by Beth Vrabel
“Why not?” Jason asks.
“Mr. Hardy and Rex are leaving.” Lilith points to the hall, which she can see from her seat. The three of them go to the door and peer to where Rex had been stationed. They see just Mr. Hardy and Rex’s heels as they disappear around the corner.
12:15 p.m.
WES “The Flirt”
“Where’s he taking her?” Ally asks.
“Probably to an isolation room,” Lilith says. “I saw her in one of those at school once. It’s a room that’s all padded and soundproofed with a trampoline in the corner.”
“No, you are making that up.” Wes shakes his head.
“I’m not,” Lilith says. “I’m sure it’s for her own safety.”
“Maybe you saw a room like that,” Wes growls, “but you never saw Rex in one.”
Lilith’s back straightens and her lips purse. “Clearly you won’t believe me.”
“Just give it a break,” Jason says. “Everything’s dramatic enough, don’t you think? We don’t need you making it even more so.”
“No, I do not think it’s dramatic enough,” Lilith mutters, then goes back to her notebook.
“Lilith does have a point,” Ally says. She swipes the necklace off the table and puts it back in her pocket. “I mean, Rex does lose it sometimes. Remember in second grade? Renn Jacobs?”
Wes smirks. “He had it coming.”
Renn Jacobs was a big kid, even then. In second grade, he was twice the size of Rex, but that didn’t stop her from picking up him and the scooter he was on and tossing them both to the side after he pushed a smaller kid off it.
“So did Toby Wao, last year,” Jason adds.
“Oh, man,” Wes says. “Were you there for that? I heard it was epic.”
Jason nods. Back in seventh grade, half the school saw the aftermath of Toby Wao snapping Rex’s bra strap while he was sitting behind her in theater class. Toby left with a bloody nose and Rex had in-school suspension for three days.
“Yeah, but what triggered the epic blowup on the first day of school? I heard it was Jimmy McVay,” Lilith says. “He said he winked at Rex in the hallway on the way to lunch.”
Ally shook her head. “No, Jessen Andrews said it happened after he opened his strawberry milk in the lunch line and it splattered on Rex’s hair. Remember it was long then? She always had it in that braid down to her waist.”
“And then there’s Valerie Morelo,” Lilith says. “She was just behind Rex in the cafeteria, and swears it started when the lunch lady replaced Rex’s hamburger with a cold sandwich, since Rex didn’t have enough money for a hot lunch.”
“No.” Wes crumples the note from his sandwich in his fist. “They’re all lying.”
“How do you know?” Ally asks.
“I was there.”
Lilith tilts her head at him. “Spill. What happened?”
Wes doesn’t answer, just shakes his head. He never told anyone. Never would.
Wes had been selling homecoming dance tickets at a table by the door. He saw Mr. Hardy come to the cafeteria and pull Rex aside as she left the lunch line. He saw Hardy put his hand under Rex’s elbow and guide her from the room. He saw her pivot away from his grasp. He saw Mr. Hardy lean in anyway and whisper something in Rex’s ear. He saw the tray shaking as her hands trembled. He saw her face as Mr. Hardy led her out of the cafeteria.
Her face was a full moon—pale and round. Her eyes had been as wild and unseeing as wisps of cloud. Fear, he had thought then. Not anger.
But he had been wrong.
Because a few moments later, they all heard the crash. They all heard the screaming. They all heard the pickup from walkie-talkies stationed on every teacher and cafeteria worker: “Restraining help needed in the cafe hallway! Now! Now!” Another bellow and a tray clattered down the hall.
Before the teachers could stop them, the entire eighth-grade class ran toward the commotion. Wes had been in the front row. And there was Rex, Mr. Hardy’s arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her side, her feet kicking, nailing him again and again. She was yelling, but not really. Really it was more like grunting as she heaved herself side to side. Her jaw was so tight that veins popped out like spokes in the tent of her neck. She wasn’t a girl anymore. Rex was a bear, wild and roaring and untamable. Mr. Hardy was yelling again and again for her to stop, to calm down, to be still, but Wes knew she wouldn’t, knew she couldn’t, knew it had nothing to do with a wink or a milk or a sandwich. Whatever triggered this was big.
