Notes from a Former Virgin

by Emma Chastain

  She was studying my face. “You’ll have to make them scared too. If you’re going to do it right.”

  “No, I won’t,” I said. “I’ll change the whole thing.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “She deserves to lose you anyway,” I said. “Don’t forget what she did to you last year.”

  She looked off to the right.

  “Let me think about it,” she said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Meet me in the clearing before homeroom.”

  “Cloak and dagger,” she said, but she wasn’t making fun of me. She was respectful. I liked it.

  Tuesday, April 3

  She was waiting for me when I got there. The air was cool and the sun felt thin. When she saw me, she put out her cigarette on the bottom of her shoe.

  “I choose you,” she said. “But I have some conditions.”

  “Let’s hear them,” I said.

  “You have to let me redo your wardrobe. You look—I won’t say it. I have to help you.”

  “Fine.”

  “You have to keep up with your hair.”

  “My hair doesn’t matter!”

  “Trust me when I say it matters. If you don’t understand that, I’m not doing this.”

  “Ugh, fine.”

  “And you have to consolidate your group. What’s it going to be—me, Tris, Elliott, Grady?”

  I nodded. “And Hannah,” I said.

  “She’s so religious,” Noelle said.

  “Hannah’s nonnegotiable,” I said.

  “All right.” She looked into the distance, thinking. “Elliott’s cute. Grady obviously has status because he’s gone out with Reese and you. Hannah at least got that good haircut last year.” She looked back at me. “You have to get everyone together as a group more. None of this hanging out in pairs, or whatever you do. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “OK.”

  “And you have to do something to show everyone it’s you now, not Reese. Tomorrow. No more procrastinating.”

  My stomach dropped, but I didn’t want to disappoint her. “All right.”

  “I’m sure I haven’t thought of everything, and even if I have, other stuff will come up. When it does, you have to listen to my advice. I’m way better at this than you are. You have raw talent, but you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “God, Noelle. Fine.”

  She put out her hand, and we shook on it. She smiled for the first time since I’d arrived. “Reese is going to have kittens,” she said.

  Wednesday, April 4

  As soon as I woke up this morning, I knew what to do. I got ready as fast as I could and texted my friends, “Meet me on the top step ASAP.” I arrived half an hour before school started. Grady came soon after, then the rest of them.

  “We’re sitting here?” Hannah said.

  “We are,” I said. Noelle gave me a small nod of approval. More and more kids were arriving, and we were getting lots of fascinated looks. It didn’t take a sociologist to understand what I was trying to do. Everyone who saw us got it.

  We talked about nothing and laughed in a way I hope came across as genuine and not nervous. No one mentioned the thing we were all clearly waiting for.

  When Reese arrived and saw us, she immediately got out her phone, like she’d heard a notification. When Harper showed up a minute later, Reese whispered something to her, and then they both headed up the stairs. My heart was pounding. It was a few minutes before homeroom, and kids were streaming toward the open doors all around us. Even the ones who weren’t staring at us were aware of what was going on. What would Reese do? Would she physically drag me off of her seat? Would she say something cruel? I tried to look amused and calm, in the hopes of tricking myself into actually feeling amused and calm.

  “Hey, guys! Such a pretty morning, right?” Reese cooed. She didn’t even slow down.

  “Gorge,” I said, deadpan.

  This is so much easier than I thought it would be.

  Thursday, April 5

  Back to the clearing with Noelle before school. It was too early for anyone else to be there, and the trees seemed to lean in close, listening to us conspire.

  “How good was the steps thing?” I said.

  “Really good,” she said. “I’m proud. I don’t think she’ll try to reclaim her spot today, but let’s hurry up and get there just in case.”

  I wanted to revel in my victory more, but she was rushing on to her next agenda item: getting the squad together at my mom’s condo after school tomorrow. I told her if she said “squad” again, I was calling the whole thing off. “We couldn’t be whiter,” I said. “Stop appropriating.”

