by Seven Steps
I slid in to my seat in art class just as Mr. Weathers walked in and placed his bag on his desk.
He looked at me for a moment, then looked down at his bag.
“Well, Ms. French, since we both were late this morning, I’ll let it slide. Just, don’t let it happen again, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
I opened my book and took out my pen as Mr. Weathers began to write on the black board.
20
Being in the spotlight was exhausting, but in a good way. Like a day at Disney World. For the past three years, I’d only spoken to Ariel and Jasmine. Today alone, I’d had a gazillion conversations. People wanted to know where I got my dress, who my hair stylist was, where I got my shoes. They wanted to make plans with me and advice on life. They asked me to put in a good word for them at the popular table and asked how things were going with Jake. I’d spoken to more people today than I’d spoken to in my entire life.
It was amazing. I pinched myself three times today and hadn’t woken up yet. Yes, this was my reality now. I was officially popular.
“Hey, Bella.” Pamela Meyers walked next to me and smiled. My stomach tightened. Pamela was the biggest, cattiest bully in this school. Her victims of choice were defenseless freshman, but she did find the time to make fun of anyone else she felt was different. Just last week, she pulled one of my braids and called me a dog face.
Needless to say, I hated her, and didn’t want to hear whatever she had to say to me.
“I’m having some people over this weekend if you and Jake wanted to come. Just some wine coolers and a movie. My mom’s totally cool with it. You in?”
Pamela Meyers dunked my head in a toilet on my second day at this school. I still tasted the disgusting blue water. Now here she was, blonde, busty and acting like we were friends.
Newsflash. We weren’t.
I pretended to think about her invitation, but what I was really thinking about was my impending pettiness.
I sucked in a breath through my teeth and made a face that oozed of regret.
“Oh. I’m sorry. We have plans this weekend but if anyone cancels, we’ll let you know.”
Her smile drooped like a dying planet. It felt like my own little slice of revenge.
“Great. Hope you can make it.”
Pamela, and her droopy smile, moved deeper in to the crowd and out of sight.
Boy, did that feel good. Not only did her party sound lame, but I didn’t want to be around someone who was a cruel jerk to people who weren’t like her. I already had to deal with Jake the jerk. I did not want to deal with Pamela, too.
Ariel and Jasmine met me at the door. We grabbed our trays and picked our sandwiches from the lunch line. When I turned to follow them to our regular seats, a wave caught my eye.
Jake was waving me over to his table. A table full of every jock who had fifth period lunch, plus Regina.
Did she always hang out with guys? Where were her girl friends?
“Guess you better go sit with your new boyfriend,” Jasmine said, sending me a giddy smile.
I frowned. I didn’t want to sit at a table full of strangers. Especially one who threatened my life yesterday. I wanted to sit with my friends.
I bit my lower lip.
“Come with me?” I asked. “Please?”
They both shook their head at me.
“You have to be invited to sit at the royal table and our invites haven’t arrived yet,” Ariel said. I sensed the disappointment in her voice. “Go on. We’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”
Jasmine’s nod was enthusiastic. “You look great. They’ll love you.”
Or see right through me.
I took in a deep breath, turned from my friends and walked over to Jake’s table. It was the first time that I had sat with anyone but Ariel and Jasmine at lunch since I came to this school. My heart squeezed painfully, wanting to be where it felt safe instead of on high alert.
Eric and Jake made a space for me, and I sat between them with twelve guys looking back at me. Everyone except for Cole, who refused to look my way.
I recognized the guys from around school and at sporting events. It was a hodgepodge of the football team, the lacrosse team and one baseball player.
“Guys,” Jake said, a big grin lighting up his face. “This is Bella French, my girlfriend. Bella, this is the guys.”
He didn’t introduce them by name, which I thought was odd. Was he reinforcing the fact that I was a placeholder girlfriend, or did he just not care to tell me who everyone was? Was everyone in on our little charade?
“Jeff Hobbs,” said the boy sitting across from me. He had dark blond hair and a slim build. He was on the lacrosse team. “Matt Hobbs, my brother.” His brother had the same dark blond hair, but his eyes were a black, instead of brown like his brother’s, and his nose was slightly crooked. A hunk of sandwich hung from his mouth and he looked surprised that his brother had made an introduction at all. He gave me a little wave, then went back to devouring his food.
“Eric Shipman,” Eric said, holding his hand out to shake mine. “We met yesterday.”
Up close, Eric Shipman was breathtakingly beautiful. Steel blue eyes that tilted up at the ends. Jet black hair, a full mouth, high cheekbones. He was a full head taller than me and always had a little smile on his face, as if the world was so full of life and joy that he couldn’t help but be happy in it. A spicy mix of expensive cologne and aftershave drifted in to my nose. It reminded me of warm sand, salty water and fresh air.
I could see why Ariel drooled over him. He was gorgeous.
“I remember,” I replied, a little breathless.
He dipped his head to my ear. “You’re Ariel’s friend, right?” he asked.
I nodded.
How I managed to sit between two of the hottest guys in school, I’ll never know.
