Circle of Silence

by Carol M. Tanzman

  She’s right. I can’t spend the rest of my life dreaming about Jagger. It’s not like Raul and I don’t have a lot in common. We do. We could talk camera angles all night. Plus, he’s cute. Yes, I haven’t felt that special spark the way I do even now when I’m with Jagger—but maybe that takes time.

  I resurface with the fork. Raul hands me a clean one.

  “Thanks.” I swivel the stool so that I’m facing him. “Sure, I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun.”

  His anxious look melts into a grin. “Excellent. ’Cause you know, Latinos can dance.”

  I hold up a hand as if I’m being sworn in at a trial. “Full disclosure. I’m really lame at the whole dance bit.”

  “I’ll show you.”

  I laugh. “Right. Mr. Carleton will be glad to give up class time for salsa lessons.”

  Raul squirts ketchup onto his burger. “I’m not thinking about doing it in class!”

  “Raul!” I pick up a sandwich half. “Okay, if I don’t start eating, this grilled cheese will turn to rubber.”

  He laughs into his burger.

  Honestly, Val. Can you possibly be more of a dweeb?

  Power is not a means, it is an end.

  George Orwell

  MP LOG

  This is what happens when things don’t get done right. The new girl called me from the hospital and said she had to talk to me. Alone. She sounded really scared, so I said, “I’ll be there at seven. Make sure your mom, or whoever is visiting you, is gone. I don’t want to run into anyone.”

  At 6:45, I slipped into the lobby wearing a gray windbreaker, the boring kind that nobody notices. My hair was combed neatly. I ignored the desk with the notice that said Visitor Sign-In Here. Instead, I stood by a trash can. Didn’t take more than a few minutes before someone tossed their visitor sticker. Easy to stick it on my jacket.

  When I got to the room, the new girl told me she’d had a visit from that news chick who knew she got hurt doing something with us.

  I kept my voice low and calm because you never want to show you’re surprised.

  “Did you tell her anything?” I asked. “Anything at all?”

  She looked terrified, like maybe I wouldn’t believe her. She said, “I swear, all I said to that Val girl is I don’t know what you’re talking about and you better get out right now. She wrote down her phone number in case I changed my mind and wanted to talk to her, but I threw the paper in the trash. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah that’s good,” I said, “but how did she find out? Did she give you an explanation?”

  “I have no idea,” the new chick said. “That’s why I called you. Because I wasn’t the one who told her.”

  Then the new girl started crying and asking, “Do you believe me and can I still be in the group when I get better because it’s not fair to punish me when I did what you said to do.”

  I said, “Nothing changes as long as you keep quiet.” She swore she would, so I said, “Okay, you’re still MP.”

  But now we’ve got this problem. At the next meeting, I said, “One of you broke the blood oath. I’m going to find out who.”

  Everyone looked shocked when I told them about the hospital visit and they all swore on a second blood oath that it wasn’t them.

  “What about Phantom?” Hell Girl asked. “Maybe Phantom talked to Campus News.”

  Frankenstein shook his head. “Why? Skeletor has pictures of Phantom like he has of the rest of us.”

  Ghost Face looked thoughtful. “Maybe Phantom wants to make sure we never meet again. If the new girl caved and told Campus News what actually happened, we couldn’t blame it on Phantom.”

  That made sense.

  “We’re okay,” I told them. “If it was Phantom, it’s not like that Campus News chick was told all that much. She didn’t know anything for sure.”

  I hit them up with the wolf grin and said, “But if I ever find out it was one of you, that person will be really, really sorry.”

  Everyone nodded. Word. It’s spine-tinglingly cool how much control I have. Especially since Phantom quit. I said to the group, “Now we’re going to pick someone else to join.”

  Talk about shock and awe! One of the chicks said, “What about the new girl? You promised her she can be in the group.”

  “She can but not for a long while. It’s not like she can hang around with us in a cast and crutches because everyone will notice. So first we’ll plan another prank just so the assholes at school don’t forget about us. Then we’ll choose someone else to join. I saved all those applications from the box, so it’ll be easy.”

  What I didn’t say to anyone is that after we choose this second person, we’ll have another initiation. I’ll make sure it’s even better than the first one.

  Just because I can.

  18

  Exactly as Jagger predicted, MP resurfaces. This time, the target is Mr. Washington Irving himself. WiHi has two statues: one at the front of the school next to the flagpole and another near the ball field. A small plaque on the second one says Donated by the Class of ’28, and it’s really, really ugly. The guy looks like he can’t decide whether he’s constipated or about to let out a big one.

  MP draped the nastier of the two heads in a hood, and then hung a rope around the statue’s neck. DIE, SUCKERS! was painted across the chest in bloodred letters.

  The hood and rope are gone within two minutes of its discovery. The painted words stay until Mr. Orel can figure out how to get it off without ruining the finish on the statue.

