I smiled weakly.
Still embarrassed, I cleared my throat and walked over to where I’d thrown my duffel. “I have homework to do.” I opened the bag and pulled things out, rooting for my English book. Not like I’d really be able to concentrate on Hamlet, but Jeremy didn’t have to know that.
I grabbed the dog-eared paperback and sat down at his desk. It helped that I could no longer see him. Hopefully by tomorrow all of the stupid would be gone from my system, and Jeremy and I would be back to business as usual. Best friends. Nothing more.
After a few minutes of pretending to read, I relaxed enough to start comprehending the words on the page in front of me. I rested my head against my hand as I absorbed the flow and imagery of the prose. The old-fashioned language was beautiful in its oddity. I wished I were like that.
The bed squeaked, and rustling pages carried my way. I read quietly a few more minutes.
“What the hell is this?” His shocked voice startled me.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Jeremy sat up straight on the bed, my spiral notebook open on his lap. I spun around and jumped up so quickly that I tripped on the chair legs and almost went flying. I dove toward him.
“What do you think you’re doing? That’s private!” I reached over to grab the notebook away from him, but he moved faster.
He strode over to his bedroom door and shut it, then turned back to me, holding the notebook out like it was something dirty.
“It was on the bed. I thought it was your poetry, which you always let me read.” He shook his head, face still in shock. “Sam, what is this?”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to wrestle the notebook from him without making noise that might attract his parents’ attention. So instead I sat on the bed, arms crossed in front of me, glaring. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t owe him an explanation, and obviously he wouldn’t understand given his horrified reaction.
He wagged the notebook at me. “Are you seriously planning to do this?” He took a step toward me. “Please tell me you aren’t.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell him. I hadn’t wanted him to be involved. When I opened my eyes, he stood stock-still a few feet away from me. The notebook was lowered now, resting against his thigh. I raised my eyes to meet his. Instead of the judgment I thought I’d seen moments ago, I saw concern.
I sighed. “It’s nothing. Please give it back.” My hand reached out, and my eyes begged him to do it. Instead, he rolled it in half and stuck it behind his back into the waistband of his jeans.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” His jaw set, and I recognized the look in his eyes. Jeremy could be stubborn when he wanted.
“Fine. I’ll tell you.”
He raised an eyebrow, waiting. He was smart enough not to move closer, probably figuring I’d have no qualms about going for the notebook, down his pants or not.
I exhaled a deep breath. “I’m sick of it, Jer. I’m sick of how Jessica constantly feels the need to humiliate me in public. It’s always something.” I paused.
He watched me, listening, not saying a word.
I shook my head. “You don’t know what it’s like. I mean, ever since my dad went to prison, it’s been hell at school every single day. It’s like she forgets that she was the one who eavesdropped on my dad’s phone calls to report back to her father, and helped put my dad there. Do you know she never once even apologized? We were supposed to be best friends and she did that to me. Did that to my family!”
I brushed an angry tear away.
His expression softened a little, but he still didn’t make a move toward me.
“She won’t let it go. I mean, I get that she blames my dad for her parents’ divorce, but that wasn’t my fault. And at least she still gets to see both of her parents. They’re both still in town.” I paused. “It’s like it’s her life’s goal to make sure I know I don’t belong. To make sure everyone knows I’m trash. That I’m nothing but the daughter of some convict.”
My voice got louder. “But you know what? I know that. I live it. I’ve lost everything that matters.”
He never broke eye contact, and when he answered, his voice was gentle. “You haven’t lost me.”
But I didn’t want gentle. I didn’t want soothing. I needed him angry for me…to agree with me. I jumped up and stalked toward him. His hands moved behind his back as though to block any sudden movements on my part. But by now, I didn’t care about the stupid notebook.
“No, you’re right. I didn’t lose you, and I’m grateful for that.” My face twisted, and my eyebrows narrowed. “But how does that help me with all the rest of the crap I have to face every day, huh?” I poked him in the chest, hard.
“How does that stop Jessica from painting bars on my locker, and making freaking signs with my face on them and hanging her clever artwork all over the school, or from her and her minions calling me names constantly?” My voice heated as I stood inches away from him, feet planted in a wide stance. “It doesn’t, Jeremy.”
My hands clenched at my sides, and the familiar burn of bitterness and anger began to pump through my veins, fueling me. I hated that I was launching it at Jeremy, but it felt like I was breaking inside…and needed to let everything out before I burned up into nothing.
“Sam, you just have to—”
“If you tell me I just have to ignore her, I swear to God I’ll scream.”
His mouth snapped closed.
“I’ve tried ignoring her. I’ve tried being nice to her. I’ve tried telling her off.” I shoved the hair back from my forehead in frustration. “Don’t you get it? Nothing I do changes anything. Nothing.” I spit out. I turned and stepped away before whirling back to face him.
“But that?” I pointed behind his back. “That will change things. It’ll make her pay for all the shitty things she’s done to me.”
I looked directly at him, my gaze pleading for him to understand. “And not just to me. Think of everyone else she treats this way. For once, Jess will know what it’s like to be on the other end. To not be the one in charge.” My heart thundered in my chest.
