by Lara Zielin
I pictured all the fat oozing over Mr. Swanson’s collar and tried to stay focused.
“Thanks, Mrs. Janske,” Jess said, pulling me out into the empty hallway. Without a word to each other, the two of us pounded toward the shop classes, racing for the school’s back door and the parking lot. We had to get to the school board offices.
Once we were buckled into Jess’s car, she peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.
“Even if I drove eighty the whole way, which I can’t, it’s still going to take us a few minutes to get downtown,” she said.
I flipped her radio dial on, then turned it off a moment later. “Yeah, I know.”
“So we’ve got some time before we get downtown is what I’m saying. I mean, if you wanted to tell me what happened this weekend.”
Right. The weekend. I still hadn’t told Jess about any of it.
Fearing what would happen if I didn’t just blaze ahead, I let the words tumble out. About Neil, my parents grounding me, the tournament, the dead bass—all of it. When I couldn’t push the words out anymore, I chanced a look over at Jess, and her face wasn’t like concrete, like I expected it would be. It was more like marshmallow.
“Aggie,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“About which part?”
“God, all of it. But especially about Neil. I mean, he was such a dick to you. I’m sorry he treated you that way. You totally deserve better.”
“The worst part is,” I said, “Neil has been a jerk lately, but it wasn’t always that way. For a long time he seemed like the only person who understood me. I never felt like a loser or a freak around him, and I think I just had a hard time letting that go. It’s why I always wanted to believe him.”
Jess nodded. “I can relate to that.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh, yeah. You seen my left hand lately?”
“That J. rex shit bothers you?”
“Yeah. Sometimes. But more than anything, I just wish everyone would stop spreading rumors and ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
Jess leaned back an inch. “Ask me how it happened.”
I glanced down at her hand.
“Now would be the time where you ask me, Ag.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Like, this year would be nice.”
“Fine. How did it happen?”
“The garbage disposal.”
“What?”
“Seriously. When I was four, I was curious about it, so I turned it on and stuck my hand down the drain.”
She held up her deformed hand, and we both stared at it.
“Jess,” I said, “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah. Well. Me too.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask before now,” I said.
“I figured you’d better know if we were going to hang out.”
“Mission accomplished.”
Jess turned the car into the school administration parking lot, and we sat there for a second until she finally asked, “So now what?”
I sighed. “We can sure as hell leave, that’s one option. Or we can go inside, try to find my mom, and tell her what we know about the ballots. And maybe, if we’re lucky, it’ll keep her from resigning or getting fired. If that’s what Mr. Swanson meant when he talked about her ‘absence.’”
“That’s a lot of hypotheticals right there,” Jess said.
“I know. The smarter thing might be to take off. But I don’t want to.”
“Me neither,” Jess said, opening her door. “And I have a feeling we need to hurry.”
Chapter Thirty-two
MONDAY, APRIL 27 / 10:02 A.M.
After Jess and I got turned around six times in the administration building’s long, tangled hallways, we finally found the heavy oak door that read SUPERINTENDENT. We pushed it open and stepped inside.
“May I help you?” the woman behind the reception desk asked. She had shoulder-length black hair and wore a shirt open to the third button.
“I need to see the superintendent, please,” I said. “It’s an emergency.”
The woman smiled, showing straight white teeth. “I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting right now, but he’ll be out shortly. If you want to have a seat, I’ll ask him to see you when he’s wrapped up.”
“No, I know,” I said. “I mean, he’s in there with my mom, and I really need to talk to her.”
The secretary’s smile froze. “Your mom?”
“Yeah. Gail Winchester.”
The smile began fading from the secretary’s face. “Why don’t you have a seat,” she said, “and I’ll ring Superintendent Swanson and let him know you’re here.”
“She doesn’t care if the superintendent knows,” Jess interjected. “She needs to speak to her mom.”
The smile vanished from the secretary’s face entirely. “Have a seat,” she said, and picked up the phone. “Sorry to bother you, sir,” she said, casting a glance in our direction, “but I have Gail Winchester’s daughter out here.”
Pause.
“Yes, sir, I understand that, but she says it’s an emergency. If you could just tell—”
Pause.
“Gail, hello. I’m sorry to interrupt but your daughter is outside and says she needs to speak to you.”
Pause.
“Yes. She’s here.”
Pause.
“Just a few seconds ago.”
Pause.
“Thank you.”
A moment later, the superintendent’s office door flew open and my mom marched out. Her lean legs flashed like a model’s in her suit. To look at her, you’d never think she’d had cancer. Or was possibly on the verge of losing her job.
“Aggie!” she said. “What are you doing here? What is going on?”
The enormity of what I was doing pulled at me in a riptide of panic. “Mom,” I said slowly, “I have to tell you something. And I need you to believe me. Because it’s the truth.”
My mom narrowed her eyes. “What?”
The panic was pulling at my throat.
“Tell me what it is, Aggie,” my mom said. “You’re on very thin ice, and I’m in the middle of something.”
