“What do you know?” Mia cried. “You know nothing about me.” She shoved Haley again. Haley shoved back, and Mia pushed her until she tumbled to the ground. The two of them rolled around on the hall floor, wrestling, pulling each other’s hair and screaming.
“Go Mia! Go Mia!” some of the kids chanted.
“Take her top off!” a boy shouted.
“What’s going on here?” a gym teacher demanded, prying the two girls apart. Haley leaned against the wall, panting and spitting hair out of her mouth.
“Ho-la, Mia,” Haley said, purposely mispronouncing the Spanish word. “Emphasis on the ho.”
“What happened?” the gym teacher asked.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Haley said, getting to her feet. “She started it.”
Both girls were sent directly to Principal Crum’s office, and by the time he heard the eyewitness accounts and saw Mia’s cuts and scrapes for himself, Haley was suspended from school. No one who knew the circumstances was surprised.
What was Haley thinking, talking trash? Since when does she stoop to the level of catfights and gossip? She should have known better than to spread rumors—especially Coco-fueled ones. Mia was badly bruised from the spat, but the only person Haley permanently hurt was herself. With a suspension on her record, Haley’s impeccable transcript was tarnished. Forever.
Hang your head and go back to Chapter 1.
HIGH ROAD
Spreading rumors is almost never a good idea.
The following day, Haley decided to go home straight after school. With all the trash talk floating around, she thought it best to steer clear and tune out. Haley was never one to spread rumors, so why should she start now?
“Hey Mom, I’ll be up in my room,” Haley called into the kitchen as she arrived home, then immediately darted upstairs. She definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone this afternoon, and that included her mother, who, thanks to Annie Armstrong’s mom, now seemed to know a little too much about the comings and goings of Hillsdale residents.
As Haley closed the bedroom door behind her, she sighed with relief. It was good to finally be alone, safe from idle chatter. She logged on to her computer and started to write a blog entry, which she entitled “The High Road Less Taken.”
Sometimes girls annoy me. You don’t hear boys talking behind each other’s backs and saying rude things about each other. How lame would it be if Spencer Eton was telling everyone at school that Drew Napolitano had gotten a little chubby this football season and was now purging in the bathroom to get rid of the extra weight?
What is it with rumors? Who starts them anyway? And why do we feel the need to pass them along? For the sake of other people’s entertainment? My Gram Polly would say “any friend who talks behind your back isn’t your friend in the first place,” and I have to admit, I think she’s right.
Satisfied that she had successfully removed herself from Coco’s vicious gossip cycle, at least for one day, Haley hit Post. She wasn’t changing the world, but at least she wasn’t making it any worse.
Good for Haley. Her refusal to be a pawn in Coco’s gossip game probably saved her a heap of trouble. The question is, what should Haley do next? If you think she’s strong enough to handle any temptations Coco and her crowd can dish out and still have a good time, send her to "CASINO NIGHT". If you think she should keep her distance from Coco’s campaigning, forget about the rumor mill and focus on leading the Hillsdale soccer team to victory, go to "SHOW SOME MERCY".
When you’re feeling tempted, making the right choice takes serious discipline. Like turning-down-hot-chocolate-chip-cookies-right-out-of-the-oven discipline.
PRINCIPAL CRUM’S LITANY
If you don’t want your house robbed, don’t go handing out keys.
“I hear whispers in these hallowed halls about deviant initiation rituals on our sports teams,” Principal Crum barked as Haley slipped into the auditorium. “There’s talk of unmentionable behavior being recorded and broadcast on the World Wide Inter-web. And no, I’m not talking about the ‘Inside Hillsdale’ videocast.” Haley took a seat in the back and looked around for familiar faces. The entire school was there, or mostly there.
She spotted Irene, Shaun and Devon across the aisle. They all three were covered in paint—Haley assumed they’d been working on the sets for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shaun was taking his role as Bottom quite seriously, and had taken to wearing his costume to school. Today, mercifully, he had set his donkey head on the seat next to him. Shaun still whispered hee-haw every time Principal Crum said something funny, however, causing Devon and Irene to burst into muffled giggles.
Spencer was apparently cutting the assembly, but Coco, Whitney, Cecily and Mia sat together in a middle row, with Sebastian just behind them whispering into Mia’s ear. A few rows to the left, Annie and Hannah sat looking dazed and trying hard to focus on the speech. Dave was with them—his head lolling on his neck as if he couldn’t quite hold it up. His foot kept nervously tap-tap-tapping on the floor. The college-prep pressure seemed to be getting to all three of them, which was a shame, Haley thought. If anyone had a great shot at getting into a good school, it should have been the brain-trust trio of Annie, Dave and Hannah.
The kids sitting around them were all watching Dave intently, as if expecting him to do or say something funny. He didn’t disappoint. Every once in a while he quietly barked, or pointed at the ceiling with a terrified expression, as if he’d just spotted a team of ninjas attacking from the roof.
