“Plus,” I added feebly, “I need a sugar fix and these pork rinds just don’t hack it.”
Everyone exhaled and got up to leave.
“Wait, guys, before you go.” I blocked the door. “I want to ask you a question.”
All eyes focused on me.
I took a deep breath. “Say someone you knew, a friend, did something bad, for whatever reason. Would you ask them about it? Just to know why? Because you’d probably understand if you knew why. You’d forgive them because they were your friend.”
They all stared at me, vacant-like.
Finally Prairie said, “I hope I w-wouldn’t have to ask.”
I looked at Max. She nodded, but didn’t volunteer a confession.
Prairie added, “I’d hope this person would trust us enough to tell us the truth.”
Again, my eyes honed in on Max. Nothing.
Lydia was playing deaf-mute, too. I think she was so convinced of Ashley’s guilt, she was blind to other possibilities.
The silence grew again until it became staggering. I hated it; this air of mistrust that hung between us. At last, Max spoke. “You never really know a person, do you?” she said. Her eyes bore into mine.
“No,” I said back. “I guess not.”
Chapter 20
Friday morning I woke up with a swarm of bees in my stomach. It was the weirdest sensation. Not queasy, the way you get before some dreaded event. This felt more like anticipation, thrill, eagerness. And not because today was the last day of school. Today had to fly so tomorrow would come. Tomorrow night, to be exact, when my first summer romance would begin.
The framed plaque Dad had hung over the toilet about a hundred years ago captured my attention while I brushed my teeth. It read, Today is the first day of the rest of your life. What do you know? I thought. It’s true.
Prairie, Lydia, and Max were all waiting for me when my bus screeched to the curb. First thing Lydia said was, “Thank God this year is over. It’s been the worst year of my life.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and blinked. “Except for the Snob Squad,” she added.
Our eyes all met and we smiled. Automatically we gave the Snob Squad salute.
As if summoned, Ashley and Melanie strutted by on their way to the temp. Ashley said, “Hey, the fashion police must’ve released her on bail.”
Melanie added, “In that outfit, I’d bail, too.”
Ashley screamed with laughter.
Max stepped out and threatened them with a fist. They scurried inside. “I hate her,” Lydia said. “What’s wrong with this outfit? My mom just bought it.”
I didn’t say what I was thinking. Mothers should never pick out clothes.
“You look fine,” Prairie said. “She’s just j-jealous.”
Lydia scoffed. “What do I have that she doesn’t have?”
I counted on my fingers, “A brain, personality, intelligence, friends.”
Lydia didn’t hyena howl, the way I expected. She looked like she was going to cry. Quickly I added, “And a future in show business.”
“Yeah, right.” She shook her head. “Who am I kidding?”
Along with Lydia’s anger management class, add building self-esteem. Maybe we could all use that class.
Kevin sprinted over from his basketball game. Panting, he said, “I’ll come by around six-thirty tomorrow night. Okay?” He positioned himself in front of me and started walking backward.
“Make it six forty-five,” I said. Barely enough time to say hi and bye. I didn’t want my mother to get her claws into Kevin, or Dad to start discussing the pros and cons of bleaching boxer shorts.
“Sounds good.” Kevin smiled. “See ya, Jen.” He dribbled off. My bees had babies.
“Hugh and I’ll just meet you there,” Prairie said.
“What time’s this orgy start?” Max asked. “Maybe me and Lyd’ll crash the party.” She grinned at me and elbowed Lydia.
“Forget it,” Lydia said. “I have better things to do with my time.”
“Like what?” Max asked. “Clip your nose hairs?”
Lydia glared at her. Without a word, she stomped off.
“Good job, Max,” I said.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Max shot me a dirty look. She called to Lydia, “Leave ’em long if you want.”
Lydia wrenched open the trailer door and stormed inside.
“What’s with her lately?” I asked. “Permanent PMS?”
Prairie shook her head. I guess she’d noticed, too. Lydia was so testy lately. Something was bugging her. Or someone.
