The Society

by Jodie Andrefski

  I grabbed what I needed for the morning’s classes and shut my locker. I couldn’t act on my plan yet; there were too many people around. But I could do it during lunch, when the halls would be mostly cleared of students. I turned to head to my first period class.

  “Nice shoes.” A body bumped into me from behind. I didn’t need to glance back to know who the voice belonged to; Jessica’s high-pitched cackle floated inches from my head. I half expected flying monkeys to zip past any second.

  Warmth filled my cheeks as I marched on, spine held stiff, jaw clenched. I kept my head averted as I walked halfway down the hall and turned right to enter Ms. Sheppard’s twelfth-grade English Lit class. I forced myself to take slow breaths, to calm down. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Dr. Laroby would be so proud.

  The classroom held twenty-five desks in five straight rows. Light filtered through the tall windows, catching dancing dust motes in its path. Heavy molding adorned the archway above the door, and as usual, the room held a note of wood soap.

  Ms. Sheppard was busy writing, “Name three thematic elements…” in neat script on the wide chalkboard. Trinity apparently loved to hold on to old traditions that pleased the school trustees. Upgrade to whiteboards? Nah, the money was better spent on football uniforms. Go Titans!

  I used to love school, the challenge, the ideas. Not so much anymore. But I still forced myself to play the role; college would be my ticket out, away from everyone who knew my family’s sordid history.

  Parents? Gone. I hadn’t seen my mother since about a month after Dad’s sentencing. She’d hightailed it out of the country and dumped me in the care of my Aunt Loretta as soon she could get the guardianship papers signed. I’d gotten a postcard from her about eight months ago. Apparently I had a stepdad I’d never met.

  A yawn escaped my lips seconds before the bell rang to signal the start of class. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before because I was too busy going over the plan again and again. Just three and a half more hours, and it would all finally begin. Well, laying the groundwork anyway. But next week? All hell would break loose.

  “Yo, Sam! Wait up!” Jeremy’s overflowing book bag slipped off his shoulder as he ran down the hall toward me.

  I thrust the small envelopes I’d been studying back in my messenger bag before he could see them. I’d slipped out of class ahead of him, wanting to get started.

  We’d shared most of our classes ever since the ninth grade. Students weren’t supposed to know administration grouped us by ability for our core courses; instead, they made it look like we’re arranged by grade and colors. Jeremy and I landed in 12-Red with our friend, Abby. Not to stereotype, but a lot of the cheerleaders were in Brown, which I found hilarious. The princesses in a crap color. A select group of students filled the Gold section. As if we couldn’t figure out they were the shining stars of Trinity.

  The Academy accepted kids in grades six through twelve, and the school board makes all prospective students pass entrance exams just to have the honor of paying their exorbitant yearly tuition. That is, unless you receive financial assistance, and I do thanks to dear old dad going to jail and losing everything. Which made me rank even higher on the persona non grata list. Didn’t matter, even with the Jessica crap, I was thankful I still got to attend. The public school for my address left a lot to be desired.

  A teacher stopped Jeremy. I shook my head and leaned back against my locker, offering a sympathetic smile when he glanced my way. Probably getting reamed out for running in the hall.

  I played with my narrow tie as I waited. Our uniforms completely sucked. Think of those sweaters old people put on dogs. Now combine that image with plaid skirts and a tie, all in these god-awful shades of red and brown.

  Who the hell picked brown for a school color, anyway? It’s like they wanted to make us look as unattractive as possible, maybe to eliminate the chances of hooking up on school grounds. Like poor color choices would dissuade horny teenagers. Most of the guys would hump a troll if it had a nice enough rack.

  Jeremy fought to suppress a grin as Mr. Reynolds bobbed his head up and down mid-lecture. The old Latin teacher sported a rather unfortunate toupee, and it tended to bounce when he moved his head too emphatically, which he did way more than he should. It struck me how cute Jeremy looked when he smiled.

