Sophie’s Secret

by Nancy Rue

  Sophie was shaking so hard she had to grip the edges of the binder to hold onto it.

  But it was the final comment on the page that finally brought her to big, choking sobs. The last girl had written in red: The only reason her parents adopted her was because they felt sorry for her and they probably didn’t even really want her. Who DOES?

  Not the GATE program, said the one with the blue pen. She had taken another turn so she could write: We really need to make sure Mr. Denton and the GATE people know about all this. We DO NOT want her in our program!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  When Fiona and Kitty found Sophie on the stage, she was crying so hard she couldn’t talk. She just handed the binder to Fiona and kept sobbing.

  It didn’t take long for Fiona to read the Sophie page, with Kitty gasping beside her, and to hurl the whole binder across the stage. It landed with a dusty splash in the corner.

  “That is where that trash BELONGS!” Fiona said. Even in the back-stage dimness, Sophie could see her gray eyes blazing as she paced. “All right, I have HAD IT with all of this heinous behavior. First of all, none of that is true, Sophie LaCroix, and I don’t want you believing a word of it.”

  “But I AM flat-chested,” Sophie said. “And I DO see a therapist. And I AM adopted.”

  Fiona stopped pacing. “You know that for sure?”

  “I found a paper about it.”

  “Did you ask your dad about it?”

  “I’m waiting for Mama to come home. But I already have the proof.”

  Kitty sank to the floor beside Sophie and hugged her. Fiona went back to walking back and forth, each step startling up sneezy clouds.

  “Okay, so maybe you’re adopted,” she said, “but no one could know why. They’re just making stuff up to be their usual heinous selves.”

  “How did they even know THIS much stuff?” Kitty said, pointing to the offensive binder in the corner.

  “They spy, I know they do,” Fiona said. “In the bathroom—in the classroom—they’re always around.” She stopped, hands on hips. “That isn’t the point. The point is, they have to PAY.”

  Kitty looked up at her, eyes fearful. “What do you mean ‘pay’?”

  “No,” Sophie said. She pulled her face away from Kitty’s shoulder. “The point is, the next thing they’re going to do is accuse me of stealing their binder.”

  “But you didn’t,” Kitty said.

  “Of course she didn’t,” Fiona said. “But since when did the truth make any difference to them?”

  “So put it back in one of THEIR lockers,” Kitty said.

  Sophie shook her head. “I don’t know any of their combinations.”

  “But somebody knew yours.”

  Kitty and Sophie both looked at Fiona. She was standing perfectly still, eyes aglow.

  “Nobody knows my combination but you guys,” Sophie said. “I never give it out to anybody that isn’t a Corn Flake.”

  Fiona knelt down beside them and lowered her voice to its best revelation-level.

  “Then anybody who has ever BEEN a Corn Flake would still have it,” she said. “Now, wouldn’t she?”

  Three heads slowly nodded. And three Corn Flake mouths said, “Maggie.”

  Eleven

  Before the last bell rang, the Corn Flakes had a plan.

  The first step was to confront Maggie. It wasn’t hard to find her, because she was always sitting properly in her seat when the bell rang, sharpened pencil at the ready and the assignment already copied off of the board.

  When Mr. Denton said he wanted them to get into groups to work on their story questions, Fiona, Kitty, and Sophie had Maggie surrounded in seconds.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Maggie said through tight lips. “I don’t want—”

  “This isn’t about what you do or don’t want,” Fiona said. “It’s about what you have to do.”

  Sophie could tell Kitty was holding back a whimper. That was her only assignment for this first step: not to start crying.

  “You put that evil green binder in my locker, Maggie,” Sophie said. “And you should help us get it back to where it belongs before the Corn Pops accuse me of stealing it.”

  “It belongs in the trash,” Maggie said. “I was hoping you would throw it away after you read it.”

  Three pairs of Corn Flake eyes bulged at her.

  “Then why did you make me read it at all?” Sophie said.

  “Because you wouldn’t listen to me, and I knew they were planning to keep you from getting into GATE.”

