Текст книги "She's So Dead to Us"

Автор книги: Kieran Scott

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

september

Did you guys hear what happened at Connor Shale’s house last night? It is so intense.

What?

Faith Kirkpatrick completely bitched out Ally Ryan.

Wait a minute. The Ally Ryan? She’s back?

Where have you been? I’ve been tweeting about this for days.

Wait. You 6uu were invited to Connor Shale’s house?

Um, no. What am I, sleeping with the guy? Please. Annie told me.

Annie Johnston? How did she get in?

Oh, she goes to all the Crestie parties. She’s, like, obsessed with Faith Kirkpatrick or something. Ever since Faith dumped her at that Spring Fling dance freshman year?

Oh my God! Yeah! Remember that?

Wait, Faith’s a lesbian?

No, you loser! They were just friends. Faith was, like,

the only Crestie who ever even acknowledged us.

Until she turned to the dark side.

And Ally.

Ally what?

Ally was always cool to us too.

jake

“I’d better get eighth-period study hall,” Shannen said, yawning hugely She stopped at the bottom of the steps to the junior/senior entrance and looked up at the school. It was sort of intimidating. The first time I saw it I thought it was some huge church. It was all red brick and had towers at the corners. The one right above us held the clock that hadn’t worked since before I moved here. We sometimes snuck up there at lunch and tossed soda bottles and doughnuts off it to watch them explode. The Idiot Twins had once even peed off it. Gross, but kind of funny.

“Why? It’s not like you can leave campus,” Faith said as she checked her reflection in a tiny mirror for the fourteen thousandth time that morning. She clicked it closed and sighed. “Seniors get all the perks.”

“Yeah, but I can sleep,” Shannen said, taking the steps two at a time. “By eighth I am definitely gonna need a snooze.”

“Unless I get study hall too,” I said.

Shannen grinned. “Of course. Then we’ll be having some fun.”

We knocked fists as Faith rolled her eyes at us. “Just try not to destroy any school property. My mom’s this close to not letting me hang out with you guys anymore after the whole founder-clown incident.”

Shannen and I laughed. Over the summer we’d been bored one night and she’d decided we should dress up the town hall statue of the two Orchard Hill founders as clowns. We’d gotten caught, of course, since the Orchard Hill police station is inside borough hall. But we’d had a killer time getting as far as we had.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ally Ryan waiting at the bottom of the hill on the other side of Orchard Avenue, at the corner of the OVC complex, which was where she lived now—according to all the rumors I’d heard last night after she’d left the party. She was wearing jeans and a white top with buttons and short sleeves. Her hair was down. It looked nice down. Standing next to her was her mother. At least, I figured it was her mother. They looked a lot alike. Except that as they crossed the street toward the school, her mom actually seemed happy to be there.

I felt bad about what happened at Connor’s last night. The way the girls had kind of humiliated Ally. And about how I hadn’t said anything. I wanted to talk to her about it. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I hoped it would come to me soon.

“So what the hell happened last night with that Ally girl?” I asked. We were all climbing the steps together, and the girls stopped as soon as I asked.

“What do you mean? You were there,” Faith said.

“I know, but I mean . . . what did she do to Chloe that was so bad?” I asked.

Faith and Shannen exchanged a look. “It’s complicated,” Shannen said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.

I saw at least ten guys take notice of her because of that one gesture. Shannen’s dad was tall, athletic, and Irish. Her mom was skinny, petite, and Chinese. Apparently the two countries had to get together more often, because they had pretty much spawned the hottest girl in North America and every guy at OHH was grateful.

“Girls,” I said, rolling my eyes. I looked back at Ally and her mom again. They were heading toward the faculty entrance around the corner. Shannen and Faith hadn’t seen them yet.

“You coming?” Shannen asked.

“I’ll catch up.”

They exchanged another look—always needing to check the other’s reaction to everything—and then kept walking. I jogged around the corner to the front of the school, sticking close to the building, and was waiting against the outer wall when Ally and her mom got to the stairs. I clutched the strap on my backpack and waited for Ally to see me. When she did she almost tripped, then looked away. I knew it. She hated me now. The girl I couldn’t stop thinking about hated my guts. I took a few steps toward her so she couldn’t ignore me.

“Hey,” I said.

Both she and her mom paused. “Hello,” her mother said.

“Hi, Mrs. Ryan. I’m Jake Graydon,” I said. Whenever I was around parents, my manners kicked right in. “Ally and I met the other day at—”

“A party,” Ally interrupted.

I looked at her, confused.

“You went to a party?” Ally’s mother said. “When?”

“Last night. Just for a little while. It’s a long story,” Ally said.