  Reynolds was on a roll. I sighed and glanced around. Bright posters dotted the ever-tasteful cream-colored walls in the wide hallway. Latin Club, Photography Club, Pep Rally THIS FRIDAY!!! My throat tightened. A multicolored bulletin board of my former life framed me with things I’d once been a part of. I averted my eyes and swallowed hard.

  Finally released, Jeremy started my way again, slower this time, rolling his eyes. I noticed a group of girls across the hall sending Jeremy flirty looks as he passed. One of them, Sherri or Sierra…something with an S, even offered him a little finger waggle and hair toss. Jeremy looked confused, and just gave a halfhearted wave in return.

  I suppressed a grin. He could be so oblivious sometimes.

  “So, where’d you run off to after trig?” He stared at me curiously from behind John Lennon glasses. He wore them most of the time because he couldn’t stand poking a finger in his eye to put his contacts in. Jer had amazing eyes, a mix of colors swirled together.

  I bent and picked up my bag from where it rested next to my purple Converse on the gleaming wooden floor.

  “I just had a couple things I wanted to get done.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Like what?”

  I headed with him toward the wide archway that led to the cafeteria, making sure to avoid his questioning eyes. “Uh, I was going to skip lunch. I need to print something out in the computer lab.”

  “Well, do you want to run over now before we eat?” He shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ll go with you.” His innocent gaze made me squirm a little inside.

  “Nah, it’s cool. I can do it later, but thanks.” I smiled, wanting to change the subject from my mythical printing needs. “Hey, so how’d you do on Cooper’s quiz this morning?”

  He groaned. “I’m not sure, but I don’t have a good feeling about it. I’ll probably be lucky if I pulled a B.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I frowned and picked up a tray as we entered the serving line.

  Jeremy reached across me to grab some silverware. He set a handful on my tray before placing the other bundle on his own. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. I can’t imagine one history grade is going to affect your chances of getting into Columbia.”

  I selected a chicken wrap from the bin of assorted sandwiches, sniffed it, and plopped it on the center of my plastic tray.

  “Maybe not, but it doesn’t help when it comes to getting a scholarship. Plus, I have to fight twice as hard to get accepted, not having a daddy who’s on the alumni committee.”

  He tipped his head grudgingly. “You’ll still get in.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “You have all year to make up for a few bad quizzes.” He smiled at me as he removed his hand to grab some red Jell-O. “And besides, that program you wrote for our computer class last year was totally unreal. I’m sure you can get a great recommendation from Mr. Moyer.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t help that I don’t exactly rock the extracurricular arena.” I gave an unladylike snort. “It’s not like that stuff should even matter. I mean, who cares if you sang in chorus or scored twenty points in some game.”

  “I know, but it does. Why don’t you just join something? What about the newspaper? You like to write.”

  “No thanks.” I shook my head. After throwing an orange and a bottle of water on my tray, I turned and headed to our usual table by the last set of tall windows at the end of the room. We always ate with Abby, Pete, and Celia. Granted, they were really more Jeremy’s friends, but they still pretty much accepted me and never brought up anything about my family.

  I slid my tray onto the speckled tabletop and swung a leg over
the seat. “Hey guys.”

  Abby glanced up from a book and finished her last bite of pretzel before answering. “Oh hey, what’s up?” Her short black hair had a chunky blue streak woven through on the left side, and her eyes were the coolest color I’d ever seen, a vivid jade green. I envied her quiet confidence. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what other people thought of her.

  Pete and Celia both gave me a distracted wave from across the table. They each held index cards and silently mouthed words between exasperated sighs. They were going to discover the cure for cancer someday, of that I had no doubt. Their combined IQ probably rivaled mine, Jer’s, and Abby’s put together. They were obviously in the Gold section.

  Jeremy twisted the cap open on his bottle of apple juice. “Did any of you guys hear who got tapped today so far?”