Teachers ran in all directions toward the now feral girl who had once been Rex. The nurse had her phone to her ear. “Yes!” she had huffed as she ran, “ambulance to Northbrook Middle! Student in distress!”
The teachers monitoring the cafeteria ushered the group of students back into the room, away from the hall. Some of the kids were laughing. A couple jerks imitated Rex, their arms at their sides and faces twisted. A few looked scared, like they might cry. Jason, Wes remembers, picked up Rex’s tray and carried it to the stacks by the kitchen.
And Wes? He took his seat at the dance ticket table, his ears ringing. What had Rex been screaming? It had sounded like just. Like if Mr. Hardy would just do something, she wouldn’t have exploded.
After that, Rex had been out of school for two weeks. When she came back—all of her hair chopped off—she was never left alone. A teacher escorted her everywhere she went.
Just. Wes hears the word again and again in his mind now.
Flashing blue lights fill the room and the four of them rush over to the window. A police cruiser pulls up.
Jason ducks his head, then says, “You don’t think…”
Wes sucks in his breath. Could Mrs. Mitchell have called the police on TBN? Or on Rex? “We have to do something.” Wes walks out of the room. Ally glances at them, bounces on her toes a little, and then sneaks right behind Wes. Jason rubs the back of his head and follows suit.
“Great. So I can follow you guys and get in trouble, or stay and do all the work on this skit and the stupid essay!” Groaning, Lilith only slightly pauses before she darts down the hall after the group.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Lilith whispers. “Mr. Hardy and Rex went in the other direction!”
“I’m going to find TBN first,” Wes says. “Then we’ll find Rex, give her the locket, and go back to the room.”
“And write the script,” Lilith finishes.
“Enough with the script, okay?” Ally snaps. “No one cares about the stupid skit.”
“You’ll care enough about it when Mr. Hardy makes us come back here next Saturday because we didn’t finish our work!” Lilith crosses her arms.
“Is he really going to do that?” asks Jason.
Lilith straightens her spine and holds her head high. “Of course, he will.”
“But did he actually say that’s what he’s going to do?” Jason presses.
“He didn’t have to,” Lilith says. “It’s implied.”
“I don’t think he’ll—”
“I am not coming back here. Not ever,” Ally says. “I don’t care about that stupid script or anything else.”
Wes glances over his shoulder. “Geez, Sports Barbie, tell us how you really feel.”
“Don’t call me that, Ding,” Ally says.
They’ve backtracked to where the fight first happened. The four of them stop and look at the spatula still on the floor and then up at one another.
“Ready?” Jason asks, striding down the hallway toward Mrs. Mitchell’s office without waiting for a response. Wes is on his heels, followed by Ally. Lilith, with a sigh, falls in step behind her.
“I’m thinking about getting my hair cut,” she says.
Ally raises an eyebrow at her. “Why?”
“He gets a haircut and all of a sudden he’s the one everyone listens to.” Lilith shimmies her shoulder so her hair falls behind it.
Ally smiles. “I think something more than a haircut happened to him.”
> “What?”
Ally shrugs. “He talked with Agnes.”
Lilith huffs air from her nose. “That old bat?”
Ally shakes her head. “You know, you’re pretty bad at reading people.” She sprints ahead to catch up with the boys.
“What?” Lilith gasps and then hurries forward, too.
Wes nudges Jason. “How long do you think we have until Hardy checks on us?”
Jason shrugs. “Five minutes, maybe.”
“Great,” Wes says.
They pass through by the fish tank in the lobby. Wes takes a moment to stare at the tank, catching a glimpse of purple among the blue and yellow fish. Was it really just four hours earlier that they all had arrived? So much has happened. So much is still happening.
Outside of Mrs. Mitchell’s office are two police officers. One of them has a notebook open and is scribbling down whatever Mrs. Mitchell is telling them.
Wes, Ally, Jason, and Lilith pause.
Don’t insert yourself, Wes hears his mother say.