“You want me to put in a good word for you?” I asked, surprised that I hadn’t melted into a puddle by now.
He gave me a sly smile.
“Make it two.”
Le pant. Le sigh. Even though I didn’t like him like that, I swooned a bit at having Eric so near. I wish I knew what Jake had said to him. Was Eric fully on board with the plan or had Jake just nudged him in Ariel’s direction? The questions killed me.
On Jake’s other side was Kenny. Kenny gave me a bad feeling. Like I was at the top of a roller coaster about to drop. Only, there was no bottom. Just water, sharp rocks and sharks. Big sharks.
With his thin body, beady eyes, and nearly non-existent chin, he looked like a weasel. A drug dealing weasel. His sandwich shook a bit as he raised it to his mouth. He hadn’t gotten through two chews when another guy came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. A moment later, they were gone. I knew Kenny sold marijuana, but I never remembered so many kids buying it off him. Especially not on a Tuesday. Why was he so busy all of a sudden?
The conversation rose like a tide when one of the kids toward the end of the table—I recognized him as a wide receiver named Mo—started talking about the new car his parents had promised him for Christmas. I wasn’t sure why anyone would want a car in New York City, but the rich kids used them as status symbols. They roared down the streets with their BMWs, Ferraris and Bentleys, and crammed them in the tiny parking lot behind the school. The kids who weren’t super rich, like me, rode the subway.
“It’s a Volkswagen Golf,” he pouted. “I asked for an Audi.”
“That sucks,” Flynn, a kid sitting next to Mo said.
“Why does that suck?” I asked.
The whole table looked at me as if to say, dumb girl.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“Because who wants a Golf?” Mo asked.
“It’s the same car,” I replied.
The table looked at me as if I had two heads.
“Yeah,” Mo said. “Okay. Why don’t you stick to clothes and mani-pedis? The big boys are talking now.”
A few of the other guys laugh
ed, infuriating me. Just because I was a girl didn’t mean that I was ignorant about cars. My dad was a mechanic, after all. I wasn’t a show off, but this guy needed to be taught a lesson, big time.
Lucky for him, I was in a teaching mood.
“Under the hood, the Audi S3 and the Volkswagen Golf R are just about the same car. Only the Golf is better. They both have a 2.0 liter turbo 292 horsepower engine, but with the Golf, you can get a manual, giving you more control. The Audi only comes with a duel clutch automatic. You should count yourself fortunate that your parents know cars, because you obviously don’t.”
The mouths of the boys around me fell open and I smirked. Even Jake looked impressed.
Check and mate.
“How do you know all that?” Jake asked.
I shrugged. “My dad fixes, uh, works with cars for a living,” I said. “I kind of picked up a few things.”
There was a brief silence of disbelief, followed by a deluge of questions about cars and parts and the best engines. I was in my glory. That was one thing that my dad did right. He taught me about cars. If I had my own car, which I didn’t, I could change my own oil, fix my own flat tires, swap out brake pads and rotors and I knew the difference between coolant and power steering fluid.
I silently thanked my dad for the knowledge, and answered questions the best that I could.
“Wow, Jake. Where did you pick this one up?” John Hobbs asked. “She’s no cheerleader.”
“Not yet,” Jake replied. He looked at me with a proud smile and threw his arm over my shoulder. “But we’re working on it.”
The table broke out into laughter and, for once in this school, the popular kids were laughing with me and not at me. For once, things were going right. For once, I was not invisible.
And then it happened.
Ice cold milk sloshed over my head, running in to my eyes, down my dress and in to my shoes. Even my toes were milky.
The lunchroom went silent.
My lungs tightened. I was so shocked by the cold milk, and the fact that I was covered in it that I didn’t know what to say. What to think.
“Oops.”
I knew that voice. Regina.
Enraged, I banged my fist on the table and stood up.
“You did that on purpose!”
“I told you that you had twenty-four hours to walk away from my brother. Time’s up.”
“So you dumped milk on me?”
Not only was she crazy, she couldn’t count. I had four hours left until my time was up.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me.
“Maybe next time you’ll listen when I tell you something.”
I shoved her.
I’d never shoved another living person in my life, but in that moment, I was pissed off! More pissed off than I had ever been.
Regina stumbled back, flailing her arms to find something to keep her upright.
I turned around, grabbed whatever was in reach and started pelting her. Sandwiches, milk cartons, bowls of salad, cookies, someone’s lunch box. Every item was a dart, aimed at Regina’s hair, her face, her clothes.
She landed on the table behind her and put her arms up to cover herself from the food assault.
“Bella, that’s enough.”
Jake’s voice stroked my anger. I whipped around to face him.
“She poured milk on me!”
“She’s my sister.”
“I don’t care!”
I grabbed the last sandwich from the table when, like lightning, Jake stood and grabbed my hand, forcing me to drop the bread and meat.
“I said, that’s enough,” he growled.
I hated him. I hated him and his stupid sister.
Her hands lowered and she stood, pushing food and milk from her ruined clothes, her eyes wide in shock.
I took a step toward her.
