“They are?” I say.
Sherae looks at me. “No, not everyone,” she backtracks. “Just … some people heard from Audrey.”
“Heard what?”
“You know Audrey. She’s saying you stole Matt from her or some such nonsense.”
“I didn’t even know they were going out!”
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
I tell her everything. The words squish my heart like a sponge. Then the tears come back in a rush.
“Here.” Sherae brings me down the hall a little. We sit against the wall.
When I can talk again, I say, “I thought Matt and I could be together for real. I thought if I just gave him more time, he’d realize that he loves me. And that he’d want everyone to know we’re together.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “He said he wanted to be with me. He said he cared about me. He was the only one who could be my boyfriend and now he’s gone. I just can’t believe—”
“Where are you girls supposed to be?” a security officer interrupts.
“Lunch,” Sherae tells him.
“Both of you?”
“Yes.” She grabs my arm. “We’re going in.”
We might have gotten away with it if the lunch monitor wasn’t one of those annoying people who remember every little thing.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he informs me, blocking the door.
“Yeah, I have lit mag now.”
“Fifth period?”
“Yeah.”
“This is fourth.”
Man, he’s good.
I tell Sherae I’ll meet her at her locker before fifth. Then I sneak down to the bathroom I used to hide out in. I was hoping that I wouldn’t ever have to hide in there again. But that’s the thing about life. You can never trade yours in for a better one.
Note about Noelle Wexler found on the floor of biology class in ninth grade, written on wide-ruled binder paper in alternating pink and blue ink:
Of course the whole school knows by the end of the day.
Including Julian.
I wonder which version of the rumor he heard. Probably the one where Matt and I were doing it in the middle of the tennis court.
When Julian finds me at my locker after school, I don’t even try to escape. I just hope this part of the truth will make him feel better.
“Guess what I heard,” he says.
“How many guesses do I get?”
“Is any of it true?”
“What did you hear?”
“That you were going out with Matt Brennan.”
“Then I guess you heard right.”
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
“No one did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry. It’s complicated.”
Julian shakes his head.
I wait. I don’t know what to say.
“Whatever,” Julian says.
For the second time today, I watch a boy I love walk away from me.
Matt wasn’t the only reason I can’t be with Julian. But it’s easier to let him think it was.
fourteen
wednesday, may 4
(32 days left)
When your heart is shattered into a million pieces, all you can do is try to keep holding on. You breathe. You try to fall asleep. You try to not think about him.
Last night was a million years long. I kept looking at the clock, willing it to be morning already. I even thought about taking out my secret box.
I drag myself to the bus stop. All I wanted to do was stay in bed. I was going to tell mother I was sick, but she goes ballistic if I’m still home when she wakes up.
I’m waiting for the stupid bus when a car pulls up to the curb. I hardly notice it at first, assuming it’s just one of the moms dropping her kid off. But then I see who’s in the car.
It’s Audrey. With her friends.
This is not good.
“Hey, scuzball!” Audrey yells.
All the kids at the bus stop stare at me.
“What kind of loser takes the bus when they’re old enough to drive?” she speculates.
I kind of have to agree with her on that one.
The kids standing closest to me back a few steps away. Everyone knows that Loser is catching.
The car squeals away. For the first time in my life, I can’t wait for the bus to get here. It picked the worst possible day to be late.
A minute later, another car turns down the street. Except it’s not another car. It’s the same car with Audrey and her friends.
As the car gets closer, I realize that they’re all holding shotguns.
This is it.
They’re going to kill me.
I can’t believe this is how it all ends. On a gorgeous spring day under an impossibly blue sky, waiting for the bus.
Unreal.
Audrey leans out the back window. She positions the gun on her shoulder. She targets me through the viewfinder.
Everyone at the bus stop runs.
I should be running, too. I tell myself to run. But really, what’s the point? When I’m dead, I won’t have to endure this relentless pain. Maybe I’ll come back as a kid with a better life. Or maybe I’ll pass over into that alternate universe where outsiders don’t even exist.
So I stand there. Looking straight at Audrey. Daring her to do it.
The first impact hits me in the stomach. Someone screams. I look down at myself. There’s a splatter of red on my shirt. More splatters start showing up on my arms. I put my hands over my head and crouch down. I hear the car zoom by.
When it sounds like the car is gone, I slowly take my hands away and look up. One of the middle school girls is crouched behind a tree, crying as her friend hugs her. A freshman boy runs over to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
That’s a good question. Shouldn’t I be dead by now? Red is splattered all over me. Some of the places where I got hit really sting.
“Those paintballs can be rough,” he says.
Paintballs? They shot me with paintballs? Those guns looked real.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. “But I should probably go home and change.”
