Chapter 17
Val was one of the first students into class on Tuesday; she’d stayed up late the night before finishing and double-checking her math homework. She sat in her assigned seat and pulled the homework out, hoping to compare answers with one of her classmates; there were at least two problems Val knew she hadn’t gotten the answer right on, and she didn’t want to lose any unnecessary points.
“Hey Val,” Grant greeted as he sat down in his seat diagonally across from her, “What’s happening?”
“Hey Grant. Not much.” Val frowned; Grant wasn’t her first choice for homework help, but he was there, whereas Alex and Carrie weren’t, yet. “Do you mind if I take a look at what you got for last night’s homework?” Val asked.
“Not at all. Here, go ahead,” Grant handed over the two sheets of paper.
“Oh my gosh, your handwriting’s hideous,” Val laughed, “What is this?” she pointed to a number that could either have been a three or a very misshapen seven.
“A three, I think,” Grant laughed, “I don’t even remember.”
Fortunately, Alex arrived before Val had to muddle her way through comparing all of her answers to Grant’s. “Hey sweetheart,” he said, winking at Val. Then to Grant, he held out a fist, “Sup.”
“Sup,” Grant returned the fist bump.
“So, Val—“
“Can I take a look at your homework?” Val asked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.”
“That’s alright. I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come to a party I’m hosting on Friday. It’s gonna be really cool, I promise.”
“Yeah, sure,” Val agreed, “If you give me your homework.”
“Alright, deal. Do you wanna ask Aaliyah and Carrie if they wanna come too?” He handed Val his homework; Val sighed in relief—his script was at least legible.
“Um, yeah, if you want me to,” Val murmured while she went down the problems; for the most part, Alex had gotten the same answers, but whenever the answers differed, she went with what he had gotten. A few times she wasn’t sure if the mistake that had resulted in differing answers was on her or Alex’s paper, and she parsed Grant’s work as a tiebreaker. Class was just starting as Val finished and handed Grant and Alex’s homework back to them, “Thank you guys.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and I’ll text you with details for the party—don’t want to interrupt the Grand-Empress-slash-best-teacher-in-the-world Miss Stevens again.” True to his word, Alex didn’t speak over Miss Stevens the entire hour; it was one of the most informative hours of the class Val had sat through yet.
In Flag Football, Mr. Sharp paired Val’s team against a team composed mostly of Freshmen. “If you don’t bury them, I’m kicking you off the real football team,” he joked , addressing Porter, “Unless of course you pass to Blondie, in which case I think it’ll be an even matchup.”
Porter didn’t even laugh, “Don’t worry Coach, we’ll make her feel included.” Mr. Sharp had cordoned off miniature fields with small traffic cones, and Porter led the way to the far “field”; Val noticed him studiously avoiding her gaze. “Alright, I’ll be qb, obviously. Josh, since you’re the best catch here, you’ll be my number one. Alexzander, I don’t think I’ve seen you catch—“
“He’s not that great, but he’s alright,” Josh supplied.
“Good deal. Then you’ll be my two slot. Mason, just run down the field on every play; maybe if we’re lucky you can get past the defense and I’ll lob it up to you, or you can drag a couple of defenders off Josh or Alexzander.”
“What about me?” Val got the feeling Porter had deliberately left her out.
Porter shrugged, looking at the other team at the other end of the field, “Just stay close enough I can hand you the ball—since you can’t catch worth a damn, I guess we’ll have to do some running plays or something.”
“That’s not very nice,” Val replied quietly.
“It’s the truth,” was Porter’s cold response, before he signaled to the other team that they were ready; Mr. Sharp had assigned Porter and Val’s team to receive the ball first. A willowy girl Val thought she recognized from soccer set the ball on the ground, took two steps back, and put her full force behind a kick that sent the ball towards them.
“Spread out!” Porter ordered, “Pick it up off the bounce.”
