New Girl

by Joan B. Flood

  It was all getting to me, the note and the texts, which I didn’t think would stop any time soon, hiding things from my friends, feeling all mixed up about Jane, and trying to figure out who I could trust. Between one thing and another, having friends was much more complicated than I had ever imagined.

  All I did was hang out with the track team, Jane, and Corinne. I couldn’t imagine who I had pissed off enough to send me nasty notes. This wasn’t about my dad. It was about me. Someone hated me. Maybe someone I didn’t even know. Maybe it was someone I hung out with, but try as I might I couldn’t imagine that. Neither could I talk to Corinne or Jane about the note or texts. I felt ashamed that someone was targeting me. No way I wanted to talk about it. I wanted it to stop.

  That very day the weird Mick fellow sat kitty-corner from me in the cafeteria. Corinne and I were in our favorite spot in the corner. I got that creepy feeling you get when someone was staring, and I looked up to see Mick. His elbow was on the table and he had a soggy sandwich with a bite out of it in his hand. He just stared at me, his eyebrows scrunched together. I looked away, and when I glanced back ages later he was still like that, the same one bite out of the bread, his eyes fixed on me. Corinne and I were done eating so I suggested we go. As we left, he pushed by us and crashed into my right shoulder.

  “Hey, careful, Mick,” Corinne said to him.

  He just grunted and kept on going.

  “What’s up with him?”

  “Oh, he’s mad at the world right now. Ever since his dad got laid off.”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I remembered him staring at me before in the cafeteria. Then I recalled Corinne and Jane talking about him in the park the first time we met there.

  “He’s been staring at me in the cafeteria sometimes. Just sits there and stares. It creeps me out.”

  Corinne watched Mick as he stomped his way down the corridor, his shirt too tight across his shoulders. He swung his arms high as he went and people moved aside to give him space.

  “You should tell him to quit it,” Corinne said. “He was okay until his dad got laid off a couple of months ago. I guess things are tough for him at home.”

  At least his dad’s layoff had nothing to do with me or my dad. We didn’t even get here until well after. Still, he creeped me out. I wondered if he sent the messages, but why would he? Then again, why would anyone?

  The bell for class clanged, and the corridor emptied. Corinne linked arms with me, and we followed the others into our class.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kendra’s sleek ponytail hit me in the face every time she turned her head with that little flick of hers. I moved to the opposite side of the table and grabbed a bunch of designs that had been submitted by some of the students. Lucia, Kendra’s friend, was in the chair next to mine, and the three of us sorted through the pile. We were in the newspaper office helping Corinne. The paper had run a competition to design a flyer as a fundraiser. About seventy entries had come in, and we were doing a first weed-out.

  Every time Kendra held out a design for us to consider, I wanted to say no to it, but knew I was just like that out of loyalty to Corinne. I was relieved when Corinne herself joined us.

  “How’s it going here?” She draped her arm across my shoulder.

  “Not bad. We’re down to five,” I told her, holding out the five we had actually agreed on.

  She flipped through them, lingered over one or two. Kendra pointed out her favorite and the four of us looked at it. Corinne put the pile back on the table without a word.

  “Let’s take a break,” she called out. “Wanna go get a tea or something?” she asked me.

  The day had cooled and the air was fresh and sweet after being cooped up all day. We settled ourselves in our usual spot by the fence. The yard was quiet, just a couple of girls shooting hoops. Everyone else had gone home.

  Corinne leaned forward to look at me.

  “You’re quiet these days, something wrong?”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Well, I’m here for you. You know that? Right?”

  “Sure, I know. I know that.” My voice cracked. I held onto her hand and smiled as best I could. “I’m just tired. You know. And I’m confused, I guess.”

  I wanted to throw myself on her, tell her all about the note and the texts. But I just couldn’t do it.

  “It bothers me that Jane doesn’t come to meets. That she goes off and won’t say where she’s going or what she’s doing, and that everything always has to be on her terms. She tells me what to do all the time, but never listens to my side of it, and that she thinks she knows everything and I know nothing.”

  In the middle of my rant, Corinne grabbed my arm so that I faced her. When I finished she kept her eyes on mine and said nothing.

  “I don’t know what to do. I just had to get it out.”

  My face was red hot, and I was out of breath like I’d just done a sprint.

  “Good thing, too. I knew something was wrong.”

  “Well, what should I do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to make Jane tell me why she won’t come to meets, at least. I go to weird movies with her just because she likes them. I want to know why, if she does think I’m such a baby, she hangs around with me anyway.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  I picked up a stone and skittered it across the yard.

  “No. She wouldn’t tell me if I did. The way she never answers when I ask about those bruises she’s got.”

  “Bruises? What bruises?” Her eyes bugged out.

  “Have you never seen them? She has bruises. On her arms and legs and once on her side. How can you not have seen them?”

  “Why would I? I don’t see her naked, or almost naked. How bad are they?”

  “I don’t know. I see them…black and purple and yellow. She never, ever answers when I ask, just, you know, deflects.”

  “Deflects? What do you mean deflects?”