  I glanced over, one eyebrow arched in surprise. “For the big secret club?”

  Whispers flew each year about how only five to ten people were initiated for the Society each October, and pledges were always either juniors or seniors. Members never spoke out to confirm or deny the rumors. They all took some cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die oath of secrecy.

  Secret or not, everyone knew only the best of the best were invited to pledge—the athletes, brainiacs, or the crème de la crème of the beautiful crowd, all with the right address of course. Metaphorically speaking, I was so far away from having the correct zip code that I might as well be in another state.

  It wasn’t like Jeremy to care about stuff like that.

  He nodded. A tiny piece of lettuce stuck to his lip as he chewed his sandwich. I jerked my head away when he caught me staring at it. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t help but notice the flash in his eyes before I’d looked away. He hadn’t looked annoyed, he’d looked…surprised, but in a good way. I snuck another peek.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The lettuce disappeared. He offered me a small, private smile. “That starts this week, doesn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.” I forced myself back to the topic at hand. My eyes roamed the cafeteria, intent on finding their target.

  Becky Farron sat alone in the corner, eating a yellow apple while hunched over a book. She wore a button-up white cardigan over her uniform shirt, and looked every bit what she was: sweet and studious. Although not technically a true geek, she was a whiz in chemistry, which didn’t exactly endear her to the “it” crowd.

  Next, I zeroed in on Patrick Shaw. Every grade had a class clown. We’ve got Patrick. Right now he stood, one foot propped on the bench at his table, arms gesturing wildly as he entertained the small group seated around him. Although fun, and generally well liked, he was a little too dorky to sit at the “right” lunch table.

  Finally, my gaze landed on Zena Patel. She had this exotic beauty that guys tripped all over themselves to be near, while most of the girls at Trinity weren’t nearly as entranced. Zena was a born seductress who didn’t bow down to Jessica and her mean girl crowd, so even though her father owned his own practice as a renowned surgeon, spitefulness from the golden crew prevented Zena from truly fitting in.

  Those three had no idea, but they were instrumental in what I’d planned to get back at Jessica. I pulled myself back to the conversation going on around me, hoping to get some helpful information.

  “I know. Most of them apparently aren’t talking. The big ‘code of silence’ or whatever.” Abby made air quotes as she said it, then shrugged. “But I did hear someone whispering last period that Kara and Garret each got a note.”

  She wrinkled her nose, freckles scrunching together on her petite face. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why she’d get one. I mean, I thought this was supposed to be some big time-honored tradition where they pick students who excel in something. What the heck does Kara excel in?”

  Pete snorted, and looked up from the index card he held. “I’m sure plenty of guys on the football team can answer that one.”

  Everybody snickered. Even though Pete hung with us, the less than A-list crew, he also played on the football team. In reality, although he was a great kicker, he didn’t really care about sports. But his dad did, so Pete played to keep him happy.

  “I don’t get why anyone even cares about some stupid secret society.” Celia rolled her dark eyes. “I mean, seriously. What’s the point?”

  Pete cleared his throat, but didn’t respond.

  I shrugged. Easy for her to say, with her grades, she’d have plenty of colleges begging her to enroll. She didn’t even need all the scholarship money that would undoubtedly be thrown her way. And cliques weren’t something she cared about. She just didn’t get it.

  It didn’t matter what anybody said, just about every high schooler craves validation in one way or another, and initiation into the Society screamed, “You matter, you’re worthy!”

  But the fact remained that most of the students who got asked to rush were complete jerks. Like Jessica. And her boyfriend, Blane.

  Regardless of how important Rush week may seem, the following was the one that really mattered… Hell week. Each year during Hell week, initiates were instructed to complete certain tasks. Last year, Clay Rygert had to wear a suit and go around to all the houses in town handing out Bible tracts. Someone else had to swim laps in the bay for an hour straight. At night.

  If any of the initiates didn’t complete every task they’d been assigned, to the satisfaction of the hidden Society monitor watching them, they were out. No second chances. No excuses.

