by Alex Flinn
But I tried to change my own nature. As I took my place before the group, I straightened my shoulders, shook my perfect ponytail, smiled, and tried to channel the other girls who’d stood in my spot before—the Nicoles and Julies and Merediths who’d stood confidently on the foul line with Cougars painted in green, and said:
“Okay, this is going to be awesome!” I clapped my hands, astounded by the awesomeness of it all. “I thought we’d do something different, a Bollywood-style routine!”
A few of the new girls nodded, like they knew what that meant, and one of them even said, “Like those Indian movies? That sounds so cool.”
Encouraged, I went on. “So, for the first eight beats, this is what we’ll do. Start with one arm out to the side, like this, in front of your chest.” I demonstrated, picturing myself as the exotic Indian actress in the movie I’d seen. “Then, shoulders up-down, up-down.” Most of the girls copied me, but not all. I decided to keep going.
“Now, switch your arms the other way, and shoulders up-down, up-down.”
Jennifer, who hadn’t been following me, cleared her throat. Or, rather, she had a coughing fit, and most of the returning girls stopped dancing. They put their arms down.
“Come on, guys.” I tried to act like everything was normal. “I don’t want to go on until we have the first eight. Up-down, up-down, then switch.”
I was screaming, but my voice got lost in the big gym.
Now, none of the returning girls were following me, but the new girls were, and the routine was pretty easy. So I decided to pretend nothing was wrong. “Freshmen, you’re doing great! Show those seniors. Okay, one more time, then we’ll move on. Up-down, up-down, then switch.” Some of the new girls had dropped out too.
“Come on, guys!” My voice cracked a little. I looked at the fluorescent lights to keep from tearing up.
Suddenly Jennifer sat on the floor. Her cohorts, Gennifer and Meighan, followed. Then, the other junior girls, and the seniors.
Jennifer spoke. “What is this from, some kids’ show? It’s dumb even for you, Violet.”
One of the new girls, the one who’d said it was fun, started to open her mouth. Then, she shut it.
“It’s Bollywood-style, like movies from India. The Indian film industry—”
“Does anyone care about this?” Jennifer’s hands were on her hips. “We’re gonna look stupid. Why don’t you think of something else, and we’ll try next week.”
I looked around. The advisor, Miss Levin, was supposed to be, um, advising, but she’d retreated into her office to call her boyfriend. And really, what was I going to do? Run to her and cry? Jennifer was the cocaptain. “Fine,” I said.
“Great.” Jennifer stood up. “I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something better if you . . . think about it more.”
I stared at the light. I knew I couldn’t come up with something better. What I’d done was perfect. Besides, even if I did, they’d hate it. I couldn’t get a break with Jennifer. She had Greg, had everything I’d ever wanted. Why did she have to be such a bitch?
“Meighan, show us your routine,” she said.
“Gladly.” Meighan smiled and walked up front. For the next twenty minutes, she taught a routine based upon Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach,” which was 1) borderline obscene; 2) copied from the music video; and 3) such an old song that all the teams had already done it. Everyone followed her like she was an innovator. Un. Freaking. Real.
I thought about how freeing it would be to throw caution to the winds and announce that I was, in fact, the Wicked Witch of the West and make all their heads explode. The news coverage: “High School Dance Team’s Heads Explode.” The T-shirts: “Guns don’t kill people: Pissed-off witches kill people.” There’d be protests by religious groups, complaining that taking prayer out of schools had caused my breakdown. It would be worth being ostracized, though. I was already ostracized. I didn’t think they burned anyone at the stake anymore. And I’d be safe because I did it openly. That was the stupid rule, right?
But, of course, I was too nice. Scratch that—too much of a wimp—to do it.
When practice finally ended, I headed for the locker room, ahead of the others. It stunk of the sweat of thousands of freshmen. I got my gym bag, which I’d left on a bench. I wanted to change quick and get out.
