by J.T. Stoll
Vero walked toward sixth period music appreciation, chatting with her two closest friends, Kristin and Carrie. She liked sixth period. It gave her a nice nap at the end of the day.
“Did you hear about those guys downtown?” Kristin asked. She had long black hair and clothes Vero wished she could afford. Kristin’s dad was a lawyer; she and Carrie had both grown up in SLO. They were well connected in the school, which made Vero connected, too.
“That was my brother-in-law’s store,” Vero said.
“What?” Kristin asked.
“And I was there.”
“No way,” they both said at the same time.
They stopped at Carrie’s locker. The blonde opened it, checked a mirror, and dabbed on some makeup. Somehow, beneath it all, Vero could still make out her face.
“You see them?” Carrie asked.
“Yeah,” Vero said. “A sword and a mace. So weird.”
“Crazy,” Carrie said. “They hit all those stores. Then just… like, vanished.”
“In SLO. In broad daylight.” Kristin giggled. “What is this, Bakersfield?”
Vero had told them, once, where she was from—and had regretted it ever since. Bakersfield wasn’t that bad, mostly poor and hot. But to these girls, anywhere outside the Central Coast was an unlivable ghetto. They walked into music appreciation.
“Hello,” a timid voice said from the back row.
Vero glanced toward the voice. Gloria? Despite the warm weather, the girl wore a loose sweater and some jeans. Vero’d noticed her a couple times earlier in the day, but they hadn’t spoken since Vero and Pieter had run off with the weapons.
“Hey,” Vero said. “How’s things?”
Gloria shrugged. “You know, fine.”
“A friend?” Carrie asked.
“We met this weekend,” Vero replied. She smiled at Gloria. “You want to come sit with us?” she motioned toward the right side of the room.
Carrie scowled. Gloria glanced at the three of them then looked down at her desk. “No, thanks.”
Probably for the best. Vero walked with her friends to their normal spot. “How’d you meet?” Kristin asked.
“Didn’t I tell you about that double date Pieter made me go on Saturday night?”
“You mentioned it…”
“It was for this old friend of his, a guy named Neil. He was pretty, well, let’s just say there’s a reason he needed Pieter to try and work out a date for him.” They laughed. “Gloria was the female sacrifice.”
“They hooking up?” Carrie asked a little too loudly.
Vero shook her head. “Doubtful.”
Carrie lowered her voice and said, “I’ve seen that girl around since I was six. We’ve never spoken.”
“She’s just so plain, not to mention a little… uh… pudgy,” Kristin added. “I’m not surprised.”
Vero said nothing. Yes, plain described Gloria very well. But of all of them, Gloria had noticed James’s injury. She’d insisted on calling an ambulance to try and save him. Deep strength and kindness hid inside that quiet shell.
“Anyways,” Vero said. “Neil spent half the night talking about video games. Even Pieter couldn’t salvage it.”
A brief grimace flashed over Kristin’s face, not the first time she’d showed annoyance that Vero had scored Pieter. Kristin’s parents had old money; their daughter was aware of the fact and seemed to see herself as some kind of social monarch. A girl like that wanted someone high visibility like Pieter.
Kristin’s interest made Vero nervous. But Kristin helped Vero’s social standing. So did Pieter. Between the two, she’d gone from ignored to popular during the first month of her senior year, so she could put up with any interest Kristin might show toward Pieter. By reputation, Pieter had dated half the school, but he never cheated once committed. Few agonies exceeded being cheated on.
Kristin lowered her voice and said, “I just remembered. She’s a foster kid. She got taken from her parents because of drugs or something ten years ago. She’s all kinds of screwed up.”
“What?” Carrie asked. “Go on.”
“I think she got arrested once…”
And so they continued. Normally, learning a classmate’s secret history would fascinate Vero. But Gloria? They’d shared such a strangely intimate experience that hearing all her garbage, true or false, felt ugly. And foster care? Vero knew what it was like to lose a parent—to have one leave and never return at least. But losing both?
Gloria, chin on top of her desk, looked like she needed a hug. But in the atmosphere of a classroom, Vero laughed at the right moments.
8. Bonfire
