by Jo Ramsey
“Sorry.”
We walked into anatomy, the first class we had that day. I took my seat beside Holly, where I’d been sitting since my nonfriends had decided I wasn’t worth working with. She smiled at me and mouthed, “Okay?”
The teacher was giving lab instructions, so I couldn’t answer. I shook my head and pointed at the clock on the wall to let Holly know I would explain later. I wasn’t even close to okay. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself I didn’t give a crap what other people said, seeing that word sprayed on my locker hit me hard.
It was the same word I’d heard in the halls and seen online aimed at me for a few years now. Usually it didn’t bother me. As far as I was concerned, a slut was simply a female who enjoyed sex and wasn’t ashamed of it. A lot of people considered that a bad thing, but they weren’t necessarily right.
It had taken on a whole other meaning since November, though. Now it didn’t mean I slept with guys and had fun with them. Now it meant I deserved to be forced to do something I didn’t want to do.
And having it sprayed on my locker for everyone to see meant someone wanted to make sure people knew what kind of person I was and how they should treat me.
All I could do was hope they found out who’d done it and suspended them or something. Even though they would probably get suspended for vandalism, not for what they’d said, it would be better than them getting away with it.
When class ended, I picked up my stuff and started to leave. El-Al walked out of the room with Gina. Neither of them looked at me.
Holly got in front of me. “Talk to me. We have a few minutes before second block.”
I figured I might as well just blurt it out. “Someone painted ‘slut’ on my locker. Lawrence dragged me into the office this morning to tell me about it and tell me to report if anyone says or does anything to me. Of course, he didn’t bother saying any of that until after he lectured me about dressing more appropriately.”
“What a jackass.” Evan had joined us, along with Guillermo. “That’s his thing. If you don’t dress the way he thinks you should, that makes it okay for people to be assholistic.”
“You look fine,” Holly said. “I love that dress on you. If people can’t deal with it, they don’t have to look at you. You aren’t violating dress code.”
“Exactly.” I felt kind of warm and squishy about her compliment. In a good way, but still weird.
“It completely sucks,” Guillermo said. “You don’t deserve any of this. I can’t believe people think what happened to you was okay on any level. Sometimes I just want to smash people’s heads together until they get a clue.”
Guillermo was a football player, and he wasn’t exactly tiny. If he smashed anyone’s heads together, they would probably end up permanently embedded in each other. I had to laugh a little at the mental picture. “Thanks, Guillermo. I’m glad some people have my back, at least.”
“You know we do.” Holly put her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t let them get to you. Including jackass Lawrence. But even if you don’t think they’ll do anything, definitely report anyone who gives you a hard time.”
“I should have reported it all along.” Maryellen and I had both kept our mouths shut, and look where it had gotten her.
“You didn’t, and you can’t change that,” Evan said. “Doesn’t mean you should kick your own ass about it. Come on, we’re going to be late. Chastaine, we’re keeping an eye out for you, just so you know. If someone says something and you don’t report it, we will.”
“Absolutely.” Holly tightened her arm around me for a second and let go.
I smiled at her, and the smile she gave me in return did odd things to my body. Things I was pretty familiar with, but I usually only felt that way with guys. It startled me for a moment, then I pulled myself together. There was nothing wrong with being into Holly and hoping she was into me. I just wasn’t ready to share it with her.
Right before lunch, I got called to the office again. This time, I was in class, and I didn’t really want to have everyone staring at me while I left the room. Someone whispered something about me being in trouble for how I was dressed. I couldn’t tell who it was, and it was nothing I could report, so I let it go.
As I walked out the door, I realized that was the only insult I’d heard all day.
When I got to the office, Mr. Lawrence was waiting by the door. He motioned for me to follow him inside. He sat at his desk, but this time I stayed on my feet. I didn’t want another discussion of my clothes.
“Did you find any damage inside your locker this morning?” he asked.
“Only paint specks on a couple of books.” My fingers twitched. I managed not to start fidgeting. Nerves didn’t usually get to me, but I wasn’t happy about being in Lawrence’s office for the second time today.
“That’s good.” He leaned back and folded his arms. “We found out who painted that word on your locker and Maryellen’s. She’s being suspended for two days for vandalism and bullying, and we’ve reported her to the police, since both things are against the law.”
“Her?” I raised an eyebrow. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a guy had done it, but hearing that it had been a girl was unexpected.
“I can’t tell you who,” he said.
I shrugged. “Whatever.” I would find out. Even though a lot of people had stopped speaking to me, everyone was tuned into the gossip around school, and it was easy to overhear people talking.
“I just wanted you to know we’re taking care of this.”
“Thanks.” I stood there looking at him. I didn’t know what else he expected me to say.
“You can go back to class.”
“Thanks,” I said again. I walked out.
At lunch, I got the information I wanted. It was another day when I had the same lunch period as my friends, and El-Al joined us again. She looked guilty when she sat down across from me. Obviously she wasn’t the one who’d painted my locker, because she wouldn’t have been there, but clearly she knew who had done it.
“I would have stopped her,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Does it matter to you that I have no clue who or what you’re talking about?”