  “Sam?”

  Jeremy stood next to me, tray in hand. From his questioning look, I could tell it wasn’t the first time he’d said my name.

  I blinked. “What? Oh, sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Somehow only minutes remained in lunch period. I’d been lost in my own head and hadn’t even noticed. Most of my food sat untouched on the tray in front of me. I smiled to hide my embarrassment and jumped up.

  “You okay? You’ve been acting kind of strange today.” He waited for me to grab my tray and join him and Abby to walk over to the cafeteria dump station.

  Abby glanced over at me curiously from where she stood on the other side of Jeremy.

  “Huh? No, I’m fine.” I shook my head.

  When they didn’t look convinced, I tacked on, “Honestly. Just dealing with some junk at home.”

  Jeremy held my gaze another heartbeat, but I forced myself to look away. We dumped the remains of our lunches in the giant rubber trashcans and deposited our silverware and trays in the appropriate section.

  One of the lunch ladies stood behind the metal counter and pulled the items to be washed toward her before twisting to place them in separate racks in a huge dishwasher. Her hair was caught up in a black net, and her face looked tired and wrinkled before its time.

  Fear slithered through my veins like a poison. That was what I had to look forward to—years and years of barely being noticed by the thankless rich surrounding me. Or if I was noticed, it would be as the butt of some joke.

  I used to be happy, maybe not jumping up and down cheerleader happy, but not the shell of a person I’d become. I lifted my chin in resolve. Jessica would have her perfect little existence shattered. Her evil reign was over. Wrongs would be made right—it wouldn’t just be the beautiful crowd gaining acceptance. This year’s Hell week would be one that went down in the archives at Trinity Academy, I’d see to that.

  Mr. Moyer glanced my way as he walked around the classroom to monitor that we were all actually doing our work, and not hitting up Instagram or Tumblr or whatever. The fact that I’d been rather wildly waving my arm in the air for the past fifteen seconds probably made me a tad difficult to miss.

  He sighed. “Yes, Ms. Evans? Did you have a question about the assignment?”

  “No. I was just wondering if I can use the restroom.” I offered him my best pleading expression.

  “Well, I’m sure you can.”

  I began to get up from my seat in the third row.<
br />
  He held up a hand, halting me. “However, the more pertinent question would be if you may go to the restroom.” He arched a bushy eyebrow.

  Titters from two seats down on that one.

  Jessica smirked at me as she twisted a tube of lip-gloss open.

  I shot her a glare that would make lesser mortals shake in their ugly plaid skirts. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she pursed her pouty lips and applied more pink gloss, never breaking eye contact. Then she blew me a kiss. My jaw clenched, and I whipped her the finger with my eyes.

  “Ms. Evans?” Mr. Moyer, oblivious to the teen girl drama going down right in front of his face, sounded a bit impatient. Although a decent teacher, Moyer definitely was a stickler for rules and proper language. You’d think the fact that I was acing his class would’ve earned me some brownie points…no such luck.

  I cleared my throat and looked back at him, correcting my previous wording. “May I please use the restroom?”

  I waited to leave my spot in front of my Mac until he’d granted me the right to go pee.

  “Yes, you may.” He nodded and turned to head back down the aisle.

  I grabbed my messenger bag from the back of my chair and snatched up the big wooden pass marked “Ladies” off the small table next to the classroom door. Nerves caused me to glance around as I stepped into the hallway.

  My footsteps echoed in the high, open corridor as I strode toward my destination, and it wasn’t the girl’s restroom. Empty halls yawned before me. Faint voices carried through as I passed each of the closed doors.

  I jumped when a sudden burst of laughter came from room 217. My heartbeat sped up, and my sweaty palms clutched the straps of my bag more firmly against my chest. I swallowed and walked faster. I needed to make it over to the senior hallway before arousing Moyer’s suspicion about why I’d been gone so long.