  “But—”

  “ ‘Squad’ is so dated anyway,” I said. That one got her.

  “What, then?”

  “Nothing! These people are my friends. They don’t need a group name.”

  She was Googling. “What about ‘crew’? The crew. That’s not bad. Hang on, let me read you the synonyms.”

  “I’m not doing it like Reese did,” I said. “Do you know how much the rest of the school hates the squad and its stupid name?”

  “That’s the point!” Noelle said, but maybe she saw on my face that I wouldn’t change my mind, because she said, “Fine. No group name for now. We’ll come back to that one.”

  “No, we won’t,” I said.

  “How’s tomorrow for the hangout?” she said. “Where’s your phone? You have to text everyone.”

  Is this what Noelle did with Reese? She’s like a puppeteer!

  After I’d sent the message, we headed to school. On our way, we bumped into Jacqueline.

  “Hey, Jacqueline,” I said. “By the way, I talked to Hannah about the Zach thing. He was actually apologizing to her for something that happened a while back. I’m sure you remember.”

  “Can I tell people?” she asked, with her eyes wide.

  “It’s not a secret or anything,” I said, meaning, Yes. Shout it from the rooftops.

  “We gotta go,” Noelle said.

  We rushed to the entrance. The top step was empty.

  Friday, April 6

  Noelle ran our hangout like it was a meeting. She let everyone prowl around my mom’s condo for a while—only Grady had been there before—and then went into the living room, clapped her hands, and said, “Guys. Guys!” Everyone came in and sat down.

  “You probably heard I broke up with Reese,” she said. “Because Chloe’s the new Reese.”

  Everyone looked at me. I tried to appear self-deprecating, even though inside I felt like Caligula.

  “First thing,” said Noelle. “I spoke to Mr. Grayson, and he’s agreed to move our lockers so we’re all together.”

  “What?” Hannah looked shocked. If there’s one thing she hates so much she doesn’t even want to believe it exists, it’s favoritism. I could tell she was appalled that the vice principal would grant Noelle’s request just because Noelle’s beautiful and popular.

  “We’re all going to move up by Chloe,” Noelle said. “It will give us more time to talk and hang out between classes.”

  “But what about the kids whose lockers we’re taking over?” Elliott said.

  “Second item,” Noelle said. “Let’s start thinking about prom. Limo rental, hashtag, date for Hannah.”

  “Hannah should go with Zach!” Tris said. “Reese would expire!”

  “I don’t think so,” Hannah said.

  Noelle gave Tris an approving nod. “Third item. We need to make a statement. What would you all think about dying your hair pink for Monday?”

  “No, Noelle,” I said. “You can’t ask them to do that.”

  “Why not?” Elliott sounded excited. “We should!”

  “I can’t,” Hannah said. “My mom would be so upset.”

  “I’m in kind of a live-and-let-live situation with my dad,” Tris said. “Pink hair would send him into a coma.”

  “Why pink?” Hannah said. “I mean, I
know it’s . . .” She gestured to my hair. “But isn’t it Reese’s color? It reminds me of girly girls. Mean girls.”

  “It’s ironic,” I said. “It’s, like, making fun of pink being girly.”

  Hannah looked skeptical.

  “She overthinks it,” Noelle said, brushing off my color explications. “And if you associate pink with meanness, that’s a good thing.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said.

  “We could do something else pink,” Elliott said. “Even if it’s not our hair.”

  “Pink Vans!” Tris said.

  “Not bad,” Noelle said, “if the shade works. Anything magenta-ish is obviously a nonstarter.” She was already on her phone. “Actually, these are perfect.” She flipped the screen out to show us. “Tell me your sizes and you can pay me back.”

  Elliott said, “ ‘On Wednesdays we wear pink.’ ”

  Noelle gasped, which I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her do before. “YES! Elliott, you’re a genius. Pink Van Wednesdays.”

