Homecoming Queen

by Melody Carlson

  Whatever the case, DJ was determined not to allow this to happen again. And maybe she didn’t have a safe to keep her Vicodin in, but she would find a safe place. She poured the pills into an athletic shortie sock, which she then turned inside its sock mate, making them into a sock ball, which was how she stored her socks. She placed this, along with her other socks, in her sock drawer. It looked perfectly normal. The only thing that made it stand out was the maroon stripes around the tops.

  After that, DJ went into the bathroom and, enjoying the luxury of a nice bathroom with plenty of space, she decided to take a shower. Her confidence in getting around was growing, and she felt fairly certain that, keeping in mind some of the tips Selena had given her, she should be able to accomplish this. Although it took longer than she expected and she was completely worn out when she finished — so much so that she sat down on the bench in her bathrobe just to recover — it felt like a small success.

  Sitting there, she heard someone coming into the bedroom. Probably Taylor. And, although the bathroom door was ajar, DJ didn’t call out or say anything. She was just too tired.

  “Hi, Mom,” said Taylor in a flat-sounding voice. “I got your message and am finally calling you back. But it seems, as usual, you’re not answering.” Long pause now, and DJ wondered if she’d hung up, but then she continued. “Anyway, yes, I’m okay. No, I didn’t kill myself. Yes, I considered it. And maybe I will follow through someday, but not today. And, no, there’s nothing you can do to help me. Well, except send more money. It seems my expenses are greater than we thought. I guess that’s all.” Now it was silent again, and suddenly DJ felt like an eavesdropper. Well, actually she was. She nervously reached for a crutch and, in her haste, knocked them both onto the tile floor with a loud crash.

  “Who’s there?” shouted Taylor in a tough voice.

  “It’s just me,” called DJ.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Taylor as she pushed open the door.

  “Taking a shower.”

  “But why? Why are you upstairs?”

  “I went to physical therapy.” DJ tried to reach the closest crutch, but couldn’t. “I learned stairs.”

  Taylor picked up the crutches and handed them to her. “Well, you could give a person some warning instead of sneaking around.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. I was just recovering from taking a shower. It was pretty exhausting.”

  Taylor pressed her lips together like she was thinking. Maybe she was going to confess to taking the pills. “Do you need any help?”

  DJ considered this. “Actually, some assistance would be nice.” So Taylor helped DJ put on the ribcage girdle then got her some clean clothes and finally helped her into her walking boot cast.

  “You really are a mess, aren’t you?” said Taylor as DJ finally got to her feet, arranging her crutches beneath her arms.

  “Yeah, thanks for caring.” DJ slowly made her way out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, pausing to use her crutch to sweep her bed clear of the things that Taylor had tossed there. “I see you made yourself at home while I was gone.”

  “You don’t have to be so grumpy.” Taylor picked up a few more things and tossed them to her own bed. “I’m the one who should be mad at you.”

  “Why?” demanded DJ as she sat down on her bed with a loud sigh.

  “For your accusation this morning.”

  DJ studied Taylor. “You still claim that you didn’t take them?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  DJ kept looking at Taylor, and for some reason she thought maybe it really was the truth; but she wasn’t convinced. “If it’s the truth, you probably wouldn’t refuse to let me see your purse.” DJ nodded to Taylor’s tan Chloe bag on the bed, the one she’d obviously taken to school today.

  Taylor shrugged, reached for the bag, and tossed it onto DJ’s bed. “Knock yourself out.” Then she went into the bathroom.

  DJ carefully searched the entire bag. And while she found cigarettes, condoms, fake ID, and several other condemning pieces of evidence against Taylor, there was no sign of the pills. DJ even checked an Advil bottle, but it contained only some red pills that looked like Advil. She zipped the bag and tossed it back to Taylor’s bed.

  “No luck?” asked Taylor as she emerged from the bathroom with an Elle magazine.

  DJ looked carefully at her roommate. “You really didn’t take them?”

