by Cameron Lund
“When is it?” I ask, and they turn to me like I’ve just said a bad word.
“You don’t know?” Ava narrows her eyes.
“It’s right after you guys get out,” Cecilia answers, finally acknowledging my existence.
The seniors usually get to leave for summer a few weeks before the rest of the school, and this year we had so many snow days that Cecilia will be stuck here without us until almost July.
“It’s on June twelfth!” Ava throws her arms up into the air, flailing around on her chair. “We only have like two months to find dates!”
I’ve seriously never seen her this excited, and that’s saying something with Ava. She’s moving around like she’s having an exorcism; I wouldn’t be surprised if her head started to spin in a circle. Andrew and I make eye contact across the table, and I start laughing, because I know from the tilt of his head and the twitching of his lips that he’s probably picturing the same thing.
“If there’s a bubble machine, I’ll be there,” he says.
“Are we supposed to wear costumes?” I ask, picturing the matching mermaid dresses and coconut bras that are sure to haunt our prom pictures for the next decade.
“I’m going as a lobster,” he says.
“No, you have to wear something nice.” Cecilia turns to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. He tenses right as she says it, and she lifts her hand and looks away. His face has gone slightly pale, and I can tell he feels uncomfortable because he knows she thinks he’s going to ask her. I know he won’t, because two months is a long way off. He could never stay with someone that long.
“Who are you going with?” Hannah asks at lunch. I immediately think of Dean and then try to wipe the idea from my mind. I’ve never been into school dances because of all the awkward small talk and double-sided tape and the not wearing comfortable shoes, but now that there’s a potential guy involved—for the first time in my life—even I’m a little excited about the idea. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’m a monster.
“She’s going with James Dean, obviously,” Ava says, taking a sip of her smoothie. At least, she claims it’s a smoothie—it looks like brown sludge and is so thick she’s struggling to suck it up the straw.
“I never thought you’d find something you couldn’t suck,” Danielle says dryly, her eyes on Ava.
Ava pulls the straw out of her mouth. “You’d know. You’re the expert on sucking!”
Danielle’s lips quirk up into a smile. “So I’ve been told.”
“What are you drinking?” I ask, pointing at the sludge. Some of the liquid has started to separate, spreading into two colors like a test tube experiment.
“It’s coca-kale-a,” she says, as if it’s obvious. “It’s made from diet kale.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say diet kale?” Hannah asks. “Isn’t all kale diet kale?”
“This stuff is better.” Ava tips the drink toward us. The smell wafts pungently across the table. “They strip out all of the calories from the kale before they puree it. All that’s left are kaleories. I heard Beyoncé drinks one before every show.”
“I bet.” Danielle wrinkles her nose for a moment at the drink and then turns to me, her eyes sparkling. “So, James Dean then?”
“I don’t know,” I say, picking through my Caesar salad with a plastic fork. I bought it from the school cafeteria, so the lettuce looks brown and wilted, and I’m only eating the croutons. “He just doesn’t seem like the . . . prom type.” Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re just hooking up and not dating and people definitely don’t take their hookups to their high school prom.
Danielle shrugs. “Do you have any other prospects?”
“She’s the only one of us with any prospects at all,” Ava says, setting her drink down on the table. The liquid inside doesn’t even jiggle—it’s congealed into a solid. She turns to Danielle. “Who do you want to go with?”
“No one,” Danielle says. “Our class is pathetic. Chase is out, obviously, and I’m not touching Ryder after he called me a slut. Besides, we all know Ava’s gonna fuck him again.”
A small, strangled sound comes from Ava’s mouth and her eyes go wide. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Danielle is trying to be funny or if she’s just mean. And lately, the mean has gotten a lot meaner.
“I’m not going with Ryder to any more dances,” Ava says.
“That’s what you said last year,” Danielle says, tilting her head. “But then . . . wait, tell me again about the fall ball?” She takes a bite of her salad and smiles.
Ava looks stung. “Well, maybe I’ll go with Chase this year if you’re not.”
Danielle laughs. “Do you actually think he’d ask you?”
Ava clenches her smoothie and backs away from the table. Her mouth opens and closes a few times like she has something to say, but then she sighs and turns around, storming away from the table.
“Lighten up,” Danielle says, “I was just kidding.” She sighs and stands, following Ava out of the cafeteria. I hate watching them act like this, but I don’t know what I could do to make anything better. Danielle wouldn’t listen to me.
“Promise me you’ll always be nice to me,” Hannah says once they’re gone.
“No matter what,” I say.
She swirls her straw in her drink. “So you really don’t think you’re going to ask him?” We’re back on James Dean. “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to.”
“I don’t know.” I bite into a crouton, picturing Dean in a tux, and it’s kinda beautiful. But then I remember the relief that flashed across his face when I told him I wasn’t a virgin, and the image pops.
“You’ll be fine. Beautiful unicorn princess, remember?”
“I’m a lying, idiot princess.”
“Well, at least you’re still a princess,” she answers. “That counts for something. Just ask him, okay?”