Something was sticky.
Something was crawling on my clothes! Then, up my arms. Ants. Hundreds of ants.
From the doorway, Jennifer giggled. “Look!” She was pointing at me.
She’d covered my clothes in something. Syrup? No, honey. Jennifer had poured honey into my bag! On my clothes!
“Something wrong, Violet?” She came to where I was standing. A few other girls lagged behind her like the followers they were.
I stared down, remembering all those days in grade school when I’d eaten alone, all those times they’d made fun of me—she’d made fun of me. I felt the skin on my forehead tighten.
Don’t stinking cry. Calm down. This was easy. It was a few ants. I could control higher orders of animal than ants.
I drew my clothes out of the bag. The honey, the ants, were all gone. I tried to keep my voice even. “Wrong? What could be wrong, Jennifer?”
She gasped, and her mouth quivered like Grimalkin’s when she watched birds through the front window, knowing he could never get them, but longing. Sort of like I did with Greg.
I fixed her with a stare under the long lashes of my lovely violet eyes. “I know you would never do anything to my backpack, would you? You’re so sweet and nice, and everyone loves you, and besides . . .” I fluffed my T-shirt in the air to show her how not covered in ants it was. “It’s a bad idea to mess with me.”
She laughed. “And why’s that?”
I had a headache, and my eyes felt hot. Only crying would relieve it.
But I wouldn’t cry. I’d rather have a headache forever. “It just wouldn’t. You can figure it out.”
I took off my leotard and stood there in bra and panties, not even trying to be modest, letting her and the others see every inch of my perfect body, more perfect than hers, more perfect than anything nature could make. My brain, I had no confidence in, but my body was excellent. I clenched my back teeth to keep from sobbing, but I smiled. “I know it would be too much to ask you to be . . . decent. So I’m just telling you to leave me alone.”
She laughed. “Decent? Omigod, you are so crazy.”
I pulled my T-shirt over my head, slowly, aware most of the girls were watching. I shrugged. “Who knows how crazy I am?”
I slid my perfect, tanned legs into my little white shorts, then slipped on my sandals, admiring the pedicure that never chipped. Jennifer had stopped laughing. Maybe she’d realized nothing was funny. Maybe she was scared.
They all remained silent as I left the room.
I stood outside, contemplating the blue and white afternoon. I lifted my head and squinted at the sun. A warm breeze set a nearby wind chime in motion. Across the street, a dog barked.
I allowed my face to break for a moment, feeling the hot tears running down my cheeks, the blessed relief of the dam breaking against the tension in my head.
I looked at the dog.
I had seen the dog before, a Doberman, wiry as a welterweight boxer and miserable about being fenced in. It saw me too and began to bark and fling itself against the chain link. I felt her pain. I was fenced like that dog, fenced by people’s expectations.
I lowered my eyes to meet the dog’s. It was across the street, but it saw me. It calmed. It lowered its rump to the ground, sat, then curled into a ball. I held eye contact. Good girl.
So I couldn’t do anything to Jennifer without bringing the same on myself. But could I have the dog do something to Jennifer?
I had nothing to lose by trying. Whatever I messed up, I could easily fix.
/> The dog was still staring at me. Its slender, black tail bounced up and down, as if it’d heard me.
“Good girl,” I said aloud.
I examined the fence that contained her. Chain link already bowed down from previous escape attempts. It was almost low enough for her to scale in a single jump. Almost.
I visualized a weight, like an anvil in a cartoon, crushing down the fence. A wind whipped through the parking lot and across the street. The fence bowed. The dog sat, obedient, wagging its tail. This time, I pictured a steamroller, crushing it. The wind whistled through the trees. The fence bowed further, tapping the resting dog on the buttocks. It started, then woke.
“Stay,” I whispered.
It stayed, but on the alert now, ready to spring.
The fence lay low on the ground, no protection at all.