  “You know what, DJ,” said Taylor as she sat on the window seat, neatly crossing one leg over the other. “If I really had taken those pills, and if you’d been that ticked at me for taking them, I probably would’ve just confessed and given them back to you. I mean, seriously, it’s not really worth the fuss. If I needed Vicodin that badly, I would’ve figured out a better way to get it.”

  DJ nodded. Somehow she thought that was probably the truth.

  “Besides, I think I know who took them.” Without another word, Taylor picked up her bag and left the room. Well, whatever. DJ wasn’t even sure she cared at the moment. Mostly she just wanted to take a pain pill and forget about all of it.

  10

  WORN OUT FROM PHYSICAL THERAPY, moving back upstairs, taking that shower, plus being groggy from her pain meds, DJ opted to remain upstairs. She’d already called downstairs to tell Clara not to set a place for her. Now she just needed to find a way to have dinner brought to her room. DJ knew Clara wouldn’t want to do it herself since she hated going upstairs for anything, but maybe she’d send Inez up. Then, just when DJ was about to give up, Casey and Rhiannon showed up. Not only did they bring her food, but their own meals as well.

  “We thought we’d join you,” Rhiannon said cheerfully.

  “Unless you don’t want us,” said Casey.

  “No, that’d be great.”

  “And if it’s not too much trouble,” said Rhiannon. “We’ll set dinner up in our room.”

  “So you can have a break from Taylor.” Casey made her favorite witchlike impression, complete with claws and a snarly smile.

  “Give us a few minutes to set it up,” said Rhiannon.

  Ten minutes later, DJ made it to their room and saw that they had a little card table put between the two beds, complete with a table cloth and fresh flowers — one of the bouquets DJ got from the hospital — all set for her.

  “It’s like a party,” said DJ happily.

  “Here,” said Rhiannon. “You can sit on my bed.”

  Casey scooted the table aside to make room for DJ to sit down.

  “Wow.” DJ set her crutches aside and rubbed her hands together as she looked at the meal.

  Then Rhiannon bowed her head and asked a blessing.

  “This was really sweet of you guys.” DJ picked up her fork. “Thanks so much for thinking of me.”

  “To be honest, it was partially selfish. At least on my part,” admitted Casey.

  “Why’s that?”

  Rhiannon giggled. “I’m surprised Taylor didn’t mention it already.”

  “What?”

  “Homecoming queen nominations were made today.” Casey rolled her eyes. “Both Eliza and Taylor made the final cut.”

  “And Kriti is going to be Eliza’s campaign manager,” added Rhiannon.

  “And all those two can talk about is their big plan to get Eliza the crown — and money is NO object.”

  “Obviously.” DJ hoped that Eliza didn’t plan to actually buy her votes.

  “Eliza already called Daddy Warbucks Wilton and asked him to give her a campaign budget.” Casey just shook her head.

  “And Kriti called her dad to see about getting some kind of giveaway things manufactured,” added Rhiannon.

  “So, this is serious then?”

  “Oh, yeah. And guess who the third nominee was?” Casey waited.

  “Who?”

  “Madison Dormont.”

  DJ made a face. “Oh, this should be interesting, considering that Madison hates all of us.”

  “She’s already started saying how it’s
wrong for a newcomer to win the crown — going on about how she was born in Crescent Cove, like fifty-something generations ago,” said Casey.

  “And, don’t forget,” added Rhiannon. “Madison’s mother was homecoming queen back in the seventies.”

  “This should be interesting,” said DJ. “But didn’t you say that Taylor was nominated too?”

  “Yes,” said Rhiannon with wide eyes. “Can you believe it?”

  DJ considered this. “Sort of.”

  “I mean, of course, she’s a beautiful girl,” said Rhiannon. “No one can dispute that, but I sort of thought, I mean, after that whole MySpace thing . . . I thought it was kind of a shocker.”

  “It has to have been the guys,” said Casey in a lowered voice, like she thought Taylor could’ve been outside the door eavesdropping. “I think they got together in the locker room and plotted the whole thing out. I seriously think she’s getting the skanky vote.”