He shook his head. “But Jesus, Sam, I only got through the first couple of pages, and some of the stuff you wrote in there that you plan to do next week…”
He paused, and his face hardened a bit as he held up a hand. “No, wait, I stand corrected. That you plan to have other people do to get some stupid revenge on Jessica.” He stepped toward me. “Don’t you get it? If you do this, you’re no better than she is.”
For a second I wondered if maybe he was right. Then I remembered the note I’d already placed in Becky’s locker, and knew it was too late to stop now even if I wanted to. But more than that, I knew that people like Becky and Zena and even Patrick deserved a chance for all the Society offered too. Even if Jessica and her crew didn’t agree.
Righteous anger flared. “So what? Why do I always have to take the high road?”
He stepped closer, reaching out to touch my sleeve. “Because it’s who you are. You are better than this, I know it. Because I know you.”
I yanked away. “That’s where you’re wrong.” I shook my head. “No, Jer. I’m not. Like it or not, this is exactly who I am.”
“But some of this, my God…this isn’t put-a-picture-on-Instagram crap. This is…”
“I’m aware of what it is, Jeremy.”
His face fell and he shook his head in protest, but I ignored him.
Part of me wished I were brave enough to speak the words I really wanted to say…to beg him to understand, to plead with him to stand by me. To not leave like everyone else in my life. But I’m not brave, and I didn’t do any of that.
He reached behind his back to pull the notebook out of his waistband and held it tight by his side. His eyes never left mine.
“And what about the people you’re using?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice tired.
“I’m not using anyone!”
; He shook his head. “Yeah, you are. You’re using them as pawns to get your revenge.”
“And I’m helping each of them in the process,” I argued. “And besides, it isn’t like anyone is going to get hurt. So I mess with Jessica and some of the others in the Society a little. I’d say that’s a small price to pay for showing them that they can’t just steamroll over everyone and call all the shots. It’s not fair.”
“And what if it doesn’t all go down the way you hope? What if they do all of that, and the Society still doesn’t let them in?”
“They will.”
“And if they don’t? Becky, Zena, Patrick. How do you justify hurting them?”
I snatched the notebook from him. “There are always casualties in war.” I refused to let anyone, even him, see any sign of weakness, of the doubts racing through me.
“Sam, you could get in trouble if you get caught doing this. You have to realize that.”
“I covered my tracks; I’m not going to get caught. Sometimes you have to be willing to stand up and do what’s right, even if the methods aren’t perfect.”
He nodded. “Sure. Of course. That makes sense.” He paused, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I get it now.”
“Really?” Hope built that he was on my side after all.
“No! Not really!” he shouted and shook his head. “Are you fucking insane?”
“Why’d you want me to tell you about it if this was gonna be your reaction?”
He sat, silent a moment, gazing deep into my eyes before slowly answering. “For the same reason why you decided to tell me.” He stopped and bit his lip. “You knew what I’d say. Because deep down somewhere, you know this is wrong.”
“No, Jer. I don’t. It just makes you feel better to think that I do.” I shrugged my shoulders.
He stared at me; his eyes seemed to be searching my own. Apparently he didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for, because after about a minute, everything shifted. His gaze roamed over me like I’d suddenly morphed into a stranger. It killed me inside.
“So are you going to try to stop me? Are you going to tell them?”
He shook his head. “No. Because I know even if I did, you’d just try to do something else.” He stared at the wall for a minute before turning back to face me. “Please just tell me you’ll reconsider.”
“I can’t. I already gave out the notes.” Well, one note anyway, but he didn’t have to know that. “And besides, I think if you stop to think about it, you’ll see what I’m doing is right.”
His face twisted and his eyes narrowed. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me when this all blows up in your face. I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Jeremy.” I touched his hand. “I don’t want us to fight.”
But I could see he’d given up on me. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and pain shone in his eyes.
He turned to leave.
“Jeremy, wait, please.” I reached out to stop him, but this time he yanked free of my touch. He held up a hand in warning without turning back to look at me.
“Don’t. Just don’t, Sam. I can’t talk to you right now.”
His back straightened, rigid, as he walked out, slamming the door closed behind him. The one person I’d always counted on had left me too. And somehow, I’d never felt more alone in my life.
Nine
The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.
—Flora Whittemore
I woke up to the sound of Jeremy opening his closet door.
After waiting several hours for him to stop being mad and return, I’d ended up falling asleep in my clothes on top of the covers. Either he hadn’t come back until morning, or it’d been awfully late. Either way, it was clear he felt no burning desire to speak to me or try to make up.
Fine, if that’s how it had to be, then so be it. I pushed down the hurt and stood up, not saying a word. I grabbed my school uniform from the bag on the floor and headed into his bathroom to change.
I didn’t bother with a shower. I’d do that after school at the trailer. Even if Aunt Lor needed to stay in the hospital another day or two, I refused to spend another night at his house. After I threw on clean clothes and brushed my teeth, I walked back into his room. He sat on his bed, bent over, tying his shoes.