  “Was that the rumor you kept telling us was going around?” Fiona said. “All that stuff they said about Sophie in the book?”

  “Why do you even care if I get into GATE or not?” Sophie said. “I thought you hated us.”

  “I don’t hate anybody,” Maggie said. Her face set into its usual hard mold. “I’m a good person.”

  Fiona leaned in, pulling the rest of them with her. “A good person would help us get that binder back to the Corn Pops before they say Sophie stole it.” She glanced over her shoulder at the shiny-haired group giggling in the corner. “I’m surprised they haven’t accused her already.”

  “They think I have it so I could write comments about you guys,” Maggie said. “I asked them for it.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said.

  She glanced at Fiona, who actually looked impressed. “You have more imagination than I gave you credit for, Maggie,” Fiona said.

  That got a grunt from Maggie.

  “Okay, then this is simple,” Fiona said. “Since you asked them for it, you can just give it back to them.”

  “I think you oughta turn them in,” Maggie said.

  Kitty let go of a whimper.

  Sophie shook her head. “Nobody signed their names on their comments,” she said. “Even if we took it straight to the principal’s office, we can’t prove they did it.”

  “Good thinking, Demetria,” Fiona said.

  “I thought she was Antoinette,” Maggie said.

  “I think we should go on with our plan,” Sophie said.

  “Which is?” Maggie said. The words had stopped thudding.

  “We get the binder back to them, and then we go to them as a whole group and we tell them what they’re doing is wrong and that we WON’T tell if they promise to destroy it.”

  “What if that doesn’t work?” Kitty said. Her voice was curling up into a whine. “You even said we can’t prove they did it.”

  “I don’t think they’re smart enough to figure that out,” Fiona said.

  “I think we’re in the right space if we do that.” Sophie put out her pinky, and Fiona pinkied with it, and so did Kitty. “Maggie?” she said.

  “You want me to do the handshake?” she said.

  “It doesn’t mean you have to be a Corn Flake,” Sophie said. “It just means you’re agreeing to the plan.”

  Maggie stuck out her finger like it was a club and hooked it around Sophie’s. Then Sophie reached into her backpack and pulled out the green binder. She held it by a corner with two fingers as she passed it to Maggie. Kitty was holding her nose.

  Just as Maggie was about to take it in her hands, two other hands reached down, and suddenly the binder was above their heads. Mr. Denton was holding it.

  “Why don’t I just remove this little distraction so you ladies can get back to work?” he said. “You can pick it up from me after school.”

  Sophie’s heart stopped. Mr. Denton took the binder to his desk and tossed it on top of a pile of papers.

  “It’s okay—it’s okay—” Fiona whispered. “They didn’t see.”

  As Kitty wilted beside her, Sophie glanced back at the Corn Pops who were so into their giggle-fest they didn’t seem aware that there was even a classroom around them.

  “What if Mr. Denton reads it?” Sophie said.

  “Maybe he should,” Maggie said.

  “But what if he thinks WE did it!” Kitty said.

  “Yes, we would so wr
ite all those heinous things about ourselves,” Fiona said.

  “Ladies …”

  Sophie flipped open her literature book and motioned for everybody else to do the same. Somehow they got through the assignment—and their next two classes—but Sophie knew that for her part it was only because she just kept thinking, We’re still in God-space.

  Maggie stuck to them like they were all sharing an oxygen mask. She even sat with them at lunch. The Wheaties didn’t. They were at another table with their backs to the Corn Flakes.

  “What did we ever do to them?” Kitty said.

  “I bet the Corn Pops got to them,” Fiona said. “But they’ll figure it out.”

  “Speaking of Corn Pops,” Maggie muttered.

  Sophie looked up to see B.J. approaching. She was obviously on a mission, because her cheeks were the color of two red Christmas balls, and her eyes were narrowed down into slits. She stopped several feet from their table, as if she didn’t want to catch something contagious, and slanted the slits at Maggie.

  “We have to talk, Maggie,” she said.

  Maggie didn’t even look at B.J. “I got nothing to say.”

  “Well, I have plenty to say, ladies.”

  They all jerked around to see Mr. Denton standing at the end of the table. His entire HEAD was red.

