Then Erica says, “I knew it,” and my chance is gone. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t take it back. It’s happened. It’s all out in the open now.
Erica’s about to ask me something else when the teacher asks her if she has something she has to say to the class.
For a split second, I’m terrified she will say yes. Yes, Mr. McGuiness, I do. David Cole is cheating on Thea Melendez with Sari Aaronsohn! Jess Horvath told me!
But she says no, and Mr. McGuiness goes back to writing on the board.
The second his back is turned, Erica grabs her pen, scribbles When? in her notebook.
I shake my head. Somehow, if I don’t say anything more, maybe what I did say will just … disappear.
Erica writes, Please?
I shake my head again.
Then Mr. McGuiness calls on Erica, and she leaves me alone for the rest of the class.
When class is over, I grab my stuff and run out the door. I’m about to make a break for the stairs when Erica catches up to me and takes hold of my arm.
“I totally understand you can’t say anything else. I totally get that. But you should know that Thea is really upset.”
I stop. “What do you mean?”
The hallway is filled with kids. Erica pulls me over into the corridor that leads to the emergency exit, so no one can hear. I step behind the fire hose, while Erica leans against the wall opposite. It’s like we’re in a war, hiding from the bombs or something.
Then, when the halls clear out and everyone’s gone, she says, “Thea has asked David, like, a hundred times if he’s cheating on her.”
“What does he say?”
“The bastard always says no, that she’s the only one.”
“I can’t believe that.” I think of David in art class. How he can be really nice. How can he be such a lying creep?
Sounding almost like a normal person, Erica says, “I know. Isn’t he the world’s biggest jerk?”
I nod.
“I bet he told Sari that Thea has no clue.”
“Sari wants him to tell her,” I say. This is sticking up for Sari, isn’t it? Sari does want Thea to know. And Thea should know.
Erica shakes her head. “He is being such a jerk to both of them.”
I can’t believe this. Suddenly, the only person in the entire world with whom I completely agree is Erica Trager.
But then I remember …
Sari told me, “Tell no one!”
And I have just told Erica Trager.
Who will absolutely tell Thea.
Who will then …
Erica glances at her watch. “Oh, my God, you know what? I am insanely late.”
Instantly, I know. Erica’s not late. She just wants to get away from me as fast as she can and tell Thea all the gory details. I feel sick. For a second, I think of begging her not to tell Thea. But I can’t. The whole point of this, from the time when Erica first sat down next to me to now, was Thea finding out.
And now she will. And who knows what happens then.
I give Erica this half smile that she kind of gives me back. And we return to being two people who hate each other’s guts.
As Erica walks away, I think: Did I really do what I think I just did?
And the only answer that comes back is: Yes. You did.
I manage not to see Sari for the rest of the day. I’m terrified that as I leave school, I’ll run into her and David.
She will kill me when she finds out. She will kill me.
Then I think, What do you care? Sari LIED to you. She said she wasn’t going out with David and she was. She said she would tell Thea and she didn’t.
I try to hold on to the rage for a second, the anger that says this is Sari’s fault and not mine. But I can’t.
On the bus ride home, I think maybe I can tell Sari I did it for her. Because she wanted Thea to know, and I thought that was the best way for her to find out. Which is sort of true. It was partly what I was thinking. Maybe if I say that, Sari will not stop talking to me for the rest of my life.
At home, every time the phone rings, I jump, thinking it’s Sari calling to tell me to die and go to hell.
I don’t sleep at all. I cannot stop thinking about what I said to Erica. I can’t believe I let those words out of my mouth. Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Staple my lips together? I want so, so badly for time travel to be real, to just go back to five seconds before Erica sat down next to me in algebra and do it all over again. This time, keeping my mouth shut!
I have to face something: Sari’s going to hate me. There’s no way she won’t find out. And when she does, she’ll never speak to me again. Except to say … I don’t know, I don’t even want to think about what she’ll say. Whatever it is, I’ll have to sit there and take it. Because I deserve it, whatever it is.
It’s not even like I can apologize. You can’t apologize for something like this. It’s not an Oops, sorry, I take it back kind of thing.
It’s an I hate you, you ruined the most important thing in my life kind of thing.
And there’s nothing I can say.
Why did I do this? What is wrong with me?
The next day, from the second I walk into school, I can tell: Last night, Erica Trager called everyone she knew and said, Guess what? David Cole’s fooling around with that skank, Sari Aaronsohn. And I know because Jess Horvath told me!
Please, God, I think. Please, please let her not have said that last part.
As I walk up the stairs to my locker, I see Kara Davis and Nancy Wein whispering. When they see me, they stare. Stop talking.
I just keep walking.
Everywhere around me, there’s a weird buzz in the air, like it’s the last day of school. I put my stuff in my locker. Behind me, I hear someone say, “I think she absolutely did the right thing….”
I look up to see who was talking, but whoever it was is gone.
Closing my locker, I look for Sari. But I don’t see her.
Maybe she cut school.
Maybe that’s why I’m not seeing her.
Or maybe she didn’t, and I’m just the last person she wants to see.