Behind me, I heard laughter coming closer, then a voice from inside. “. . . so funny! Did you see her face when no one would do it?”
“Her routine wasn’t that bad,” another voice said.
“Oh, of course it was.” I recognized Jennifer’s high-pitched whine. “Anything she does is total poop.”
“She’s total poop,” Meighan agreed.
“I can’t believe she’s even on the team,” Jennifer said. “Where are the standards?”
The voices grew closer. I stared at the dog. Good doggie. Stay one moment longer.
“She’s so ugly,” Jennifer just kept going. “Disgusting, really.” I heard the thunk-squeak of someone pushing the bar that opened the door. I moved to the side, out of the way, focusing on the dog, communicating, Good doggie. Nice doggie. I’m your friend. And you’re going to hurt the mean girl who hurts me—one bitch to another.
Could I do this?
Suddenly my life started flashing before my eyes, but it was all Jennifer, like a collage of all the mean things she and her friends had done, said to me, the turned backs and mocking faces, Jennifer’s voice in my ear, always, saying, “These seats are saved” or “Omigod, what happened to your hair? Did you brush it with a spaghetti server?” The pick-pick-picking on my skin, my hair, my nails, my body. “Are those new shoes, Violet? Where’d you get them—the orthopedic store? Can you believe what a suck-up she is, getting an A on the test when everyone else failed? Suck-up, asking questions in class. If I had that nose, I’d hide my face. If I had that hair . . . those eyelashes . . . that body . . . little bitch.”
And then, the dog was up on its haunches, backing up, then clambering, springing over the fence. The rage and hatred in its eyes matched my heart. The dog accelerated, dodging a passing car, intent on its target. Too late, Jennifer saw it charging toward her. “Oh, no!” she screamed. Her friends, true to form, ditched her, edging back into the building. Jennifer, poor, sweet Jennifer, was left all alone as the black beast’s savage jaws came closer, closer.
And then, the dog was atop her, teeth ripping at her clothes, her arms. She was screaming, but her shrieks were drowned out by my own cries. “Bad dog! Bad dog! Not her arm!”
The dog sunk its teeth into Jennifer’s cheek and pulled.
It was enough. The dog had done its damage. Jennifer’s cries were still in my ears. I came from my hiding place. Jennifer’s friends were in the door, cowering. It was just me, the dog, Jennifer, her face bloodied, with the teeth marks. I ran for the dog, breathless, as if I’d been running the whole time. I laid hands on the dog. “Stop!” I felt a jolt of electricity running from my body to the dog’s. I pulled the dog off Jennifer. It stopped, motionless, as if Tased. I stroked the soft fur. It was, after all, a good girl. It backed away, then trotted to its own yard. I went with it, as if I were taking it there, but partway back, I let it break away.
“Hide,” I whispered.
I glanced at the fence. It sprung back into place.
I ran and knelt over Jennifer. Her face was bloody, flesh torn, and she was sobbing, holding her hand to her cheek. “Are you okay?” She whimpered in response. I pulled a damp towel from my dance bag and ripped it in half. I handed it to her. “Here. Apply pressure.” I helped her do it. I was so nice.
Now that the danger was over, Jennifer’s friends came back, all concerned, all, “Are you okay? What happened?” pushing me aside. Someone ran to dial 911.
Then, Greg was there. He must have been at practice. He knelt over Jennifer, beside me. “What happened?”
“It was a dog,” I said, a little breathless just from being near him. “It came out of nowhere and attacked her. I pulled it off her.”
“Where did it go?” Meighan said.
Jennifer was still screaming, sobbing, incoherent. But then, she formed words, painful words. “It was her.” With her good hand, she pointed at me. “She did it.”
“It was a dog,” Gennifer said. “A pit bull.”
“A white one!” said Meighan.
“It was her. It was her.” Jennifer’s voice rose to a violin’s pitch. “She made it attack me.”
