Now That You Mention It: A Novel

by Kristan Higgins

  The words were faded and smudged, but still mostly legible.

  ECP: 12 Great Works

  ECP stood for extra-credit project.

  Now I remembered. Mr. Abernathy, his eyes twinkling from beneath his bushy eyebrows, had told us on the first day of the school year, back when the board was still clean, that if anyone had extra time, he or she could do a twenty-five-page essay on any common theme running through twelve great works of literature. In the twenty-nine years Mr. Abernathy had been teaching at Scupper Island High School, no one had ever taken it on, he told us. Not even Dr. Perez. Nevertheless, Mr. A had passed out a list of a hundred suggested titles, all in addition to the ones we already had to read, from Homer’s Odyssey to We Were the Mulvaneys by Joyce Carol Oates. It was due at the end of the semester.

  Ten days from now.

  Even I hadn’t had the time to tackle that project. Not with all my other advanced classes and AP workload.

  Twelve books, a twenty-five-page paper during finals. That was freakin’ impossible.

  My heart began a sickly roll in my chest. Already, I knew I would do the project, and I’d get an A, goddamn it. And Luke would not do the project.

  I wasn’t going to let him.

  If he hadn’t called me Troll...if he hadn’t told me the scholarship was his...if he hadn’t made me fall that day...if I hadn’t once loved him with all the fervor that every fat, ugly, ignored girl has nurtured...

  I poked my head out the door. School was over, and the halls were empty. From far away, I heard Mr. Paul, the nice janitor, start to whistle. The sharp smell of disinfectant was barely detectable. He was washing floors over by the gym, then. I was alone.

  ECP: 12 Great Works

  My heart felt huge and sick, heaving now.

  Carefully, I pressed my arm against the already-fuzzy words. Just a little smear—didn’t want to be too obvious. I erased the round part of the P, subtly added a line to the C. I faded out the 1 of the 12... Just a little rub. Smeared the k, picked up a stub of chalk and added a squiggle, then topped the whole thing off by tapping the eraser so a shower of chalk dust antiqued my efforts.

  Just in case.

  I stepped back and took a look. I was pretty sure the extra-credit assignment had been there long enough to be virtually invisible—it had been to me—but if someone looked now, it looked more like EGI 2 Great Words.

  Just in case.

  Was I proud? No. But the hate burned white-hot in my chest, outweighing morality.

  It was possible that Luke had already done this project, but I was almost positive he hadn’t. He was a braggart, and if he’d whipped off a twenty-five-page paper and read a dozen extra books on top of our already-heavy syllabus, he would’ve said something.

  Also, I imagined Mr. Abernathy would’ve given me the heads-up that my competitor had done the assignment. A gentle, “Don’t forget that extra-credit project, Nora. Luke finished his.” He was like that, Mr. A.

  But he would not be able to give Luke the heads-up, because I was going to hand mine in at the last possible second. It was due the last day of the semester—December 23, and December 23 was the day Mr. Abernathy was going to get it.

  Because I was organized, I still had the list of books in my English folder. I went to the Scupper Island Library and did something I’d never done before—I stole six books, stuffing them into my backpack. If I checked them out, it might get back to Luke. His girlfriend’s mother worked at the library. Everyone wanted Luke to get the Perez Scholarship. No one was pulling for me.

  I didn’t know if the project would make a difference, but I had to try.

  For the next ten days, I worked like a fiend. I read and studied constantly, when I was fixing a snack, eating, sitting on the toilet. I only allowed myself two hours of consecutive sleep a night, sleeping on the couch, claiming I was sick and didn’t want to give my germs to Lily. If Lily was home in the afternoon, I slipped down to the cellar to read those damn books. Truth was, I was afraid she might rat me out.

  I read, I scribbled notes, I studied for exams, I stole six more books from the library. I read some more. Wrote. Studied. Read. Wrote. Crammed.

  “You okay?” my mother asked. “You look tired.”

  “Exams,” I mumbled. “I’m fine.”

  She knew something else was going on, but she didn’t press it. She never did. I didn’t have time to wish she were the type of mother to sit down and say, “What’s wrong, honey?” I was on a mission.