  “Do you think she’ll win?” asked DJ.

  “Who knows?” said Rhiannon.

  “It’s possible that the legitimate vote will be split between Eliza and Madison, and everyone else could vote for Taylor.”

  “Is Taylor taking this seriously? Do you think she’ll actually campaign?”

  Casey shrugged. “Who can tell with her?”

  “Well, she didn’t even mention it to me this afternoon,” said DJ.

  “You know Taylor.” Rhiannon sighed. “She’ll act like she doesn’t care no matter which way it goes.”

  “Maybe,” said Casey. “But I think she’ll enjoy the attention in the meantime.”

  “How long is the meantime?”

  “Two weeks,” said Rhiannon.

  “And I’ll bet the meantime will get pretty mean ,” said Casey. And, even though the pun was lame, they all laughed.

  “Are you going to school tomorrow?” asked Rhiannon as she and Casey stacked the empty plates together.

  “I’m not sure,” said DJ. “I mean, I want to get back — back to normal or whatever — but everything still hurts a lot. And I’m still taking the pain meds, which knock me out. It’s not like I want to wake up in geometry with drool on my chin.”

  “Well, I picked up your homework and assignments,” said Rhiannon. She went for her backpack.

  “And I brought home your books,” added Casey.

  “Thanks, you guys.” Then DJ made a face as they put a stack of papers and books on the bed next to her. “I guess.”

  “It’s probably not as bad as it looks,” said Rhiannon.

  DJ sighed. “It’s all kind of overwhelming. I mean, you finally feel like life is falling into some kind of normal, and then wham-bam, you get the rug ripped out from under you.”

  “That reminds me,” said Rhiannon. “Josh Trundle, you know the editor of the school paper, well, he wanted to get a photo of you. He’s doing an article about you for this week’s paper.”

  DJ put the back of her hand against her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “Oh, the price of celebrity.”

  The girls laughed. Then Rhiannon said, “So, is it okay if he comes by after school tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be here with bells on,” said DJ.

  “Bells and casts and braces.” Casey pointed to DJ’s new walking cast. “How’s that thing working for you? Can you walk yet?”

  “Not yet. But my physical therapist said I can start putting gentle pressure on it, just to help the bone to mend.”

  “You should take up swimming,” said Casey. “That’s what I did when I sprained my ankle back in middle school. It really helped.”

  DJ considered this. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Want me to check into it for you?” she offered.

  “Sure. Thanks.” DJ smiled at her friends. “What would I do without you guys?”

  “Be tortured by Taylor,” said Casey. “Seriously, I’m feeling guilty that Rhiannon and I kind of stuck you with her.”

  Rhiannon nodded. “Yes. Is it pretty horrible?”

  DJ considered mentioning her missing pain meds, but then remembered how adamantly Taylor had denied being to blame. Also, she remembered Taylor’s claim to know who the culprit was. “No,” said DJ. “It’s not that bad. In fact, Taylor is actually fairly nice to me.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” said Casey.

  “Well, she should be nice to you,” said Rhiannon.

  “Yeah.” Casey nodded with enthusiasm. “You’re still a hero at school. All the volleyball team was asking about you, which reminds me.” Casey grabbed her backpack again and pulled out a big envelope. “They all signed this for you.”

  DJ opened the envelope to find a get-well card as well as a gift certificate for $100 to Dan’s Sporting Goods Shop. “Wow, that was nice of them.”

  “And Coach Jones said to tell you hey and that she hopes you’re feeling better.”

  “I wish I could watch the game tomorrow,” said DJ.

  “Maybe you can.” Casey shook her head in a dismal way. “Man, I just wish you could play. I can’t believe the pressure on me now that the star player is gone.”

  “That’s not true,” said DJ. “You’re just as good as I am.”

  “Maybe in your current condition.”

  DJ laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Seriously, the pressure is on. It’s like the whole team expects me to hold everything together; and the harder I try, the worse it gets.”

  “You can only do what you can do,” said DJ.

  “I guess . . .” Casey sighed.

