The Society

by Jodie Andrefski

  I nodded, frowning.

  He faced the class, mouth twisted in a grimace. “Attention.” He briskly clapped his hands twice to be heard over the chatter. “Class, please excuse me. I have a personal matter that needs my immediate attention. Homeroom is over in a few minutes, so be on your best behavior until the bell rings and you move to your first period class.”

  A few kids nodded while the rest looked bored.

  Moyer turned to me again. “Was it damaged badly? Could you tell?” He’d already begun slipping into the long, gray overcoat he’d grabbed from a hook next to the classroom door.

  I shook my head, my expression sad. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t see. It was on the opposite side from where I was standing.”

  It worked; he was leaving to check for damage. That would give me maybe five minutes. Of course, he’d probably wonder what was up once he got out to the lot to see there wasn’t so much as a scratch on his precious Jag. I decided to cover my bases so he wouldn’t become suspicious.

  “I heard a loud noise when they drove by your car. Like I said, I couldn’t actually see from where I was at, so maybe it was only them running over something. But I’d feel terrible if they really did something awful to your car and I didn’t say anything.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Samantha. I greatly appreciate it.” He turned to head out. I had to keep him there until the bell rang.

  “Wait!” I called.

  “Yes?” He pulled at the sleeve of his jacket and looked impatient.

  “I had a quick question about the assignment from yesterday.”

  He didn’t bother to try to hide his annoyance. “Can’t this wait until class?”

  I glanced at the clock. Two minutes until the bell. I needed the room empty for what I was about to do.

  “It’s just…I wanted to make sure I copied down the correct coding that we need done for class today.”

  He glanced at his watch, then out the window toward the teacher’s lot. Finally, he sighed and strode over to his desk. I followed. He shuffled through a folder, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

  “Here’s a copy of the assignment.”

  I took it from him. “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Moyer. I really appreciate this,” I gushed and glanced over his head to the clock.

  “Yes, yes. That’s fine. You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He brushed past me and hurried out the classroom door.

  I held my breath and waited. Less than fifteen seconds later, the bell rang, dismissing students from homeroom. I pretended to busy myself studying the assignment sheet, trying to look like I was supposed to still be there.

  When the last student filed out, I hurried over to the door and shut it, then as an added precaution, I flicked off the lights so no one would come in. I made my way as fast as I could over to a computer. My fingers clicked on the keys in record time. When the familiar skull and crossbones logo appeared, I logged in as administrator and adjusted the task for Patrick for today. Done, I logged back out, and made a point to clear the internet cache, including all temporary files.

  I bent to grab my books from where I’d set them on the floor and stood up. The clock showed only three minutes had passed. I would be okay. Just as I walked by the wide set of windows, Mr. Moyer appeared marching toward the school. I knelt down, hands pressed flat against the floor, pulse racing. I scuttled as fast as I could to the door, afraid to stand up again in case he’d look in the window.

  Wait. So what if he saw me? I could say I’d been waiting to see if he needed a description of the car. Play stupid. After all, I had no idea his car wasn’t really hit. At least that’s what I’d tell him if he saw me leaving his room.

  The tardy bell rang for first period. Crap. I had to get to class; I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself. I flipped the lights back on.

  The coast was clear as I opened the door and slipped into the hallway. The dominoes were all lined up. Now it was only a matter of hours until the first one tipped and they all fell down in the precise pattern I’d designed.

  Eighteen

  I’m a bad girl because I like to tease. I know I’ve got sex appeal in my deck of cards.

  —Katy Perry

  Seniors had the option to eat outside or leave campus for lunch. I watched as Blane shut his locker and headed toward the exit doors. I followed behind, far enough back that my stalking wasn’t obvious.

  We rounded the end of the school building, and he headed down the grassy bank that led to the football field. He looked left and right a few times.

  I made sure to stay pretty far back, and I’d thrown a baseball cap on to try to hide my face. I clamored down the grassy rise once he hit the bottom and turned right where he’d gone left.

  The metal stadium bleachers sat empty this time of day. Most of the kids that went out for lunch had vehicles, and they ran to Panera or McDonalds. I’d counted on the privacy.

  I snuck around the far side of the bleachers and crouched down to the right of the ticket booth. The cold air made me wish I’d grabbed a jacket. My ponytail whipped against my face from the wind, and I shoved it back impatiently.

  Dark storm clouds rolled across the gray sky. Shadows played peekaboo on the gravel in front of me as I waited, holding my breath. I stuck my head around the side of the narrow booth and jerked back a little when Blane came into view. I recognized his red letterman’s jacket, although I couldn’t see his face.

  He walked under the first set of risers and stopped. I panned the area. Where the heck was Zena? If she didn’t show up, Patrick wouldn’t be able to complete his task. And he needed to do this one.

  I cursed softly under my breath when Blane began to walk away back in the direction of the school. He’d only taken about five steps when a second figure appeared over the rise. Zena. I recognized her long hair blowing around her head even from this distance. Blane clearly noticed her too, because he stopped dead in his tracks.

  When she caught up to him, the two of them walked together back over to the bleachers. I wanted to creep closer but didn’t dare. I held my breath, waiting. They ducked underneath.