  “And these are most of the people I want to say it to.” He looked at B.J. “If you’ll excuse us.”

  B.J. bolted back to the Corn Pops table, and Mr. Denton sat down next to Fiona, across from Sophie. The rest of the cafeteria went into a low hum.

  Without saying another word, Mr. Denton reached inside his tweed blazer and pulled out the green binder. He let it fall to the table in front of him with a thump that went right into Sophie’s chest and stayed there.

  “It isn’t ours, Mr. Denton,” Fiona said. “We didn’t make it.”

  “We didn’t even write in it!” Kitty said. She was already crying.

  “I don’t want to think that you did,” Mr. Denton said. “I don’t want to think that anyone I know took part in this. It’s the most appalling thing I’ve ever read.”

  “It’s definitely heinous,” Fiona said.

  Mr. Denton nodded. “I can’t think of a better word for it. If you didn’t create this hideous piece of filth, then who did?”

  “Julia, B.J., Anne-Stuart, and Willoughby.”

  They all looked at Maggie. Each name had thudded to the tabletop next to the binder.

  “I know because I saw them doing it, and I got it from them so I could show it to Sophie.”

  Mr. Denton closed his eyes for a second. “You’re telling me the truth?” he said. “No exaggeration? No stretching the facts?”

  “That’s SO not Maggie’s style,” Fiona said.

  “Julia,” Mr. Denton called out without even turning around. “Stop right there.”

  Sophie watched in amazement as Julia and the other Corn Pops froze halfway to the door. They couldn’t have looked more guilty if they had been tiptoeing out of a bank in ski masks with bulging bags.

  “Yes, sir?” Julia said.

  Mr. Denton turned to look at them. “Over here,” he said.

  The faces of the Corn Pops behind Julia went white. But the instant Mr. Denton turned back around, Julia gave them all a hard look and fixed a smile on her face. Three more heads came up, three more manes of hair were tossed, and four poster girls for Getting Away with Anything approached the table.

  “Sit,” Mr. Denton said.

  Julia curled her lip. “Where?”

  “Down,” he said.

  The Corn Flakes bunched together so the Corn Pops could gather at the end of the table. Willoughby tried to lean on Julia but she brushed her away. Anne-Stuart sniffed, and B.J. grabbed a napkin and thrust it at her. They all smiled at Mr. Denton in unison.

  “What’s up, Mr. D.?” Julia said.

  Mr. Denton picked up the binder and let it drop again.

  All four sets of Corn Pop eyes went to Maggie. She didn’t even flinch.

  “I understand you are responsible for this,” Mr. Denton said.

  “Us?” B.J. said. “Are our names on it or something?”

  “No, but your handwriting is. I’ve graded enough of your papers to know it when I see it.”

  “We didn’t—” Anne-Stuart started to say.

  But Julia stopped her with the tiniest shake of thick hair. “We aren’t the only ones, Mr. Denton,” she said. “We would never have thought of doing a Slam Book if they hadn’t started it first.” She tossed the hair at Sophie and Fiona.

  “I don’t even know what a Slam Book is!” Kitty wailed.

  “She’s still such a whiner,” Sophie heard Willoughby mutter to Anne-Stuart.

  “What do you mean, ‘they started it’?” Mr. Denton said. “You’re saying there’s another one of these floating around?”

  “Yes,” Julia said. She swept her eyes over the Corn Pops, who all nodded like a panel of judges. “It’s purple and they treat it like it’s the Bible or something.”

  “We saw them passing it around to each other,” Anne-Stuart said, “and Willoughby said it was a Slam Book.”

  Willoughby looked a little stricken, until B.J. nudged her with an elbow.

  “Didn’t you tell your mom about it and she said it sounded like the Slam Books she and her friends used to keep when she was a kid?”

  Willoughby gave a poodle-like yip, which Sophie assumed was a “yes.”

  “That explanation is supposed to clear this up for me?” Mr. Denton said. “You THOUGHT these girls had a Slam Book, so you felt like you needed to start one too?”