“You went out to a party and didn’t tell me?” her mother asked.

Great. Now I’d gotten her in trouble. This was not going well.

“Mom!” Ally said through her teeth.

“Where was this party?” her mother asked, hand on hip.

“At Connor Shale’s,” I said, trying to help.

Ally’s mother’s face lit up, and I felt momentarily satisfied. Until I saw the look of death Ally shot me. What? What had I done now?

“You went to Connor’s house? How is he? How’s his mom?” Mrs. Ryan asked.

“Mom, aren’t we going to be late?” Ally said pointedly.

Ally’s mother sighed, but she seemed happy, still. “Yes, I suppose we are. Nice meeting you, Jake.”

They started to walk inside through the faculty doors. Which, I guess, meant Ally’s mom was faculty. That would explain the spiral-bound teacher’s ledger thing she had under her arm. That must suck. Having your mom work at your school.

“Actually, could I just speak to Ally for a sec?” I asked. Her mom seemed both surprised and somehow impressed that I wasn’t giving up. “It’ll only be a second, I swear.”

Ally heaved a sigh. “I’ll be right in, Mom.”

“Okay,” her mother said. Then she shot me a suspicious look. “But if I don’t see you in the office in five minutes I’m sending out a search party.”

Funny. I kind of liked her mom.

“So, Jake Graydon, huh?” Ally said. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

Suddenly I felt nervous. I never felt nervous around girls. Except Shannen sometimes. And that was for an entirely different reason—because half the time I was with her we were doing stuff that could get us in trouble. “Yeah, so last night kind of sucked,” I said with a smile.

“You were there? Could have fooled me.”

She reached around me for the door, and I had to sort of sidestep to block her way. I hesitated for a second. Where had that move come from? I didn’t think I’d ever tried to block a girl from walking away in my life. But, then, she’d caught me off guard. I’d been expecting her to laugh and blush and say, “Don’t worry about it.” That was what most girls would have done.

“Look, I wanted to say something, but what could I say? I don’t know what happened between you guys before I moved here.”

She looked me dead in the eye. Another thing most girls didn’t do. We both knew it was a cop-out. I’d been up all night thinking about all the things I could have said or done. Told Faith to back off. Cracked a joke. Just gotten Ally out of there. All night I’d been pissed that I hadn’t done those things. And now I felt a surge of anger over being called on it. It was bad enough that I was pissed at myself, but who was she to be mad at me?

“What? I barely even know you,” I said. “I mean, all I do know is that you used to live in my house and you used to be friends with my friends, yet somehow I’m responsible for defending you?”

Ally paused. She looked at her feet and laughed. “You’re right.”

I blinked. Stood up straighter. “I am?”

“Of course you are,” she said, lifting her face. “I’ve never needed a knight in shining armor before and I don’t need one now.”

“Okay. So can we just—”

“And you’re right about something else,” she said.

I paused, annoyed at being cut off. “What?”

“We don’t know each other. And I think we should keep it that way.”

Then she turned and strode inside, letting the door slam in my face.

For a long moment, I couldn’t even move. Girls didn’t walk away from me. Ever. I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t let me apologize. What was she, too good for me or something? A pair of teachers approached, clutching their Starbucks coffee cups, and I turned on my heel and stormed back across the grass toward the junior/senior entrance. Fine. Whatever. Let her be a bitch about it if she wanted to. We’d pretend we’d never even met each other. It would make everything a whole lot easier, anyway.

ally

The activities board was exactly as I remembered it: a huge magnetic wipe-board right outside the principal’s office, papered with sign-up sheets for the various clubs and activities synonymous with the beginning of the school year. Fall drama tryouts (Faith’s name was already scrawled across the top of the list), the Acorn (student news website), Interact Club, SADD, the Green Team, Hiking Club, and on and on. I yanked a pen from my messenger bag and scribbled my name on the Backslappers list, trying not to look at the other names jotted above it. Chloe Appleby, Shannen Moore, Faith Kirkpatrick, and a dozen other familiar Crestie names.

I was not going to let them intimidate me out of doing what I wanted to do, and I’d loved being a backslapper my freshman year. I underlined my name, capped my pen, and turned around.

“Um, no.”

Faith was standing right there, completely overdressed for school in a black minidress. Walking up behind her were Shannen and Chloe. Shannen looked at the list and balked.

“Backslappers? Really, Ally?” she said with a frown. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable doing something with your people?”

My face burned at what she thought was an insult. “I’ll be fine, thanks. And since when do I have people?”

“We’re just thinking of your happiness,” Chloe said, lifting her shoulders. “Backslappers is a Crestie club.”

