by Susan Oloier
“Noelle.” Chad tried to capture my attention.
“I better watch it,” I said to myself as I glared at Trina. “She better watch it.”
“What?” Chad asked.
I willed the tears away that started to pool in my eyes before turning to him.
“I have to go.”
I couldn’t believe Chad had sex with Trina. How could I be with someone who was with the girl I hated more than anyone else on the face of the earth? I sat in the end stall of the girls’ bathroom, my own private retreat from the problems I couldn’t face.
I wondered if other high school girls entered the stalls of bathrooms all over the world, contemplating feelings, crying about things over which they had no control. Or was it just me? Was I the only loser who sat on the toilet seat, demanding that the answers present themselves in the graffiti on the walls? A black heart ensnared the initials JT + CD.
What was wrong with me? What did I expect? The two of them dated. Why was I so surprised that they slept together? I must have stared at the door so long that it finally offered up answers to my questions. Nothing was wrong with me. I had morals, and I expected the same thing from a boyfriend. I was entitled to my anger. Why should I tolerate someone who treated such an important thing like sex so callously? I bolstered myself and exited the stall.
Chad was auditioning when I reentered. I decided to sit in another row.
I stared at the back of Trina’s head, two rows in front of me as she recounted her brush with death.
She sounded a little shaken. “…totally terrified,” Trina said in true drama queen fashion. “I mean, it was a rat. Completely and utterly nasty.”
Listening to her made me feel even more gratified by what Cassie and I had done.
However the more I listened, the more I realized they were on her side. Supporters told her that it was probably some sick stalker who had been watching her for a long time. They sympathized with her. Cassie and I may have placed a scare in her, but we also turned her into a martyr. Everyone who heard the story offered consoling words and friendship. When all was said and done, she wound up more popular than ever.
I relayed the details to Cassie.
“Of course they’re going to feel sorry for her. She’s popular. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s affected by it. If she weren’t, she wouldn’t be telling the entire school. By the time we’re through with that bitch, she’ll have plenty more to talk about. Believe me.”
Cassie was right. Who cared if people felt sorry for her? That wouldn’t change the fact that she would always have the vision of a rat hanging by a noose from her bedroom window. Now I wished it had been her. But now the rat stunt seemed tame. I wanted to truly pay her back for everything she’d done.
Cassie never shared much information with me about herself. She, like most of the other students at Saint Sebastian’s High, lived in North Scottsdale. She told me she was an only child and was given all the freedom she wanted from her parents. According to her, they were cool. She had me come over to her house to work on the chemistry project.
I had seen houses like hers from the roadside and always wondered what kind of people lived in them. She, like Trina, lived in the Pinnacle Peak area. However, her parents shoveled out the money for a security gate. The house rested on the side of a mountain, and it was enormous. With seven bedrooms, six baths, a guesthouse, a diving pool, a three-car garage, and private tennis courts, they were their own self-contained community.
The house was immaculately cleaned; it looked like a model home. It must have been the maid service that they tipped so well. We started out in the kitchen with its top-of-the-line appliances and a stove usually only found in cooking shows. I doubted her parents ever used it. We wound up in the basement—a rare thing for homes in the Phoenix Metro area. It was an elaborately-decorated recreation room with a wet bar, pool table, leather couch, and aquarium.
It was six o’clock at night, the time most parents arrive home from work. Cassie’s were nowhere around. When I asked her where they were she said, probably still at work. She didn’t seem to care. I guess I would be happy too if my parents weren’t home by six o’clock. But then her parents were cool, mine weren’t.
Cassie said she moved from Santa Monica, and she hated it there. I wanted to know what happened to her, but she didn’t share. Somehow I suspected she experienced something similar to Trina. I realized that there were bullies like Trina all over. It didn’t matter if you came from a rich household in California or the mountains of Tennessee; kids still tormented kids.
Grace and I rode the bus home after tryouts. It was stuffy inside, filled with the stagnant air of a blow-up mattress. The windows were smudged with fingerprints, dried saliva, and snot. Outside the bus, brittlebush sprouted at the sides of the road.
“I saw you talking to Trina. Was she telling you about her horror story, too?”
“She mentioned it.”
“What else did she mention?”
“The play.” Grace avoided looking at me. Instead, she studied a splotch on the opposite window. It looked like Adam Sandler. I wondered if she thought the same thing. It’s something we both would have noticed in the past and laughed about. Now a silence passed between us that seemed to last for hours despite the fact that the bus ride was only twenty-five minutes.
“The two of you seem to be good friends now.” Grace finally broke the quiet.
“Who?”
“You and … what’s her name. Cassie?”
“Is that why you’re mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you.” She continued looking out the window, ending the conversation.
Chad headed me off at my locker. I hadn’t talked with him since the audition. He acted as if nothing happened.
“You’re going to the dance with me, right?”
How cocky! How arrogant! Did he completely disregard the fact that he had sex with Trina? As much as I wanted to go, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of presuming I would be his date.
“I don’t want to go this year.” I was amazed at how easily the words pirouetted off my tongue.
