by Amy Spalding
“You guys are pretty low-tech,” Alex says with a grin. “You should look into texting.”
“Obviously we have texting on our phones, Alex, this isn’t the late 1990s,” I say.
Em and Thatcher are literally leaning forward, resting their chins on their hands, watching us. We’ve become dinner theater—lunch theater.
“Good luck,” Alex says, still grinning. I can’t believe I ever liked that grin!
“To you too.” I walk off to Mr. Wheeler’s classroom. He isn’t as excited the next day about our voting-for-lunch idea as we are—or, well, I, am—but he makes the appropriate calls to administration and gets approval. At our next meeting, Carlos designs a little ballot that will appear in all our issues moving forward. We have to let people select from existing options, so it’s not quite as exciting a victory as we’d—I’d—seen it, but we still beat TALON to it.
But when we arrive at our fourth-period newspaper class on Friday, two of the freshmen are missing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Do you think they had them killed?”
Everyone in the room stares at me. For a moment it’s everything I dreamed of. I have everyone’s rapt attention, even Mr. Wheeler’s. I’ve been ready to command a room like this for as long as I can remember.
But of course then I realize I’ve just proposed that two of our staff members were murdered. And maybe all this attention isn’t because I’ve finally asked the right question of my staff.
“Jules, sit down,” Mr. Wheeler says. “Of course Leah and Max weren’t murdered. They’ve decided to join TALON, so we can decide if we want to pull together and work a little harder, or if we want to take a look at the freshman submissions again to see if a couple of them are interested in joining late.”
“Mr. Wheeler, isn’t that more of a top-level-staff decision?” I ask, and then all eyes are on me again. Yes, we’ve been doing things in more of a democratic manner in our after-after-school meetings, but there’s still an order to things. There should be, at least.
“Fine, Jules, we can discuss after school,” Mr. Wheeler says with a deep sigh. I probably should have just let it go, because during the after-school meeting, it takes all of two minutes for us to agree that at this point we might as well just work with our existing staff, since we’d already brought back Amanda and brought on Tessa. But policy and procedure mean something, even if I have to remind Mr. Wheeler of that sometimes.
From school I drive to Sadie’s, where we’re all meeting before we go out. Sadie’s dad, Ryan, opens the front door and steps aside for me to walk in. When I was little, the guiltiest I ever felt were the times I wished Ryan was my dad too. He was so tall and funny and… dadlike. But I only had to grow up a few years to realize Mom and Darcy are as well matched a set as Ryan and Paige, and just because our families were different didn’t mean I was missing out on things.
Em is in the kitchen with Paige, where Paige is showing her an ice-cream maker from Williams-Sonoma. Sadie’s at the kitchen table looking at something on her phone.
I really hope it’s not the cat/baby video.
“Hey,” she says, looking up at me. “Rescue me from hearing about the ideal firmness of ice cream.”
I sit down next to her. “Sorry I’m late. After-school meeting.”
“We actually figured you’d cancel, so I’m glad you’re here at all.”
“Why would I cancel?”
“You’ve just been really preoccupied with the whole newspaper thing.”
“It’s not a whole newspaper thing,” I say. “If you didn’t know, the Crest is a hundred-and-four-year-old tradition, and it’s become my responsibility to make sure its legacy doesn’t—”
“We know,” Em says from across the room. “We’re all rooting for you, Jules.”
“This is so annoying,” Sadie says, and my heart jumps that she’s talking about me. “I organize going out tonight, and Mom still finds a way to make everything about her.”
“It’s just an ice-cream maker,” I say. “People love ice cream.”
“It’s not enough that she’s on-screen, all the time, but she has to get attention even in our own home, where I should stand a fair shot.”
“Doughnuts,” I say. “I’ve found they’re even more compelling than ice cream.”
“I’m trying to have a real conversation with you, you know,” Sadie says.
“Jules!” Paige calls. “You haven’t even said hi to me yet!”
I give Sadie what I hope is an apologetic look before joining Paige and Em.