“And you,” Faith said, scrunching her nose, “are no longer a Crestie.”

“They’re right,” Shannen said with a faux-sympathetic sigh. “Backslappers could get . . . awkward for you.”

“There’s no rule that only people who live on the crest can join Backslappers,” I said, hoping they didn’t notice that my knees were shaking.

“There doesn’t have to be a rule. We don’t want you there,” Faith said bitchily. I was starting to wonder if she ever said anything unbitchily anymore. Didn’t she remember that I was the one who had taken her under my wing? If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t even be friends with Shannen and Chloe, yet now she was the one trying harder than any of them to make sure I was left out. The irony was painful.

“Whatever. I’m bored with this conversation,” Shannen said, putting her hands on Faith’s slim shoulders and steering her away. “Let’s leave the Norm alone.”

I bristled at her use of the nickname. That was going to get old fast. As they walked away, Chloe shot me a look that I couldn’t read in all my annoyance, embarrassment, and general sadness. I followed them at a safe distance into the caf.

All day I had suspected that people were watching me and whispering behind my back, and the cafeteria confirmed it. It was hard to explain away the gaping stares when they were coming at me from all angles at once. Keeping my chin up and avoiding direct eye contact with anyone, I moved quickly through the food line and paused at the door to the outdoor courtyard. It was sunny and gorgeous out and I longed to sit at one of the picnic tables under the shade of the thick maple trees, but the courtyard was Crestie territory. The Norms pretty much kept to the indoor cafeteria, except for the brave few who occasionally ventured to the tables near the garbage cans, along the periphery.

Hammond saw me through the window, salivating there like a loser, and started to lift his hand in a wave until he saw Chloe and the girls walking toward him. Then he blushed beet red, and I turned around and took the first seat I saw—at the very end of an empty table. To my right, nothing but freshmen. To my left, a group of pasty, black-clad kids who had obviously spent their summer watching and rewatching the first two seasons of True Blood in someone’s basement. I recognized a few faces at the table across the aisle, but they were way too far away for me to consider getting up and going over there. Plus, what if they wanted to have nothing to do with me? What if the Crestie poison had trickled down to the Norms?

I took a huge bite of my turkey sandwich, resolving to eat as quickly as possible and spend the rest of the period with my face in a book, letting the rest of the world fade to white noise.

“Would you ever get a nipple ring?”

A tall, lanky guy with a buzz cut sat down to my right, dropping his tray and a Time magazine on the table. On the chair next to him he slapped down a guitar catalog and a soccer ball.

“Wha?” That’s how surprised I was. I couldn’t even finish the word.

“Don’t mind him. He has a filtering problem.”

Annie Johnston, Faith’s BFF, sat down across from him. She was wearing a black T-shirt dress and purple-and-white striped tights. On her thumb was a black star tattoo. In her nose, a tiny diamond stud. I believe the last time I saw her she was wearing a Jonas Brothers T-shirt and pink glitter barrettes.

“There’s an article in here about it, and I’m interested,” the guy said, gesturing at his magazine. “So, would you?”

“No plans at present,” I said. “But never say never.”

“Good answer,” he said, flashing an adorable, dimpled smile.

Annie whipped out a small, battered notebook with stickers all over the cover and jotted something down. I saw my name at the top of the page and angled for a better look, but she snapped it closed and shoved it back in her backpack. Weird.

“Um, hey, Annie,” I said awkwardly. “How’ve you been?”

“Functioning. You?”

“Good, I guess,” I replied hesitantly.

Wasn’t this the girl who used to burst into select songs from Wicked in the middle of lunch? What was with the acerbic?

“This is David Drake,” she said, gesturing with a potato chip.

“We were lab partners in eighth,” he said.

I lit up in recognition. “Right! You never forget the person you cut up your first frog with.”

He tilted his Gatorade bottle toward me, and I clicked it with my Snapple.

“That’s funny,” Annie stated, not sounding amused at all. It was more like she was making an anthropological observation. “You’re funny.”

“Um, thanks,” I said.

“So, we came over here because we figure we should be friends now that you’re back,” David said.

I narrowed my eyes. “No offense, but . . . why, exactly?”

“Ever hear that saying ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” Annie asked.

“No.”

“It’s a saying,” she said, like she was trying to convince me.

“I believe you,” I replied. “But what does it have to do with anything?”

“We hate the Cresties, the Cresties hate you,” Annie said, lifting a hand. “Therefore, we should all be friends.”

The lump in my stomach traveled up to my throat. David must have noticed something in my face.

“Not that anyone actually hates you,” he said quickly.

“No. They actually do,” Annie countered matter-of-factly.