  A minute later Zena leaned in toward him.

  The two figures morphed into one giant shape. It looked like quite the make-out session based on how long they pressed together.

  A flash appeared in the waning light from about twenty yards away, from the direction of the concession stand. Then another.

  Blane jumped back from Zena and looked around. She reached out an arm to draw him back in. He apparently didn’t argue since just seconds later they were smashed up against each other once again.

  Another flash.

  They didn’t seem to notice or care anymore.

  I no longer felt the sharp gravel against my knee as I knelt down, observing. I pushed up from the ground and pressed against the side of the wooden booth, waiting it out. A quick glance at my watch showed there were two more minutes to go. I kind of felt bad for Zena. I couldn’t imagine having Blane’s tongue down my throat for five whole minutes, but she obviously held no such issue with it based on her hands running through his hair.

  And it appeared Patrick had done his new job as well. Since Jessica wasn’t in school to witness it, then we could still get the proof to show her.

  I rested my head against the wall, closed my eyes, and breathed in deep. The chill no longer bothered me; it invigorated me. By this time tomorrow Jessica’s love life would be over.

  “Want a ride home?”

  Jeremy materialized next to me as I made my way down the wide front steps of the school at the end of the day.

  I stopped abruptly. We rarely went home together anymore. Not since April when he’d gotten an afterschool job at the art supply store in town.

  “Don’t you have work?”

  He shook his head. “Things have been kind of slow since that Michaels opened up out on the highway. They just cut my hours.”

  I frowned. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.” He ki
cked a loose stone. “Anyway, I was wondering if we could talk. We haven’t been doing too much of that lately.”

  I took a step toward him. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  His hair blew into his eyes as he looked at me. He didn’t say anything, but a hint of his familiar smile peeked through. He jerked his head in the direction of the student lot and began to walk. I fell into step beside him, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jacket to keep them warm. Towering oak trees lined the pathway, probably planted a century ago. Colored leaves drifted in lazy patterns toward the ground around us.

  We reached his Acura, and he pressed a button on his key fob. After the familiar beep-beep, I grabbed the passenger door handle and climbed in, tossing my bag at my feet.

  Once he’d started the car, he turned on the heat. I held my hands toward the vents.

  “Um…so how do you think we did on our lab today?”

  “Sam, I didn’t ask you to ride with me so we could talk about our schoolwork.”

  I figured as much. I looked at my lap then him.

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know.”

  I studied my clasped hands, afraid that whatever I said would only make things worse.

  “Look, I’m really sorry about how I’ve been jumping down your throat. You’re my best friend, and that was wrong.” He looked right at me as he apologized.

  “I’m sorry too. I hate fighting with you, Jer.” I meant every word.

  “It’s just… I’m worried about you, that’s all. I just don’t see how any good can come from all of this.”

  “Jeremy—”

  “No, wait. Let me finish.” He reached over and touched my hand. “I want to be there for you, and support you. I hope you know that. But…”

  “But you can’t.” I looked down. He had a paper cut on his thumb. I tried to concentrate on that, instead of what he was saying. I couldn’t even imagine it might mean that the relationship we shared was coming to an end.

  Where does friendship draw the line? Apparently for Jeremy, it was in a spiral notebook.

  He squeezed my hands. The motion, the feel of his hand, I’d recognize it in my sleep. Then again, maybe dreams were the only place I still deserved his touch, his caring. In dreams, maybe I hadn’t turned in to some hateful monster. The one even I didn’t like very much a lot of the time, but couldn’t control. Sometimes being out of control was easier.

  I looked up. “I get it, Jer,” I said softly.

  “I’m sorry.” He stroked my thumb. “I really do care about you, you know.”

  I believed him. More than anyone, I trusted Jeremy. I knew when he said something, he meant it. But more than words, I knew it from his actions through the years. I hoped he knew how much he meant to me, too. Even now.

  We sat, not speaking, another minute or two, and then he pulled his hand away to shift the car into Drive.

  I missed his touch immediately. I missed my friend.

  But it was too late to turn back now, and maybe both of us knew it. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, too much had changed.

  After Jeremy dropped me off, I sat outside on the front porch steps. I didn’t feel like going inside yet. A part of me just wanted to leave town, to run away somewhere no one knew me. To start over.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t care, didn’t even bother to brush them away. Martha’s dog barked like crazy as usual, but for once it didn’t annoy me. I actually appreciated the normalcy of the loud yaps.

  When had my life spun so far out of control? That day in the courtroom? The day I first heard my parents arguing about what my father had done? When my mother dropped me off at Aunt Loretta’s promising to be back soon? The day Jessica ended our friendship? When had I stopped believing I mattered?

  I had no idea.

  I tucked my chin farther down into the collar of my jacket, closed my eyes, and imagined a completely different life for myself, one where I didn’t feel less than everyone around me every day, or have to wish I had parents who wanted me. Really wanted me, and loved me.

  One where I was happy.

  The door to the trailer squeaked open behind me. I didn’t turn around. I wasn’t ready to face reality yet.

