by Anne Dayton
“Yay!” Emma screams, coming back to life a little.
“One friend?!” Who would I choose? Riley? No, it would hurt Zoe too much. And heaven forbid I skip Ana—she’d never let me hear the end of it. This is the last thing the Miracle Girls need. “I can’t bring one friend. I have three friends. You know that.” The moment I say it, though, I realize that of course he doesn’t know that.
Dad walks over to Candace and turns around. She begins to untie the apron from his neck and says, “Actually, Christine, we thought you might want to bring Andrew.”
Dad pulls the apron over his head and tosses it on the counter. “Perfect idea.” Candace picks his dirty apron off the counter and wads it into a ball. “Bring Andrew. I really like him. Where’s he been anyway?”
I shut my eyes. They can’t seriously be asking me this. “Andrew can’t come. He’s . . .” I open my right eye, and Candace is giving me her pity face. “Look, I told you he’s just a friend. My friend Andrew. I’m not inviting him.”
I hold the guest list up. “Do you see this? I am addressing ‘save the date’ cards to all of these people. The least you could do is allow me to bring my three best friends.”
Candace’s mouth is a straight line. Dad puts a big hand on my shoulder, covering it entirely.
“Christine, it’s our special day. The wedding is about our family coming together. You don’t need all your pals there.”
Pals?! I stifle a laugh. What century is this guy from?
“James,” Candace groans under her breath.
“Well, I’m not addressing any more envelopes if I can’t even bring . . .” My family. That’s what I want to say. I need my Miracle Girls family there for support. Our special day. The phrase rings in my head like a threat.
Candace tries to catch my dad’s eye, and it reminds me of when I was little and adults would spell words they thought I shouldn’t hear.
“Christine. I’m sorry.” He holds his head like it’s going to explode. “But no means no. You and Emma can each bring one friend.”
As I stand there sputtering at the injustice of it all, Emma appears in the doorway. “Mom, can I bring Dad?”
Candace walks over to Emma and grabs her by the arm. They disappear into the back of the house, Candace hissing at her the whole way.
Dad shakes his head at me. “Christine, when Candace and I decide on a punishment, we’re going to stick to it.”
His words sound rehearsed, like she’s been coaching him on how to discipline me. I know she thinks I’m spoiled. Never mind that when Mom was alive we didn’t have these sorts of blowups.
“I’m sorry that you can’t bring all of your friends. But if we let you bring three people, we’d have to let Emma do the same. And we can’t add six people to the guest list at this point. The ballroom only fits so many people. Please try to understand.”
And then it dawns on me. Who cares? There’s no point in caring about this guest list drama because this bogus wedding isn’t actually going to happen. Candace is already about to run for the hills, screaming at the tops of her lungs.
“Whatever,” I say under my breath and start to walk away.
“You can see them any other day of the year.”
“Sure,” I say over my shoulder. I sit back down at the kitchen table and start addressing the next envelope, tears welling up in my eyes.
“I love you, Christine. I really, really do,” he whispers. I can feel him hovering a few feet behind me.
Then why are you pushing what’s left of my mom as far away as possible? I fight back the tears and intentionally misspell the next name: Kernel Philip Hanley and Mrs. Hanley.
36
It’s too bad being a freak only gets me out of PE one day a week. While I wouldn’t exactly say that being grilled by Ms. Moore is any better than dodging the balls that are currently being thrown at my head, at least her office doesn’t smell like sweat.
It wouldn’t be so bad if every PE class on the planet weren’t crammed into this one little gym, but since it’s raining, all of us except the poor souls doing their swimming unit are stuck in here. The squeak of rubber soles on the smooth wooden floor mixed with the thump of bouncing rubber and the occasional yelp or cheer creates a cacophony that echoes across the room.
“All right, let’s get started.” Ms. Lewis lets out a shrill squeak on her whistle. She looks particularly witchy today, with a long black crepey skirt and a black T-shirt, and she’s deathly pale in the harsh fluorescent lights. What kind of PE teacher wears a skirt?