  “Oh, you know, in a nice way. Kisses me and stuff.”

  Corinne giggled. I blushed again. Then we both giggled.

  “This is serious, Corinne.” I took a few breaths to stop the giggles from turning into tears. “I don’t know what to do. I want her to talk to me, not just treat me like a baby. She answers nothing, distracts me, and then we’re having fun. Then it seems stupid or the wrong time to bring it up again, and when she does talk to me, it’s to tell me what to do. It’s driving me crazy.”

  I knew this was an exaggeration. We did talk about stuff, but not this stuff. Not the really important stuff.

  “The trouble is, Caro, you want her to like you too much. You’re letting her run over you.”

  “I can’t make her talk to me.”

  “No, but you don’t have to hang around if you’re not happy, either.”

  “Corinne, I care about her. I worry someone is hurting her.”

  A couple of cars passed by the edge of the yard. One honked and a guy, his head hanging out the window, yelled at us, asking if we wanted a lift. Corinne gave him the finger.

  “Well, it’s possible someone is hurting her, I guess. Knowing Jane I can’t see her putting up with that long.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Not much if she won’t talk to you. I guess you just have to be there for her. But you have to take care of yourself too. Don’t forget that, Caro.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I didn’t know exactly what it was I did want to hear. I had been respecting Jane’s silence, and it wasn’t helping either of us. One thing I was getting tired of was Jane’s know-it-all attitude and her secrecy.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Just sit there. Just wait.”

  Jane pointed to a spot by the base of a tree. Obediently, I sat. She pulled a small plastic tablecloth out of her saddlebag and spread it on the grass. Then she hauled out various containers, some plates, a thermos, and two bottles of beer. She opened the containers a
nd the scent of pasta caught on the breeze, overriding the smell of meadowsweet growing in the field near us. She spread out the feast, complete with crusty rolls and strawberry pie.

  I had psyched myself up all day to talk to her about the things that bothered me, and now it felt churlish to say anything. Maybe she had some weird radar that told her when I was fed up, or maybe Corinne was right and I wanted her to like me too much. She had gone to the trouble of making this great picnic for us, and it just didn’t seem like the right time for a confrontation. That was the trouble. It never did.

  We scarfed down the pasta and pie. Stuffed, we lay among the dirty plates and crumbs and groaned.

  “Ready for a beer?” Jane said.

  “Not yet.”

  I sighed, opened the button on my jeans, and watched the leaves twist in the breeze above our heads. Jane snuggled in close to me, her head on my shoulder, the fruity smell of her shampoo in my nose.

  “Bliss, isn’t it?”

  I wrapped my arm more tightly around her shoulder. She shifted, burrowed closer.

  The evening cooled off and the growl of a tractor carried across from a nearby farm. I got out my cell and took a photo of us.

  “We sure do look blissed out,” I said when I had inspected the shot.

  “We are.”

  Jane sounded sleepy, and soon her breathing was quiet and even. The shadows were long now. I swatted at the tickle of bug’s feet marching across my leg. A second later, there it was again. I raised my leg up and saw about six or seven ants on my calf. I brushed them off and eased Jane off my shoulder. The plastic was covered with them, busily filing across the remains of the food like a small black moving stream, one behind the other, as they picked up some remains and carried them back off the way they’d come.

  “Oh, gross!”

  “What, what’s gross?” Jane’s voice was slow and sleepy.

  “A million ants have invaded. It’s gross. I’m gonna clear up.”

  Jane was on her feet in a second. Her hands swiped her arms and legs as she danced about trying to dislodge ants. By the time Jane was free of the bugs, I had shaken them off most of the containers and packed away the food. Jane began to load them into her saddlebags. She reached across her bike for the last one and there on the soft inside of her arm, I saw a deep yellow bruise as big as a fist.

  “God, where did you get that?”

  The words were out of my mouth before I knew it.

  She tugged the short sleeve of her shirt down as far as possible, and took the container from me, stuffed it into a plastic bag, and then buried it in her saddlebag.

  “Jane, that bruise, what happened?”

  This time, I was going to get an answer.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “How can I not? It looks ugly. Sore. What’s going on? You are covered in bruises every other week or so. I’m worried about you.”

  “Then don’t be. I’m fine, really.”

  She grabbed the plastic tablecloth and shook it like a dog would shake a rat.

  “Jane, I’m just concerned. I care about you. Talk to me, please.”

  She paused for a moment and the tablecloth drifted down to rest against her legs. Then she snapped it out again, the crack loud as gunshot.

  “It’s fine. I’m okay. No need to make a fuss. Nothing’s going on that concerns you, or that you need to be concerned about.”

  She folded the plastic into a small, tight knot and stuffed it into her bag.

  “Let’s go, come on.” She closed the saddlebags and stood astride her bike, waiting.

  “If it’s nothing, why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “Because it’s my business, and I don’t feel like talking about it. That’s why.”

  “You never feel like talking about anything. That’s the problem.”

  “What anything? You’re always asking questions that are none of your business.”