Val ran to the right side of the field, hoping the ball would veer away from her; it didn’t. The football impacted with the ground five feet in front of Val, popping straight up into the air. She took a couple of steps forward, preparing to catch it, but before it had fallen to the level of her ready hands she heard a grunt as one of her teammates jumped in the air and caught the ball one-handed. He landed on the ground, and from his build Val recognized Josh. “Block for him!” Porter shouted; Val rushed to get in front of the stocky boy, but he was running as fast as he could toward the other team’s end zone. A pair of boys stopped Josh and pulled out one of his flags as he was crossing over the halfway mark. Josh set the ball down on the ground, and waited for the rest of his team to catch up.
“Good return, Josh,” Porter commended as they walked up to the line of scrimmage. “Okay, quick huddle guys.” They gathered around him, and Porter outlined his instructions, “Josh, run an inside post. Alexzander, do you know what a slant is?” The pimply junior nodded; “Good,” Porter said, “Then run a slant to the middle, but don’t get in Josh’s way. You two,” his gaze flitted over to Val, and then to Mason, “Just do what I told you.”
They lined up beside the ball; “Hike!” Porter called, picking the ball up. Convinced Porter wouldn’t throw to her, Val took three steps forward and stopped to face him. Porter heaved the ball into the air; it spiraled lazily in the air before landing in Mason’s hands. It looked like the other freshmen had it, until he took a step; his knee hit the ball, and sent it flying.
“Christ!” Val heard Porter mutter. They lined up again; this time he threw the ball to Josh, who twisted spectacularly and came down with the ball. Although the junior tried to barrel through three members of the other team, they succeeded in stopping him just outside the goal line.
“Val, I’m gonna pass it to you,” Porter said loudly as they huddled; Won’t the other team hear that? Val wondered. Sure enough, when Porter picked up the ball, two of the other team’s members clung to Val like she was food and they were starving. Try as she might, Val could not get open; Porter stepped up and passed to Josh again.
The other team trooped across the field, awaiting the kickoff. Val turned to find Porter holding the football out to her, “You’re on the soccer team,” he said, by way of explaining his reasoning. Val nodded and set the ball on the ground; she kicked it as if it were a soccer ball. The other team had no chance to return the kick, as to Val’s—and her teammate’s—surprise the ball sailed past the out of bounds line on the other side of the field. One of the other team’s members retrieved it.
“Cover the qb,” Porter instructed Val; she huffed at once again being assigned the easiest task. What is the point of this class when all I do on offense is sit there and be distracting, and on defense I have to defend the one person who isn’t allowed to run? In order to prevent the easy gains from certain plays, Mr. Sharp had invented the rule that quarterbacks were not allowed to run unless the defense came into the backfield to tackle them.
The game ended very lopsided, with Val’s team scoring twice as many points as the freshmen. Josh, Alexzander, and Mason were all excited by the victory; the only ones not enthused were Val and Porter. Porter spoke to Val only to give instructions, and often refused to look at her even then. By the end of the hour, Val felt like she’d had quite enough of it; at first she made a plan to talk to the blond senior, but then thought better of it and decided to let him work through whatever issues he had with her by himself. Who knows, maybe by Thursday he’ll be back to his normal self even if I don’t talk to him.
Italian and Drawing were both bland classes; Miss Wells was nice enough, b
ut her lessons were some of the most boring Val had that semester, and Miss Andrews was her usual self—tedious. Val didn’t dare fall behind on her note-taking, since the Drawing teacher had explicitly warned that the class’ next quiz would not be a partner quiz; without Sophia to help, Val knew she needed to up her study habits if she wanted to end the semester with a good grade.
At lunch, Jenny gave up on trying to win back the Trio; she sat with Val and the three girls, and Val was encouraged when several opportunities to mock her came up that Jenny decided not to capitalize on. Maybe she’s starting to forgive me. Or maybe she’s just waiting for me to screw up. The latter thought seemed more probable, so Val made a mental note to watch Jenny closely.
In English Miss Donnely spent the whole period analyzing the passage of Romeo and Juliet where the pair meet, “’If I do profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentler sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims ready stand, to smooth rough touch with tender kiss.’ Who thinks they know what that means?”