Poor Dave, Haley thought. He’d taken his podcast, “Inside Hillsdale,” to video, where the whole world could see how beyond-stressed-out he was. The camera recorded—and sent out into cyberspace—his every nutty utterance. The students of Hillsdale thought the show was a riot and passed clips of the video to all their friends. Dave Metzger had only enhanced his cult following, even if he was now a laughingstock.
“I’m taking these rumors seriously,” Principal Crum said, “and because of this threat we are now on Burnt Sienna Alert.”
A scattering of kids snickered at this.
“I am warning you all now,” Principal Crum said. “The sports team captains will be held personally responsible for any mistreatment of their fellow students. If I hear a breath of a word about hazing or injuries, I will come after you and you will be sorry.”
Haley heard rowdy thumps and rumbles overhead and craned her neck to look up into the balcony, which had been taken over by jocks of both sexes. Sasha and most of her soccer teammates were up there, along with Reese and the boys’ team, and Drew and the football players. No sign of Johnny Lane. Haley hadn’t seen him with Sasha much lately, but even if he deigned to attend an assembly like this, he probably wouldn’t be up in the jock section, even though he was an ace basketball player.
Haley was surprised Reese had time to spare for an assembly. He’d been so busy studying the past few weeks Haley had hardly seen him, even though he lived right next door.
“We have had problems like this in the past,” Principal Crum continued. “And rest assured, those who perpetrated the incidents were severely punished. Only a few years ago the tennis team set a flock of ducks loose in the cafeteria.” There was scattered giggling from the students. “It was no laughing matter,” Principal Crum said sternly. “Not only was it a serious health-code violation, but do you know I found duck feathers in my lunch for weeks afterward?”
Shaun yelled out a loud “quack!” to the amusement of everyone but Principal Crum.
“Even worse than that, ten years ago the football team locked a cow in my office overnight,” he said. “You can imagine the kind of mess I found when I came in to work the next morning.”
There was a collective “Mooooo,” from the stands. Everyone laughed.
“It’s not funny, people!” Principal Crum shouted. “That year the entire football team was suspended. The captain lost his scholarship to Rutgers. And when the volleyball team filled the pool with red dye and a slashed-up dummy floati
ng on its stomach, trust me, they too paid the price.”
The jock crowd began stomping their feet, and Haley realized the principal’s speech was backfiring. Instead of discouraging initiation rituals, he was actually inspiring teams to try to outdo the pranks of their predecessors. Crum was giving them ideas.
How clueless can Principal Crum get? Now the jocks are raging to initiate their newbies, and in their minds, thanks to the principal’s harangue, it’s a school tradition—practically their duty to uphold.
What does Haley think of all this? Does she want to become part of Hillsdale’s illustrious history of hazing? Or is she more interested in other activities? Which group does Haley identify with these days? If you want to send Haley to hang with the jocks, go to "NEW JERSEY WATER TORTURE". If you think she’d like to see what Coco, Whitney and Mia have been up to, and how Mrs. Eton’s gubernatorial campaign is going, place your bets on "CASINO NIGHT". If you think Haley is more into the drama scene these days, go to "COME ON, IRENE". Finally, if you want to give Haley’s love life a jolt, go to "FIGHTING WORDS".
With colleges looking closely at junior year transcripts, Haley’s decisions are becoming ever more important—from the friends she chooses to the extracurricular activities she participates in and the time she spends studying. Will she blow her chances and have a little fun? Or will she chicken out and play it safe?
INITIATION
Make sure you know what you’re getting into before you sign up for the initiation.
“I think Leah and Marissa would be disappointed if we didn’t initiate them,” Haley said, referring to the two freshman players who had just made the girls’ varsity soccer team. Haley and Sasha, cocaptains, had gotten together at Drip after school to come up with an initiation scheme.
“You’re right,” Sasha said. “It will make them feel like part of the group. Plus, the other girls are dying to do it.”
“Please. They’re just glad they’re not the ones being hazed,” Haley said.
“To be honest, so am I,” Sasha said.
“Maybe we should make them be guests on Dave Metzger’s videocast,” Haley said. “Have you seen the clips of that thing?”
Supernerd Dave Metzger’s “Inside Hillsdale” podcast had recently gone video, which was maybe not the best idea Dave had ever come up with. The junior-year-transcript pressure cooker was known to fell even the hardiest straight-A student. Dave was no exception. He was already so obsessed with applying to college next year, the unraveling had begun. During the videocast, Dave seemed to be hallucinating, sweating and spewing strange non sequiturs. Weirdly, the show was even more popular than his faceless podcast had been—the whole school thought his sweaty meltdown was hilarious.
“Someone forwarded me the footage,” Sasha said. “So bizarre. I don’t think we should let our frosh anywhere near that train wreck.”
“You’re probably right,” Haley said. “There’s a big pep rally coming up next week. We could make them wear their bras and panties on the outside of their clothes during the whole rally. Maybe even streak across the stage.”
“I don’t know,” Sasha said. “Embarrass them in front of the whole school like that? It’s also way too risky. Principal Crum could turn up. Maybe we should keep the initiation just between us. What about a banana-eating contest? Make them race to see which one can eat the most bananas in the fastest time. We did that at a slumber party at Coco’s in eighth grade. It was pretty funny.”