We get let out of French early because Madame Deschenes has a headache, so Hannah and I take our time in the bathroom after class and then head to the senior lounge. It’s mostly empty, except for some of the guys in our French class. When we walk in, Andrew and Edwin are huddled over by the window with Ryder and Simon Terst. I say bonjour to them, but no one answers me. They’re all focused on something on the wall I can’t see, pointing and whispering in a way that can only mean something bad.
“What does it say?” Simon asks from the outside the circle, trying to break through. Ryder is blocking his view of whatever they’re looking at because he’s practically seven feet tall.
“It’s so gross, man,” he says to Simon by way of explanation.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Andrew steps aside so I can see. Someone has taken a Sharpie to the wall and written a message in thick black ink.
DANIELLE OLIVER TASTES LIKE ROTTEN FISH
The letters are messy, like someone scrawled them there in a hurry. I feel my stomach clench. Hannah takes a sharp breath next to me.
“Who wrote this?” I ask, feeling slightly queasy. This is so much worse than a few hidden notes stuffed into a bag or a locker. This is public. Who would do something so messed up?
“I don’t know,” Andrew says. “It was there when we got here.”
“What the hell.” Hannah turns to the huddle of guys. “Hey, asshats!” They stop talking and look at her in surprise. “Who wrote this?”
Ryder steps back, holding his long arms out in surrender. “Whoa, Choi. Calm down. Are you on your period?”
Hannah reddens at his remark.
“It was on the wall when we came in,” Edwin says. “There wasn’t anyone in here.”
“We should clean it.” I scan the room for something I can use to scrub the wall. “We should get rid of it before anyone else sees.”
“No way!” Ryder moves slightly to block me. “It’s hilarious.” He pulls out his ph
one and snaps a quick picture.
Simon pulls out his phone, imitating Ryder. “Good call, dude.”
“Delete those pictures,” I say, my voice rising in alarm.
“Hey, man. That’s not cool.” Andrew takes a step toward Ryder and Simon.
“You telling me what to do?” Ryder asks, stepping forward. “You got a problem?” Despite Andrew’s sizable height, Ryder still towers over him. Edwin takes a step closer too, rearranging himself so he and Andrew are shoulder to shoulder. Andrew looks at Ryder and narrows his eyes.
“If you think this”—he motions toward the writing on the wall—“is funny, then I’ve got a problem.”
“You guys are seriously mean,” Hannah says, spitting the words at Ryder and Simon. She pulls a water bottle and some napkins out of her bag, using them to scrub the wall. The marker doesn’t budge, the words dark and angry as ever.
“Looks like it’s permanent.” Ryder smirks.
“Did you write this?” I ask him, taking a step forward. He’s so much taller than me that it’s almost comical. But fuck him if he thinks something like this is funny.
“I wish I wrote it,” Ryder answers.
“I’m getting some soap,” Hannah says, running out toward the bathroom down the hall.
“You sure about that, man?” Andrew nods at Ryder as more people start pouring into the lounge. The other classes must have been let out. Hannah still isn’t back with the soap and towels, and now everyone is going to see.
And then Danielle walks in, arm in arm with Sophie Piznarski. They’re laughing about something, oblivious to the tension in the room. I suck in a breath, glancing over at Andrew, hoping he has an idea. He leans awkwardly against the wall, trying to keep the words hidden from view.
Then Chase lumbers in behind Danielle, messy brown hair tucked in under his usual Red Sox cap. He’s whistling, headphones in, and he fist-bumps the group of guys beside me—Ryder, Simon, Edwin, and then Andrew, who raises an arm awkwardly, trying to keep the words covered. If Chase notices Andrew’s strange position or the tension among the group of guys, he doesn’t say anything, just continues to his locker.
Hannah runs back into the room with the towels, and her face crumples when she notices Danielle and then Chase. Her eyes dart quickly back and forth between the two and she tucks the towels behind her back, trying to be discreet.
I know it’s hopeless, no matter how hard we try to hide the ugly words from Danielle. Now that there are pictures, the whole school will know in seconds. Still, I don’t want it to become a spectacle, especially in front of Chase. If he’s the one who wrote it, I don’t want him to get the satisfaction of a reaction. And if he didn’t write it, then I don’t want him to know it even exists.
But then, over the clamoring chatter of students, I hear Ryder call out, his voice deep and loud.
“Hey, Danielle. Is it true?”
She pulls her arm away from Sophie’s and opens her locker, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “What?”
“Shut up, Jason,” Hannah says through clenched teeth, glaring at him. I hold an arm up as he finishes the question, as if the slight movement might help change his mind. It doesn’t. He barrels on without concern.
“That you taste like rotten fish?”
The room goes quiet, conversation decreasing to whispers. Chase pulls off his headphones and puts his phone away, cocking his head in confusion at the scene unfolding. Simon reaches a hand up in a high-five motion and Ryder slaps it.
Danielle slowly turns to face them. “What did you just say to me?”
“I’m just reading what it says on the wall,” Ryder answers, shrugging innocently. He looks over at Andrew. “Hey, man, show her what it says.”
Andrew folds his arms and doesn’t budge. His voice is calm and steady. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re no fun,” says Simon. “It says you taste like rotten fish. Right over there on the wall.” He twitches excitedly, likely surprised and delighted he’s gotten the words out.