Riley looks at me and shrugs, then walks slowly toward the tape line on the gym floor. My blue shorts ride up a little as I follow her. Who designed these things, and how is it that Riley looks perfectly normal in her gym clothes while I look like a freakishly skinny oaf?
It doesn’t help that my class is stuck playing the lamest sport ever. Wait, does dodgeball even count as a sport? I bet it doesn’t. But we’re in the middle of our golf unit (come to think of it, golf doesn’t really count as a sport either), and since we can’t hit balls with little metal lightning rods around outside in the rain, we have to take whatever we can today.
None of this is ideal, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if . . . I peek over my shoulder to make sure it’s really true. Yep. Andrew Cutchins is over there on the basketball court. He looks my way, then turns when he sees me watching him. Now that it’s officially basketball season, I guess he’ll be in here a lot more. I love the way the whole school is complicit in this. If you’re on a sports team—one that actually wins, unlike our football team—and it’s the day before the first game of the season, you’re somehow mysteriously allowed out of class to practice. So much for learning. Hooray for America’s future.
Thanks to the can-do-no-wrong basketball gods, we’re all crammed around the perimeter of the court. That’s the way high school works. They’ll take any chance they get to remind you how insignificant you are.
Ms. Lewis blows her whistle again, and large red rubber balls start flying at my face.
“So have you figured out what you want to do tonight, Riley?” I duck as a ball whizzes by my left ear. I don’t know how I could have made it through this week without the promise of a Friday night out.
I steal another covert glance at the basketball court. Hmph. Guess his stupid knee is all better. One of Andrew’s goon friends is staring at me, so I roll my eyes at him and turn around. Great. Now they all probably think I’m stalking him.
Riley grimaces and jumps to the left to avoid a ball coming straight toward her. “Uhh . . .” She reaches for her short ponytail at the nape of her neck and tightens it up again. “About that . . .”
“What?” The thump of a rubber ball hitting the ground next to me makes me jump. A loud cheer goes up on the basketball court, and I look in time to see Andrew toss the ball in the hoop. Show-off.
“Yeah.” Riley barely turns in time to miss a ball. “Did I mention Tom called?”
“Riley McGee, you will not do this to me.”
“They’re driving back today. It turns out he was seriously out in the middle of nowhere.” She coughs a little. “Like, an hour from a phone.” She smiles sheepishly.
“What? What are you talking about?” I can’t believe she’s actually trying to play this off like it’s okay. “He went off and texted you that he was leaving. He didn’t call you. It’s been two weeks!”
“Well, he tried to call, but like I said, he was out on an island off the coast of Mexico. They didn’t really have a phone. But he called as soon as he got back to Baja.” She swallows. “And he did send me a postcard, but he had the address wrong, so it just arrived yesterday.”
“But what about not warning you he was leaving?” I must sound a little hysterical because people are turning around to stare at me. A stray basketball bounces onto our dodgeball court, and I ignore it.
“O’Neill—,” she shrugs at me, “you know, the surfboard company? They called him suddenly. One of the pro surfe
rs they were training for this big competition down in Mexico broke his arm, and they needed a replacement immediately. So he went. His parents said he could go if his cousins went along. It was a great opportunity. He might get sponsored.” Even in the midst of this monologue, Riley manages to avoid getting hit by a ball.
“So . . . you forgave him.”
“What else could I do?” She frowns a little.
“And you’re canceling on me.”
“He gets back tonight.” Riley shrugs helplessly. “I was hoping you’d be willing to reschedule?” Her cheeks are pink, and her clear blue eyes look at me hopefully. I can tell she’s honestly sorry . . . and yet can’t she see that I need this, that so much hangs in the balance, that not hanging out is all we do now?
“But that’s not fair to me.”
“I know.” Her voice is high and strained. She’s almost pleading with me. “I know, I know. But Christine, I need to talk to him. I miss him, and . . . I want to talk to him.”