“Everyone wants to go to the dance.”
“Not me.” I closed my locker and walked away from him. He trailed, like a tail, at the base of my heels.
“Why not?” Trying to be a gentleman, he took my books from my arms, gallantly carrying them. I didn’t want him to be nice to me. It made it that much more difficult to be upset with him. I snatched my books back.
“This is about Trina, isn’t it?”
“What?” I picked up my pace, dodging students like traffic. He grabbed my arm and whirled me around.
“Listen Noelle. What happened between Trina and me meant nothing. You’re the one I’ve always wanted to be with. You’re the one I want to be with now.”
“Yeah, right. If that was true, you never would have slept with her.”
People slowed and stared, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt Chad like he hurt me.
“It was a mistake. It hurt when you rejected me. I’m not going to make any more excuses. I’d change things if I could, but I can’t.”
He stung me with his honesty. I was too crippled to fight back.
“I still don’t want to go to the dance.”
“Okay. Can we still be together? Maybe see a movie, grab something to eat?”
“Maybe.”
“Come on,” he said. He placed his hands on my shoulders and bent to my level. A smile broke across his face. “Didn’t I ever share with you how eating pizza solves everything?”
I felt a smile come on. “Yeah, okay.”
Chad grabbed my hand, and I wanted it to be perfectly fitted in mine. But it felt like Trina was trying to wrench her fingers between ours.
Hardly anyone wanted to perform Shakespeare again, so it wasn’t difficult to get a part. The main roles were given to juniors and seniors. Grace convinced Henry to participate backstage with lighting and sound. He did it
just to be around Grace.
I didn’t fully understand the language. But one part stood out above all others. In the play, Shylock demands a pound of flesh from Antonio in exchange for the money he borrowed. Stupid Antonio agrees even though Shylock hates his guts and would love to cut a huge chunk of his flesh out in revenge. And Shylock has every right to hate Antonio who has mistreated him, spit on him, and regarded him like dirt. It’s about revenge—taking your pound of flesh, what’s owed to you. I looked at Trina with her perfect skin and good fortune and saw my real-life Antonio. All I needed was a knife and an excuse to take mine from Trina. Maybe I already had.
I watched as Trina behaved icily toward Chad. But he didn’t seem to care or notice. Instead, he put his arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. Trina glared at us. It didn’t just happen once; it occurred with more and more frequency. Whether it was in class or out in the hallways, she seemed to turn from a light shade of green to a burning emerald. I felt a little like Shylock, taking Chad away from her was like cutting away a pound of flesh. But, I wondered, was a pound enough to exact my revenge on Trina? I wasn’t so sure it was. Not after all the things she’d done.
Thirteen
Homecoming. It escalated like a fever once again. Instead of church and Jesus, it was football and team spirit. I wanted to be a part of the festivities, but it was too late. I had made my decision.
I thought about staying home even though I was no longer grounded. My mother would have allowed me to stay up late and watch television for a change. But the more I thought about spending a Saturday night with my parents, the more it depressed me. I told Chad I would see a movie with him, but I reminded myself it was simply a means of getting out of the house. I was still upset with him and couldn’t get past the fact that he slept with Trina, shared something so completely intimate with her. I couldn’t stop running possible scenarios through my head like where it happened and how often. And not only the specifics, but the fact that he saw her naked, and she saw him, too. She touched him, kissed him, and was with him in ways that made me sick to think about.
Before meeting Chad, I went over to Grace’s as she prepared for the dance. I wanted to mend things between us, and it seemed like a good start.
I sat on her bed and watched as she applied her makeup. I expected to hear the latest gossip, or at least an update on how things were going with Henry, but she spoke nothing of those things. I felt uncomfortable.
“Where’s Chad?” she finally asked.
“Home. We’re going to a movie later.”
“That’s nice.” She puckered her lips and slid garnet lipstick over her mouth.
“Is everything okay between us?”
“Of course.” She smiled, but like the color that stained her lips, it seemed artificial.
I really wanted to leave, but decided I should stay until Henry arrived and they left for the dance. I excused myself to use the bathroom.
I returned to the sound of male voices in the dining room.
“Hi Noelle.” Jake said, offering a smile.
A friend of his stood inside the doorway. I was happy to see that it wasn’t Mike. This guy didn’t look at me twice.
“Marco, this is Noelle, Grace’s friend.” Jake turned to me and scanned my clothes. “You’re not going to the dance?”
I shrugged, not wanting to offer a detailed explanation of how I wished to punish my boyfriend for having sex with another girl.
Just then, Grace promenaded down the stairs. A red, spaghetti-strapped thing encased her body. The crinoline made a scratching sound, and she looked like an Armour hotdog with pumps. But her family thought she was beautiful enough to be Miss America.
Henry arrived in a tuxedo with tails, a maroon cummerbund, and a matching bow tie. He pinched a corsage to Grace’s dress.
It turned out that Grace’s parents rented a limo for her, and Jake showed everyone the perks of the vehicle. For me, it was a good time to slip away. I made my way down the driveway, but Jake popped his head out of the limo and called to me.