  Well, it’s happening. I’m turning into Regina George. (Not really. I’ll never get mean. I can do this and still be myself.)

  Saturday, April 7

  Noelle slept over last night. We stayed up late, so I assumed we’d sleep in, but I woke at 8 a.m. to find Noelle standing in front of my open closet with her hands on her hips.

  “All of this has to go,” she said. “What’s your dad’s credit card number?”

  I groaned and put my pillow over my face. Noelle came to the bed and shook my shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” I said through the pillow.

  “You don’t know? How do you buy stuff?”

  “He gives me some money in September to get clothes for the year.”

  “Do you have any cash left over?”

  “Not really. I have a little saved from my summer job.”

  Noelle sighed. “We’ll have to go thrifting. Which is fine, actually. Get up! Let’s eat and leave.”

  “Noelle?” I said.

  “Yeah?” She’d walked over to my dresser and was looking into a drawer with horror, like it was full of ancient tuna salad.

  “Why are you doing all this for me?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a challenge. I want to see if I can pull it off.” She took a pale-blue sweater from my drawer and waved it at me. “Which I can’t do if you’re dressed in stuff like this.” I was half insulted, half excited to see what she’d pick out for me.

  Sunday, April 8

  Noelle spent most of my money on black jeans and two pairs of black leather booties, one with perforations, the other with straps and gold buckles. At the thrift store she drove us to after we went to the mall, she bought clothes for a dollar a pound: about 30 tops, mostly gray or black or white, mostly oversized. Some old band T-shirts. Some boxy button-downs.

  “We’re doing generic cool girl,” she said. “It’s a good contrast with Reese, since she goes for feminine and sexy. Avoid bright colors and anything tight, except on your legs. No more sneakers except on Wednesdays, OK? And this is your new backpack.” She showed me a beat-up black leather bag. “That green nylon thing with your initials on it you can toss.”

  “I’m not tossing it! My dad gave me that!”

  “Keep it for your camping trips, or whatever. Next weekend we’re touching up your color, and I want to give you heavier bangs. Also, you need to start wearing eyeliner more. It’s fine if it’s messy. I’ll show you at my house.”

  It’s very restful, being bossed around.

  When I got back to my mom’s, I washed everything, then tried it on. I looked so good, I started panicking about Noelle. What would I do if she left me and went back to Reese? I need her! To reassure myself, I texted her a bunch of selfies, and she texted back the fire emoji, which calmed me down.

  Monday, April 9

  I felt self-conscious showing up at school today. It’s always potentially catastrophic to debut a new look, which is why people do it in September, when everyone else is doing it too. But I didn’t get any weird looks, and a bunch of different girls said, “I like your outfit.”

  Tuesday, April 10

  Noelle passed out handwritten notes from Mr. Grayson excusing us all from homeroom so we could move into our new lockers first thing this morning. Grayson doesn’t have a crush on her, does he? I can’t understand why else he’d bend over backward to give her what she wants.

  Everyone was talking loudly and laughing as they put their stuff away. Noelle took tons of pictures. “One for Insta, one for Snapchat . . . ,” she said as she clicked.

  “Take a picture of Tristan’s huge locker mirror,” Elliott said.

  “Excuse me for wanting to see my entire face at once,” Tris said.

  A few teachers poked their heads out to see what we were doing, but no one told us to be quiet. Instead, they smiled at us indulgently. I think somehow they know that we’ve come to power. Even when it’s working in my favor, it’s disappointing and gross the way teachers respect our hierarchies.

  Zach stopped by to say hi to Hannah between classes. I took a picture of them smiling at each other and posted it with the musical notes emoji (for Zach), the haloed smiley (for Hannah), and a green heart (since I feel green is the most neutral, least romantic color among the heart options). Hannah gave me her blessing before I hit share, of course.

  “Jacqueline said no one believes Reese anymore,” I said. “About the stalking thing.”

