Westcott High

by Sarah Mello

  “You’re the school’s new delivery boy?” I asked.

  He put his hands into his ripped jean pockets and walked backward out of the double doors. “Brownie points,” he shouted over the heads of our peers. “They’re a real thing.”

  I watched him disappear, but his eerie voice still hovered over me like a dark cloud that wouldn’t roll away.

  Jacob shook his head. “Weird kid.”

  “The weirdest,” I replied.

  “My dad is looking forward to meeting you,” Jacob said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” I paused. “I’ll be there. Just text me your address.”

  Jacob handed me his phone. “I’ll need your number first,” he said in a kind tone of voice.

  I grabbed the cell phone from his hand, hesitantly typing my name into his contacts. “So you will.”

  Jacob’s eyes bounced back and forth between me and his phone. “Hey, um, can I text you, text you?”

  “As in?”

  “As in more than texting you my address,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . . good-morning texts . . . or something?”

  I was taken aback by his question. Mainly because it came from somebody who claimed to like someone else.

  My thumb hit the save button; then I glanced up at Jacob. He nervously grabbed his backpack straps as his eyes floated around the room. “Uhh . . . yeah . . . sorry. That’s probably weird.”

  I stretched out my hand, which held his cell phone. I knew I should have asked him about Dustin’s party. I should have confronted him about Norah and the lie he told. Because things weren’t adding up, and something told me I shouldn’t trust him. But you know what they say—the kind voice of a guy almost always overpowers your voice of reason. “I like weird,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

  He blinked slowly as he looked me up and down, then took his cell phone from my fingers.

  “So can I?” he asked. “Text you?”

  I slid my hands into my back pockets. “I don’t know. Can you?”

  I turned around and walked into the hallway, making my way toward first period. It was the first time I remembered feeling relieved to go to communications class. Which was surprising, because having to communicate with a classroom full of uncommunicative teenagers was the most brutal class of all. I looked down at the floor, counting each step I took.

  Suddenly, my cell phone buzzed. I reached into my back pocket and pulled a text message toward my face. It read: A noble, grammar-correcting crusader. My favorite kind of smart-ass. I stared around the hallway, mindlessly smiling into the sea of students. I saved Jacob’s name in my phone, exhaled, and walked to class.

  They say when the school bell rings at the end of the day, a Westcott student takes their first full breath. It’s also been said when you’re chasing a rumor, you almost never get to breathe.

  “Ari!” I shouted as I chased her down in the parking lot after school. “Wait up!”

  She continued walking toward her car, ignoring my request. Ari reached her hand down to open the driver’s side door, the sleeve on her tight leather jacket grabbing her wrist.

  I reached my hand out to stop her from getting inside. “Are you really pretending you couldn’t hear me?” I asked, panting from my mad dash.

  “What do you want, Sonny?” Ari scratched around the choker on her neck, her fingers covered with rings. She flipped her brown hair to the side and raised her eyebrows.

  “Why were you so eager to leave the rally this morning?” I asked.

  She casually brushed the front of her jacket. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Ari. I saw your face. You were upset. Maybe a little nervous? You ran out of the room before the lights were dimmed.”

  “I had places to be,” she said.

  “Would it have anything to do with the rumor that’s going around about you and Cliff?”

  Ari looked side to side before stepping toward me. “Are you insane? Don’t even give that life. If that gets around to Kyle . . .”

  “Too late.”

  Her face dropped. “He knows?”

  “Is there something he should know?” I asked.

  “You can’t be serious? You think I’d hook up with Cliff hours after I broke up with my boyfriend? Especially at a pool party with an ocean full of Violets?” she asked. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I was hoping you’d say you wouldn't do that to Kyle,” I said.

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Does it?”

  Ari twisted the rings on her fingers. “Look, what do you want from me? It didn’t happen. It’s a stupid rumor.”

  “I know a thing or two about rumors, Ari. And I know every rumor that circulates around the school is either true or almost true. And eventually, the truth comes out.”

  Ari’s monotone voice was telling. “Admit it, Sonny. This isn’t about Cliff. You never liked me for Kyle. I’m too edgy for your liking. Girls like you want your guy friends to end up with replicas of you, so you can be ‘couple friends’ and do couple things together. Things girls like me wouldn’t do. Like road trips to the beach in your string bikinis and high-waisted shorts while blasting a combo of Drake and Blink 182, all to snap perfectly edited photos of yourselves at sunset to puke all over your synchronized Instagram pages. You can’t get that with me. And you hate that.”

  I put my hands behind my hips. “It was certainly a shock to see the two of you together, but I never told Kyle that I didn’t approve of you.”

  “But don’t you, though? Disapprove?” Ari’s detestation for me was leaking from her pupils.

  “Kyle’s my best friend,” I said. “I want what’s best for him. Can’t you understand that?”

  “I am what’s best for him,” Ari replied.

  “How do you know that, Ari?”

  “Because he fell in love with me.”

  “So what? Your and Kyle’s love came quick. And fast love is dangerous love. It doesn’t know how to stop, even when it should.”

  “Well, I guess that’s the unfortunate thing about love, Sonny. You don’t get to tell it to go away.” Ari’s choker shifted up and down on her neck as she spoke.