“Noelle, where are you going? Come here and look at the car.”
I was forced to inspect the inside of the limousine.
Pictures flashed and hugs were exchanged as Grace and Henry stepped into the car and disappeared. Grace never even said goodbye. I felt slighted. I went over to the house to make things better between us and ended up feeling worse than if I’d never tried. I wasn’t sure what I did this time to make her mad at me.
“If you’re not going to the dance, what are you doing?” Jake asked.
“Hanging out.”
“Alone? You can’t sit around and watch TV on Homecoming night.”
He made some strong assumptions.
“We’re going to Mill Avenue. Why don’t you hang out with us?”
Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly want a high school girl to ruin his image in downtown Tempe. Besides, I already had plans with Chad. I couldn’t cancel them. Or could I? The more I considered Jake’s offer, the more attractive it became. It was the perfect way to get back at Chad for being with Trina.
“Okay, but I need to make a phone call first.”
I wasn’t a good liar, so my nerves sparked as the phone rang.
Chad picked up. “You coming over?” he asked excitedly.
I felt massive amounts of guilt. “I can’t,” I said.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I mean, no.”
“Want me to bring you something? Chicken noodle soup? Pizza?” he joked.
His sweetness sent pangs throughout me. “No.” The word slid off my tongue like peanut butter.
“Okay. Call me if you need anything.” He sounded disappointed.
His voice screamed with sincerity. For a moment, I considered changing my mind, but then the image popped into my head again of him and Trina together. Lips on lips, legs entwined. I tried to elbow the picture from my mind, but it wouldn’t go away.
“I will,” I lied.
As I kept stride with Jake and Marco on Mill Avenue, the guilt melted away. The guys picked up a six pack of Miller Genuine Draft and emptied what they could into their Starbucks coffee mugs.
“You don’t mind if we drink, do you?” Jake asked.
I couldn’t say no if I’d wanted to. They were the ones who invited me out.
Marco checked out the low-cut tops and tight jeans on passing girls. Jake did, too. But he was more discreet about it.
Marco wandered into different bars along the stretch of Mill Avenue, leaving Jake and me to hold the coffee mugs. I didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but I was sure it had something to do with women.
“Have some,” Marco said, handing his disguised beer to me as he ventured into McDuffy’s Sports Bar. I was curious enough to try it. I had never tasted beer before; one sip wouldn’t kill me.
I started to tip the mug to my lips when Jake stopped me. “Better not.”
“It’s not like I haven’t had beer before.” I didn’t want him to think I was as naïve as I appeared to be—or was.
When the fluid passed my lips and hit my taste buds, I felt like gagging on the bitter flavor. Jake laughed. “You’re a real beer connoisseur, I see.”
“I’m just not used to this brand. That’s all.”
He leaned in toward me when he smiled. He seemed a little buzzed. “You’re cute, Noelle.” He touched my nose, and then quickly retracted it, probably remembering I was fifteen and his sister’s friend.
Beer or not, I was flattered. My pulse quickened and suddenly everything needed attention. I pushed my hair behind my ear, adjusted my necklace, and plucked an imagined eyelash from my eye.
Marco returned. “There are some really hot girls inside. Wanna go in?” he asked Jake.
“Naw, I’m good,” Jake said, his eyes tracing a path to me.
At first Marco treated me like I was nonexistent—a cigarette butt on the pavement. But after Jake’s refusal to go in, Marco glared at me coldly. I was
ruining his good time. Really, why had Jake invited me along anyway? I was a third wheel.
“Maybe they’ll let her in,” Marco tried.
I glanced at my watch to cover the awkwardness I felt. It was ten o’clock. “I really need to get home anyway,” I said to Jake.
“Yeah, sure.”
For some reason, all the chattiness and complimentary words were gone on the ride home.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said.
“Sure.” Jake glanced over at me and gave me a quick smile, his eyes shifting to the rear-view mirror where Marco sat.
“Maybe in a few more years you’ll be ready for that scene, huh?”
All the flirtation was gone, replaced by a nervousness, as though he only then realized I was fifteen.
“I guess.”
It was awhile, but it eventually happened. As I reached my locker, fuchsia and tangerine marker screamed to me from across the hallway. Loser, in bright, bold letters, decorated the metal door. Students gathered around to stare at it as though it was an original Picasso. My cheeks flushed with humiliation. Though everything I needed for the day was in that locker, I refused to approach it. Unfortunately, everyone knew who the message was for. The entire audience gawked at me, knowing the label was mine. My fears of retaliation were realized. Trina was the artist behind the graffiti. I knew she’d get me back, and she did.
I looked around, eyes gaping at me, and saw her and the entourage sneering. Jamie cupped a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Margaret bowed her head in a feigned act of embarrassment. Where was Chad? Or Grace? Or Cassie? I needed support. There was no one around.
I pretended to be unaffected as I parted the concert of whispers and stares, nearing my locker. I grabbed what I needed and headed for the administrative offices. I felt like a tattle tale, but I wanted the stigma removed from my locker.