I’m not surprised the boys are meeting us at the Los Feliz 3 Cinemas, and I’m not even surprised that, just like lunchtime, “the boys” includes Alex. It would just be far less troubling if everyone else wasn’t literally coupled up. I duck into the bookstore next door while everyone else is killing time outside before the movie starts. I’m checking out titles on historic leaders when Sadie pops up right in front of an Abraham Lincoln biography.
“I didn’t know he was coming,” she says.
“It’s okay.”
“You can sit on my other side,” she says. “We’ll make sure he’s at the other end.”
“Why does he think he can just do this?” I ask softly. “I thought he was nice. Wouldn’t someone nice just leave me alone?”
“Well, he doesn’t have any other friends,” Sadie says with a laugh. “But, I know.”
“Boys should disappear when they hurt you.”
“Oh my god, I know, right? That’s why normally I only recommend dating boys from other schools. Keep your friends close and your boyfriends farther away.”
We do follow that mantra during the movie, with me at one end of our row and Alex at the other. I haven’t ever been to see a movie with two other couples to my left before, and I’m not sure if it’s strange to worry that they’ll start making out as soon as the lights go down.
Luckily, that doesn’t happen.
I want to get lost in the movie, but I’m too aware of my friends, of the boys, and of Alex five seats away. I sort out hypothetical scenarios in my head instead of following the on-screen plot. What if Alex had still betrayed me but not specifically in a TALON way? Would it hurt the same? What if TALON still existed, but Alex had nothing to do with it? Would it feel like it does now?
The lights come up, and I realize the credits are rolling. Sadie grins at me and holds up her nearly empty tub of popcorn.
“Want the rest? I won’t tell Darcy.”
Darcy likes to make a speech about the dangers of movie popcorn butter whenever our families go to the movies, or sometimes even when we merely talk about movies. Considering that Paige and Ryan are in movies, this means it comes up a lot.
“She’ll smell it on me,” I say. “I’d probably get in less trouble for drinking.”
Justin leans over so we can see each other around Sadie. “What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never done anything rebellious in my life! I’m wearing a sweater set, Justin.”
“A crazy-stylish sweater set,” Sadie says.
Justin wants us to explain sweater sets, and by then Em and Thatcher have decided we should go down the street to Machos Tacos to get food. It’s a pretty intimidating taco stand, as they have two grumpy signs hanging right next to the order menu: CHIPS ARE NOT FREE! and YOU WANT EXTRA? NO PROBLEM. PAY EXTRA. Whenever I’m there, I make sure to smile like I’m on liaison duty. You hear that smiling is contagious, but some people must be immune.
“Those signs are really intense,” Alex says. If it were anyone else, I’d jump in, because this really is a topic I could discuss for quite a while. But I just silently eat my potato tacos while hoping the boys and girls will separate soon. That doesn’t happen, though, because of course girlfriends want to be with their boyfriends and vice versa.
Since I don’t want to be a bad friend or seem jealous, I find myself offering to give Alex a ride home. If I don’t, I’m n
ot sure how he’ll ever get there.
“Thanks,” he says, and I wonder if he’s also thinking about the fact that last time we were together in my car, we made out. If I close my eyes, I know I could feel his hands on my bare skin. Luckily, since I’m driving, I have no opportunity to close my eyes.
“Congrats on the cafeteria thing,” Alex says. “I guess you beat us.”
“Congratulations on the freshmen,” I say. “I’m sure they’ve become vital members of TALON.”
“Hey,” he says. “My congratulations were sincere, not ironic.”
“Were they?” I ask.
“Partially,” he says after a pause.
“Mine were too. Freshmen work really hard.”
Alex laughs, and I force down the corners of my mouth so I don’t smile, even in this dark car. I never knew that you could miss someone even when they’re sitting next to you.
Darcy and Mom are watching TV in the living room when I get home, but they turn it off as soon as I close the door. I’m not well acquainted with getting in trouble, but as they watch me from their spots on the sofa, this feels to me like that.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Mom asks.
