The Prettiest

by Brigit Young

  “Yup.” Sophie transformed her face to ice and stone. She gripped the straps of her backpack.

  “You don’t sit with us anymore.” Amina took a step closer to Sophie.

  “Um, yeah, ya think?” Sophie couldn’t make herself pretend it was nothing, or keep her mouth shut. It was too exhausting. “I heard you talking about me in the stairwell. The day after the list came out. Right before the parent meeting.” She locked her stern eyes with Amina’s. “And things just got worse from there.”

  “What?” Amina looked flustered. “I never talked about you! I stand up for you all the time!”

  Sophie scoffed. “Oh, so that means people are talking about me all the time?” Of course they were. “Anyway, that’s not the point. I heard you.”

  “What do you think I said? I didn’t say anything!” Amina looked like she might cry.

  Sophie tried to remember exactly what Amina had said, but she couldn’t recall who said what anymore. “You were all saying how I’m not really pretty. And Eve is. Rose is. It’s obvious you all truly felt that because look at who you’re following now.”

  “Following?” Amina said. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, come on. Rose.” Sophie felt herself crossing her arms, not letting Amina in.

  “I don’t know what you mean by ‘following’ Rose. You left our table. Rose was still there. What was I supposed to do? You obviously didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

  “We were never friends,” Sophie spat back.

  They heard a door shut in the hallway, and two teachers walked past them, chatting.

  “Hi, girls,” one of them said. The other waved.

  “Hi, Ms. Tilo!” Amina singsonged. She’d always been every teacher’s favorite. Probably because she knew how to act really nice.

  When the teachers were a few yards away, Amina’s smile disappeared. Her face crumpled.

  “We were friends.” Amina’s voice broke. She wiped a tear away, and Sophie could see her try to hold more back.

  “Were we?” Sophie’s arms dropped. “Then why didn’t we … I don’t know, talk about stuff? Why didn’t you ever stand up for me when the list came out? Why didn’t you come after me at the Halloween dance? Seriously!”

  “I know, it was really bad what Brody did to you!” Amina countered. “I’m really sorry, okay? I didn’t have any friends until you came to school halfway through sixth grade. I just studied, and felt weird all the time. And nobody here looked like me. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  “No,” Sophie acknowledged. She didn’t.

  “I sat all alone at lunch. And then there was you. I couldn’t believe you wanted to be my friend.”

  “Oh.” Sophie leaned against a locker and felt her shoulders droop.

  Amina slouched, pressing her shoulder against the locker next to her. “But, sorry, you just … you never really talked about yourself. I didn’t want to ask the wrong questions. You got pretty mad when I did.”

  “Oh!” Sophie repeated. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but at the same time she knew it was true. She hated when Amina or Liv or Hayley got nosy.

  “Sorry for being a bad friend.” Amina began to cry again.

  They stood there for a minute or so, and watched as a couple of boys walked by, staring at them, followed by a group of girls in superhero masks.

  “Hey,” Sophie said. “Didn’t Brody like you before he liked me?”

  Amina nodded, sniffling.

  “What happened?”

  Amina laughed. “Oh, you don’t even want to know.”

  “No, I really do,” Sophie told her.

  They walked toward the auditorium together as Amina told Sophie how Brody had come on really strong, and Amina’s parents didn’t let her go to boys’ houses, and how Brody had said that was really stupid, and after asking her a bunch of times and hearing her say no just as many times, he stopped talking to her entirely.

  “Hey,” Sophie whispered to her as they neared rehearsal, “what do you think about helping me and some other girls teach Brody Dixon a lesson?”

  42

  EVE

  WINSTON: k sorry to write you so early but I read all the stuff u sent and its amazing

  EVE: oh my gosh no

  WINSTON: it doesnt sound like the kind of poetry you read in class you know

  EVE: thanks?

  WINSTON: i mean it sounds like you’re writing in a diary or something, but in a way thats better than that. all these words that put images in your head and stuff. send me more send me all of it

  EVE: haha ur so nice

  WINSTON: im glad you think so

  EVE: ☺

  WINSTON: ☺

  EVE: ready for tonight?

  WINSTON: I hope so

  43

  SOPHIE

  Break a leg, kiddo read the postcard from Seattle.

  Did her dad know you didn’t say that to the hair-and-makeup person? Or did you? Really, she didn’t know. So much was new to her lately.

  They’d already done their first show, and now it was time for closing night. The big event.

  She’d be sad when it was over. To be honest, she really enjoyed her job. It was like everything she’d learned about dressing up as Sophie Kane could be used to dress up other characters. Why did Nessa have to be right about so much stuff?

  Nessa had been helping Sophie with Spanish, and Sophie had been helping Nessa with math. And on opening night, she’d found herself applauding after Nessa’s song like a proud mother or something.

  These girls surprised her. Lara was so strategic and organized and put together, and Erin was so quick and funny. She seemed to always know the perfect comeback for anything. And Amina had convinced all the Roses and Brody’s friends to come to the closing night instead of opening. Sophie asked how she did it, and Amina just answered, “Magic.” There was a lot to learn about Amina, Sophie saw. About everyone.