And it didn’t take a brainiac to figure out who. Right after roll, Mrs. Jonas said, “We’re going to see a movie this morning. But first I want all of you to clean out your desks. Up on the book rack are folders of papers for you to take home. Whatever’s in your desk that never went home can also go in the folder. The projects I want to keep for the PTA are up here behind my desk.”
Lydia’s diorama wasn’t among them. I saw her spine go rigid and knew this was not going to improve her mood one bit. Of course, it was partly her fault since she never bothered to put the diorama back together after hurling it across the room. Ashley had just sort of thrown stuff in there. On the report cover was the A minus Mrs. Jonas had given Lydia on the project, which I thought was pretty generous, considering. Luckily, Lydia didn’t ask me what I thought.
Mrs. Jonas went on, “There are plenty of trash bags and Comet and sponges in the back. This temp room needs to be spotless. We’re starting summer school classes in here on Monday. And please, people, let’s keep the noise level to a low roar.”
The room exploded in activity. I saw Ashley get up with her purse and head to the restroom, which wasn’t unusual. She spent half her life in there. On the way, though, she bumped into Lydia’s desk and sent her backpack flying. All of Lydia’s trashy romance novels tumbled out. “Oops.” Ashley pressed a fat finger to her mouth like it was an accident.
Before Lydia could gather them in, Melanie picked up a paperback and gasped. She handed it to Ashley. A smile spread across Ashley’s face. “Mrs. Jonas,” Ashley said as she pivoted, “Lydia brought pornography to school.”
In a flash Lydia yanked Ashley’s purse off her shoulder and raced down the aisle. Ashley screamed, “Give it back!” and chased Lydia. Max hollered, “Over here, Lyd!” Lydia tossed the purse into Max’s outstretched arms. Crashing through desks like a raging elephant, Ashley groped for the purse. Max threw it back to Lydia. It all happened so fast, no one had time to react. Mrs. Jonas might’ve said, “Cut it out,” but who was listening? This was too funny.
Max and Lydia continued their game of keep away to the front of the room with Ashley wailing and flailing behind. I didn’t see who opened the purse, but suddenly its contents were scattering all over the floor. Items began bouncing around: lip gloss, eyeliner, hair clips, keys, her wallet, a package of Kools. But that wasn’t the interesting stuff. A can rolled down the aisle and clunked into my desk leg. Even before I picked it up, I knew what it was. One whole cupboard at home used to be filled with cans of it. Slim-Fast.
Ashley actually body slammed Lydia, who retaliated with kicks and slaps. I heard Mrs. Jonas yell, “Stop it, you two!” But like a volcanic eruption, it was too late to stop what had been building between them all year.
Lydia grabbed the purse from Max and spun away. As she turned back, she said, “What have we here?” She held up a little velvet box. The light reflected off something shiny inside. “Gold earrings. Fourteen-karat gold,” Lydia exclaimed. “I wonder how much those cost.”
Snatching her purse back, Ashley wheezed, “Those aren’t mine.”
“Prove it.” Lydia smiled.
Ashley charged Lydia again. Just in time, Mrs. Jonas stepped between them. She snapped, “Lydia, give those back. And both of you sit down. Now!”
Ashley whirled to face us. Her eyes looked panicked as they scanned the room, wild and helpless. I knew then it wasn’t the earrings that had drained all the blood f
rom her face. The cigarettes either. It was the cans of Slim-Fast people were picking up from under their desks. Those and the boxes of Dexatrim.
Ashley could hardly breathe as she scrambled around the room, collecting everything and shoving it back into her purse. Everyone was laughing—the boys, especially.
My heart ached for Ashley. I got up and went over to help, but when I handed her a can of Slim-Fast and said, “Chocolate Royale’s my favorite flavor, too,” she yanked it away from me so hard, her ragged fingernails drew blood. Ashley’s eyes met mine. Hers welled with tears. “Ashley—”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “I hate you.” To the room, she screeched, “I hate all of you!” Then she hugged her overflowing purse and charged out of the room, leaving the door flapping in her wake.
Melanie hurried past me.
“Mel—” I began.