Danielle slams her locker door shut. “Excuse me, Rabbit?”
He pales slightly, moving back and forth from foot to foot, jumpy. If he’s a rabbit, Danielle is a fox, and she stalks toward him, eyes narrowed for the kill.
“I said . . .” he stammers, trailing off.
She folds her arms and taps her foot impatiently. “Say it again, Terst. Say it to my face.”
“I didn’t write it!” Simon’s cheeks flood with color.
“That’s what I thought.” Danielle turns toward Andrew and sighs. “You might as well show me.”
“We tried to clean it up,” he says, then takes a step to the side.
Danielle looks at the words for a long moment, the quiet in the room palpable. Everyone waits for her reaction, waits to see what will happen next. A few people pull out their phones, holding them up to record the action. The bell rings over the loudspeakers, signaling the start of the next class period. Nobody moves.
Danielle closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath, the calm, pretty expression on her face almost eerie. Then her eyes whip open and she turns to Simon, pointing her finger in his face like a blade.
“First of all, let’s get one thing straight, Rabbit. You’ll never know what I taste like. If you ever even touched me, it would be the single most thrilling moment of your sorry, pathetic existence.”
Simon is bright red, a thin film of sweat forming on his forehead.
“That’s not true!” he sputters. “That’s—”
Danielle cuts him off and turns on Ryder, raising her hand higher so it matches his height.
“And who do you think you are? Nobody thinks you’re funny. I’m surprised you even know what this says.” She motions toward the phrase on the wall. “Did somebody have to read it to you?”
She whirls on Chase, who’s watching the scene with wide eyes. “And if I find out you had anything to do with this, I will castrate you.”
He lifts his arms up in surrender, but doesn’t say anything back. It almost looks like he’s smiling.
SIXTEEN
“DANIELLE IS SO scary,” Andrew says the next day at lunch, taking a huge bite of his peanut butter sandwich. With his mouth full of food, it comes out more like “Thanieth is tho sthwy,” but I understand what he means.
Danielle got to leave early yesterday after the teachers saw the wall, and Ava—who burst into tears when she heard what happened—went with her. The tears are likely a direct result of the fact that Ava has been living mainly on kaleories for the past week. They’re both out sick today, which I know means they’re probably together.
We’re sitting outside at the picnic tables because it’s actually sort of warm out. Hannah is across from us, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she watches Andrew chewing.
“She’s really nice underneath everything,” Hannah says in typical Hannah fashion. “She just has a tough shell. She’s like a turtle.”
“That girl is not a turtle.” Andrew raises his eyebrows. “If you’re going to compare her to an animal, at least make it something carnivorous. Like a flesh-eating piranha or a tyrannosaurus rex.”
Hannah sighs. “Okay, well, maybe she’s a snail.”
Andrew laughs. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. If you’re looking for something with a shell, how about a hand grenade?”
“What animal am I?” Hannah asks.
Andrew doesn’t hesitate. “You’re a bird. Something colorful and artsy.”
“With strong claws,” I add.
“Careful around this one though.” Andrew nods toward me and grins. “You know how she gets around birds.”
“You’re hilarious,” I say, sarcastic.
Hannah laughs. “Okay, what animal is Keely?”
Andrew turns to me and bites his lip, thinking for a minute. “Y
ou’re a giraffe.”
“What, why?” I ask. “I’m so short.”
“I know,” he says. “But giraffes are my favorite.” He smiles at me, his mouth full of peanut butter. I smile back, oddly flattered by the compliment.
Hannah sighs and looks down at her hands, her face serious. “I guess Danielle’s the best one of us for this to happen to. If someone had written that about me, I’d probably cry.”
“People suck,” I say. This is why I’m terrified to have sex with anyone—it’s because of what could happen after.
“Shit, I have to go.” Andrew checks the time on his phone. “I have a study date.”
“Cecilia?” I ask.
He crumples up his sandwich bag and stuffs it into his backpack. “Cecilia and I are done.”
“Hey, Andrew?” The voice comes from behind us, soft and melodic. It’s a junior named Abby Feliciano, pretty and small with straight black hair. I feel a sudden pang of sympathy for Cecilia. For the millionth time, I wish that Andrew wasn’t so careless with people’s feelings.
“Hey, Abby,” Andrew says, standing up.
She holds out a notebook. “I copied down some notes for you if you want. If you don’t have time, we can go over them tonight.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you guys later, okay? Abby and I have some studying to do.”
“He’s such a good tutor,” Abby says, and her voice is so full of admiration it makes me a little sick.
Once they’re gone, I grimace. “Why is it so easy for him? Is he trying to go through the whole junior class before graduation?”
Hannah shrugs, taking a bite of her sandwich. “He got hot. Girls noticed. Especially, it seems, the juniors.”
“It’s like everything I’m anxious about is no big deal to him.”
When Andrew lost his virginity, the last thing he was probably thinking about was whether or not the girl would respect him in the morning. People don’t write horrible things on the wall about guys who’ve had sex.
“He just doesn’t realize how good he has it,” I say.