“I—” The wind is knocked out of me, and I stumble back. A rubber ball hits the ground by my feet—I think it bounced off my stomach. I take a deep breath and shake my head. Ms. Lewis is gesturing for me to step toward the outside circle. I throw my hands up. “I hate this game!”
Picking up the ball, I move as slowly as possible to show everyone exactly how excited I am about being involved in this ridiculous pseudosport. Riley tries to catch my eye, but I look away before I have to deal with her sympathy too. Riley dates some guy who disappears in the middle of the night, and she gets to cancel our girls’ night because her knight in shining armor sweeps back into town. I try to date a good Christian guy and grasp for the little bit of faith I have left, and he not only breaks my heart but severs what little belief I had left.
“Christine, are you going to hold that ball all day?” Ms. Lewis yells across the gym. She looks like she’s putting a hex on me from across the floor, and I duck her glare.
And then, before I know what’s happening, I’m walking toward him—stalking may be a better word for it. Whatever it is, I’m not really in control of what I’m doing here. Andrew sees me coming and winks.
“What are you staring at?” I try to keep my voice low, but it seems to echo in this giant gym.
“Your mad skills.” Andrew cocks his head and laughs. “You’re funny to watch.”
“What? I’m funny?” His teammates stop playing and stare at me. I’m kind of standing in the middle of the court where they’re trying to play.
Ms. Lewis calls me again, but I couldn’t care less. Something has gotten ahold of me, and I need to say it.
“I can’t believe you call yourself a Christian.”
“What?” Andrew’s mouth falls open in shock. The basketball coach is walking toward me, his big bushy mustache waggling.
I feel bad for a moment. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it.
But I meant it. It wasn’t a nice thing to say, but it’s true. How can he treat me like he did and still pretend to be a Christian?
“Christine, I—”
“And I’m a better painter than you.” I don’t even wait to see his face. I turn on my heel and run to the door of the gym, my polyester shorts swishing. Ms. Lewis is blowing her whistle incessantly behind me, but as I step out into the cool rainy air, I don’t even care.
I’ll take a detention for it. I can’t spend another minute in there with those people.
37
I put my backpack on the ground and lie down, propping my head up on it. “Nope, still incredibly uncomfortable.”
“Zoe will be here any minute.” Ana stands up and dusts off her J.Crew khakis. She peers at her butt to make sure she hasn’t gotten her pants dirty. “We can’t abandon her.”
I study Ana’s face. She and Riley never really resolved their fight, but at least they’re able to be around each other now. Granted it feels like arctic chills when it happens, but I suppose at least they’re not hurling insults at each other.
“What time is it?” Riley asks quietly, looking at me. Why is it every locker in this joint has patches of paint missing? The one across from me looks a bit like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
“It’s 3:45.” I sigh.
I sit up, bruising my tailbone on the hard ground. “Okay, executive decision. If she doesn’t get here in ten minutes, we’re leaving her a note on the door and calling it a day.” When the other members of Earth First saw that Ms. Moore’s classroom was locked, they ran to catch their school buses or just started walking home. I wanted to join them, but Ana threatened my life.
Ana sighs. “Fine.” She gets a spiral notebook out of her bag, throws it on the floor, then sits carefully on top of it. “I only wanted to wait for her because it would be good to actually have a meeting this month.” She gives Riley a wary look, but Riley doesn’t meet her eye.
The Earth First meeting was supposed to be right after school today. Ana checked the date with Ms. Moore last week and then sent an e-mail out to all the members. But Ms. Moore hasn’t shown her face at school all week. When she had a sub on Monday, I didn’t think much of it, but when I stopped by her office for our session on Tuesday and there wasn’t even a note, I began to get a little concerned. Now it’s Thursday and there’s still no sign of her.
“I think something’s wrong. It’s not like Ms. Moore to miss school.” Ana tries to get more comfortable on her notebook.
Riley pulls her head up from the locker she was leaning it against. “Maybe she’s sick?”