  “So you’re going to try to get back together with Kyle?” I asked.

  “It’s all I know to do,” Ari replied.

  “What . . . did you want to do something different?”

  Her eyes began filling with tears—the angry kind. “Are we done here?”

  “Look—I think you need to be more careful with this rumor. Especially now that the SCC changed.”

  “Me?” she asked. “And what about you, Sonny? I heard that you rallied up a gang of students to find out why Mr. Russell was fired. I’m pretty sure that would break student conduct too.” She pulled out a vape pen.

  I grabbed it from her mouth and put it in my pocket. “So would this!”

  Ari successfully got into her car and started the engine, which shook the pavement beneath my feet.

  “Who told you we were investigating?”

  She ran her middle finger over her bottom lip, looking into her visor mirror. “Who do you think?”

  My eyes wandered around the parking lot. “Cliff?”

  Ari buckled her seat belt and turned on her radio, drowning out my voice with indie music. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  I shook my head. “You’re impossible, Ari Ziegler.”

  She manually rolled up her window, unfazed by my opinion.

  “Hey,” I said before the glass could reach the top. “I was only trying to help.”

  She looked me up and down in disgust. “You can’t help me,” she said. “You can’t even help yourself.”

  Ari sped out of the parking lot, taking her secrets along with her.

  I squinted to keep the sun out of my eyes as I watched her drive off. A trail of muffler smoke sailed through the air, breaking apart as it floated up and away.

  “Ju
st perfect,” I mumbled under my breath as I made my way toward the football field. Cliff and his “brocks” were about to begin practicing drills for their upcoming season. I walked onto the grass and gave Cliff a packed shove from behind. He turned around, abruptly.

  “What is wrong with you, Cliff?” I asked as everyone started to stare.

  Cliff towered over me. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

  “Why are you spreading rumors that I was investigating Mr. Russell?” I asked. “Are you insane?”

  “Look, calm down.” Cliff tossed the football to another player.

  I grabbed him by his jersey. “No, you calm down! Are you trying to get me kicked out of Westcott?”

  He looked down at my fist and slowly looked back up at me. I released my grasp.

  “I didn’t spread a rumor, Sonny,” Cliff said. “Kyle told me that him, you, and a couple other people had some suspicions about Mr. Russell’s replacement, Mrs. Penn. That’s it.”

  “And you thought it was a good idea to tell Ari? You two of all people should know to keep your mouths shut about things.”

  Cliff’s wet blond hair fell across his forehead. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you think it means?”

  He grabbed his lips and let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know about, kid. Go home.”

  “I know what one rumor did to Lana. And I certainly hope I can count on you to not mess anything up for me, the way you did for her,” I said.

  Cliff looked down at the field as he brushed his cleats against the grass. “Whatever happened to Lana after she did what she did was on her. I told you—I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Yeah, you know, I almost believed you. I thought maybe your days of spreading rumors were over. Until this.”

  Cliff glared at me with a twisted smile, then sauntered closer. He leaned down so his face was inches from mine. “Look, Carter. You come stomping into my practice, stumbling onto my turf, shove me around, and accuse me of involving myself in petty Westcott girl fights. I’m a Violet. I’m a savage. I do what I want, when I want. You’re looking at the most sought-after guy at WH, with more strings available to pull than you could count. Do you really think I care about your dumb-ass investigation? The days of you and everyone else at this school accusing me of leaking the video are over.” He brushed his finger across my hair. “I know deep down, underneath this pretty hair of yours, is a massive brain. One that couldn’t possibly believe I’d waste my time following a temp around town to take videos of him and my ex-girlfriend, who dumped me to play dress-up at a low-budget school in Yonkers, New York. If I were you, I’d walk off my field and forget you ever came.” He stepped away slowly as he cocked a crooked smile.

  My eyes began swelling with tears.

  “Just a suggestion,” Cliff said, holding up his hands.

  “What’s going on?” Kyle asked as he approached us.

  “Nothing.” Cliff looked straight at me with his piercing blue eyes. “We’re all good.”

  I slowly looked around the field. The football team behind Cliff stood silently in solidarity with him. And for the first time ever, I recognized that the field on which I stood, the field I thought was a public gathering place, in all actuality belonged to the king of Westcott. It belonged to Cliff Reynolds. And I knew I didn’t belong there. I stepped backward, slowly, making my humiliating exit off the bright-green grass.

  I turned around and picked up my speed, passing by the football stands on my way back toward the parking lot. To my surprise, I looked up to find Guy leaning against the railing and watching me as I drew near. His beady eyes bounced back and forth between Cliff and me.

  “And what the hell are you looking at?” Cliff yelled in Guy’s direction.

  I stopped in my tracks, wondering the same thing.

  “This is a closed practice!” Cliff shouted. “Leave my field!” He paused. “Now.”

  I turned around and glanced at Cliff, then turned back around to face Guy—not knowing which of the two I was scared of most. Guy didn’t say a word. He slowly pushed himself off the railing, giving both me and Cliff one last glare before walking off. I waited until he was out of sight to walk to my car, hoping he hadn’t heard too much—but all the while knowing he probably had.