  As Sophie packed her stuff to go to the show, her mom and Bella got dressed. Her mom took the night off to come, which was silly. It was no big deal. And she told her mom as much, but her mom said, “Nope, nope, nope, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” and made it happen. She’d come to the track meet, too. Sophie hoped that meant her dad had sent some extra money so the missed shifts didn’t hurt them too much.

  “I can’t believe you know the lead!” Bella trilled as they all packed into the car.

  “Yeah, we’re good friends,” she heard herself saying.

  Each night, starting at dress rehearsal, she’d done Brody’s and Nessa’s makeup. The school didn’t have a dressing room or anything, so the whole cast used the choir room. The leads did their hair and makeup off in the corner. The ensemble splayed their stuff all over the rest of the room, and waited there before the show and in between each group song.

  In the makeup corner that night, Sophie saved Brody’s and Nessa’s makeup for last, so it would be fresh, and so they could warm up their voices until the very last minute.

  Unfortunately, a terrible error in the song “The Wells Fargo Wagon” had been made the night before. The harmony sounded off or something, and Mr. Rhodes called everyone except Harold Hill to come to the stage for a quick rehearsal about a half hour before the curtain went up. That left Sophie alone in the room with Brody Dixon.

  She fought the urge to paint his face like a clown or to give him overly eye-lined eyes. Her impulse to do an excellent job won out.

  Sophie and Brody hadn’t been alone since … well, since before the list came out, when they’d sat in his room together.

  She remembered that right before he’d tried to kiss her, he’d told her something like, “It’s wild, because you’re, like, the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, but you’re also so, so smart.” And she’d thought it was this huge compliment, replaying it in her head over and over, thinking his smile meant he’d be her boyfriend by the end of eighth grade, and that they’d go into high school and run everything together.

&nb
sp; But that hadn’t been a compliment. It shouldn’t have been “wild” for a girl to be pretty and smart, or any combination of anything.

  And he’d never be her boyfriend.

  As she silently dabbed his face with stage makeup, knowing that night was his night to be taken down, she wanted the truth.

  “So did you ever actually like me?” Sophie asked, her neutral face revealing none of the bravery that the question took.

  Brody briefly glanced up from the game on his phone.

  “I mean…” She let the powder brush lower to her side. “Were you just trying to get the girl everybody else liked? Or something like that? Like with Eve?”

  Brody half laughed, half grunted. “Aw, man, you’ve got me all figured out.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Just be straight with me!”

  He went back to his game. “It’s all no big deal, Soph. God.”

  She put her powder brush down in her makeup kit, snatched his phone, and held it behind her back. “No! You are going to explain yourself to me!” she demanded.

  “Come on, give it back!” He started to stand to reach it, but she put up a hand gesturing for him to back off. He stayed seated.

  “Why should I give it back? Because I’ll find proof on here that you’re LordTesla?” she challenged him. “We were right all along, huh? You wanted to date Eve, a nerd, after you gave up on me, so you made the list? She pushed you off at the dance, so you turned on her, too? Just like you turned on me?”

  Brody’s low snicker turned into a full-on laugh, and his hands rested on his belly. “You are just too much, Sophie Kane.”

  “Explain yourself.” Sophie haphazardly pressed buttons on his phone like she could figure out the password to open it if she just tapped on it enough. “Or, I swear, I will—”

  “What?” Brody leaned back in his chair in his brown salesman costume. “What will you do? Something about Nessa and her little picture of my coat?”

  Sophie’s hands froze.

  “So what?” Brody went on. “That picture proves nothing.”

  Sophie felt herself begin to droop. He knew the plan. Of course he did. He always ended up on top.

  “You just couldn’t take a joke. That’s why you’re all”—he motioned to her slightly less than ‘perfect’ attire, the attire she liked, and her newly free hair—“like this?”

  “No. No, actually, you’re wrong.” She remained steadfast.

  “Am I?” he challenged her.

  “Yes. And I like myself like this.”

  Brody slouched in his chair, suddenly looking much smaller. “I didn’t write the stupid list, okay? I know you all think that I did. But I didn’t.” He shook his head. “You are so self-absorbed, did you know that?”

  Brody smacked his forehead and his hand slid down, covering his mouth for a brief moment until he let it drop.

  “What does it matter,” he said to himself. “My dad’s not coming, anyway.”

  “Your dad’s not coming to the show? Why?”

  Brody shook his head slightly and then slid farther into the chair, his legs sprawling out in front of him. “He thinks it’s stupid. And it is. Give me back my phone,” he groaned.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Sophie said, unable to help herself. “My dad isn’t coming, either.”

  Brody didn’t seem to hear her. “My phone!”

  “You don’t have to be like your dad, you know,” Sophie offered.

  “Ha,” he sneered. “Great advice. Thanks.”

  Sophie took a step closer to him.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” He stood up. “But whatever. We are what people expect of us, right?”

  “Brody—” She tried to stop him.

  He snatched his phone back from her.

  “Brody—” And again, she tried to make him face her, listen to her, but he turned to walk away.

  “See ya.”

  As he stormed off, Nessa walked back in.