Greg’s eyes sought mine, and I made mine wide, confused. “Jennifer, the dog attacked you. I got it to stop. I helped you.”
“Noooo! You didn’t. You made it attack me. You made it because of what I did to your stuff.” She was cringing in pain but still strong enough to accuse me.
“Poor Jennifer.” I laid my hand on her arm. “You’re in such pain from that bad dog. But of course, I can’t control the dog. And besides . . .” I moved my hand to her bloodied face. The wound was jagged, a lightning bolt from eye to mouth, streaks across her once-perfect nose. “Why would I want to hurt you? We’re teammates, right? Friends.” I stroked her hair until her eyes closed. “That’s good. Probably better to sleep.”
“You’re a hero, Violet,” someone said.
A siren sounded in the distance, distracting everyone. So I was probably the only one who heard Jennifer’s voice, softer than the breeze in the grass, whispering, “You’re a . . . witch.”
I turned to Greg. “The paramedics are here. It sounds like she doesn’t want me around, so I’ll go.”
“Thank you for helping her, Violet,” he said.
I shrugged. “I was just so scared when it came after her. It was all, like, adrenaline when I pulled the dog off her. I mean, it could’ve attacked me. Maybe call me later and let me know how she’s doing.”
“Of course. You’re a good friend.”
I looked at Jennifer. My spell had her sacked out on the lawn, three Cougarettes over her. “Well, that’s exactly what I want to be, a good friend.” I smiled more at the sight of bleeding bitch Jennifer than at that thought. If I couldn’t have Greg, I could at least have revenge.
But I meant to have Greg.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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12
Greg called that night, and we talked about Jennifer. Jennifer. Jennifer—the pain she was in, the surgery she’d require, the way they didn’t let him ride in the emergency vehicle and how mad that made him, the way they’d looked all over the neighborhood for the pit bull but no one had found it. Jennifer. Jennifer. Her name was like the bells, bells, bells in the Edgar Allan Poe poem, driving me mad.
“Did you see the dog?” Greg said, “the dog that attacked Jennifer? I thought it might have been that black Dobie across the street, but the fence was totally intact.”
“No, it was definitely a pit bull,” I said, not wanting to implicate the Doberman. Big, white one. It ran away after I got it off Jennifer.”
“You’re really brave. Okay, I thought maybe Jen was confused about the breed. She’s been kind of loopy from the drugs they gave her, confused in the head. She kept saying you attacked her.”
I laughed. “I must have really sharp teeth.”
“I know. I told her that was crazy, that you were alw
ays sweet and gentle. I still remember how you helped that bird when we were kids.”
I smiled. “Of course I remember.” I wondered what had happened to that sweet girl, the one who loved all living creatures. Kendra said you couldn’t change the nature of a thing. The ability to strike out at my tormenters must always have been there. Now I was using it.
I didn’t mind. I’d had enough.
“Thanks for keeping me posted. Will Jen be back at school soon?” I still didn’t know how bad it was.
“Not for weeks. She has to have surgery for the scarring. The thing ripped off half her nose.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” It was. Plastic surgery might make her even prettier. I wanted Jennifer to know what it meant to be ugly. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I will. Everyone says you saved her life.”
I winced. “Well, anything for a teammate.”
“It’s actually good to hear your voice, Violet.”
“Is it? Then, maybe you’d want to—I don’t know—meet at school to talk some more tomorrow.”
“That would be great. I usually sit with Jennifer at lunch.”
“I know.” How I knew.
“We could sit together until she gets back.”
“And talk about birds. Get your mind off things.”
I hung up and went to bed happy, Grimalkin purring at my feet. Jennifer would be gone for weeks. Weeks! I had Greg all to myself. And now, I wasn’t the frizzy-haired, hook-nosed loser I’d been. I was beautiful, talented, confident—at least on the outside. And, on the inside, I was the girl he’d liked all along, the smart girl. At least, smarter than Jennifer.