  By the time my last exam rolled around, I was a wreck, literally shaking with fatigue. Five minutes before the end of the last day of the term, I handed my paper in to Mr. Abernathy.

  He looked at me in surprise. “My heavens, Nora,” he said. “I can’t believe it. You’re the first student ever to complete this.”

  “And, boy, am I tired,” I said. And I leaned against the blackboard and sighed dramatically, smearing what I had done in case Mr. A took a closer look. “Phew.”

  It was sleeting out, the sky heavy and dark as I walked home. Tears slid out my eyes, and I didn’t bother wiping them away. I went straight upstairs, crawled into my bed and slept for seventeen hours straight.

  Christmas came. Lily was civil for an hour as we exchanged gifts but didn’t stay for dinner. Mom and I ate alone, then watched TV. I slept most of break, watched TV, stayed in my pajamas.

  I didn’t know how I did on my exams, because the teachers hadn’t posted the grades, per Dr. Perez’s request. I didn’t know how much extra credit I’d get from Mr. Abernathy, or if it would make a difference. All I knew was that I tried, and there was an ugly, hard part of me that hadn’t existed before.

  Technically, I hadn’t cheated. Morally, I knew I had. I told myself I didn’t care, that it would be worth it, that Luke Fletcher didn’t deserve every single bright and shiny thing in the world.

  On January 4, the first day of the new term. Dr. Pedro Perez came to school, and the entire student body and faculty gathered in the gym at nine o’clock sharp. I sat in the back, closest to the door, because if Luke won, I knew I would cry.

  Xiaowen sat next to me, and I broke out in an icy sweat.

  Xiaowen Liu. Holy crap on a cracker, what about Xiaowen? I didn’t even know what her GPA was! Forget my AP classes, forget Luke... What about Xiaowen? I hadn’t even thought about her. It had been Luke and me for three years, and now this transfer student would nab our town’s most distinguished honor.

  “Hi, Nora,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice choked.

  “Good luck,” she said.

  “You, too.”

  Luke walked past with his posse, his arm around Dara, his hand in her back pocket. I looked at my feet, not wanting to see his triumphant, perfect face. I heard the words lard ass and a ripple of ugly laughter.

  My heart was beating so hard I could barely hear as the principal kissed up to Dr. Perez, thanked him, praised him, all but leg-humped him as the billionaire genius sat in a folding chair next to the podium, looking at the floor, a faint smile on his face.

  Finally, finally, he stood up. “Hello, kids,” he said. “It’s my honor to present the Perez Scholarship to the Scupper Island student with the highest GPA. This year’s winner, with a GPA of 4.153, is Nora Stuart.”

  There was a collective gasp. For a second, I didn’t know why.

  It was because Luke hadn’t won.

  And neither had Xiaowen.

  I had.

  There was some applause. Not much, probably just the teachers.

  “Nora, come on up here,” said the principal, a touch of impatience in her voice. Another Luke fan. She went to every soccer match.

  “Congratulations,” Xiaowen said. I looked at her, my eyes feeling stretched open too wide. “Go,” she added.

  On wobbling, watery legs, I went up to where Dr. Perez waited. �
��Well done,” he said, shaking my damp hand.

  “Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you, Dr. Perez. I...I... Thank you.” Tears streamed down my face, and Dr. Perez chuckled.

  If only Daddy could see this.

  It had been six and a half years since I had seen him or talked to him, yet that was my first thought.

  My eyes found Lily in the crowd. She was staring at me, listening as Janelle Schilling whispered in her ear.

  There might’ve been a trace of a smile on her face.

  Suddenly, Luke stood up and strode out of the gym, fury in every step. Dara, his girlfriend, followed, then Tate Ellister, who also played soccer, then the rest of the team. They said nothing. Amy got up and left, too.

  “Well, now,” the principal said. “Uh, congratulations, Nora. Hard work pays off. You juniors and underclassmen, you listen up, all right? Next year, this could be you.”

  With that, our assembly was over. “If you need anything, let me know,” Dr. Perez said, handing me his card. “Good luck.”

