League of Strays

by Schulman, L. B.

  ON MONDAY, I HUNG AROUND THE LOCKERS, WAITING AS Nora exchanged the books in her backpack. I wanted to make things right between us, and I needed to talk to someone about what had happened to Tiffany.

  A few stragglers chatted in front of the drama room, but they didn’t seem to notice us. I moved in. “Can we talk?”

  She shut her locker and spun the combination lock. “I told you I don’t care about you and Kade, Charlotte.”

  I shook my head. “Not about that. I need to—”

  “Shh,” she reprimanded. “Not here.”

  “Then where?” I whispered.

  Zoe marched up behind us, startling me. “Glenwood Library. After school. I have to tell you guys something. It’s important.”

  Nora looked at me and shrugged. We took off for class, each of us heading in a different direction.

  • • •

  A teenager with dreadlocks sat across from me, rapping her knuckles on the table as she listened to heavy metal music leaking from her iPod. Her chemistry book was upside down. I almost laughed, until I remembered my own plummeting grade-point average.

  Nora and Zoe were late. I figured I might as well get something done, so I looked up Shakespeare’s love sonnets on the computer. When I reached into my pocket for a scrap of paper, my fingers hit something. I pulled out the chain necklace with the wedding ring. I’d forgotten about the “gift” Kade had given me.

  In the light of day, I could tell it was too big to be a woman’s ring. Inside, the inscription read FRANCES FOREVER, 1985. My throat tightened. Someone, somewhere, was desperate to find this. I shoved it back into my pocket.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nora. She waved me over to a table by the young-adult book section.

  “You want to tell me what’s so urgent that you’d violate the ‘no talking during school’ rule?” she asked in place of a greeting.

  “I need to talk to someone,” I said.

  I told her everything as quickly as I could. How I wished we could all be friends without needing a deeper purpose. How my doubts had grown as our plans escalated to new heights of … of what? Cruelty? What other word described them? She winced when I said it, giving me hope that she felt the same way. I ended my speech with, “You know I like you guys. My life’s been great since we met and all, but—”

  “What’s your point, Charlotte?”

  I was already regretting my decision to confide in her. “I thought I’d be happier when my turn came … I mean, Tiffany’s turn.”

  “She sure deserved it.” Hadn’t she said the same thing about Dave Harper?

  “Right,” I agreed. “But …”

  “But?”

  “But it doesn’t feel good to mess up someone’s life. Even if it’s someone I don’t like.”

  “I hate to disagree with you, Charlotte, but the League’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”

  “You’re right,” I backtracked. “Me, too, but—”

  “This is the first time in my life that I can be myself. The first time I’ve been able to let go without worrying that people will hate me for it.” She crooked a finger around her purse strap and drew it close. “Kade knows what he’s doing. We won’t get into trouble, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She studied me for a moment, then said, “Play along, Charlotte. The year’s almost over. Soon it will be time for the Prom with the Dead, and then we’ll all move on to bigger and better things, and you can forget all about us.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Hey, girls, fancy meeting you here!” Zoe threw herself into a chair and propped a boot up on the table.

  “What’s going on?” Nora asked.

  Zoe made a face at Nora’s abruptness and reached into her camouflage jacket. She pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table. Nora and I looked down at a printout of a news article from a three-year-old Sunday edition of the Highlander Times. The headline stared me in the eye: “Girl, 14, Assaulted After School.”

  “Read it,” Zoe urged.

  “Quiet!” hissed a lady behind us. Nora tossed a curdling look over her shoulder.

  A girl had taken a shortcut through the woods on her way home from school when someone wearing a ski mask attacked her. She was in the hospital at the time the article went to print but would probably be released in a day or two. Neither her family nor the police could get her to talk.

  “What’s this mean?” I asked.

  “The unnamed juvenile was Jenny Carson, otherwise known as Kade’s love interest from his old school,” Zoe explained.

  “The one who plastered his poems everywhere?” I asked.

  She flipped the top page over. A second article was stapled behind it. “There’s more.”