“Annie,” David said through his teeth.

“What?”

I couldn’t take this conversation anymore. “No. It’s fine. I just . . . I’m confused.” I looked at Annie. “Weren’t you at Shale’s party last night?”

“I crash Crestie functions from time to time. For research,” Annie replied. She took a swig of her milk and wiped her lip with the back of her hand.

“Research?” I asked.

“Yeah. They don’t exactly like the Norms showing up, but if I don’t bother them, they don’t bother me. It’s like a ‘don’t talk, don’t talk back’ policy. You, however, you talk back.” She gave a short, almost proud, laugh.

“Not really. . . .”

“Listen, just so you know, if you ever want help steering clear of the Cresties, I have all their schedules on here.” She whipped out her school-issued laptop, also covered in stickers, and opened it to reveal a spreadsheet of student schedules. Yes, all the students at Orchard Hill High were given their very own MacBook on their first day of school, for use throughout their academic careers at OHH. My own slightly-used-but-clean computer was currently nestled inside my messenger bag. I had a feeling the powers that be weren’t going to appreciate Annie’s decorations when she returned hers at the end of senior year. “I can help you map out Crestie-free routes to all your classes.”

“Oookay,” I said, taking a sip of iced tea. “Hey, Annie, I have a question. Why do you have all the Crestie schedules on your computer?” I asked in a joking tone.

“You’re funny,” she said again, narrowing her eyes at me. “I don’t remember you being funny.” She turned the screen forward and typed a few words. “I’m writing an exposé. Or a trashy novel. Haven’t decided which yet. But either way I have to keep tabs on them at all times. That’s why I go to their parties even though they don’t want me there.”

So that’s what she meant by “research.”

“Wow. That’s . . . interesting. Is Faith helping you with that?” I asked.

She let out this noise that was, like, half cackle, half guffaw. “Um, no.”

I looked at David. He shook his head ever so slightly like, Don’t go there. I guess more had changed between Faith and Annie than their personal styles. Time for a new topic.

“You play?” I asked, nodding at David’s soccer ball.

“Soccer or guitar?” he asked, pouring some protein powder into his Gatorade, capping it, and shaking it up. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. I play both. And this year I have a new band and I plan to make varsity.”

“Cool. Maybe I can be your backslapper.”

“You’re still doing Backslappers?” Annie asked incredulously.

I shrugged, ignoring the twinge of nerves in my shoulders. “Yeah. Why?”

“The Cresties own the Backslappers,” David said. “Are you a sadist?”

“You’re on soccer with them and you’re still alive,” I pointed out.

“Excellent point,” David said, tipping his bottle again. “But I’m tough. I can take it.”

“So can I,” I replied, wishing I felt a tad more confident.

“I like a girl with guts,” David said as Annie sighed audibly and made another note in her notebook. Which I was definitely going to have to get my hands on ASAP. “But when it comes to backslappers, I’m holding out for Shannen Moore.”

He nodded toward the windows, and I turned to look at my old friend. She was sitting at the end of the Crestie table, chatting with Faith and Chloe in her skinny jeans and emerald tank top, those long bangs once again covering her eyes. Jake, Hammond, and the Idiot Twins were watching something on one of their laptops, yucking it up in that doofy way boys do when they’re in a group. And yet, even being doofy, Jake was still annoyingly hot.

“He’s been in love with her for-ev-er,” Annie said edgily.

“I would kill for her to backslap me,” David said.

“I’ll slap you right now,” Annie offered.

I laughed, wondering if Shannen would ever even give David Drake the time of day. Maybe, if the ice ever melted with the Cresties—if they ever realized it was my dad, not me, who had screwed them over—I could try to hook them up sometime. But even as the idea occurred to me it seemed inconceivable that Shannen and I would ever be close again. My spirits sagged.

I had started to turn back to the table when my eyes caught Jake’s. He stopped laughing. Our gazes locked for a long, intense moment during which all oxygen disappeared from the caf. He blinked first, and I blushed and turned my back on him. Great. Now he probably thought I was ogling him. Jerk. I couldn’t believe that lame attempt at an apology he’d made that morning. Like, what? I was going to swoon and kiss his feet for acknowledging me after the complete diss of the night before? Maybe if he’d been at all genuine—if he’d said anything true rather than getting all defensive—I might have cared. But that? That was crap. Clearly he was that hot guy who got all the girls but had the depth of a puddle. So not what I needed right now.

No. From now on I was steering clear of Jake Graydon, in thoughts and deeds. Besides, if I so much as flirted with him, my friends would probably think I was trying to use him to get to them, and I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction. No way, no how.

No matter how long my residual blush lasted.