  “Samantha? Why are you sitting outside in this cold?”

  I tried to hold on to my fantasy life in my mind; I wasn’t willing to let go just yet.

  “Samantha? What’s wrong? Come inside before you catch a chill.”

  I sighed. “I’ll be right in, I promise.”

  Aunt Loretta didn’t immediately go back inside. I’d expected that. I knew what I’d see if I turned around, concern filling her face, her thin arm holding the aluminum door with the chipped paint open as she watched me.

  I squeezed my eyes closed even tighter for a few seconds, but I’d learned three years ago that people like me don’t get their wishes. So instead of making one, I opened my eyes, stood up, and turned around. Seeing Aunt Lor’s face riddled with caring and concern, just as I knew it would be, made me grateful for the one piece of my life that was constant, that was good.

  And right now, that just might have to be enough.

  Nineteen

  Even if you fall on your face, you’re still moving forward.

  —Victor Kiam

  My face stared back at me from a postage-stamp-sized square on my brand-new driver’s license. I looked like someone had shone a spotlight directly in my eyes before the bored-looking guy behind the counter at the DMV snapped the photo. Huge bug-eyes made me look perpetually startled. Not my best look, but at least I was legal to drive.

  Aunt Loretta stood by me as I collected my license, and leaned over to give me hug. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie. I knew you’d do just fine.”

  I didn’t know about just fine. Parallel parking wasn’t my strong suit, and I had a feeling the test instructor took pity and passed me despite my many attempts to get between the bright orange cones.

  “Thanks.” I smiled, and I felt a rush of pride as I slipped the laminated card into my wallet.

  Aunt Loretta had seemed to sense my mood earlier, and suggested heading over to the DMV after dinner. Maybe my promises to keep my grades up last time we’d talked had convinced her to change her mind. Or maybe she realized that with her health deteriorating, she couldn’t always do all of the running that needed to be done, trips to the store or whatever. Knowing that I could drive myself places and not be dependent on her or Jeremy, or even Ransom, definitely boosted my bum mood.

  I wiggled the keys in the air. “So this means I get to drive home, right?” It felt so nice to see her feeling okay, the Aunt Lor I used to know. I wanted to hold tight to each moment, and pretend the other times were a bad dream.

  Her eyes twinkled. “It certainly does.”

  “Yes!” I pumped a fist in the air and ran over to the car. Aunt Lor followed me at a slower pace. When she caught up with me standing beside the old Buick, I opened the passenger door for her with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”

  She tittered at my theatrics.

  My euphoria dimmed just a bit once seated inside the car. The driving instructor was cake compared to Aunt Loretta’s watchful eye.

  “Make sure you don’t drive too fast,” she instructed me.

  “Got it.” I put the key in the ignition and turned the engine on.

  “And don’t forget to use your turn signals.”

  “I won’t.” I pressed down on the brake and shifted the car into reverse.

  “Not too fast now!”

  “I know,” I said through gritted teeth. I checked the rearview mirror and backed out at a snail’s pace to mollify my aunt.

  “Make sure—”

  I braked to a stop before I even left the parking space and faced her. “Aunt Lor, seriously. Stop. Please. You’re making me nervous.”

  She sat quiet the rest of the way home after that. We made it in one piece, and I pulled in front of the trailer, grinning l
ike a hyena.

  “Ta-da! Home again, home again, jiggety-jig,” I sang.

  She looked over at me, and smiled gently. “I’m proud of you.”

  I smiled back. “Thanks. Come on, we deserve some ice cream.”

  For once, I didn’t feel like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders. I just felt happy. Just as we had settled in to watch some TV with our dishes of mint chocolate chip set before us on the scarred coffee table, my phone rang. I glanced down.

  “Uh, I’ll be right back.” I hurried halfway down the hall toward my bedroom before answering. “Hello?”

  “Hey, beautiful.” Ransom’s husky drawl filled my ear.

  I shut my bedroom door behind me and crossed the room to plop down on my unmade bed.

  “Hey.” I smiled against the phone.

  “I was wondering what you’re doing this weekend. Thought maybe you’d want to come over.”

  I plucked at my bedspread. “I don’t know.” Did I really want to open myself up? Was I brave enough to do that? Jeremy’s face flashed before me, unbidden.

  “What can I do to convince you?”

  I leaned back into my pillow, deciding I deserved to be happy. “How about we go out instead?”

  “Sure, we could, but I thought it would be more romantic to stay in.” He paused. “I’ll light some candles, put on some music…”

  When I didn’t respond, he switched gears.

  “But hey, if you want to go out, we can do that too.”

  “I’m going to a party Saturday night. Why don’t you go with me?”

  I wanted to take back the words as soon as I uttered them. Where had that come from? And how would Jeremy and the others feel about me asking Ransom to go with me to Pete’s party?

  “A party’s always good. Sure, count me in.”

  I couldn’t deny the flutter of relief when he accepted, even though I was wary of how my friends might react when I showed up at Pete’s with Ransom next to me. Guilt niggled; I didn’t want to hurt Jeremy any more than I already had.

  I pushed it down. Jeremy had made his choice clear. And it wasn’t me.