  I tapped the papers with my finger, delaying. My eyes wandered across the room to a couple making out by a magazine rack and the librarian shooting them a stern look from behind the information desk. Eventually, my eyes pulled back to the page, unable to fight it.

  Two days had gone by. The police had a suspect, an unidentified student from the victim’s school.

  “This is ridiculous,” Nora sputtered. “Kade wouldn’t assault anyone.”

  I had the uncomfortable feeling that I should have been the one to defend him first.

  Zoe pulled her boot off the table and scooted her chair closer. “My cousin knows someone at Jackson High, who knew Kade at his old school. When I told her that I was hanging out with him, she asked around. She said Kade has a reputation for causing trouble. Apparently, Jenny Carson moved away right after the assault. My cousin’s friend says she lives in New York City now.” She looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. Really I am. But I thought you should know.”

  I pulled myself together to look at the big picture. “Even if it is him, she dropped the charges. That proves he’s innocent, right?” But my father hadn’t raised me to be naive about the law. People dropped charges for all kinds of reasons, from embarrassment to fear.

  “He probably is,” Zoe agreed, but I could see in her eyes that she was saying it for my benefit.

  Nora pushed back her chair and stood up. “Well, thanks, Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Maybe you could track Jenny down,” Zoe suggested. “Just ask her what happened.”

  I gave a single nod but didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I had the guts to do that, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t know if I did.

  “That’s stupid,” Nora said. “Either you trust Kade or you don’t.”

  “Right,” I said. If Kade had anything to do with this, he would have told us. He would have told me.

  Zoe returned the paper to her pocket. “OK, just sharing.”

  I tried to smile. “Thanks.”

  “See you guys later,” Nora said.

  I closed my eyes and listened to Nora’s high-heeled sandals tap their way down the marble stairs.

  KADE WANTED TO TALK ABOUT TIFFANY AND HOW GREAT the plan went, but his landlord was painting the bathroom. He volunteered Zoe’s house, because her mom was never around. When we arrived, though, her mom was passed out on the couch. Zoe stomped around, but her mother didn’t stir.

  “She was supposed to be at a job interview,” she said.

  Poor Zoe. I couldn’t think of anything to say that would make it better. Kade just looked annoyed as the rest of the League followed Zoe to her room. But soon we were on to other matters, laughing and congratulating one another on Tiffany’s humiliation last Saturday. I kept quiet, offering the occasional nod so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself.

  Zoe’s news in the library swirled through my head, drowning out everyone’s words. For the past four days, I’d done nothing but think about it. I stole peeks at Kade, but when he looked at me, I glanced away.

  At a quarter to seven, Zoe suggested we get something to eat.

  “How about Barney’s Hamburgers?” Nora asked.

  “Too close to school. Someone might see us,” Kade said.

  “I know a pizza place,” Zo
e said. “It’s pretty far away, but we could borrow my mom’s car.”

  I thought about Mrs. Carpenter, splayed out on the couch. She wasn’t giving permission for anything.

  “The good news is we can go and get back without her ever knowing,” Nora said.

  We were at the door when the phone rang. Zoe stopped. “It might be the interviewer. I’ve got to tell them she’s sick or something.” She waved us on. “The car’s open. I’ll be right out.”

  As I squeezed into the red Toyota, I wrinkled my nose. The car smelled like it had been doused in perfume.

  Richie looked back at me from the front passenger seat. “Where’s your purse?”

  “Oh, no, I think I left it by the TV.” I climbed out.

  Zoe wasn’t in the living room. I glanced at her mom, spread out on her back, hands resting on her stomach like Snow White awaiting her true love’s kiss. The real picture couldn’t be further from the truth.

  A voice was speaking on the answering machine. “Mrs. Carpenter, as we explained yesterday, serious action will be taken if we don’t receive your credit card payment within—”

  As I reached for my purse, I heard the unmistakable sound of Zoe’s boots clomping down the hall. I hitched my purse onto a shoulder and ran out the door. I glanced at the car to make sure no one was looking, then peeked around the window frame. Zoe shook out a worn white blanket and tucked it around her mother. She leaned down, kissing her on the forehead.