  “So, do you really want to go to the game, DJ?” asked Rhiannon.

  “It might be fun to see — ”

  “To see us lose?” Casey frowned.

  Rhiannon laughed and turned to DJ. “I could drive you,” she said. “I mean, if you trust me with your car. I do have my license, you know.”

  “Okay,” said DJ. “It’s a date.”

  “I’m sure the team will be glad to see you,” said Casey.

  “I hate to end the party,” said Rhiannon. “But I do have homework.”

  “Looks like I do too,” said DJ, glancing at the stack of assignments. “Although I suppose I can work on it during the day tomorrow.”

  Casey and Rhiannon helped DJ get her stuff back to her room. “Looks like the witch is in,” whispered Casey, nodding to the closed bathroom where DJ felt pretty certain she could smell cigarette smoke slipping underneath.

  “Hang in there,” said Rhiannon.

  DJ had just gotten settled on her bed when someone knocked on the door. “The door’s open,” she called.

  “It’s just little ol’ us,” said Eliza in that perky southern voice. “We missed you at dinner.” Her brow creased with concern. “How’re you doing today?”

  “Just kind of worn out,” said DJ. “I had physical therapy and then got myself upstairs and — ”

  “And we totally understand.” Eliza grinned. “So, did you hear the big news?”

  DJ glanced over to the still-closed bathroom door, as in hint-hint, someone might be listening. “Yeah. Congratulations. I hear you’ve been nominated for homecoming queen.”

  “And her chances of winning are really good,” said Kriti with enthusiasm. “I heard lots of kids saying they had voted for her and that they like her lots better than Madison Dormont.”

  “Madison is a pain,” admitted DJ.

  “So . . .” Eliza smiled brightly. “We’re hoping you’ll want to help with the campaign.”

  DJ tried not to look too shocked. “Help you?”

  “Well, we thought since you’re kind of bedridden, well, maybe you’d have time to work on buttons or — ”

  “Fine thing,” said Taylor as she emerged from the bathroom trailed by a cloud of blue smoke. “I barely step out of my room, and there’s an invasion.”

  “Were you smoking in there?” demanded Kriti.

  Taylor ignored the question, turning her attention to Eliza.

  “I can’t believe your nerve.”

&n
bsp; “My nerve?” Eliza blinked innocently.

  “Coming in here when my back is turned and trying to get my roommate to work on your campaign? That’s takes some nerve.”

  “She might be your roommate, a matter she had little choice in, but she’s my friend.” Eliza placed her hand on DJ’s shoulder in a possessive way.

  Taylor scowled at DJ. “Are you going to put up with this?”

  DJ didn’t know what to say.

  “It was my idea,” said Kriti quickly, directing her words to DJ. “I thought we could make buttons with Eliza’s photo on them. And I thought maybe you could help too — ”

  “You guys think that just because DJ is laid up with a broken leg and cracked ribs she has nothing better to do than make your stupid campaign buttons?” demanded Taylor as she opened the door and nodded toward it. “I think that’s selfish and rude. And, in defense of my roommate, I am asking you to leave.”

  DJ was too stunned to say anything.

  “Do you want us to leave, DJ?” asked Eliza.

  DJ took in a slow breath. “Well, I am kind of tired tonight, Eliza. Can we discuss this another time?”

  Eliza patted DJ’s head. “Of course, sweetie, you get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

  “And I forgot to mention that we’ll give away chocolate with the buttons,” said Kriti just before Taylor shut the door, practically in her face.

  “That was a little rude,” said DJ.

  “I’ll say,” said Taylor, like DJ hadn’t been talking about her.

  “I meant you — shoving them out like that.”

  “Did you like being solicited to help make Eliza photo buttons?”

  DJ smirked. “Well, not so much.”

  Taylor pointed at her. “See. I knew it. You and I are more alike than you are willing to admit.”

  DJ just rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “So did you figure out who really took your Vicodin yet?”

  DJ shrugged. “No.”

  “And you’re not the least bit curious?”