  A man of few words. “Dr. Perez,” I said as he turned away. “You...you’ve changed my life.” I paused. “And it needed changing.”

  He looked at me for a long second. “Make the most of it.” Then he winked, let the principal glad-hand him again and left me trembling, elated...and alone.

  My sister made her way up to me. “Congrats,” she said. She looked me up and down, but there was some amusement in her eyes. “You look like you’re about to pee yourself.”

  “I feel like it, too,” I said. My voice was still weird, legs still shaking.

  “So I guess you’ll be in Boston next year.”

  “Yeah.” I would be. I’d be sitting on that perfect lawn. I’d have friends.

  I wouldn’t be the Troll. Maybe. In fact, maybe...maybe I could be someone else entirely.

  “Gotta run,” Lily said.

  “Bye,” I said belatedly, but she was already halfway across the gym.

  A few teachers congratulated me in the hall. In homeroom—Luke was conspicuously absent—our report cards were passed out.

  I’d gotten perfect grades in everything except gym, which was the expected A-minus.

  Perfect exam scores.

  Mr. Abernathy, who was also our homeroom teacher, handed me my twenty-five-page paper. There were a few notes in the margins, but at the end, he’d written I’m proud of you, Nora. And the grade—an A.

  “Nora Stuart, please, come to the office,” said the school secretary’s voice over the PA. “Nora Stuart, to the office, please.”

  I had a phone call—the admissions officer from Tufts, congratulating me, telling me they looked forward to seeing me at Accepted Students Day and how well all of the Perez Scholars had done. They had no doubt I would do the same.

  It was really happening.

  At lunch, rather than risk the cafeteria, where supervision was thin, I power walked down to the hotel, where my mother worked. “Mom, I got it!” I said, bursting into her office, sweat trickling down my back, thighs stinging from chafing the whole way there.

  “Got what, Nora?” She looked up expectantly from her desk.

  My God. She didn’t know, because I hadn’t told her. This whole semester, and I had never told her I was ranked second in our class.

  “The Perez Scholarship. I’m going to Tufts.” I started to cry. “They called me. Tufts. I got in, and Dr. Perez is paying for everything.”

  Her mouth opened, then shut. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I have the highest GPA at my school.”

  “Oh, Nora!” She got up and gave me an awkward hug. “Good girl. You’ve always been a hard worker. I’m proud of you.” She paused. “Well. You’d best get back to school, hadn’t you?”

  So that was it for celebration. It didn’t matter. I was leaving this hellish little place, just like my father. And maybe, once off island, he’d find me. Okay, that was far-fetched, but anything was possible today.

  I walked back to school, hoping this wasn’t a dream. I would make the most of it. I’d become a doctor. I’d reinvent myself, lose weight, have fun, maybe even have a boyfriend. I’d sit in the front of every class and raise my hand and not be shy about being smart. I’d introduce myself to my professors on the first day, and—

  “Think you’re hot shit, huh?”

  It was Luke, waiting for me with his gang in front of the school. The cold wind gusted, cutting through my puffy winter coat.

  “Hi,” I said, my eyes darting around.

  “Hi,” he mocked in a whiny voice. “Don’t say hi to me, fat ass. That scholarship was mine.”

  “Apparently not.” Seemed my confidence had been given a boost.

  “You cheated, didn’t you? I don’t know how, but you cheated.”

  “I studied, Luke.” My cheeks started to burn.

  “I studied, Luke,” echoed Joey Behring.

  “You know what?” Luke said, a snarl twisting his face. “You might have won that scholarship, but you’re never gonna be anything other than a troll. You know that, don’t you, Nora?”

  “Leave her alone,” someone said. It was Sullivan.

  “Fuck you,” Luke said. He came closer to me and poked me in the chest, hard, even through the down. “You’re a troll. You’re fat, you’re ugly, and everyone hates you. Even your sister.”

  I flinched. Alcohol made his breath sweet and sickly. I tried to go around him, but he wouldn’t let me pass.

  “You scared? You should be.”