  I managed to dive into the car without getting caught. A minute later, Zoe climbed in behind the wheel.

  “Is your mom going to be OK?” Richie asked.

  She started the ignition. “She’s my mother, not the other way around.”

  “You deserve to live your life,” Kade said.

  In the backseat, Nora, pressed like a postage stamp to Kade’s side, whispered in his ear. I leaned to the left, straining to hear.

  “Can you believe my math teacher taught the entire day with two different shoes on her feet?” She described each sneaker in nauseating detail, punctuating the story with pats on Kade’s wrist. He didn’t seem to be listening; he just gazed past her, out the window, stroking his upper lip. Nora, lost in her own dramatics, dived into chapter two of her fascinating tale.

  I turned to my own window and counted the passing cars with out-of-state license plates. If Nora had any doubts about Kade, it wasn’t apparent. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her flip her hair back and giggle at something he’d said.

  Without warning, Kade’s arm curved around my shoulders, drawing me close. Nora pretended to study something fascinating out the front window, but I could tell she was keeping tabs on us. Two can play this game, I thought, resting my head on Kade’s shoulder. When I peeked at Nora, Kade’s mouth twitched at the corners, giving in to a full grin. He was on to us, and enjoying the performance. For some reason, that knowledge made me feel worse. I pulled back and pressed my forehead against the window.

  Trees and cars blurred together. Zoe was speeding on the two-lane road. “Aren’t you going kind of fast?” I asked her.

  A bottle of tequila, three-quarters gone, landed in my lap. “I borrowed a little something from home,” Zoe said. “I don’t think my mom’ll notice it’s missing. Not tonight, anyway.”

  Kade studied the label, then took a swig. “Ah, one hundred percent hydrochloric acid.”

  Zoe flopped an arm back. He dropped the bottle into her hand, and she took a swig. “Everyone’s a critic,” she said, then burped.

  “Charlotte, you want some, don’t you?” Nora asked, sweet as rat poison.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Drink up, Charlotte,” Zoe said, handing it back again. “You seem a little tense.”

  “No thanks.”

  Kade downed a second shot and passed it to Nora.

  When the bottle had gone full circle, Zoe offered it again, this time with a hint of apology. “Last chance, Charlotte.”

  “I don’t like the taste of alcohol.”

  Zoe laughed. “Who said it was about taste?” The car crossed the solid line, then settled back on the right side.

  I’d just finished my driver’s training course nine months earlier. All the endless laws I’d had to memorize looped through my head: driving under the influence; open container in the car; driving more than fifteen miles per hour above the speed limit. I refused to dwell on the mangled pickup truck the police department had towed to the field outside my old school, a visual warning about drunk driving.

  Zoe eyed me in the mirror. “Relax, Charlotte, I’m not even tipsy.”

  “Can you drop me off at home?” I whispered.

  “I’m OK. Really.”

  “It’s not that,” I lied. “My parents made me sign a contract that I would never get in the car with … someone who’s been drinking.”

  Had I really just said that? I slumped down in the seat, reaching instinctively to check that my seat belt was in place.

  “Zoe’s fine,” Kade said. “Don’t you think it’s time you thought for yourself?”

  I was thinking for myself. I wanted out. But I didn’t have a clue how to do it.

  “We’re almost there, Charlie,” Kade said.

  The flimsy arrow on the speedometer hovered near 100, probably the maximum speed of the tinny car.

  “I don’t think I ever told you guys the real reason Wanda hates my guts.” Zoe squeezed the wheel as if that would take the swerve out of the car. “I didn’t feel like spilling my private life, way back when, before I knew you all.”

  Kade stiffened. “You trust us now, though, right, Zoe?”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. “It’s my mom’s fault. Like everything else. She went barhopping with the girls one evening and picked herself up a nice stud for the evening. Too drunk to even notice that she’d seen him before. Who knows where, right? Maybe at the science fair. Or school assembly. Or a birthday party somewhere. She was too drunk to remember he was a parent at my school. As for him, well, he just didn’t give a damn.”