“We don’t have to do this.” Jason turns to the rest of them. “We can go back to the conference room and let the adults figure all of this out.” His eyes dart to the police officers.
Ally’s hand closes around the locket in her pocket. Her foot taps the ground like a heartbeat as her eyes flick to each of them, settling on Wes. Lilith and Jason turn toward him, too.
Wes steps ahead, the rest of them just behind. “Mrs. Mitchell, can we talk to you for a second?”
The police officers and Mrs. Mitchell turn toward them. The director throws her hands up in the air. “Are you kidding me? Where is my brother? Why are you still running around this facility unattended?”
One of the officers steps forward. “So you have unaccounted-for minors in addition to the other issue?”
“No!” Mrs. Mitchell says, her face fiery. “No, my brother has unaccountable minors!” She stomps her foot, sending half of her body quivering. “I have my top employee threatening to quit, a nonagenarian thinking she’s off to prom, and an octogenarian whose sticky fingers have been stealing jewelry all over this dang-blasted home!”
“You can’t arrest Opal,” Ally blurts, pushing to the front of the group to address one of the officers. “It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing!”
The officer’s scribbling is frantic. “Who is Opal, and what is she stealing?”
“Just some jewelry.” Mrs. Mitchell groans. “Could we just focus on the reason we called you, please?”
From inside the office, they hear TBN shout, “I returned all the jewelry!”
“Not all of the jewelry,” Lilith calls back. “I’m still missing my family heirloom bracelet.”
Mrs. Mitchell reaches into her pocket. “Would that be this, dear?” She hands Lilith the bracelet. “We spotted it under the table in the cafeteria during the very long cleanup we had to do after lunch. But just so you know, your heirloom bracelet is also at Walmart. Ten bangles for ten bucks.” She holds up her own wrist and dangles a stack of bracelets.
“Thank you,” Lilith says with a surprising amount of dignity.
Jason snorts into the back of his hand.
The officer looks up from his notebook to Mrs. Mitchell. “So you have employees aiding and abetting the thief?”
“She’s not a thief,” Ally says. “She just takes stuff that doesn’t belong to her.”
“And I put it back!” TBN calls out again.
The officer blinks at them, then goes back to his notebook. “Let’s stick to the reason you called—”
“It wasn’t assault!” Wes calls out.
The officer flips shut his notebook with a snap and stares at the ceiling for a moment. Then he presses the bridge of his nose. Finally, he looks at Mrs. Mitchell. “There was an assault?”
“No!” Wes says, now pushing past Ally to be at the front of the group. “There was no assault. Sir.”
The officer stares at Wes for a long time until he retreats into the group.
Mrs. Mitchell waves her hands in front of her. “There was a small incident involving a staff member and a rather unhinged student.”
“But it wasn’t assault,” the officer finishes drily.
“It was self-defense,” TBN says as she leaves Mrs. Mitchell’s office. She pulls the badge from around her neck, handing it and her iPad to Mrs. Mitchell.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Mitchell snaps. “We have to discuss disciplinary actions.”
“No need,” TBN says. “I quit.”
“You can’t quit!” Mrs. Mitchell says at the same time as Wes.
“Why not?”
“We need you!” Mrs. Mitchell’s panicked eyes are so wide Wes can see the whites shining brightly. Her mouth flops open.
Wes turns to TBN. “You said when people count on you, you don’t have a choice. You have to be there for them.”
TBN shakes her head. “It was nice of you to stand up for me.” She pats Wes’s shoulder. “You’ve helped me make a realization today, kid.”
Wes shakes his head. “I can’t be why you give up.”
“Who’s giving up?” TBN raises an eyebrow. “I realized that I’ve been keeping everyone else around me going since I was younger than you. Even though, like you said, no one likes me.”
Wes drops his head to the side and says, “Oh, come on, I didn’t mean—”
TBN laughs. “No, it’s all right. It’s true. I mixed up being needed with being important. Maybe even with being loved. But that’s stupid. I’ve had enough, kid. Time to let someone else take the lead.”