The hatred radiating from her halted me midsentence. She flew by, trailing Ashley out. Behind me Max muttered, “Busted.”
No kidding. No doubt Ashley would run straight to her father and report Lydia. Report all of us. We might not be back for seventh grade.
Mrs. Jonas looked straight at me. I couldn’t hold her gaze. Instead, I blinked up at Lydia. Her face was frozen in shock. Slowly she sank into her seat. In a tiny voice she whimpered, “Ashley started it.”
Mrs. Jonas said, between clenched teeth, “The movie’s off. Just get busy and clean out your desks. And I don’t want to hear another word out of anybody the rest of the morning.”
All I could do was shake my head. Lydia didn’t get it. But I did. I felt Ashley’s pain.
Suddenly Lydia jumped up and raced to the rest-room. The door hadn’t shut all the way before we heard her sobbing. I guess she did get it.
After “the Ashley incident” the bees in my belly turned to wax. Even though I expected us to be spending the last day of sixth grade on suspension, or expelled from Montrose Middle School, it didn’t happen. Ashley never came back to class. And she must not have reported us, either, because Mr. Krupps didn’t break down the door in a rage.
By lunchtime I figured out why we were still in school. Ashley couldn’t go to her father, not with incriminating evidence in her purse. Cigarettes were bad enough. I doubted Mr. Krupps knew about her diet pills and Slim-Fast, either.
Poor Ashley. All this time I thought she was oblivious to her weight; that it never bothered her, the way she just threw it around. If things were different, if we weren’t such mortal enemies, we might’ve been able to talk. There’s an invisible bond between those of us forced to live fat in a skinny-is-the-only-thing-beautiful world.
I don’t know if it was just because I was feeling sorry for Ashley or what, but I wasn’t convinced she was involved in the thefts. The secret stash in her purse wasn’t stolen money or merchandise. Just secrets. Ashley was a liar, a snot, and a cheater, but I’d never known her to be a thief.
Which sure made Max’s shoes gleam brighter in the light of day. Almost as bright as my earrings and necklace. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop suspecting Max and Kevin. Where did Max get the money for those shoes? Where did she get the money for a new CD player? It was apparent from her ramshackle house that she didn’t live in the lap of luxury.
Kevin, on the other hand, might. He’d have to be rich to afford to buy me such expensive presents. Maybe he lived in a mansion with a pool and servants. Maybe his parents were forcing him to go to public school so that he could mix with the lower classes. It almost made me want to cancel tonight. Almost. But now I felt compelled to go, to see his house. Because even though it could change everything, it was time to learn the truth.
Chapter 21
I managed to squeeze into my white jeans with an inch or two to spare, but I still looked like an albino rhino. My hair chose tonight of all nights to revolt against styling gel. It fell in curly clumps to my shoulders. “Maybe a hat,” I thought aloud.
As I scrounged through my closet for my old Brownie beret, Dad called down the hall, “Jenny, he’s here.”
I squealed. Six forty-five on the button. Not only was Kevin a prime suspect, he was punctual. With one final swipe at my hair in the mirror, I stumbled blindly out the door.
Mom had Kevin skewered to the La-Z-Boy, while she and Dad grilled him from the sofa. “What do your parents do for a living?” Mom asked.
Vanessa stood in the doorway, sucking on a clarinet reed. She rolled her eyes at me.
Really.
I had to rescue him. “Kevin doesn’t have parents,” I said, motioning him to get up and follow me to the front door. Which he did, at rocket speed. “He’s from Venus.”
Dad said, “I thought men were from Mars, women were from Venus.”
Mom whapped him. Smiling at Kevin, she said, “Sit down. Stay awhile. You, too, Jenny.” She patted the cushion next to her. “What’s the hurry?”
She had to ask?
Mom quizzed Kevin about school and hobbies and sports, while I died a slow, agonizing death. Dad was worse. He just sat and stared at Kevin, studying him like he was bacteria under a microscope.
Mom said, “What’s your phone number, Kevin? I might give your mom a call.”