“Gina.” She bit her lip. “Gina painted that on your locker. I don’t know why. She’s been a total bitch lately, but I didn’t think she’d go that far.”
I just stared at her. I had no words. Someone I’d been friends with since first grade had not only called me that name, but had painted it for everyone to see. As if she were completely innocent. She’d done the same things I had, minus reporting Jim Frankel for rape.
“I’m sorry, Chastaine,” El-Al said. “I didn’t know until I heard just now.”
“I believe you.”
“I’m not friends with her anymore.” El-Al poked at the so-called hamburger on her tray. “I’m not going to talk to someone like her. It isn’t right to turn on a friend.”
“She hasn’t exactly been my friend since November.” I should have been angry, and I couldn’t manage it. I didn’t have any anger left in me. And Gina wouldn’t have been worth it anyway. I didn’t care why she’d done it. She was a bitch, and she and I weren’t friends anymore. There was nothing else to say.
Chapter 7
AFTER SCHOOL, I invited Holly over. My parents and brothers were gone, and I didn’t want to be alone. Saying crap to me at school or online was one thing, but Gina had taken it up a notch by painting on my locker. She knew where I lived, so it was anyone’s guess whether she’d decided to retaliate on my house as well.
I didn’t even know what the hell she was retaliating for. I hadn’t done anything to her. If anything, I should have been the one pissed off at her for the way she’d ignored me and hadn’t stood up for me when all the harassment started.
It wasn’t worth thinking about, but it meant I didn’t want to go home and sit there by myself. We had a lab report to write for chemistry anyway, so I used that as my excuse to ask Holly to go with me.
“It’s weird not having Evan follow me around,” Holly said as we went into my house. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds. It’s just we’re usually at each other’s houses, or if he goes out with Moe he asks me to tag along.”
“I bet Guillermo doesn’t appreciate that.” I was a close enough friend to Guillermo now that I could have used his nickname, too, but I didn’t like it.
Holly shrugged. “I don’t think he minds all that much. It isn’t like they do anything more than kissing. At least not so far.”
“At least not that you know of,” I teased.
“Evan would tell me.” Her face turned a little red. “He tells me more than I want to know as it is. Anyway, lab report?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t have any desire at all to work on the thing, but it was due the next day. Our teacher believed in short notice. “You have the notes, right?”
“Yeah. As promised.”
I went upstairs and got my laptop, because our reports had to be typed and the graphs and tables had to be done on the computer. When I came back, Holly was sitting on the couch with her chemistry notebook open beside her. I handed the laptop to her without opening it and sat on her other side. “I’m trying to kick a social media addiction.”
“Good idea.” She flipped open the laptop and closed the browser window that must have been open for the past two days. “I’m not going to look either. We have more important things to do. Like get this report done so you can show me the clothes you were talking about.”
She gave me a shy look out of the corners of her eyes. It was cute, and I decided I was better off not saying so. I didn’t know what the hell was with me lately about Holly. She was definitely pretty, and I liked spending time with her, but I didn’t know where to go with the apparent crush I’d developed on her. Or why I’d even developed it. “Yeah, we can definitely do that.”
Thanks to Holly’s notes, writing the report didn’t take as long as I’d been afraid it would. I did most of the typing, since thanks to my hours online I typed faster than Holly. We took a break partway through for soda and veggies with dip, but we still finished in under two hours.
I e-mailed the report to our teacher, which was one of the accepted ways to turn in assignments and a whole lot easier than risking losing a piece of paper, and closed the laptop. “Did we have any other homework?”
“Not in the classes we have together,” Holly said.
“I never have homework in Italian.” I stood. “Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you what I have that might fit you.”
Her face turned red again. “I told you, I don’t think anything you have will fit. I’m at least twenty-five pounds heavier than you.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” I put one hand on my hip and glared at her. “You’re going just by looks, and not by measurements. I’m at least three inches taller than you, and we’re built different. For all you know, we weigh exactly the same on the scale. So come on and trust me. You said you wanted to stop dressing schlubby.”
“Yeah. I do.” She gulped and followed me to my room.
I had a walk-in closet like my parents’, only mine was smaller. Not by much, though. Since I had so much space to fill, I owned way too many clothes.
Some of them were things my parents or other relatives had bought for me that I’d never worn because they were completely not my style. I didn’t go for the knee-length or longer skirts that Mom and her sisters thought I should wear, or for the turtleneck sweaters my grandparents always gave me. I’d been blessed with a good body, and I preferred clothes that showed it off.
Most of the clothes I pulled out for Holly to try on were the styles I didn’t like to wear, but some were the type of clothes I wore almost every day. I didn’t need all of them. Maybe I would eventually get rid of all of them and tone down my look a little. After all, the school staff seemed to agree my clothes were part of the reason for me being hassled. If I dressed differently and people still gave me a hard time, I’d be able to prove the adults wrong.
Holly’s eyes widened as I piled clothes on my bed. “You’re getting rid of all of that? That’s more of a wardrobe than I even own!” She put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
“What for? I have too many clothes. That’s why I’m giving some away.” I went back into the closet and grabbed a few pairs of low-heeled shoes that I only wore once in a while. If Holly took any of the outfits I’d picked out for her, she would need proper footwear, and her feet looked about the same size as mine.