“I know,” I said. “I mean, we heard today at the assembly. That you were going to be gone from school for a while.”
“You came here to tell me about the assembly?”
“No. I just want to make sure you’re not going to get fired or turn in your resignation or anything. Because you can’t. There’s stuff you don’t know.”
My mom’s neck started to get red and blotchy. “What are you talking about? Did Rod Barris call you again?”
“No. It’s not like that.”
The superintendent peeked his head around his office door. “Everything okay, Gail?”
“Fine, Paul. I’ll be right there.”
My mom leaned in, and I could smell her perfume. “Margaret Winchester, I do not have time for this. I need you to leave.”
“I can’t,” I said.
My mom’s face darkened. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not leaving before I tell you what I know. Which is that I saw Sylvia with blank ballots last Thursday. And I saw her with more ballots on Monday, when we voted for the king and queen. You have to believe me that this is all true. I’m not just saying it because Sylvia and I are fighting. You have to listen. It’s the truth. And it means the election was a sham. So you can’t resign. Or get fired. Or whatever it is you’re about to do. Okay?”
My mom’s face turned white. At first I thought it was surprise, but then I realized she was mad. Beyond mad. She was ash white, and she was going to erupt like a volcano at any moment.
“Mom,” I whispered, hoping she’d just listen to what I was saying, but she held up a hand.
“This day,” she said, leaning in so she was right in my face, “has already been trying enough. And for you to have the nerve to march in here and harass me with locker-room goss
ip—”
“It’s not like that,” I pleaded, but my mom wasn’t done.
“This out-of-line behavior is going to stop. If I have to ground you for the rest of your life, I am going to put an end to it. Do you understand me? I am working out the terms of my resignation with the superintendent, Aggie, in part because of the article you let Rod Barris write for the St. Davis Letter. So don’t come in here and try to save the day after you’ve helped make the mess we’re all in.”
Jess’s mouth hung open in horror. An overinflated balloon of pain burst somewhere inside me, and tears started rolling down my cheeks.
It’s stupid for me to cry, I thought.
I looked up at my mom, whose face was rock-hard. She opened her mouth to give me another earful, but just then, Mr. Swanson stepped out of his office.
“Gail, please. We have to finish.”
“Paul, I’ll be there in a moment,” my mom said.
Mr. Swanson turned to go back into his office, but I couldn’t let him just walk away. Even if my mom wouldn’t listen to me, maybe the superintendent would. What else did I have to lose?
“The ballot boxes were stuffed,” I called after him. “Sylvia Ness was never the queen. She stuffed the ballot boxes.”
Mr. Swanson stopped. “Excuse me?”
“Sylvia Ness isn’t the queen. You should know that before you sit there and let my mom resign,” I said. I ignored my mom’s ferocious glare.
Mr. Swanson tapped his sausage fingers together. “That so?” he asked.
“No, Paul,” my mom said quickly. “That’s not the case. My daughter is in a very difficult place right now, and I apologize for this intrusion. We can finish our discussion now.” She eyed me and grabbed my arm. “You are leaving right now, young lady.”
“I’m telling the truth!” I cried as my mom strong-armed me toward the lobby door.
“The only thing you are doing is getting yourself into serious trouble,” my mom growled. “I am appalled at your behavior. We’ll talk about it tonight when I get home.”
She opened the lobby door and tossed me out. She waited for Jess to trot out behind me before she slammed the door.
Chapter Thirty-three
MONDAY, APRIL 27 / 11:39 A.M.
When Jess pulled up to my house, there were rotten pieces of fruit and broken eggs scattered everywhere on the front lawn. Someone had shoved a sign deep into the grass that read PROMGATE—THE PRINCIPAL’S A CROOK!
I groaned out loud. This day was officially beyond bad.
“You seriously want me to drop you off?” Jess asked, surveying the mess.
I nodded, trying to keep my face from folding with horror at the amount of trash on our lawn. “Yeah. You should go back to school. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
“You’re going to get in trouble, too, if you don’t go back. Or more trouble, I should say.”
“I don’t really care. Besides, the Martin Pollock Show is coming on in a couple hours. I want to see it.”
“Aggie,” said Jess gently, “they’re taping today. But the show probably won’t go on until tomorrow or Wednesday. At the earliest.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, let’s just hang out for a while. Go to the mall or something.”
“No, thanks,” I said, opening my door. “I don’t really feel like it.”
“What are you going to do?”
I shrugged. “Maybe surf the Web or something.”
Jess’s face brightened. “Hey! Why don’t we get the boat out and go fishing? It’s a gorgeous day. We’ll put it into Lake St. Davis. You can teach me how you do what it is you do out there.”
I shook my head, picturing the beautiful bass I’d killed on Saturday. “I don’t really feel like catching any more fish.”
Jess gripped the steering wheel. “Aggie, I can’t let you be alone,” she said. “I’m worried you’re going to, like, eat a handful of rat poison or something.”
I actually laughed at that one. “It’s been a bad day, but I’m not going to kill myself.”