“But what are you going to do?” Wes asks.
“Nurses can always find work,” TBN says. “And I’m going spend the time I can with my aunt Opal. She’s being transferred to a higher care facility tomorrow.”
“But… but what are we supposed to do without you?” Mrs. Mitchell stammers.
TBN grins. “Figure it out.” She weaves between the four students toward the door.
The officer behind them clears his throat. “We’re not addressing the assault, the unaccompanied minors, or the resident thief, so let’s get back to why you called us.”
Mrs. Mitchell takes a deep breath. “We have a ninety-year old resident who left the facility earlier today.”
“That’s why the police are here?” Wes asks.
“Yes, of course! Why else would they be here?” Mrs. Mitchell asks.
The officer stares at the ceiling and squeezes the bridge of his nose again. “Do you have any idea where she might be now?”
“Either behind a ficus or in a dress shop would be my best guess.”
Jason grabs Wes’s arm and pulls him toward the group. “Listen, let’s get to Rex before Mrs. Mitchell gives Hardy the heads-up that we’re not where we’re supposed to be.”
Wes nods and glances over his shoulder. Don’t insert yourself, Wes hears again. But he never has been good at listening to that voice.
“Give me just a sec,” he says, ignoring Lilith’s groan.
His hands shoved deep into his pockets, he walks over to the fish tank. He glances at the black curtain hanging around the bottom of the huge tank, then squats by it. “Would you like to go to prom with me?” he says softly.
Judith slowly crawls out from behind the tank. “Why, I’d be delighted!”
Wes takes her arm and leads her over to the others. As Mrs. Mitchell rushes forward and the police officer stares at the ceiling again, Judith whispers, “You’ll pick me up at seven o’clock on Saturday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Wes kisses her cheek.
When he turns, he just about smacks into Ally. She’s studying his face like she’s trying to put together a puzzle.
12:53 p.m.
ALLY “The Athlete”
Jewelry was never Ally’s thing.
In fifth grade, she got her ears pierced. It wasn’t like she asked for them to be pierced, though. Mom just came home one day and had declared she and Ally were goi
ng shopping. “Let’s have some girl time,” she had said.
First they had gotten pedicures, which kind of hurt since the technician spent so much time scrubbing the hard skin on Ally’s heels. (For more than a month, she’d limp off the soccer field, missing those callouses.)
“So,” Mom had said while they were sitting in the massage chairs, her voice sugary, “who do you have a crush on?”
Ally had shrugged. “No one.”
“Oh, come on!” Mom had squeezed her arm. “You can tell me. This is girl time!”
But there wasn’t anyone Ally had a crush on. “I don’t know.”
Mom had pet Ally’s hair then and smiled wide enough for Ally to see the silver glint of fillings in her molars.
After the pedicures, they had sat through brunch. Ally had watched her mom’s fingers trail to her phone and back to the tabletop again and again and again. “It’s so nice to just spend time with my girl!” she had said each time. Ally wondered whom she was trying to convince.
After that, Mom had pulled her into a cheap makeup and accessory store beside the diner. “Let’s see what’s trendy!” Mom had picked up flowery headbands and sunglasses with stars in the corners, ignoring when Ally shook her head and backed away. “Oh, come on! Be fun!”
At the ear piercing station, Mom had said, “Ally, look! I got my ears pierced when I was ten. You can pick out whichever of these you want!” Ally had looked at the rows of studs. Her mom’s manicured finger tapped next to a pair shaped like butterflies with sparkly pink stones making the wings.
Ally had shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Is it going to hurt?”
“Not even a little!” Mom had said. Behind her, the teenage worker cleaning something that looked a lot like a gun raised her eyebrows.
“But it’s going to go through my skin,” Ally had pointed out. “How is it not going to hurt?”
“Oh, sweetie!” Mom had rolled her eyes. “Your dad’s always saying how tough you are. Little babies get their ears pierced. It’s not a big deal.”
Soon Ally was in the chair and the worker had dabbed a magic marker spot on each earlobe. Then she held the ear piercing gun to her ear and pressed.
