophobic room we were in. Who was she avoiding by hanging out in this room? “Thanks for letting me eat in here. But I didn’t mean to, uh, intrude.”
“You didn’t. You don’t hang out in the media center, do you? How would you know how crazy Ms. Kieran can be about not letting kids bring food inside?” She smiled as she said it, not in the snotty way Amber would, then reached for the Diet Coke. “At least take your soda. You can hold it under your books.”
“Thanks, but—” I started to shake my head as my throat started screaming at me. I needed my Diet Coke. Besides, if I left it here, Megan might get busted. Come to think of it, I’d spotted an empty potato chip bag in the wastebasket. Maybe Megan wasn’t quite as perfect as she seemed.
“Just take it.” She held the can out to me.
After another pause, I reached for it. “Thanks. I guess I could use it after all.”
I popped the top and took a long swig, sighing as it went down my throat. I felt Megan’s eyes on my face and felt like a jerk. She was just trying to be nice.
I glanced around the room again, then moved to one of the chairs and plunked down in it. “So what are you actually doing with this room?” I grinned. “I mean, besides letting people break all the rules?”
Laughing, Megan relaxed into the other chair and started talking about her own love of junk food. And the secret thrill she got in breaking rules. And her struggles with drawing portrai
ts. Ten minutes into our chat, I realized she was nothing like the prim little geeky art chick I’d pegged her for.
Go figure.
Chapter 7
Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter Sixteen
I got so caught up chatting with Megan, I jumped when the bell rang for the end of lunch period. Time for Math Studies class. Followed by Drawing.
I groaned.
“What’s the matter?” Megan grabbed her books from a shelf by the door as I chugged the last of my Diet Coke. “By the way, what did Mr. Reiman say after school yesterday? That your portraits were cool? I figured he just didn’t wanna say it in front of the whole class.”
She smiled brightly at me, reminding me that she did come from another planet. One where kids like me got called to see a teacher for praise, not detention.
“I, uh, missed him.” I tossed my empty can in a recycling bin, grabbed my books, and opened the door. “My sister Mary met me after Gym class, and I forgot Mr. Reiman. When I went back to see him, he was gone.”
“Bummer. But if you hustle to class, he can tell you how cool your portraits are before everyone else gets there.”
“I have to stop by my locker after fourth period.” And I wouldn’t do it in a hurry. The sooner I faced Mr. Reiman, the sooner I headed to Mr. Paymar’s office. “He’ll just give me detention for drawing that picture of him.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “No way. It’s Drawing class. You’re supposed to draw.”
Obviously, Megan had no idea how the world worked for kids like me. “You don’t draw teachers. Believe me.”
“But it was good. Didn’t you see the look on Mr. Reiman’s face?”
Yeah. It had “detention” written all over it.
We reached the hallway, and Megan and I both headed in opposite directions. One long and boring math class later, she was waiting for me outside our Drawing classroom. I almost laughed, wondering how exactly tiny Megan planned to save me from Mr. Reiman’s wrath.
Sure enough, Mr. Reiman stood in the doorway. He crooked his finger at me, motioning me back into the hall. “Megan, I’d like to talk to Cat.”