He rattled off his number so fast, Mom had to ask again. When she told Dad to get her a pencil so she could write it down, that was my cue. I got up, grabbed Kevin’s sleeve, and yanked him out the door, slamming it so hard the house shook.
“Sorry about that,” I told Kevin as I hustled him up the block. “Five more minutes and you would’ve been strip-searched.”
He laughed and elbowed me.
I added, “Are your parents that weird?”
“Weirder,” he said. “It’s just my mom, though. My dad’s gone.”
“Gone where?” I asked.
“Who knows?” he answered. “He forgot to write.”
Which pretty much ended that line of questioning. As we turned onto Yancy Street, a warm finger snaked into my hand. Then another. Then all of Kevin’s fingers laced through mine. The bees were reborn. They ripped through my stomach and swarmed up my spine.
We didn’t talk the rest of the way. We didn’t have to.
Hugh and Prairie were just getting out of the car when Kevin and I reached his house. This was his house? Surely they’d gotten the address wrong. It was nowhere near a mansion; not even a whole house. More like a duplex; two units glued together by a garage.
This didn’t seal his guilt. I mean, the Rooney mansion could be undergoing major renovation. Right? This could be temporary housing.
A lady rushed out the door of the duplex and said, “Oh, Kevin, good, you’re home. Listen, your aunt Rachel called and wants me to go out with her for a drink.” She tousled his hair.
He smoothed it back into place before mumbling introductions. His mom scanned me from head to foot. By the shock in her eyes, I could tell she wasn’t bowled over by my beauty. She punched the garage-door opener and said, “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Behave yourselves.”
“Oh, you bet,” Kevin said under his breath while squeezing my hand.
My stomach lurched. And it wasn’t all from thrill. This could be the shortest date in history. What if my mother really called? Could Kevin do an imitation of his mom? Could I? And the more worrisome question: What if Mom didn’t call? My stomach fluttered again.
“Make yourselves at home.” Kevin motioned us through the door. He kicked an overflowing laundry basket aside. “It’s kinda messy.”
Kinda? Pots and pans were piled high in the kitchen sink. Dirty dishes covered the counters—I assumed there were counters under there. It made me appreciate my dad’s housekeeping skills.
“The movies are under the TV.” Kevin pointed. “What does everyone want on their pizza? Besides anchovies.” He winked at me. I couldn’t help it; I swooned.
“I don’t care,” Prairie said.
“Cheese,” Hugh said.
“Duh.” Kevin widened his eyes. I sucked in a smile. “Jen?” he said.
&nb
sp; I loved the way he said, “Jen.”
“Anything but anchovies,” I answered.
“You got it.” He followed the phone cord through a mess of papers on the table. While he called in our order, I wandered over to help pick out a movie.
As Hugh started through the stack, Prairie pulled me aside. “Look what Hugh g-gave me,” she said. Her fingers spread out in front of my face. On her left hand was a ring. I think it was a ring, even though it was rectangular and odd.
I bent down for a closer look.
“It’s an old computer chip,” Prairie explained. “Hugh made it himself.” She traced her fingers over it tenderly.
“So, is the wedding going to go live on the Internet?” I asked.
“Jenny.” Prairie pushed me playfully and blushed.
“Okay, I’ve narrowed it down to three movies,” Hugh said.
This should be good, I thought.
He carried the tapes over to the sofa and sat. Prairie sat beside him. Kevin was still on the phone, on hold, so I sank in next to Prairie. Sank doesn’t begin to describe it. The sofa was soft as a featherbed. In fact, it might’ve been a featherbed. There was a pillow at one end and a crumpled blanket at the other. A thought suddenly occurred to me. What if this is Kevin’s bed? Oh, my God. I might actually be sitting on Kevin’s bed.
Hugh said, “Halloween: H20.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said.
“No way,” Prairie countered. “I hate scary movies.”
Kevin appeared out of the sea of laundry and sat down beside me. Right beside me. And he kept sinking and sinking until we were both almost horizontal. I scrambled to right myself.
“Okay, how about Terminator II?” Hugh said.
“That’s the best one,” Kevin said.
A Snitch in the Snob Squad Page 10