She stood awkwardly beside the bed staring at all the clothes. She looked overwhelmed. “I can’t take all of that.”
“It might not all fit you,” I said. “Try it on, and whatever fits, you can have if you want it. I don’t wear this stuff, Holly. I have too much stuff, and I’ll still have plenty left even if you do take this. It isn’t like I’m giving you everything I own.”
“Um, okay.” She fiddled with the bottom of her sweater.
I figured out part of the problem. My other friends and I changed in front of each other all the time. It was no big deal. We all had boobs and no dangly bits, and hair in the places where we didn’t shave. I’d checked them out to compare their bodies to mine, and they’d probably done the same. Sometimes I’d thought they were hot, but not in an “I want to sleep with you” way like with guys. More like a “damn, I wish I looked that good” way.
Holly looked embarrassed about changing in front of me. I didn’t have a clue why. She changed in the locker room at school all the time, and I’d never seen her so nervous. Maybe it was because she honestly believed she was fat, or maybe she was afraid I would check her out for reasons other than comparing her body with mine.
I was worried that was the reason. As far as I knew, I’d been doing a pretty good job hiding my interest in her, but maybe I hadn’t done as well as I thought.
“Do you want me to close my eyes?” I asked. “Or leave the room?”
“No, it’s okay. I just…. It’s different changing in front of someone in their room. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Never mind.” She took a deep breath and pulled off the sweater.
I couldn’t see what she was so worried about. She wore a thin white cami with a blue bra showing through it. Without the sweater in the way, I could see the extra weight she was so worried about, but I didn’t think it looked bad. She had curves, and they were adorable. I kind of wanted to touch them.
I blinked a few times and sat on the bed with my hands under me. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I was definitely attracted to Holly, and not just as a friend.
Sooner or later I would have to decide what to do about this. With a guy, I wouldn’t have hesitated to let him know I was interested. With Holly, I wasn’t sure how it would go over, and I didn’t want to risk our friendship. It was a situation I hadn’t dealt with before, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it now. So I just focused on the pile of clothes beside me and waited to see what Holly would try on first.
She dropped her sweater on the bed and picked up a long-sleeved red shirt that was almost sheer. I’d worn it with nothing more than a bra underneath and hadn’t cared what people thought, but I’d always worn a cami under it for school. Wanting to show off didn’t mean wanting to get sent home for not meeting dress code.
She held up the shirt and studied it. “I’m afraid I’ll rip this if I try it on.”
“Just try it.” I slid back to sit against the wall. “If you rip it, no big loss. When’s the last time you saw me wear that?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Last winter, I think.”
That surprised me. “You remember what I wore last winter? Hell, I don’t even remember what I wore last week.”
Her face turned almost as red as the shirt. “I notice things sometimes. I liked the shirt, that’s why I remember.”
She said it kind of fast, as if she were trying to cover something. I pretended I didn’t notice. “Okay. Well anyway, try the thing on and see
whether it fits. If it does, it’s yours. If you rip it, I’ll toss it. I’m not going to wear it again, I don’t think.” Holly was probably right about the last time I’d worn the shirt to school, but the last time I’d worn it at all had been on the cool spring night of my first date with Jim. Something I wanted no reminders of whatsoever.
Some of the other clothes on the bed were ones I’d worn when I’d gotten together with him too. That wasn’t the only reason I was getting rid of them, but it was a factor. I didn’t see any point in keeping stuff around that would only cause bad memories.
Holly pulled the shirt on and adjusted it. It was a little tight over her boobs, but not enough to look bad. The shirt came down almost to her hips, which wasn’t great with her baggy jeans, but I could take care of that. “You look good in that,” I said.
“I do?” She went toward the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. “Yeah, maybe. Red isn’t really me.”
“It looks good,” I said again. “Your skin’s kind of pale. The red brings out your color. God, I sound like Evan.”
Holly laughed. “Yeah, if he doesn’t make it as a drag queen the way he wants, he has a great future as a fashion consultant.” She looked in the mirror again. “I guess you’re right. I do kind of like it.”
“You need skinny jeans, though.” I rummaged through the pile on the bed. I had a few pairs of skinnies that were a size or two too big for me thanks to well-meaning relatives who had at least attempted to be on trend. I found a pair of blue ones and a pair of white ones with a red floral pattern. “Here. Try these.”
She took both pairs of jeans and held up the blue ones. “Really?”
“Stop arguing with me, or we’re going to be here all night.”
She tried on the jeans, which fit her as well as I’d figured they would. “I didn’t think I could wear skinny jeans. I only have a couple pair.”
“Anyone can wear skinnies.” I found the other pairs I’d pulled out of the closet. “Look, I get that you’re afraid stuff won’t fit you. I’m not going to point at you and laugh or anything. This is all stuff I don’t want, and I picked out the things I think will fit. So just try it on. The worst that will happen is something will be too small, and that just means you don’t take it.”