“Good thing you crouched down. It could have been a lot worse if they hit you in the face.”
I’m a trembling wreck going home. I try to wipe some paint off my arm where it stings the worst. The red paintblood smears.
My key shakes when I try to put it in the lock. There’s a good chance I might throw up. I try not to wake up mother as I go to my room and close the door. My shirt is ruined. And of course I had to be wearing my only jeans that fit. I take everything off, careful not to get paint on the carpet.
Mother bangs on my door.
“Just a minute,” I say.
“What are you doing home?” she demands through the door.
“Can you give me a minute?” I yell. I put on a fresh shirt and jeans and open the door.
“Why are you here?” mother says.
“I had to change my clothes.”
“Why?”
I kick my splattered jeans and shirt over to her.
“What happened?” she asks. “What’s this all over your clothes?”
“I was waiting for the bus and—” My throat closes up.
I will not cry about this. Not now.
“Some kids shot paintballs at me,” I manage to whisper.
“Are you okay?”
Am I okay? Since when does mother care if I’m okay? She even looks concerned like a real mom.
“It hurts,” I say.
“Go to the nurse when you get to school.”
“I missed the bus. Can you drive me?”
Mother never drives me to school. She always makes me walk the mile to the train station, even when it’s freezing out. But today should be different.
She takes another look at my arms. I watch the concern in her eyes fade to disinterest.
“I can’t be late tod
ay,” she says. “You can take the train.”
Physics is almost over by the time I get there. Everyone’s doing an activity in groups. I give my late pass to Ms. Scofield. She looks like she wants to say something, but she just tells me to join my group.
I slog over to my desk and put my bag down. I don’t bother to take anything out. I slide my desk closer to Ali’s, but I don’t ask what the activity is. I don’t care about anything. I just want to go home.
“Are you okay?” Ali asks.
Just her asking if I’m okay makes me want to burst out crying. I blink back tears. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I don’t want it to get back to Audrey that she made me cry in class.
I glance at the other two kids in our group. They’re oblivious, arguing over something on the activity sheet.
“Did they hurt you?”
“Who?”
“Audrey. And her friends. I heard about what happened.”
“You heard already?” How is that even possible? Did Audrey hijack the PA system and make an announcement during homeroom?
“Someone was talking about it before class.”
“Who?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
I look at Warner’s group. He catches me looking. He holds out his hand like a gun and shoots it.
Pow, he mouths.
He probably wishes I were dead. But then he wouldn’t have anyone to make fun of anymore. Except Ali. And Tommy. And maybe some dorky freshmen.
“Do you want to come over after school?” Ali offers. I’m sure she recognizes her own pain in my eyes. “We could make smoothies and watch a movie. That always takes my mind off things.”
“I can’t,” I say. “But thanks.” I just want to be alone. I hate everyone.
When the bell rings, I grab my bag and dash for the door. Simon catches up to me. He doesn’t say anything. He just puts his arm around me and walks me to my locker. Sherae’s waiting there for me. She exchanges a look with Simon. I should be protesting that I don’t need babysitters, but I don’t care. I am officially over everyone and everything.
“See you at lit mag?” Simon asks me.
I nod at the floor.
The bell rings. The halls empty out. I don’t move. Neither does Sherae.
“Those look like they hurt,” she says. She means the red welts on my arms. A few of them are turning into nasty bruises.
“I guess.”
“Let’s go to the nurse.”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“I am.”
“Why don’t we let the nurse decide?”
I’m too tired to fight. So I let Sherae take me to the nurse’s office. The nurse sends Sherae to class. Then she asks me what happened.
“I got hit with paintballs.”
“When?”
“Before school. At the bus stop.”
She inspects my arms.
“Who did this to you?” she wants to know.
If I tell the nurse it was Audrey, she’ll tell the principal and Audrey will get in trouble. Which will motivate her to make my life an even bigger nightmare. I’d rather lay low and wait for this to blow over.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
The nurse is radiating so much concern that I have to look away. She has pictures of a little girl on her desk. I bet she’s an amazing mom.
I blink back tears again. My whole life is blinking back tears. It’s getting really old.
“You’re okay,” she says. “You’ll be good as new. Sit here for me?”
I sit on the patient table. The white paper sheet crinkles under me.
“Can you lift up your shirt?”
“Why?”
“I want to check the other bruises.”
When I lift my shirt, her expression shifts. It’s only for a second. Then she’s smiling again and putting on ointment and explaining that my bruises should go away soon. I won’t even know they were there.
I wish emotional bruises healed like physical ones.
fifteen
thursday, may 5
(31 days left)
Lit mag. My salvation. It’s the one place at school where I can relax, even if other kids are working in here with me. I’ve gotten to know everyone. They’re a cool group. Plus, I’m actually more interested in writing and editing than I thought I was. Making things happen behind the scenes of a publication, even our small-town lit mag, is kind of cool.