  “Thank you for fixing that,” she said.

  “What’s going on with you and Zach, anyway?” I asked. The hallways were emptying out, but neither of us had to walk far to get to our next class.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Really.”

  “Have you forgiven him for cheating on you?”

  She thought. “I guess so.”

  “Hannah! No!”

  She shifted her books in her arms. “Forgiveness isn’t the same thing as masochism. I would never get back together with him.”

  “Do you think he wants to?”

  “I think maybe.” She smiled a little. “This might be terrible, but it feels good, seeing him so guilty and apologetic.”

  “That couldn’t be less terrible,” I said. “Enjoy it, Han!” I hope she does. I hope she revels in that guilt like it’s a bubble bath.

  Wednesday, April 11

  We missed homeroom again because it took so long to get a perfect shot of our feet in their Vans. We thought the grass would be a good background, but it looked patchy and sad, so we moved to the sidewalk, which looked boring. Finally we settled on the wooden floor of the gazebo. Then we had to figure out how to choreograph the shot. I thought it would be fine if we all stuck one foot in; Noelle said that had been done to death. Next there was a lot of debate about the filter.

  “We’re really late,” Hannah said at one point.

  “Yeah,” everyone else said vaguely. I couldn’t imagine what homeroom announcement might be more important than figuring out the correct hashtags.

  Thursday, April 12

  I decided we needed a more prominent spot in the cafeteria. Reese and her friends sit all the way at the back, so we need to sit all the way in the front. Yes, the front has traditionally been the nerdiest section of the cafeteria, but that only made it more appealing. If you can take a dork zone and make it cool, you have real moves. So at the beginning of the lunch period, I marched up to the AP kids’ table and said hi.

  “Hi,” they all said back, looking up at me.

  “Is there any way I could borrow your table? I hate to ask, but it’s . . .” I’d planned to keep talking, but I didn’t need to. They were all standing and packing up their lunches. One of them said, “Of course!” Another said, “No big deal!” Was I imagining that they looked slightly scared?

  My friends and I sat down. The entire cafeteria was watching us carefully, even the people who were pretending not to.

  Noelle tried to start a conversation, but I couldn’t focus.

  “Was that me
an?” I said. “That was mean, right? I’m regretting it already.”

  “Well . . . ,” Hannah started.

  “No,” said Noelle. “Look—the AP kids are right there.” She gestured toward a table in the middle of the room that they were sharing with some marching band members. It didn’t look like there was enough room for everyone. Some people seemed to be sitting two to a chair.

  “They look squashed,” I said.

  “They’re fine,” Noelle said firmly.

  Eventually we managed to discuss normal stuff (a meme, a show, who’d slept the least the night before), but it was as if we were all acting in a play together, reciting lines someone else had written for us.

  Friday, April 13

  I was planning to leave the AP kids alone and revert to our old spot, but when we got to the cafeteria, the front table was empty. One day of us sitting there, and the whole school has ceded the territory. I felt guilty, and to drown out my own guilt, I started laughing and talking loudly. My friends got loud with me. I sat on Grady’s lap. Elliott sat on Tristan’s lap. Noelle yelled “Mark! Mark!” across the room until Mark got up from Reese’s table and came over to ours. “Sit with us,” she said, and he shrugged and said, “Sure.”

  “What do you think of him?” Noelle asked as we threw out our trash after we’d finished eating.

  “Cute but boring,” I said. “Why?”

  “We might need to pull one or two more people into our group,” she said.

  “Not him,” I said.

  I thought she might make me explain myself, but she only nodded and said, “It’s your decision.”

  “Why do we need anyone else?” I said. “We’re fine like we are. Just the six of us.”

  “The Six!” she said. “That’s our name.”

  I rolled my eyes, but just because I knew she expected me to. As soon as she said the words, I knew she’d struck gold. The Six. It sounds so good.