In French class, I overhear Lea Figuroa tell Ava Haverstock, “Erica said she was totally freaked.”
“Well, God, wouldn’t you be? You could catch something nasty….”
They start laughing. Madame Balmain tells them to fermez les bouches, and I don’t hear any more.
In gym, as we’re lining up to get picked for volleyball, I hear the girl behind me whisper, “She is such an idiot to believe that….”
I move closer, try to hear more. But then I get picked and have to run over to the other side of the gym and pretend like whacking a ball is the most important thing in my life.
After gym, I follow the girl into the bathroom. She tells her friend, “He says he was drunk.”
“Oh, like that’s an excuse.”
“Please, I saw her; she was all over him.”
I can’t figure it out. Are they talking about Thea and David or not? Why would David say he was drunk? Is he claiming he was drunk every time he saw Sari? Who would believe that?
I wonder if David Cole will ever realize that I’m the one who told about him and Sari. I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to tell him how much I wish I hadn’t.
At lunch, I sit in the most anonymous corner possible and wait for Sari to show up. But if she is at school, she’s lying low. I don’t blame her either. Everyone’s talking about it. Saying they don’t believe it, it’s so awful. Or it’s so awful and they always knew it would happen. Some people are saying Thea’s a snot, other people that David’s a jerk. But everyone seems to agree on one thing: Sari is a total skank.
The kids sitting near me are talking about it. Leaning in, all excited, one girl asks the group, “I have to know—what did he say?”
Her friend, this snotty, superior chick, says, “He says it was just that one time—”
The others interrupt, all talking at once:
“What one time?” “When?” I want to tell them to shut up, that I really need to hear the answer.
“New Year’s. At Erica Trager’s party.”
I stay very still, willing the cafeteria to be silent so I can hear what comes next.
“He said that was it?” The girl who was all excited looks suspicious. “’Cause I definitely heard there was more going on.”
Ms. Know-It-All shrugs. “Not according to him. He said Sari probably went off on some ego trip, telling people something was going on.”
Her friends snort. “I can believe that.”
Later, as we leave the lunchroom, Ms. Excited asks, “How did Thea find out, anyway?”
I stop by the soda machine, try to look like I’m extremely focused on my choice of beverage.
Then I hear someone say, “Who knows?” And for the first time today, I feel like I can breathe.
But that feeling doesn’t last long. All around school, people are saying stuff about Sari. Calling her a slut. Calling her dumb. Desperate. Trampy. I want to scream at them: You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything about her.
But I can’t. I’m the one who told them everything they know.
Just before my last class, I run down to the lobby, where’s there a pay phone. I dig two quarters out of my pocket and dial Sari’s number. The phone rings and rings and rings. Either she’s not home or … or …
Where is she?
I hate this. If this is what not being friends with Sari feels like—really not being friends, because she hates me—I can’t stand it.
All through my last class, I think: If I were Sari Aaronsohn, where would I be?
Answer: As far away from Jess Horvath as possible.
Okay, so where does Jess Horvath go to find Sari Aaronsohn?
I don’t think she stayed home. It’s just not her style. So, if she’s at school, I could see her by the lockers at 3:30. But if I don’t see her there, then what?
Sari won’t go home. I know that. Whenever she’s upset, she comes over to my house.
So why hasn’t she asked you if she can come over today?
Because she knows. She knows you’re the one who opened your big mouth and wrecked everything.
No, she doesn’t!
I have to believe that. I have to believe that, somehow, Sari doesn’t know.
Where do I go if I’m Sari? My mind flashes through every place she hangs out. Her places are my places, I know them all.
And then suddenly, I know.
The park. The wall by the park.
It’s a part of David, and I absolutely know Sari will want to be near something that’s close to David.
After school, I get my stuff and head straight for the park. It’s one of those weird April days, when nature forgets it’s supposed to be spring, and it’s blowy and cold and you wish you hadn’t put your winter coat away. I stuff my hands in my jacket pockets, hunch my shoulders.
There is a scene in the second Hollow Planet book where Rana addresses this underworld crime organization, the Council of Twelve, to try to get them to join the uprising. She walks into their lair, and there’s this great description of how they’re all watching her from the shadows. She doesn’t even know if they’ll let her speak or if they’ll blast her the minute they get her in plain sight.
Which is basically how I feel right now.
Standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change, I look for Sari on the wall. I can’t see her in any of the popular places. For a second, I wonder why I ever thought she would be here in the first place.
Then, as I’m crossing, I look down the street for cars, and I spot her. She’s sitting way down at the end, almost where we sat the day we watched David practice and had that stupid fight.
I walk very slowly down the block. Sari’s staring off at the empty field, and she doesn’t hear me coming. A few steps away, I stop. Call out, “Hey.”
She turns her head. For a moment, we just look at each other. Then she says, “Hi,” in a voice I don’t entirely recognize.
I wait, but she doesn’t spit at me. So I get up on the wall next to her, but not too near. Sari looks down at her shoes as if they are suddenly fascinating. I can’t tell—does she know or not? Hate me or not?
I ask, “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head.