  “Wanda’s father?” Nora gasped.

  “Turns out her mother’s a well-bred, respectable Christian woman. Sinners don’t get second chances in that family.”

  The light ahead of us switched to red. Zoe slammed on the brakes, screeching to a stop in the middle of the intersection. She moved the gear into reverse and inched back. Luckily, no one was on the road to witness it. Or get in our way.

  “Of course, when Wanda found out who the home wrecker was, she told me my alkie mother had ruined her family. So that’s why she despises me and always will.”

  Despite my fear of becoming an accident statistic, her words flipped a switch inside me, leaving only pity.

  “Your mother’s the one who screwed up, not you,” Richie said.

  “Wanda blames you for what her father did,” Kade said. “But we’ll set her straight.”

  The light changed to green, and Zoe started up again, her foot heavy on the gas pedal. “The restaurant’s about a mile from here. ETA: three seconds.” She chuckled to herself, then jerked the wheel to the right, overcorrecting. The tires crunched onto the gravel shoulder before she steered back onto the road.

  I imagined my mother answering the phone. “Your daughter’s been in a serious accident, Mrs. Brody. I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

  This whole car ride was a metaphor for my life. Someone else at the wheel. Me, stuck nearby, helpless. First, there was my parents, always telling me what to do and how to do it. And then there was Kade.

  Kade. Always telling me what to do. And me, always doing it.

  Zoe glanced into the rearview mirror. Our eyes connected. The arrow on the speedometer dropped to a positively sluggish seventy miles per hour.

  “Charlotte, it’s OK,” Richie assured me. “We’re going the speed limit.”

  Times two, I thought. But the entrance sign to Paul’s Pizza Kitchen, only a block away, made me feel a lot better.

  Zoe turned into the parking lot and
cut the motor. She met my eyes, hesitating a moment before depositing the car keys in my lap.

  Thanks, I mouthed. I pocketed them and crawled over Kade and Nora to get out of the Corolla.

  As the hostess led us to our table, Kade’s eyes leaped about the room. He sent Zoe a scathing look and ducked down in his chair like a criminal hiding from the authorities.

  “So there are a few kids from school,” Zoe mumbled, gripping Nora’s elbow for balance. “Sue me.”

  While the others analyzed the menu, I went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. With the faucet on full blast, I reached into my jacket, removed the bottle of tequila I’d taken from the car, and poured the remaining amber liquid down the sink. A toilet in the last stall flushed. I dumped the bottle into the trash, rearranging the paper towels on top of it.

  “Are you all right?” Tiffany Miller, of all people, walked up behind me.

  “Yeah, fine,” I managed. “A bug flew in my eye.”

  Her plump lips, lined in red, curled up. “Uh, right. So it’s a guy, huh?”

  “Well, yes—I mean no. Yes and no.” I braced myself for the knife-in-the-gut insult to follow.

  “Guys suck. I just broke up with one last night.” She narrowed her eyes in the mirror, inspecting her eyeliner. “He wanted one thing, you know? When it came to anything real, like emotional stuff, he couldn’t care less.”

  Tiffany dug through an oversized purse and retrieved a sea-shell-pink cosmetics bag. I watched as she applied cherry-red lip gloss. Then she handed me her concealer. I fingered it like it was a stick of dynamite. Besides, covering my splotchy skin with the tiny wand would be like frosting a cake with a toothpick.

  “I’m sorry about the parade,” I blurted out, well aware I was in dangerous territory.

  I couldn’t admit to my role. That would be suicide. But I had to get an apology out there somehow. Yes, Tiffany had publicly humiliated me—many times—but it didn’t make me feel better to have returned the favor. And the worst part was that it had started with the All-State audition story. A lie, invented to impress Kade.

  “I’m sorry it happened, too.” She ran a finger over her eyebrows, smoothing them. “But you know what they say: ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’”