  Lucky for us, Raul got a shot of it on his cell before the hood was removed. What we also get are gossip, rumors and just plain anger. Omar and I set up a camera during lunch, and a crowd gathers.

  “This isn’t funny anymore. I heard there was a hood and rope around the neck. That’s definitely a racist statement against African-Americans,” Cleve Watson, the captain of the AV squad, tells us. “Mr. Wilkins should find the culprits and kick them out of school.”

  One of Omar’s lesbian friends in the LGBTQ Alliance agrees. Her nose ring flares angrily. “LGBTQ stands against any person who trashes someone else’s rights. A noose around a neck has bad connotations like Cleve said. But what we in LGBTQ want to know is why nobody got upset by those body parts that were left around campus last month. Even if they were plastic, they were female parts. We find that to be just as offensive, especially to the women in this school.”

  A senior, holding tight to his sophomore girlfriend, wondered, “If Washington Irving is white, and there’s a noose around his neck, does that really dis African-Americans? Or boring writers?”

  Over on the side, watching intently, is a thin, pimply dude. Omar motions him over. “Want to be on Campus News? We’re asking people what they think of the latest MP prank.”

  The kid ducks his head, mumbles, “Uh-uh,” and shuffles off.

  “Sure looked like he was waiting for his minute of WiHi fame,” I say.

  Omar shrugs. “People get camera-shy.”

  Shy, however, is a word Mr. Wilkins has finally discarded from his vocabulary. The principal makes an emergency announcement over the PA. “Please excuse the interruption. Anyone involved with defacing and vandalizing the old Irving statue will be punished. I ask all members of the Washington Irving community to cooperate with campus police as they investigate the matter.”

  In an on-camera interview, Mr. Wilkins explains further. “I was tolerant of those first pranks because I didn’
t want to trample any student’s free speech rights.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t want a Manhattan High problem?” I use my best Emily Purdue voice. “You know, when their principal broke up a legal student protest last year and the parents got him transferred?”

  Mr. Wilkins gives a tight-lipped smile. “I was not thinking about that situation at all, Ms. Gaines. My policy is to allow students the full amount of First Amendment rights to which they are entitled. The original MP incidents could not be considered vandalism in the legal sense because no school property was destroyed. The actual defacing of the Irving statue, however, changes things.”

  “That’s a fine line,” Omar huffs indignantly. Back in the Media Center, the rest of the team watches the interview on the monitor. “I don’t think Wilkins cares about free speech at all. He’s just covering his ass.”

  “Totally,” Marci says. “Besides all that, how much does the noose on the statue remind you of the bird in Val’s locker? And the trophy in the display case? Those were warnings. Is this one, too?”

  Henry brushes hair out of his eyes. “Who are they warning by messing with the statue?”

  Jagger gives me a curious look. “Val? You’re awfully quiet.”

  I didn’t realize my silence was so obvious. In my head, I’m having a fierce argument.

  Tell them about the secret agent, the meeting in the playground….

  Uh-uh! Remember the note. “I could get in trouble for telling you this. Don’t tell anyone. MP has spies everywhere.”

  Not that I think anyone on the team is a spy, but so far, MP’s been awfully good at finding out stuff. Locker combo, my email address. I do not want to be responsible for outing the secret agent. Not yet.

  “I’m as much in the dark as the rest of you,” I tell them.

  Technically, that cannot be considered a lie.

  * * *

  The doorbell rings. Footsteps pound as the twins race to get there first. I’m in the dining room, college catalogues spread across the polished wood table. The task is to choose my top nine—three reach, three safe, three “I really want to go here, but can my folks afford it if I don’t get a scholarship?” schools. Narrowing it down is tough. Plus, the journalism programs require extras. A kick-ass Campus News segment that nails the MP story would really help.

  Jesse—or is it James?—shouts, “Val! It’s for you.”

  I’m happy for the interruption—until I see who it is.

  “Can I come in?” Jagger’s wearing an aviator jacket with a fake sheepskin collar and a multicolored scarf. Not an outfit everyone can pull off. He, of course, looks great.

  Jesse and James swarm around us. “I’m Jesse,” James says.

  “No, you’re not.” Jesse tackles his brother. “He’s James….”

  Clearly, staying on the first floor is not an option. “Let’s go upstairs. Find a little privacy.”

  But where? Bethany, as usual, is in the bedroom. It’ll be a month of pot washing to get her out of here.

  “Hey, Bethie. Remember me?” Jagger asks.

  For a moment, I’m not sure how she could. It’s not like I brought Jags around when we were together. The house is too loud and too crowded; it was easier to hang out at his place. But then I remember the July afternoon I had to get Bethany from the Arcade because she had a doctor’s appointment. Jagger came with me. At the time, he barely looked at her. Now he gives my sister the full Voorham treatment.

  “Got yourself all grown up, didn’t you?”

  “Ninth grade,” she mumbles.