“What happened?”
“You know what happened.” I freeze, thinking now it’ll come, the screaming, the fury.
Then Sari says, “It’s all over school.” She looks back toward Eldridge like she wishes she could wipe the place out. “Somebody told that idiot Thea.”
“Oh, man.” I can’t tell, but I don’t think my voice sounds guilty. “What did David do?”
“He never wants to see me again.” She looks out at the field. “He’s totally furious with me.” She kicks the wall. “He says I knew the rules and I broke them. He said if I ever open my big mouth again, I will be seriously, seriously sorry.”
I say, “God, I’m sorry.” And only I know what I’m apologizing for.
Sari bites her lip. “I can’t take it. I swear.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can’t. I can’t do this. I cannot be without him.”
I start to say, You’re so much better without him. But before I can get the words out, she turns on me and hisses, “Stop trying to make me feel okay about this. You don’t know what this is. You don’t get it.”
“I do get it, Sari.”
“No, you don’t. You never have. You don’t have a clue.” She spits this last word out. “Nobody knows him like I do.”
“You don’t know everything about him, Sari.”
“Well, you don’t know anything, believe me.”
Very quietly, I say, “That’s not true.”
“Oh, puh-leeze.”
“Oh, really.” I look up, look her straight in the eye, so she knows I’m about to tell her something real.
Maybe it’s that stupid phrase, the one that reminds me of everything Sari’s trying to be, of everything she’s not. I want to hurt her. I want to smash the pretty little vision she has of her and David as the center of the universe. I want to scream, The rest of the world exists! We all exist! You are not the only one who knows things! In fact, you don’t know anything.
I say, “I talk to David Cole, like, every other day, Sari. He’s in my art class. He sits next to me all the time.” I shrug. “Wow. Big deal.”
I like the way Sari looks now, all uncertain and off balance.
“And you know what the big surprise was? He’s not that bad a guy. He can actually be sort of cool. When he’s not trying to be. When he’s just a human being.”
I know it’s coming; I know she will strike back. So I talk faster, hardly thinking about what I’m saying.
“But you know what? I don’t think you care about that at all. I think you’re just hooked on the idea of going out with Mr. Stud, of getting Thea Melendez’s boyfriend, and having everybody say, ‘Wow, isn’t she amazing. Look who she’s going out with.’”
There’s long silence. The longest, I think, that’s ever been between us. Then Sari whispers, “I knew it. I totally knew it.”
At first, I don’t know what she’s talking about.
Then I remember.
“When it happened, I thought, ‘No way. No way would she do that.’ But then I kept thinking, ‘Who else? Who else could have told?’ You were the only one. The only one I trusted.” Her voice is rising. “But I couldn’t figure out why. And now I know….”
Sari gets off the wall, stands staring at me. “I know because you’re jealous. And you’re pathetic. And you’re sad. You have no life, and you can’t stand it that anyone else has one. But you know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. Because as far as I’m concerned …”
She steps closer, until she can almost whisper it in my ear.
“As far as I’m concerned, you do not exist.”
I wait for a long time. I stare down at the pave
ment. I try to figure out how many coins I have in my jacket pocket. I try to remember the words to this dumb song my dad used to sing me. And then, when I’m absolutely sure that Sari’s gone and I know that she can’t hear me …
That’s when I cry.
13
—Hollow Planet: Desert of Souls The ship glided inexorably through the darkness of space, carrying her farther and farther from the known world. She thought of what lay ahead and saw only a vast emptiness.
Here’s the thing: Sari doesn’t hear me crying and come back and say she’s sorry.
I don’t call her that night and say how sorry I am.
Monday at school, we don’t “accidentally” bump into each other and just sort of start talking.
At no time do I have that moment when I think: This is stupid. What are we fighting about?
The fact is, we’re not really fighting. Friends fight.
We’re not friends anymore.
I’m not sure we ever were.
The next day at school, it’s like I’m invisible. I go to lasses, eat my lunch, but nobody talks to me, nobody says, Hi, Jess. They’re used to seeing me with Sari. Now it’s like I’ve disappeared.
People walk by me, people I’m pretty sure usually say hi to me. Like Zoe Haas, she usually says hi. But today, she just rushes by, like she’s late for class.
Or she’s just embarrassed to talk to me. The traitorous cow who ratted out her best friend.
I don’t see Sari much. We know each other’s schedule too well. It’s easy for me not to be where she is and vice versa. In English, we sit on opposite sides of the classroom, basically pretend we don’t know each other.
It doesn’t feel terrible. On the bus ride home, I wonder if somehow, this is my real life. Like my whole friendship with Sari was some kind of dream. When I think about what we used to do, laughing, hanging out in my room, talking about the guy you’d spend your last night on earth with—it seems like scenes from a dumb movie I’d never go to.
Sitting alone on the bus, watching the world fly by as we rumble through the park … this feels right. The silence feels right. Nobody watches as I get off at my stop. And that feels right too.
The next week is harder. The next week, I see people. There are cracks in the silence, and I can hear the talk again.
The True Meaning of Cleavage Page 13