  “Luke, knock it off.” Sully’s voice was harder now.

  Luke failed to comply. “You better watch out, Nora. Something shitty might happen to you. You might get fucked-up. Bad things happen when guys get pissed off. I think you know what I’m saying, right?”

  I did. Rape. Assault.

  Worse.

  “Luke, get out of here,” Sullivan said, coming up to his brother. “She won fair and square. Leave her alone.”

  “Where the fuck is your loyalty?”

  “What’s going on here?” Mr. Abernathy, thank God, was coming in from the parking lot. “Get inside, kids.”

  “Fuck you,” Luke said.

  “And you’re suspended,” Mr. A said. “Nora, you okay? Come on, dear.”

  “Watch yourself, Nora,” Luke called. “You never know what could happen.”

  Mr. Abernathy stopped dead. “I’m attributing this to your deep disappointment over not winning the scholarship, Luke. Threaten her again, and I’ll make sure you’re arrested.”

  And then, horribly, Luke began to cry. “She cheated. I don’t know how, but she did. You did, Nora. You know it.”

  Guilt twisted and flailed inside me, but it didn’t get past the hardness. I’d won. Luke could’ve done that assignment, and he chose not to. So fuck him. Let him cry. I’d cried plenty, and no one cared about that.

  Sully went to his brother, put an arm around his shoulders. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take the rest of the day off, go over to Portland, okay?” He looked back at us. “Mr. A, could you tell the office?”

  “Sure thing, Sullivan.”

  Sully’s eyes stopped on me for a second, and I thought he was going to say something.

  He didn’t. Mr. Abernathy walked me inside, clucking about the passions of teenagers.

  * * *

  Sullivan and Luke Fletcher did go to Portland that afternoon. They stayed at a hotel and Luke used a fake ID to rent a car.

  At three in the morning, driving home from an all-night diner, the boys were in a car accident. It was a weird echo of my English class oral presentation, but in this version, the real version, Luke was the driver. He’d also snorted coke and had an alcohol level twice the legal limit. The boys had been doing more than eighty when they went off the road, bounced along the ditch for fifty yards and then hit a t
ree.

  Luke was fine.

  Sullivan sustained a head injury. He was in a coma. We were asked to pray for him.

  This was all told to us two days after the Perez Scholarship was announced, the second assembly of the week. Amy Beckman wasn’t in school. The Cheetos were sobbing. One fainted. The soccer team was crying, as were several teachers.

  Sully was well liked.

  I thought about how he’d stuck up for me. Took his brother out of town for me.

  I stared at the floor, feeling the hot, sharp hatred of the student body slicing into me like arrows. This was my fault, they thought. Of course, they did. I stole the scholarship.

  I sort of had.

  Never had I felt so alone. As the assembly ended, someone spit into my hair. A boy kicked my chair. I got an elbow to the head.

  Rather than going back to class, I went outside, not even bothering with my coat or backpack. Walked the four miles home in the raw, damp weather, the wind making my ears burn with pain, pushing tears back into my hair.

  The second I walked through the door, I picked up the phone and called Tufts. I had enough credits to graduate; would it be okay with them if I started classes this semester?

  It was. The Scupper High guidance counselor, who’d ignored me for three and a half years, said she thought it was a good idea when I called her, too. She contacted Dr. Perez, and that was that.

  And so, without a lot of fanfare, I left Scupper Island three weeks later, taking the Boston ferry with a suitcase and two boxes of my belongings. My mother and I stopped at a department store and bought supplies—that white comforter, the throw pillows, the whole lot, putting it all on the credit card Perez scholars were given.

  In the dorm room, my mom made my bed and said the right things as students came by to say hello. She watched as I hung up a poster of Casablanca, which I’d never seen, her arms folded.

  “All set, then, Nora?” she asked.

  “I guess so.” I looked at her, my sturdy mother, the streaks of gray in her hair. Now it would just be her and Lily. For a second, I felt a flash of sadness.

  “Well. See you this summer,” she said. “Work hard.” She kissed me goodbye, a quick peck on the cheek, and I watched from my dorm-room window as she got into her battered car.