“Lunch is served,” Simon announces. He puts his tray on the big table. The smell of fried chicken makes me happy.
Today it’s just me and Simon. These are the best times. Simon is so easy to talk to. Sometimes it feels like I could open up to him about anything and he’d totally understand. Even though his family is crazy wealthy, he’s not conceited at all. He’s one of the few kids around here who hasn’t been brainwashed by excessive privilege. High school would be a piece of cake if everyone were like Simon.
“You’re too good to me,” I say.
“Nope, just hungry. Come eat.”
“In a minute. I have to finish these edits.”
“Later. Your fried chicken is getting cold. And I got extra-crispy pieces.”
Extra-crispy fried chicken is what’s up. I sit across from Simon and take a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Everything looks so good.
For a while we just eat and talk about lit mag stuff. Then Simon asks if I’m okay. My automatic response is that I’m fine. But lying is really exhausting. It would be a relief to be honest with Simon.
“No,” I admit. “I’m not okay.” I tell him about the whole Matt/Audrey debacle. Then I tell him about Julian.
“Wait,” Simon interrupts. “If you want to be with Julian, then why aren’t you with him?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. It sounds like you’re both into each other.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“I’m … not good enough for him.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“No, that’s how it is.”
“Sorry if no one’s told you this before, but any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’re smart, funny, insightful, talented, caring … don’t you see any of that?”
Wow. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.
“Well … jeez, Simon. Thanks.”
“It’s the truth. Do yourself a favor and start believing it.”
I can’t help smiling. Simon can inspire anyone. Maybe he’ll be our next great leader in ten years.
“Oh, man.” Simon jumps up. “I’m supposed to be showing Mr. Gilford those proofs. You have everything you need?”
“Yeah, I’ll just be finishing the edits.”
Simon grabs his bag and a folder. Right before he leaves he says, “Hey, Noelle?”
“Yeah?”
“Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”
“I hope so.”
The nice things Simon told me nestle into an empty place inside my soul. It’s like he really believes everything he said. When I hear someone come into the office a few minutes later, I look up from my work smiling all big, expecting to see Simon.
But it’s Carly.
I live in constant fear that Carly will humiliate me in the hall or outside. She owns everywhere else. She’s not allowed to invade my one safe place.
“So that thing you did with Matt?” she says. “Wasn’t cool.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“Oh, no?” Carly strides over to my desk. She picks up my supply organizer and turns it over. Pencils, staples, paper clips, and tacks scatter everywhere. She leans down close. “Who’s going to stop me?”
The bell never rings when you need it to. The clock says we have six minutes left. My pulse is racing the same way it always does when Carly busts out tormenting me. She is the hunter. I am the wild animal, praying she’ll make it quick.
“Leave,” I tell her.
“That’s not very nice. Kind of like when you skanked around with Matt behind Audrey’s back. That wasn’t very nice, either, now was it?”
“I didn’t know they were going out.”
“Yeah … no one believes you.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Um, because Audrey’s my friend? And when people hurt my friends, they hurt me.” Carly gives my chair a hard shove. It starts wheeling across the room. I jump off and head for the door. But Carly’s right there, grabbing my arm.
“I don’t think so,” she says.
“Let me go.”
“No. I want to show you something.”
“Let me go!” I yank my arm away.
She grabs me harder and pushes me to the other side of the room. I can’t get away from her. She’s way stronger than I am. The door is open, though. I could scream until someone comes. But then what would I say? That Carly was grabbing me? Then she’d get in trouble and attack me even harder next time. And everyone would know how weak I am.
No. It’s better to just see what she wants. The bell will ring in four minutes and the hall will get crowded and she’ll leave me alone.
“Audrey wanted me to give you a message,” Carly says.
“What?”
“This.” She grabs my hand and yanks on my index finger. My knuckle cracks.
“Ow!”
“Don’t be dramatic. It doesn’t hurt yet.” Carly pushes me over to the paper cutter. She lifts the slicer. Then she presses my finger against the edge of the cutter.
Right below the blade.
“Stop!” I yell, snatching my finger away.
Carly grabs my hair. She pulls it all the way back.
“Let me go!” I yell louder. Now I want someone to hear.
No one comes in.
Carly is pulling my hair so hard that I can’t look anywhere but at the ceiling. My neck is killing. I try to kick her. I try to shove her away. Nothing works.
“What happened to your hair?” Carly asks. She grabs a piece of my staircut and flips the short section of hair against my face. “Why’s it all chopped up?”
Maybe I’d be able to answer if my neck weren’t bent all the way back.
Keep Holding On Page 9