  The Corn Pops looked at Julia. Sophie could almost see her fighting under her own skin to somehow come out still being the poster girl. It was almost sad.

  “You know what?” Julia said. Her eyes suddenly sparkled with tears. “Ever since we got in trouble for the way we treated Kitty, everybody has been thinking that these girls—” She passed a hand over Fiona and Sophie’s heads. “They think these girls are the greatest thing, like, ever—and we’re the bad girls all of a sudden.” She waved her fingers in front of her eyes, as if she were trying to dry up the tears that Sophie wasn’t sure were really there to begin with. “We just thought that if we did what they were doing, everybody would think we were all wonderful too.”

  Sophie looked at Fiona. There was an OH PUH-LEEZE plastered all over her face.

  “No, Julia,” Mr. Denton said. “You thought if you could EXPOSE what they were doing, everybody would think they were worse than you are. Wasn’t that really the plan?”

  “They are!” B.J. said.

  While Julia and the others were busy glaring at her, Mr. Denton turned to the Corn Flakes. “Do you have this purple notebook they’re talking about?” he said.

  “Yes,” Sophie said.

  “Is it a Slam Book?”

  “No,” Fiona said.

  “May I see it?”

  Fiona and Kitty both looked at Sophie. Something began to cave in Sophie’s chest.

  “It’s not here at school,” she said.

  “That’s convenient,” B.J. said.

  Mr. Denton sliced her off with a look.

  “Where is it?” he said.

  “At my house,” Sophie said.

  “Well, the sooner you can get it here, the sooner we can get this whole thing straightened out.”

  “Can’t you just trust us?” Fiona said.

  “That wouldn’t be fair at ALL,” Julia said. She looked expectantly at Anne-Stuart.

  “That’s right,” Anne-Stuart said. “If you read ours, then I think you should read theirs.”

  “Make her call her mom to bring it over here,” B.J. said.

  Mr. Denton delivered a glare that should have melted B.J. down like candle wax. “I think I can handle this without your help.”

  “My mom’s not home,” Sophie said.

  “Also convenient,” B.J. muttered.

  Sophie looked her squarely in th
e eyes, so hard that Willoughby shrank back against Julia.

  “But my father is home,” Sophie said. “I’ll call him and maybe he’ll bring it over.”

  Sophie could feel Fiona staring at her. Sophie herself couldn’t believe she had just said that. But there it was, and she followed Mr. Denton to the office where they let her call her house. “Daddy?” she said when he answered.

  “What’s wrong, Sophie?” he said. “Are you sick?”

  “No—I just need you to bring that purple notebook to me.”

  “Were you supposed to turn that in or something?” His voice was starting to get brisk.

  “Mr. Denton wants to see it,” she said.

  Mr. Denton held out his hand. “Let me talk to him,” he said.

  So Sophie gave him the phone and shrank against the counter while Mr. Denton explained the whole thing.

  This better be God-space, she thought. Or I’m doomed.

  Mr. Denton said a few “yes, sirs,” and handed the phone back to Sophie.

  “Daddy?” she said.

  “I’m coming over there, Sophie,” Daddy said. She could almost see his jaw muscles going into spasms. “And I am NOT happy.”

  Twelve

  When Sophie’s father arrived, Mr. Denton, the Corn Flakes, the Corn Pops, and Maggie were waiting in the conference room in the office.

  The minute Sophie saw Daddy, she knew it was all over. His face was purple-red, and his eyes were on fire, and his face was so tight, the muscles couldn’t have moved if they’d wanted to.

  Before Sophie could even swallow, he spotted her at the table and came straight for her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

  Sophie waited to feel his anger sizzling through his fingers. But Daddy’s big hands just swallowed her shoulders and stayed there, like pieces of armor.

  It didn’t occur to her until Mr. Denton said, “Did you bring the notebook, Mr. LaCroix?” that Daddy wasn’t carrying anything.

  “No, sir, I did not,” Daddy said. His voice was too quiet.

  “I’d really like to see it—”

  “For you to even ask to see it is an extreme invasion of my daughter’s privacy, Mr. Denton,” Daddy said.