Ana shrugs. “I’ve been eavesdropping on my mom’s phone calls. Mom’s in good with the head of the PTA.” That girl is an expert spy. It’s almost scary. “I think Ms. Moore made someone powerful angry.”
“But how?” Riley shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m not sure.” Ana brushes a lock of dark brown hair back behind her ear. “It’s hard to know when you’re only hearing half of the conversation, but it seems like there was an incident.”
I sit up again. “An incident? Like she socked someone?” I swallow a lump in my throat. I haven’t told anyone about the phone call from Ms. Moore’s lawyer. “Whoever it was, they probably deserved it.”
Ana sighs. “I love her too, of course. But you know how she can be. She doesn’t exactly play by the rules.”
“That’s why we like her.” Riley bites her lip.
Ana looks at her watch. “I know. But I keep hearing about ‘the incident.’ She’s upset someone.”
There’s a rustling at the end of the hall. I look up to see a flurry of garnet and gold polyester coming our way. “Sorry!” Zoe screams down to us. Her cheeks are red, and Marcus is trailing behind her. He blows Zoe a kiss, then dashes down the hallway. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Zoe rushes up to us and comes to a stop in front of Riley. “Band practice was over, but Marcus and I decided to practice our—why are you guys in the hallway?”
Zoe’s cheeks are pink, and her eyes are bright, but maybe that doesn’t mean anything. She couldn’t have chosen Marcus over us, could she? Riley meets my eye, and I know she feels it too. Zoe, the one who saw what we were when none of the rest of us wanted to acknowledge it, put Marcus before us.
Ana gestures toward our broken picnic table, and we all move over there and settle in. I try to pay attention as Ana drones on about a beach cleanup she wants to organize, but I’m not really listening. I’m thinking about what this means.
“Congratulations, by the way!” Zoe says suddenly.
“Oh, thanks. It’s no big deal.” Riley digs in her purse and pulls out lip balm, then smoothes it over her lips.
Ana turns to them. “What’s this? Are congratulations in order for Cheerleader Girl?” Her voice is thin and tight, and the hair on my arms stands up. What now?
Zoe nudges Riley. “Tell them.”
“Naw. It’s stupid.”
Zoe’s mouth drops open. “It is not stupid! Dreamy showed me this morning. The San Jose Mercury News made Riley Outstanding Student of the Mont
h for the Bay Area!”
“What?!” Ana screams. For a moment, I hold out hope that it’s the kind of scream that could be interpreted as a sound of joy, but the look on her face makes it evident that it’s not.
“Ana,” I whisper at her through my teeth, “stop it.”
She laughs loudly. “Really, Riley. That’s so great.”
Riley rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She turns back to Zoe. “My parents woke me up with a copy this morning. It was really cute.”
“So how did you get nominated?” Ana’s voice wavers a bit, but she pastes a smile on her face.
“I don’t know. My dad nominated me or something.”
Ana smiles in a saccharine way. “Oh, of course.”
Riley leans forward. “What do you mean?”
Ana sighs. “It just seems a little convenient that you always get handed awards like this.” She shrugs.
Riley looks around the table, her eyes wide.
“I do as well as you in school, but somehow you seem to win all the awards. It’s just a little strange, that’s all.” Ana looks around, as if expecting us all to back her up. I stare down at the table.
Riley waits, but no one says anything. Zoe’s lip starts to quiver, and I try to make my mouth form words, but nothing is coming out. Finally, Riley lets out a long breath and hoists her backpack onto her shoulder.
“You know, this is why people think you’re annoying. There’s more to life than school. I’ve always defended you, but, hey, maybe I was wrong.” Riley turns around and walks away, and I see her slipping through our fingers with every step.
“Wait!” I scream, almost not even recognizing my own voice. Riley stops in her tracks but doesn’t turn back. Her shoulders rise and fall quickly, like she’s trying to catch her breath. And that’s when Ana takes it too far.