  Later that night, Winston and I debriefed at our usual place.

  “Can you believe that?” I jumped up to perch on my kitchen counter, my hair trying to stay up in what was left of my messy bun. My white shirt hung off my left shoulder as I reached for a bite of cookie dough.

  “Wait, what was it you told me? Let me see if I remember. ‘Cliff Reynolds isn’t that bad. He’s harmless.’ ” Winston sliced the dough with a dull butter knife. His scarf was wrapped around his head like a turban, so he wouldn’t get it dirty.

  “Do you need me to say it?” I brought my knees to my chest.

  “I’m not ashamed to admit that I do.”

  “You were right, Wins. You happy?”

  “Eh. That felt forced.”

  “It was,” I said.

  Winston chucked the last chunk of cookie dough on the baking sheet.

  I grabbed another piece. “Have you thought any more about entering your new composition in to Mrs. Bennett’s showcase?”

  “You mean the knockoff Westcott Awards?” he asked.

  “I’d hardly call an end-of-the-year music competition a knock off anything.”

  “You win a prestigious award; we win cheap medals. The two don’t hold the same weight.”

  I tightened my bun. “You should enter. Winning would look good on your college applications, and your piece is beautiful.”

  “Maybe I want to pull a Lana and hotfoot my way to New York to pursue fashion,” he replied.

  “You’d do that?” I wrinkled my nose.

  “Not necessarily. I’d love the scandal, though.”

  “I’m not sure anyone envies the Lana Carter scandal. It almost sunk the school entirely—so I’ve been told.” I glanced over at a family photo and grabbed another ball of dough.

  “Would you stop it?” Winston removed the cookie sheet from in front of me. “If you keep it up, we’ll be sticking this pan in the oven for one cookie’s sake.”

  I hopped down from the cluttered green countertop and slid the cookie sheet onto the rack.

  “But back to more pressing news—I still can’t get over your conversation with Ari,” Winston said. “Do you think she’s lying? Do you think she and Cliff actually hooked up at his cookout?”

  I set the timer on the microwave and leaned against the counter. “I don’t know. I’d hate to think she would do that to Kyle. I’d be even more shocked if Cliff did that to him. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten.”

  “What does Kyle believe?” Winston patted his turban.

  I placed my hand on my hip. “What do you think?”

  “Why is that kid so naïve?”

  “You know how obsessed he is with Ari, Wins. She was his first real love. Sure, Ari’s a little crazy and rough around the edges. And maybe they do break up every other week. But Kyle is completely infatuated with her. I don’t think that’s going away.”

  “Well, if there’s a rumor, there’s a reason,” Winston said. “I guarantee you it’s true.”

  Just then, my mind flashed back to a conversation I had with Lana. A very specific, telling conversation in which she told me a secret—one that nobody knew but her, Cliff, and Ari. And now—me. Cliff had told Lana about something that happened the summer before sophomore year, when Ari moved to town. Four people knew this shoddy secret. And four people only.

  “Regardless, we need to support Kyle in whatever he chooses to believe.” I stood there in a daze. “Besides, it hasn’t been proven.”

  “Yet.” He licked his finger.

  “You have a visitor, Sonny!” My mom’s voice traveled through the kitchen from the foyer.

  Winston and I glanced at one another.

/>   “Do you typically get visitors at this hour?” he asked.

  “Yeah. You,” I replied, poking him in the chest.

  We slowly made our way to the front door.

  “Maybe it’s Cliff coming to apologize,” I said.

  “Please. His dignity wouldn’t allow him to make the drive.”

  “Are you implying Cliff has no dignity?” I asked.

  We glided through the hallway, both of us smiling from our mini conversation about Cliff. That was, of course, until we saw who was standing at the front door.

  “Piper?” We stopped in our tracks.

  One thing I never thought I’d see was Piper Clemmons standing underneath my flickering porch light. Her fingers clutched onto her sweater as if her life depended on it.

  “I’ll let you three have some privacy,” Mom said.

  Winston and I walked outside, closing the front door behind us.

  Piper stalled. “This is a cozy house.”

  I could tell her nerves were getting the best of her. “I appreciate that.”

  “Piper, what in the world are you doing in the valleys after dark?” Winston asked.

  “Seriously?” I knocked his scarf off his head. “Piper, what’s up?”

  “About you and JC having lunch . . . ,” she said, tucking her long light brown hair behind her ears.

  “Look, Piper. I don’t know who could have shared that information with you and Norah. We were the only two in the café that day.”

  She leaned in, her deep brown eyes expressing concern. “Listen to me, Sonny. You don’t want to stick your nose into places it doesn’t belong. Believe me. If anyone catches you talking to JC, it'll ruin you. He’s tainted. I’m here to tell you that whatever JC told you, whatever he said, bury it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  The crane flies swarmed the porch light.

  “You do know JC thinks someone framed him, right?” Winston asked her.

  Piper crossed her arms. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” I asked. “Because I’m not so sure JC would steal the answers to the exam. He doesn’t struggle with grades. Isn’t it much more plausible that someone slipped the answer key into his bag? Someone who had access to his belongings?”