My stomach churned as I made my way over to my bag to stuff yesterday’s wrinkled clothing inside. I zipped it up and slung it over my shoulder, along with my book bag. Their combined weight was nothing compared to the weight I carried inside about arguing with Jeremy.
He sat unmoving on his bed, head bowed. I paused at the bedroom door, hand wrapped around the smooth knob. Please say something. Please tell me we’re okay. Seconds seemed like hours.
“Don’t do it. Please. This isn’t you. I don’t want anything to happen to you when this goes bad.” His voice was so low I barely heard him.
I turned back to face him. He still stared at the floor, shoulders bent forward. When I didn’t answer right away, he finally looked up. I met his gaze, and a piece of me broke inside. I wished I could say his words were enough to make me rethink everything…that seeing him look at me with such caring and confusion changed my mind about the whole plan. But it didn’t.
I knew the second he realized it too. He simply turned his head away. I turned and walked out the door, headed to school. As much as it killed me, I understood. Most times I couldn’t stand to look at me either. But I had work to do. There were only three more school days left in pledge week, and I still had two more notes to deliver. Each of my initiates needed to have them before Hell week began.
The entire time I walked the eight blocks to Trinity, I kept trying to convince myself, there are always casualties in war. Only when it came to me and Jer, that mantra wasn’t much comfort. Actually, the stupid line wasn’t any comfort at all.
I’d delivered the last two notes during lunch period. Both Zena and Patrick were the proud new owners of an invitation to rush the Musterian Society, or at least my version of the Society.
As luck would have it, I’d been walking down the hall at the end of the day when Patrick found his note. He’d pulled it out of his locker, a huge smile plastered all over his face, and did some awkward dance that’d involved a bunch of hip thrusting and fist-pumping.
Safe bet he was happy to be asked. Good. That meant he’d be willing to do whatever it took to make it through Hell week, and my plan required exactly that sort of commitment and drive.
“Can I help you?”
The chipper voice of the barista in front of me broke my musings. She smiled way too happily for someone wearing flair.
I glanced up at the board above her head out of habit, although my order never varied. I always went for boring; it was cheaper. “Coffee, black.”
“Would you like that tall, grande, or venti?” She presented me with her toothy grin.
I sighed. “Large.” The pretentious names for coffee sizes annoyed me. Like calling it venti made it any fancier than what it was.
She rang in my order and took my money. I stepped aside to wait for my daily dose of caffeine and rolled my eyes as she smiled broadly at the next customer. “Hey, Mike, the usual?”
A bored looking guy behind the counter handed me my coffee, and I wandered over to a small table and sat down. Lately, this place provided more than my much-craved hit of caffeine; it also provided internet service that couldn’t be traced back to me. Gotta love free wifi.
I pulled a small netbook out of my bag and signed in. Unfortunately, the MacBook my parents bought me as a junior high graduation gift died about six months ago, and since I couldn’t afford to replace it, the cheap netbook had to do.
I logged into the brains behind my entire plan, the website I’d set up to provide each of my initiates with instructions on tasks I’d assign to them. The notes I’d given out each contained separate usernames and passwords to access the site. Of course, the notes also stressed that if any o
f the information were to be leaked, the guilty party was automatically out of consideration for the Society.
The website loaded, revealing a skull and crossbones logo for the landing page, and I smiled. I found the image to be a nice touch. With my own login information, I could access data showing who’d logged in and when. I could also change what each person saw on their screen when they accessed their personal page on the site.
I sipped my coffee and began typing, programming each of the initiate’s first two tasks. They would only see one day’s at a time, and the first one wouldn’t show on their end until Saturday, which would give them time to make any necessary arrangements to complete their directive.
I scanned over what I’d just typed on each of their pages. Zena’s instructions for her first task had been clear, and I’d made sure to throw some flattery in for extra incentive and ego boosting.
Do you have what it takes to be one of us? Prove it. Your task this week is to get Blane Reichert to choose you over his current girlfriend. It won’t be easy, but we’ve had our eye on you for a while and think you may be just the kind of intelligent, powerful woman we’re looking for. The kind who knows how to do what it takes to get the job done. Use your feminine wiles…flatter and tease. By the way, we want to see it all happen. So think classes and lunch, to start. ;-)
I hoped Zena had the guts to go through with it. The idea had sprung up thanks to remembering something Jer had mentioned to me a couple weeks ago. He’d told me that he’d noticed Blane talking to Zena whenever Jessica wasn’t around, and that Zena—for some reason that I couldn’t figure out for the life of me—actually seemed to like him too.
We’d laughed about it at the time, joking about how Jessica would go off her rocker if Blane actually had the balls to dump her. But now, Zena’s lack of taste in guys would be to my advantage. If she succeeded, Monday’s task would lead smoothly into the one where the shit would really hit the fan, Tuesday’s task.
You’ve lured him in, and now’s the time to take things to the next level. We know Blane has been checking you out…now be brave and show him it’s mutual. Ask him to meet you down by the bleachers during lunch on Tuesday and rock his world with five minutes of kissing. Do you have what it takes to make a guy weak in the knees? Prove it. xoxo
The Society Page 6