Haley sighed. Do something Sasha’d done in eighth grade? It just didn’t seem cool enough. “Maybe we should get the boys involved—make the initiation coed. We are, after all, all Hillsdale soccer players, boys and girls. We could use more spirit on both sides.”
“But whatever we do to Leah and Marissa will be that much more embarrassing if boys are there,” Sasha said.
“And that’s a bad thing?” Haley asked mischievously.
Are Haley and Sasha really going through with this coed initiation? It could be fun, unless you’re a member of the freshman class. Maybe it really will shore up team spirit, but what if something goes wrong? Adding boys into the mix could stir up a dangerous cocktail. Haley’s decision is up to you.
If you want the girls’ team to join the boys for a coed initiation ritual, go to "NEW JERSEY WATER TORTURE". If you think Haley’s having second thoughts and wants to take it easy on the younger girls, turn to "SHOW SOME MERCY". Finally, if you think Haley should forget initiation and check in with Annie and Alex at debate team practice, go to "FIGHTING WORDS".
It is always wise to trust your instincts. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.
RUN LINES WITH DEVON
The dramas of real life have a way of spilling over onto the stage.
“Let’s do that scene again,” Devon said. He and Haley were sitting behind the cluttered counter at Jack’s Vintage Clothing one afternoon, studying their copies of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The store where Devon worked was always pretty quiet in the afternoons, so he had invited Haley there to rehearse with him.
“Really?” Haley asked. “I thought we had it down last time. Shouldn’t we move on?”
“Sure, you know the lines,” Devon said. “But do you feel them?”
“Uh-oh, you’re starting to sound like Shaun,” Haley said.
They’d practiced this particular scene together over and over, and Haley was beginning to feel tired. She was amazed that Devon wanted to keep going—but kind of pleased by it too. Reading the part of Demetrius seemed to loosen him up a little, and it wasn’t exactly a chore to do love scenes with him.
“You know what Xavier says,” Devon said. “You have to become Helena. You have to feel what she feels. Let’s do it one more time.”
“Okay,” Haley said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t even need to look at her script anymore. “You start.”
Devon read Demetrius’s lines: “‘If thou follow me, do not believe / But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.’”
“‘Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,’” Haley/Helena said.
“‘You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be woo’d and were not made to woo.
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.’”
Haley, whose character, Helena, loved Demetrius to the point of obsession, gazed lovingly and longingly at Devon’s face. In character, of course. She stared into Devon’s eyes and was startled to find him gazing at her with affection, too.
“Uh, Demetrius, hello? You don’t love Helena yet. At this point you still think she’s a pest.”
“Oh.” Devon looked away. “Right. Helena’s really bonkers over me. I can’t stand her. Got it.”
“If you ask me, she takes things a little too far,” Haley added. “But at least she gets her man in the end.”
“Let’s do that part,” Devon said suddenly. “That last bit at the end of act four, scene one. We’ll start at ‘And all the faith…’”
Haley checked her script and waited for her cue. Devon declaimed,
“‘And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia:
But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.’”
“‘And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,’” Haley said. “‘Mine own, and not mine own.’”
“‘It seems to me,’” Devon said, “‘That yet we sleep, we dream.’”
His eyes were shining, and Haley could see that he was totally caught up in the moment when Demetrius realizes at last that he loves his Helena. Devo
n leaned close to her and pressed his lips on hers in a tender kiss.
Haley kissed him back. This was how Helena would kiss her Demetrius—all out, with passion. Soon they were making out like two wild forest nymphs. They were so into each other Haley didn’t hear the door open or someone walking up to the counter.
“Ew!” Whitney cried, staring in horror at their on the clock make-out session. “Get a room!”
Haley and Devon broke apart, panting and red-faced. Devon straightened his tweed vest and restored his pageboy hat to his head. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Not if it involves cramming your tongue down my throat,” Whitney whined. “But yes, I do need something. Do you think I’d set foot in this moth hatchery otherwise?”
“Well, what is it?” Devon asked.
“I need to see some seventeenth-century corsets, quickly,” Whitney said. “Where do you keep them?”
“Real seventeenth-century corsets?” Devon said. “We don’t carry that kind of vintage.”
“What do you need them for?” Haley asked. “Is this for the play? You are doing our costumes, right?”
“Actually, this is for a dress I’m making for Mrs. Eton’s Casino Night fund-raiser,” Whitney said. “A corset would make this perfect body even more perfecter.”
“We do have a Madonna-inspired corset on aisle three,” Devon said. “It’s not from the seventeenth century, obviously, but it might work for your dress.”
“Thank you.” Whitney stomped over to aisle three to find the corset. “Try to keep your clothes on until I leave, please,” she called out to them.
Haley blushed. Devon pulled her close and whispered, “That was fun.”
“We got a little carried away there. Maybe we were too much in character.”
“I can’t tell the difference between me and Demetrius anymore,” Devon admitted. “I almost called you Helena the other day, and we weren’t even rehearsing.”
What If... All the Rumors Were True Page 15