“Sure,” I say, leaning over to pet Peanut and Daisy. “It would have been better if Alex wasn’t there, but, it was okay.”
“Joe stopped by earlier,” Darcy says.
“Ugh,” I say without thinking. “Sorry, I meant, ‘Oh?’”
“Sit down, kiddo,” Darcy says.
“Is everything all right with you?” Mom asks.
I sit down in the cushy leather chair next to the sofa. “What do you mean?”
“We know the editor position means a lot to you,” Darcy says. “And we know how hard you worked to get here.”
“But, honey, it’s just one part of your senior year of high school,” Mom says.
“Senior year is an important time,” I say. “SATs, Brown admission—”
“Boys,” Mom says.
“Your friends,” Darcy says.
“I was just out with my friends! And I tried boys; they’re awful. I’ll wait until college, thank you. Or maybe until I have a decent job after graduate school. You both married women, so I can’t believe you’re bothering me about boys!”
“I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with Alex,” Darcy says. “And I’m sorry about this video series. I know that your year isn’t going the way you’d hoped that it would.”
“Am I in trouble for all of this?” I ask. And then I burst into tears because it’s bad enough everything is screwed up for me, but I’ve disappointed my moms. My moms have done so much for me to simply exist, and this is their thanks.
“Get over here,” Darcy says, and I crowd onto the sofa between them. The dogs run over and hop up on top of us. We’re covered in dogs.
“Of course you aren’t in trouble,” Darcy says.
“We love that you care about everything so much,” Mom says. “But you have to give yourself a break, Jules.”
“No one finds victory while giving herself a break.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Darcy asks.
“Yes. I sound inspiring.”
They burst into laughter, and while that isn’t what I was going for, it’s better than all this concern and disappointment. I change the subject to Paige’s ice-cream maker, but I guess that’s non-news because both Mom and Darcy already received texts from Paige about it. We discuss getting our own but decide to wait and see if Paige makes us pints and pints of ice cream with no effort on our parts.
I can’t believe that next year when I have a not-great Friday I won’t be able to hang out on the sofa with my parents. On the plus side, I assume whomever I’m hanging out with in one year won’t be nearly as disappointed in me.
“I don’t want anyone to panic,” Mr. Wheeler greets us in fourth period on Monday, which is a pretty guaranteed way to panic a roomful of people. “But we did have a minor act of vandalism over the weekend.”
Immediately, there are shouted questions: “Spray painting?” “Did your house get TPed?” “Who got keyed?”
Mr. Wheeler waves his arms around in what I can only assume he thinks is a calming gesture. “It’s only the computer keyboards,” he says.
Carlos gets up to look. “They’re all missing letters. T, O, A, L—”
“Let me guess,” Thatcher says. “N?”
“Toaln?” a freshman asks.
“TALON,” says everyone else.
“It’s not the smartest vandalism,” Mr. Wheeler says, and chuckles. “Obviously I’ve talked to their advisor, and they’ll be replacing the missing keyboards.”
“Can’t they just put the letters back?” Thatcher asks.
“Not now that they’ve been disgraced, they can’t,” I say. “We demand new keyboards.”
“Jules, I literally just said that they’re replacing the keyboards,” Mr. Wheeler says. “For now just figure out how to work around it. Or type your pieces at home.”
A folded piece of paper hits my desktop. I haven’t been passed a note in ages, not since we all got iPhones, plus there’s the long-standing tradition of whispering. So I unfold it slowly and carefully.
WHAT ARE WE STEALING??
I don’t like to stereotype, but it does look like girl handwriting. I make eye contact with Marisa, who grins.
Well, obviously nothing that spells “T-H-E C-R-E-S-T”!! I write. We’ll definitely be smarter at vandalism and/or theft!
Thatcher grabs the note from me. He reads it, grins, and then passes it on to Marisa.
“Marisa, what is that?” Mr. Wheeler asks her. “You guys can talk freely in here, you know—you don’t have to pass notes.”