I surveyed all the trash in our front yard. I imagined myself like a turtle, shrinking inside my own shell and never coming out again. At least until college. And I’d stay mad at my mom the whole time, too.
“Aggie?”
“Yeah?”
“You know where your parents hid your cell?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Grab it and turn it on. I’m officially ungrounding you.”
“Ha. Thanks.”
I shut the door to Jess’s car and stood watching her until her car had turned out of our cul-de-sac.
As I approached my house, I could see a figure standing on our front porch, hidden in the shadows. I thought maybe it was a reporter until I got close enough to see that it was Fitz.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t find you after the assembly. I got worried. Thought I’d wait for you.” Fitz shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I know it’s a bad time. But I figured friends show up during bad times.”
I plopped down on the porch swing and Fitz followed suit. “Is that what we are?” I asked, rocking back and forth. “Friends?”
Fitz raised his chin a little. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“Not that I’m saying that’s all we’ll be. I’m not. I just think—I mean, Neil was a pretty big relationship for you. I don’t want to be your rebound guy.”
Neil was over. That much I knew. “You won’t be. You’re not.”
“I guess I’m just being cautious.”
I figured that was fair.
We swung in silence for a while. “My mom resigned today,” I said finally.
Fitz nodded and ran a hand through his curly hair. I noticed for the first time that his hands were large—way bigger than Neil’s. I struggled to keep myself from imagining what they might feel like on my skin.
“Is there anything I can do?” Fitz asked. “Anything you need?”
I thought about how, before Neil, I hadn’t been touched in such a long time. “Maybe a hug?”
Without a word, Fitz wrapped his arms around me and held me close. Just like he’d done in the boat.
“Thanks,” I said, pulling away after a few minutes. “I appreciate that.”
“Anytime,” he said. “And, not to be the king of non sequiturs or anything, but there probably wouldn’t be any harm in us going to the prom together after all. If you’re still interested, that is.”
I tilted my head. “Prom again, huh? Are we going as friends?”
“How about as friends . . . with potential.”
My heart somersaulted. “That sounds about right. Count me in.”
Fitz grinned, then hopped down off my front porch and started toward his car, parked a little ways off. He stopped before he reached it. “Can I call you later, maybe?”
“I don’t know if I’ll have my cell much. Maybe we can e-mail?”
“Cool,” he said. “I’ll e-mail you.”
With a strange new shiver in my heart, I watched him drive off.
I scrounged up some yellow dish gloves and decided to clean up the yard. After all the garbage was stuffed into a black trash bag, I took a shower, half expecting someone to be home by the time I dried off. But no luck. Finally, I sat down at my computer. And there, once again, was the shortcut to the picture of me and Neil.
“God, Neil,” I whispered, “why did you have to be such a complete ass?”
I thought about the way he looked at me in his kitchen, with a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. I opened my settings and dragged the picture to the trash. Then I uploaded a picture of a bass my dad had caught last summer.
“So there you go,” I said aloud to the fish. “Welcome to my computer.”
I opened my e-mail, hoping to check it quickly, and was overwhelmed by the number of new messages I had. It looked like over a hundred.
B
ut when I clicked the inbox to see them, my insides twisted.
On and on they went, all of them tying me to the prom fiasco and saying either my mom or I was to blame somehow for what had happened. Pain stabbed my heart as I hit delete over and over. Despite everything I’d done to try to get the truth out, here I was, with waves of hate radiating toward me from the student body.
Suddenly, I spotted a message buried in between all the hate mail.
He’d sent it late Sunday night.
I sat back so far in my desk chair that it rocked on its legs. “Oh God,” I said. Don’t read it! Don’t read it!
Despite myself, I clicked on the e-mail.
Dear Aggie,
I’m really sorry 4 what happened with my mom. I didn’t mean 4 things to go like that. U R so special. Plz don’t hate me, k? Maybe we can go to prom? I don’t have a date yet.
Love,
Neil
I blinked a few times to make sure I’d read the whole thing correctly.
I pictured the dance in my head and wondered suddenly if Neil would make me meet him at the school instead of picking me up and driving me there. Maybe he’d ask me to wait for him around the back of the building, near the shop classes. I laughed out loud at that mental picture: Neil driving slowly past the back door, and me waiting for him in the shadows, the hem of my prom dress dirtied from the blacktop and puddles.
And what kind of date would that be? A totally lame one, at the very least. And even if Neil showed up at the front door of my house, corsage in hand, I still wouldn’t go with him. Because I deserve better than that, I thought. Because I AM better than that.
Whatever for you, Neil Bromes, I thought, getting ready to delete the e-mail, but then I paused. Maybe this warranted a response.
Neil,
You suck. Have a great time at the prom—alone.
Aggie
I smiled and hit send.
Afterward, I sat there for a moment. I’d effectively put the last nail in the coffin of my relationship with Neil, but it was okay. At least I’d done it. At least I hadn’t let it drag out on his terms, letting him use me. At least I’d figured out I was better than that.