A girl sitting in front raised her hand; Miss Donnely called on her. “Well, I’m not sure,” the girl began, “But I think it means like, Romeo’s saying that like, his hands are like—“ Val sighed loudly.
“Do you have something to add, Miss Hunter?” Miss Donnely asked pointedly.
“He’s just saying he thinks her beauty is a shrine, and he’s not worthy to touch it. And then, to apologize, he’s gonna kiss the thirteen year old girl he just met,” Val summarized.
Instead of correcting or reprimanding Val, Miss Donnely laughed, “Yes, that’s it. But what a way to say it, eh? He doesn’t use the crude phraseology that you did—no, that’s not Romeo’s style—rather, he composes the first four lines of a sonnet. Now, let’s read the next four lines.” Miss Donnely waited for a volunteer to read; when none was forthcoming, she read from her own text, “Juliet: good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.” The teacher moved out from behind her lectern, “Would you care to give us your enlightening interpretation, Miss Hunter?”
Val shrugged, “I guess she’s saying that Romeo can touch her hand, but not kiss her.”
“Shut down!” one boy joked, evoking laughter from a few classmates.
Miss Donnely smiled, “That’s about it. She isn’t saying that Romeo can’t kiss her—and, spoiler alert, they do kiss just a few lines later—but rather, she is saying that Romeo’s touch is like a ‘palmer’s kiss’. Who knows what a palmer is?”
“Uh, a priest?” the girl who had spoken before guessed.
“Close,” Miss Donnely’s eyes swept the room, “Anyone else?” She pointed to someone behind Val.
“Well I have the No Fear Shakespeare version, and in there it says that a palmer is a pilgrim.” Val recognized the voice; she turned in her seat to verify it was Aiden who had spoken. She hadn’t even noticed he was in the class before, but based on his seating choice that was no surprise. Aiden’s seat was in the room’s far corner; it would have been impossible for him to find a more out-of-the-way location.
“Yes, that’s right—palmer is a synonym for pilgrim. So, Miss Hunter, let’s return to your analysis; in a way you were right. Juliet is saying that they are already kissing, in the same way palmers, or pilgrims, would, which could be interpreted as a denial of his attempt to kiss her.” Miss Donnely walked to the left side of the room, “Do I have any readers over here?”
Zoey raised her hand; when Miss Donnely called on her, she read haltingly, “’Have not saints—lips, and holy palmers too’?” She looked up at the teacher, who nodded for her to continue, “’ Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.’ And then Romeo says, ‘O, then dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’”
“Keep going,” Miss Donnely urged.
“’Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake. Then move not—‘”
“You can stop there,” Miss Donnely interrupted, “Thoughts?”
Val tried to make herself small in her seat, fearing the white-haired teacher would call on her again. Sure enough, when no one volunteered, Miss Donnely pointed at Val, “One more time, Miss Hunter?”
“Um,” Val frowned, “This one’s harder to follow. I think that what they’re saying is like, Romeo wants to pray with his lips, by kissing Juliet, and Juliet is arguing that kissing isn’t praying.”
“Close enough,” Miss Donnely glanced at the clock, “Oh dear, it appears our time’s almost run out! No homework tonight, but I do want to mention—we’re going to reenact the entire Romeo and Juliet party scene next week, so start thinking about what part you want to play!” the bell rang.
Chemistry was one of Val’s only fun classes that day—Mr. Phillips taught everyone the “states of matter dance”—it was silly, it was strange, and it was nerdy, but for Val it was also a great way to forget about all the stress of her life. She laughed with Keenan as they competed over who could do the dance more obnoxiously—he won by inventing an entirely new dance that carried him halfway across the class, and involved hopping up and down on one leg to symbolize a gaseous state.
After school, Val had her final first club meeting, with the Future Business Leaders of America. She had expected the club to be somewhat official and boring, so she wasn’t surprised when the club President showed up in a suit. “Welcome, welcome,” he said, “I see a lot of faces I recognize, and a few new ones as well. Thank you for coming—please, feel free to partake of our libations,” Val grimaced at the overwrought language. The boy continued, “For those of you who don’t already know, I’m Jessie; I’m the FBLA President at our school, and the Regional Parliamentarian.”