  “Cut your hair, too. I like it.” She shrugs as if she doesn’t care, but I can tell she’s pleased. He shoots her a dimpled smile. “You think you could give me and Val a few minutes alone? I need to tell her something and it’s kind of private.”

  “Okay.” Bethany scoops up her iPod and closes the door quietly behind her.

  “How do you do that so fast?” I laugh. “I figured I’d have to bribe her to get her out of here.”

  “Natural charm.” Immediately he turns serious. “I really do have something to tell you.” He pats the bed beside him. “I won’t bite. Or do anything else.”

  I pull out my desk chair. “I’m fine here.”

  He shrugs. “Whatever.”

  There’s an awkward pause. “So? What do you have to talk to me about?”

  “Remember the MP box?” Jagger asks. “The one that said ‘Join us’?”

  I perk up. “You found it?”

  He shakes his head. “I put in an ‘application.’”

  “Wait. What? There weren’t any.”

  Now that Jagger has my attention, he takes his time, puts a pillow behind himself and leans comfortably against the headboard. “Right. Not formal applications. I scribbled something quick and slipped it in.”

  “Don’t tell me they asked you to join.”

  Jagger grins. “Got the word today.”

  “You want to be a member of MP?” My voice gets more than a little screechy. “Are you crazy?”

  “That’s how we get the story, Val. What exactly is MP? Who are they?”

  I lean forward. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would they let someone from Campus News into their club? I mean, they hate me especially, but I’m sure they’re not in love with the rest of us.”

  “Exactly!” The dimples on his cheeks widen. “But no one knows I’m in the class. I’ve never been in front of the camera, never anchored. Invisible the entire year—just like MP. You have to appreciate the irony.”

  I roll my shoulders to get rid of the tension tightening my muscles. At the same time, I’m frantically sorting through what I know—and what to say.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Don’t do it.”

  Jagger’s brow wrinkles. “Why not? I thought you’d be happy. I mean, okay, I didn’t tell you I put in an application, but that’s because I wasn’t sure anything would happen. Plus, the fewer people who knew I did it, the better.”

  Omigod! I lean forward. “Do you think someone on B Team is a spy?”

  Jagger laughs. “Are you downloading secret agent books in your free time? Of course I don’t think anyone’s a spy. But word gets out. Henry and Omar talk about it in Calc, Marci tells Phil in the cafeteria. Someone sitting next to them hears. You know how that goes.”

  I do. The WiHi rumor mill is fierce. That’s why the MP story is so frustrating. Equally worrisome, though, is what the double agent told me: a girl ended up in the hospital after joining. But I’m sworn to keep that information secret. A crazy dilemma.

  “You can’t do it, Jags.”

  “Give me one good reason.”

  Urgently, I move to the bed. “Because they’re crazy. And dangerous. You can’t trust them.”

  His eyes flash. “Boy, are you transparent! Jealous because I’ll break the story and you won’t. I can’t believe I’ve been fed a line of crap all semester. ‘It’s all about Campus News. Not any one person. We’re supposed to work together.’”

  “It is. We do—”

  He gets to his feet. “Unless the we is me. Okay, I know I fucked up the night of Sonya’s party. I was drunk and Dawn came on to me big-time. I’m sorry. But it’s stupid to hold it against me the rest of my life.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are! What’s worse is you’re letting the best story of the year slip through your fingers for personal reasons. I refuse to let it happen.”

  H
e storms from the room. Bethany must have been in Mom’s bedroom, because she walks in less than ten seconds later.

  “You and Jagger have a fight?”

  “None of your business!” Despite the cold, I lift the window and climb onto the fire escape. Jagger stalks down the steps of the building. This time he doesn’t bother to wave.

  19

  I pull the books for morning classes from my locker. Feeling someone behind my back, I turn. Jagger waits for Tracy to get out of the way before he moves in.

  “Change your mind?” I ask hopefully.

  He lowers his voice. “I want to make sure you’re not going to tell anyone.”

  “Jagger—”

  “Valerie. Did you tell us about that email the instant you got it? The one that warned you to stop investigating?”

  “That’s different.”

  He laughs. “Only because you’re the one who kept quiet. Don’t you see? If I get caught telling anyone, I’m out before I get in—”

  “What’s going on?” Marci’s usual cheery face is stony. “I hope you’re talking about Campus News, not anything of a personal nature.”

  “Since when did you become captain of the Conversation Police?” Jagger counters. “Wait. Cocaptain. Seriously, Val, you need to find yourself another BFF.”

  “Like you?” Marci retorts. “Whose only interest is himself—”

  “Enough! I got the message, Jagger, but I wish you’d change your mind.”

  He walks away. Marci looks upset. “Val, you promised!”

  “We’re not getting back together, if that’s what you’re worried about. Especially now.”

  Marci scurries to keep up as I stomp down the hall. “What happened?”

  “You were right. I made a huge mistake. I should have asked Carleton to switch Jagger to A Team in September. Go ahead. Tell me you told me so.”

  “I told you so.”