“It’s nothing.” Marisa tucks the note down the front of her shirt. “You can’t make me show it to you now.”
“I… I wasn’t going to make you show me.” Mr. Wheeler sighs. “Can we all maybe take a step back? I know you all feel like you have some kind of rivalry with TALON, but can’t you see how you guys are all on the same side?”
“We most definitely are not on the same side, Mr. Wheeler,” I say. “It’s insulting to even say that.”
“Guys, there’s no need for retaliation,” he says. “I want to make it very clear that you’re not going to steal anything from TALON, deface any of their property, or anything along those lines. If anything happened right now, it would be pretty obvious who’d done it. Okay?”
We all murmur our agreement, though I’m actually working harder brainstorming vandalizing possibilities than story pitches for this week. All of this delinquent behavior is new to me, and there’s no part of it that seems to come naturally.
“Don’t worry about it, Jules,” Carlos tells me after the bell rings and we’re headed out to the hallway. “I’ve got it handled.”
“Do you need my help? What are you doing? It doesn’t spell The Crest, does it? Is it illegal?”
“I’ve got it,” he says. “Trust me?”
“Just promise me it won’t spell The Crest, okay?”
“Jules, I’m not an idiot.”
I spend the whole week waiting to see what Carlos has planned. At first, every minute where TALON hasn’t been publicly vandalized feels like wasted time. But then it begins to seem like the smart choice to wait; a little distance from the dumb and obvious keyboard prank will make us look less like the clear suspects.
On Friday morning, the classroom TV turns on at the usual time for TALON. But Natalie only has a few perfect newscaster-style words out of her mouth before her face cuts out and something else appears.
No, not a butt.
It’s Alex’s face. Well, technically, it’s five faces. It’s Chaos 4 All.
“Hey!” the Alex in the video says. He’s so small. The size of a freshman. His voice is a little higher too. “We’re—”
And then they all yell together “Chaos 4 All!” while leaping into the air in sort of a kung fu way. Then it cuts directly to the “Want 2 B Ur Boy” vide
o. I haven’t seen it since that night Sadie and I watched all the videos. At first it felt somehow too personal, as if I’d stumbled on Alex’s old diaries and shouldn’t have gotten a glimpse. And then once he wasn’t mine anymore—mine? Jules, oh my god, you didn’t own him. But once he was out of my life, I didn’t want to watch the videos. It hurt too much.
Now, though, it doesn’t hurt.
At first, everyone in the classroom just stares at the TV. But someone giggles during the kung fu jumping, and then, well, this is the closest thing to all hell breaks loose that I’ve ever witnessed. Some people gasp when “Want 2 B Ur Boy” starts. More people laugh. A few voices sing along, including Sadie’s.
I give her a look.
“What? It’s catchy. Maybe U C all the looks I steal…”
“Stop it,” I say, but more people are singing, and I laugh. Soon, whoever isn’t singing is laughing. Even Ms. Cannon, for the moment, doesn’t look too annoyed. The song is on the bridge (Girl, U just don’t know how gr8 U R/U R a shooting star) when the feed cuts out, and somehow it segues seamlessly back into TALON. Natalie’s serious face puts every single person over the edge, and I realize Carlos must be to thank for all of this.
Oh no. Does that mean last year’s butt was Carlos’s? It’s nothing personal against Carlos. I just don’t want to have seen my fellow staff members’ butts.
“This is their best episode yet,” Sadie says. It’s not even a Sadie-style whisper. She just flat-out says it.
“That’s enough, Miss Sheraton-Hayes,” Ms. Cannon says, but it’s with the hint of a smile. “Let’s finish this and then get back to Rome.”
When the bell rings and everyone floods into the hallways, it’s much louder than usual. I spot Alex making his way through, staring straight ahead. He’s either ignoring or isn’t noticing how many people are staring at him. The general attention paid to Alex has cooled down a lot since his first couple of weeks, but right at this moment, it’s reached that level again. Maybe it’s even surpassed it.