Val stifled a yawn; all the first meetings were starting to bleed together. She was sure that next Jessie would talk about what the club did, and so instead she searched the crowd for familiar faces.
She locked eyes with Derrick, who gave a small smile and nod of acknowledgement. Val made her way over to the dark-haired boy and waited until Jessie finished speaking before striking up a conversation with him. “Hey Derrick.”
“Val,” the senior tipped his head politely.
A few seconds of silence passed; Val looked around the room, and saw no more familiar faces. She looked back at Derrick, a thought occurring to her: he might know how Porter really feels about me, she realized, and he could at least explain what was going on in Flag Football. “So why is Porter mad at me?” Val blurted out.
Derrick grimaced and scratched his neck, “I wouldn’t say he’s mad at you, Val. He just—doesn’t know how to handle you.”
“What do you mean? I’m pretty sure he is mad at me,” she pressed, “He was ignoring me all during gym, and normally he’s like really nice to me.”
“Oh, he was?” Derrick frowned, “Well, maybe he thinks by ignoring you he can convince Avery that nothing actually happened between you, and get back with her. She broke up with him, you know.”
“I heard. But why would he want to get back with her, and why would he think how he acts in gym would affect that? Avery’s not even in that class.”
“Yeah, but Avery has her ear to the ground, you know? She hears all the rumors at this school—mostly cause she starts most of them—so I have no doubt her friends are watching you and Porter closely, to see if you act like two people who’ve hooked up.”
Jessie approached the pair, “Good to see you again, Derrick. Thanks for offering to bring pizza—I just didn’t feel this was the right time for it, but we’ll definitely take you up on that sometime. And you,” he turned to Val, flashing a smile, “I haven’t seen you before. You look like a freshman.”
Val nodded, “That’s cause I am.”
“I knew it!” Jessie nudged Derrick in the ribs, “Jailbait, eh? She looks so much like Avery back in freshman year, before she became a colossal—well, before she got so conceited.” Val flushed; s
he tried not to let her displeasure at the comparison show.
“I wouldn’t say she looks like Avery used to,” Derrick replied, “She hasn’t got the same predatory look. Avery always looked wolfish to me—“
Jessie nodded, “Yeah, you’ve got a point. Plus, she” he gestured to Val, “is more—developed than Avery was.”
“Excuse me?” Val let her shock show on her face; Why is everyone at this school so forward?
Jessie laughed, “You heard me. Anyways, I’m Jessie. And you are—?” he didn’t wait for Val’s response, “Nevermind, from now on you’re Jailbait.”
“Jailbait?” Val asked; Derrick shook his head, but too late.
“Yeah, a young girl who hangs around older guys and entices them to do—statutory things. Poor Derrick here, I’m sure you’re causing him no end of distress.”
“You’re not,” Derrick shrugged. “She’s just my friend,” he explained to Jessie.
“Oh—Well whose idea was that?”
“No one’s idea; it just sort of happened.”
“Ah. Well, we can’t all be as smooth as your friend Porter, eh Derrick? You know, I heard he got a freshman to—hang on, cover your ears Jailbait—“ Val snorted and walked away before he could finish his sentence; “Hey, come back Jailbait!” she heard him call after her.
Even though she didn’t feel like a soda, Val headed to the line of two-liters on a table placed against a side wall of the room.
“Well hello,” a strange voice said behind her; Val didn’t turn to greet the stranger.
“I swear to God, if you’re gonna hit on me, or make fun of me or something, just don’t.” She huffed with frustration, “Actually, I was just leaving anyway,” she turned around and bumped into Logan.
“Whoa, that’s quite the greeting,” Alex’s friend said, “I voted for you for class President, you know.”
Val sighed, “Sorry, I’ve just been having a rough day.”
“Apparently,” Logan laughed, “I hope you didn’t mean you were leaving the club—I know it seems like a nerd fest, but FBLA looks really good on college applications.”
How to Be a Perfect Girl Page 20