  “Well, if we are girlfriends, then some things are my business. Like if you’re hurt and why. Like why you get on my case for being curious about people you don’t like. Like how you—”

  “Oh my God, don’t tell me this is going to be about Tommy Mack? Or Bart? Or some other loser guy? You’re just too much, Carly. Grow up.”

  She cycled off across the grass, out onto the road, and left me to get home on my own.

  That night I got another text.

  pervs like u r not wanted here

  I turned the phone off and put it in the drawer by the bed. I laid down and the stars blurred as I cried. I was so miserable, I just laid there until my pillow grew damp with tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jane was in her place at the back of English class the next day. Beyond a quick glance when I went into the room, I avoided catching her eye and went straight to a seat near the front. Miss Sapperton droned on, and even when Tommy Mack raised some point that was probably a good one, it went in one ear and out the other. As soon as class was done, I went to the washroom.

  During History, Jane passed me a note: Truce?

  I crumpled it up and tossed it on the floor.

  The yard was almost deserted; just a group of three guys shooting hoops. A light mist kept almost everyone inside at lunchtime. All the edgy energy running around in my body was driving me nuts, so I did a light jog around the yard to get a grip. As I came around by the main doors to the building for the third time, I saw Tommy Mack huddled under the eaves, watching the basketball game. Seems he too was spending more time alone these days.

  He made a quick salute as I passed. As I circled back the fourth time, I stopped and pulled an orange out of my lunch bag that swung from my wrist.

  “Hey, Tommy, want to share?”

  I waved the orange in front of his face. He laughed and nodded. We moved over to a bench under shelter at the far side of the building. I peeled back the skin, broke open the orange, and handed him half.

  “Haven’t seen much of you lately,” he said.

  “Been busy. Haven’t seen much of you either.”

  He frowned at the orange as he eased one segment away with his thumb. It broke in two and juice squirted out like a mini-fountain.

  We munched on orange for a few minutes and watched the mist fall. The three basketball players gave up and moved inside.

  “Still want to make the track team? Maybe next season?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, it would be nice, can’t quite see it happening though.”

  “I could help you.”

  He dropped the rest of his orange and bent to pick it up. Then he looked at me, a long look. Just when I began to feel a bit of a fool for offering, he grinned.

  “Really? Think I could do it?”

  “Well, one thing, you can’t if you don’t try harder. That’s it.”

  “Done,” he said and held out his hand for us to shake on it. I felt better going back to class. If Jane wasn’t talking to me, I could at least get to know Tommy, which was what I wanted to do.

  Later I sent Jane a text:

  Truce!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tommy didn’t want to train at the school, so we trucked across town to a community track, which suited me just fine. Like him, the last thing I wanted was to work out together in full view of everyone, including Jane. I still hadn’t told her. Two could play the none-of-your-business game. And even though I had given up my study of Tommy around the yard, I had plenty of time to observe him during sports. Nothing I saw, not one thing, made me think he was mean or bad or that he was full of himself.

  We got to the track about an hour and a half before sunset. A couple of people were lying out on the grass in the middle, and an old man threw a ball for a retriever as ancient as he. We started with a long slow run, mixed with a few sprints to find out what Tommy could do. By the time we were done it was almost dark. The streetlights were on and made tiny globes out of the sweat on Tommy’s face. We sat on the grass to catch our breaths. He puffed heavily for a few minute
s.

  “Geez, you’re tough,” he said.

  He wiped his face and head with a hand towel he took out of his bag, and sprawled flat out on the grass. He was cool with the plan I outlined to get him moving faster, which involved some long runs a few times a week to get his weight down and conditioning up, mixed in with speed work.

  “You might lighten up on the weight training too,” I told him, poking the muscles in his upper arm. “Too much bulk to drag around.”

  “Can’t do that just now.” He shrugged.

  “Why not? You going for wrestling or something?”

  “Not likely,” he said, “but life is a bit complicated at the moment. The gym stays.”

  We walked partway home as dusk settled in. I wanted to ask him about the complicated stuff in his life, but didn’t. We ran out of training talk and the silence was easy, companionable. Before we parted ways at the bus stop, Tommy, in his formal way, said thank you.

  “You’re welcome.” I could think of nothing else to say.

  The last few times I’d seen him he was quieter than usual, no rounds and chats with this one or that. I wanted to ask what was up. Before I could think of how to put it, his bus came. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and shook hands. Then he hopped onto the bus and was gone.

  The next day we said “hi” when he came into class, but didn’t get a chance to speak to each other because I spent lunch hour with Jane. Tommy avoided talking to Jane as much as she did him. I didn’t say a word about the training plan. Not even when she asked me what I did the day before. I guessed I was learning when to keep my business to myself, pretty much like everyone else I knew in Astoria.

  Chapter Thirty

  Over the next few weeks, I got five more messages on my phone before I gave up and turned it off altogether. Which meant I missed calls from everyone. Unless Corinne or Jane were around, I spent all my breaks in the cafeteria reading or doing homework. Kendra and Lucia came by to talk a few times, but they never stayed long. Once Mick was there and I caught him staring at me, but when I stared back, he got up and left.