  “Who died?” she asked.

  The sixth and seventh grade ensembles came barging in after her, twirling and giggling and chatting.

  Sophie launched herself toward the door, trying to get past them. “You didn’t let me finish!” she yelled toward Brody, meaning that she hadn’t completed his makeup, but also that she hadn’t gotten all the answers she needed. But he was off.

  “His dad’s not coming to the show,” Sophie whispered to Nessa. “That’s pretty sad, right?”

  “Oh.” Nessa’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, that’s awful.” Nessa glanced off toward where he’d stormed away. “At least his dad won’t see him put into handcuffs and taken to middle school prison … That’s what’ll happen, right?”

  Sophie allowed herself to smile, and she almost responded, “I don’t think he wrote the list,” but she couldn’t do it.

  She couldn’t make herself save him.

  44

  EVE

  Eve sat up in the lighting booth with Winston.

  Below them, she saw a couple dozen masked girls in the audience. Her mask was pushed up on her hair.

  “So tonight’s the night,” she said.

  “Mm-hmm.” Winston focused on dimming the lights as the audience applauded and a bunch of kids dressed in black came onstage to move set pieces around.

  Nessa and Brody entered the stage for the scene that led into their big duet, “Till There Was You.”

  Eve leaned in to Winston to whisper, “My favorite part.”

  He smiled at her, and even in the dark of the booth, she could see his skin turn crimson. “I think I’ve seen it about five times too many,” he said with a chuckle.

  Abe thought Winston was “a good guy,” he’d said. And it was true. He’d never be the kind of boy to text her stuff that freaked her out, or laugh at her as she walked by, or tease her during laps in PE. And not just her—anybody! He would never hurt anybody.

  She’d shown him her poetry. He’d liked it. And she believed him.

  Did she like him, in that way? She didn’t know for sure.

  She wanted to think about it. That was all. Think about the possibility.

  With Brody, it had all been really fast, and strange, and not … What was the right word? Warm. It hadn’t been warm enough.

  “Winston?”

  She saw his hands freeze on the switchboard.

  Nessa began to sing.

  “I want to tell you something.”

  She saw him hold his breath.

  “Thank you for helping us.”

  “No,” he whispered back, a little louder than he should have.

  “Shhh.” She giggled.

  He didn’t laugh with her. “Don’t give me any credit. I didn’t get the IP address. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Okay, but you cared about people getting hurt. Even when you weren’t one of those people who was hurt. That’s so … nice.”

  Winston shook his head, as if she’d said something utterly wrong. He went back to the lights to hit a cue.

  The duet soared, Nessa’s voice bouncing around every corner of the auditorium.

  Soon, Nessa would reveal Brody’s crimes to the school.

  In the meantime, Nessa sang flawlessly, her whole face lighting up, her beauty shimmering outward toward the entire room.

  “I’m not nice, okay?” he mumbled.

  “Winston?” Eve leaned in closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  The song faded and the audience applauded. Only two more songs before curtain call. Before they knew it, students’ phones would buzz like they had in October, and Brody would be the object of all the gawking and staring for once.

  “Eve,” Winston said. It felt like the first time he’d said her name, and she turned to him. His eyes remained forward, facing the conclusion barreling toward them.

  “I know who wrote the list. And it wasn’t Brody.”

  45

  SOPHIE

  From the wings, Sophie watched the show go on.

  She thought of wha
t Brody said. We are what people expect of us, right?

  And she thought of the names on the library sign-in:

  Caleb Rhines 7:15 A.M.

  Winston Byrd 7:20 A.M.

  She thought of the mornings she’d come in by 7:10 A.M. for swim practice in seventh grade. Some kids whose parents worked early were dropped off for breakfast an hour before the homeroom bell rang. The only places they were allowed to go to were sports practices, the cafeteria to eat, or the library.

  She tried to remember who she’d seen back then. Rose Reed, definitely. Curtis Milford. Miranda Garland. Caleb Rhines. Winston Byrd.

  Brody hadn’t written the list. He hadn’t pretended to be Caleb or Winston, thinking through how to cover his every move like a supervillain. Plus, the librarian would have known him. Everyone knew Brody Dixon. Writing in another name wouldn’t have worked.

  It was Caleb or Winston. Or Caleb and Winston. But why?

  As Nessa and Brody sang “Till There Was You,” their harmonies floating through the air and brightening the stage like fireflies, Sophie wondered if she should stop Nessa.

  Brody hadn’t written the list, it was true, but he was most likely guilty of spray painting the locker. And he had done even worse stuff!

  Was there suspension enough for breaking people down like he did?

  No.

  Curtain call was close. Maybe she had to make this decision with Nessa. As the song ended, she tried to signal to Nessa that they had to talk, but there was no time.

  There was no time to turn back.

  Revenge would happen, but maybe not justice. Or were they the same thing? Sophie didn’t know anymore.

  46

  EVE

  “It was Caleb,” Winston told her. “I watched him do it.”

  He held her hand and begged her not to leave.

  The voices onstage melded with Winston’s pleading whisper, and it all felt like a dream.

  “You know how Caleb was my best friend.”