“Don’t you ever come near me again,” I said, my voice lethal. “Do you understand me?”
Ariel and Jasmine had come up behind me. Ariel took one of my hands, and Jasmine took the other and together, they pulled me toward the doors.
“Time to go, Bella,” Ariel said.
“Don’t ever come near me again!” I screamed again.
Regina looked taken aback, like she couldn’t believe that I had stood up to her.
She had it coming.
Who knew that it would take Regina dumping milk over my head to make me realize that I could fight back?
Ariel yanked me and I followed her through the lunch room doors. Behind me, the entire student body applauded.
21
Mrs. Grace, the assistant principal, had kindly waived Saturday detention for the lunchroom debacle. Apparently, Regina’s assault record proceeded her. By the way Mrs. Grace smiled, I could tell that she was glad that Regina finally got a taste of her own medicine. I did have to apologize though, which I did through clenched teeth. Regina didn’t respond. Oddly enough, she didn’t look entirely upset either.
Maybe this was some sort of test that her and Jake cooked up? Maybe she gained some respect for me since I’d fought back against her? Either way, the Winsteds were officially on my list of weird families.
I walked in to seventh period study hall dressed in my gym clothes. I was a mess. No. Not just a mess. A hot mess. My hair was far from its earlier cuteness after I washed it with Jasmine’s shampoo and conditioner. Products that were not meant for curly hair, by the way. I braided it into two braids, but even those were frizzing without the requisite gel or mousse that I normally added. And now I had to go sit in front of a boy who looked as sour as the milk I’d left rotting on the floor of the lunch room.
Why was this my life?
Cole sat at our usual table, books in front of him, pencil ready.
I slid in to my seat and put down my bags.
Would he be angry at me for pelting his sister with meat and fixings? Jake surely was. He’d told me how inappropriate my behavior was via text. I’d responded with two emojis. One was a cow. One was a pile of poop. I hoped that he was smart enough to get the point.
“Let’s start on chapter two,” Cole said, not looking at me.
What had I done to him? Why was he treating me this way?
I never thought I’d say it, but I kind of missed our banter. Yes, he was a cocky jerk, but this boy sitting in front of me was b-o-r-i-n-g.
For forty-five agonizing minutes, he quizzed me on French without even glancing at me. When I got an answer wrong, he simply said wrong, told me the correct answer, and asked me the question again. If I got the answer right, which I of course, did, he moved on to the next question.
It was tedious and not at all what I was used to. I mean, it was nice that Cole wasn’t teasing me for once, but it was as if all the life had drained from him, leaving this angry, sullen husk of my arch nemesis.
I didn’t know whether to be happy about it or sad.
When the bell rang, he didn’t say anything. No goodbye. No see you tomorrow. No great job, kid.
He just stood up and walked away.
What was his problem?
22
When I got home, I thoroughly scrubbed my hair and skin in the shower. After maneuvering through a fresh pile of poop in the hallway, I walked in to my room and attacked my curls, brushing, combing, gelling and smoothing them back into their two braids.
I missed my straight hair, even though I’d only had it for two days, but my curls were a part of me. A little piece of my mother she’d left behind. I smiled at the thought of her wild curls and ever-present smile. I missed her so much.
Mojo ambled in to the room and sat beneath my window. He had gone from completely ignoring me in the living room to completely ignoring me in my bedroom. It was as if he wanted me to know that he was not speaking to me and so he made dramatic gestures to make his point clear.
“I get it, Mojo,” I said. “You’re ignoring me. Point taken.”
His little black nose went in to the air and he laid down
on the floor, still staring at the wall below the window.
I bent down in front of him, well his back, and fake frowned.
“You look like you could use some cheering up,” I said, stroking his brown head. He let me, though his body was stiff. After a moment, I came up with the perfect plan.
My phone was still in my gym shorts pocket. I pulled it out and clicked on the cute pink Music icon. I selected the perfect song and grabbed a hairbrush.
It was time to get Mojo out of this funky mood the way my mother would.
Through song.
The opening chords of Sussudio by Phil Collins came on, and I put a hair clip over the tie of my towel so that it wouldn’t slip off. I whipped my braids back and forth, my body bouncing and danced to the song that I’d heard and sung so many times before. I’d even thrown in a little spin. Not that Mojo cared. He continued looking bitterly at the wall, in his best attempt at disinterest.
When the first verse came on, I belted it out like never before, pointing at Mojo’s back with my free hand.
When the pup didn’t budge, I turned the music up and sang louder; danced harder.
Still nothing.
Finally, with no other way to make Mojo understand, I picked him up in my arms and danced with him around the room.
“It feels so good if I just say the words … Su-su-sudio!”
The trumpet section came on, signaling the song was almost at its end. I put Mojo down on the bed and did a little shimmy in front of him.
At the end of the song, I bowed, then knelt in front of him. He was panting. Almost smiling.
“Did you like that, boy?” I asked.
He must’ve forgotten our stand-off, because he licked my cheek, barked once and panted some more.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I threw my arms around him, hugging his little neck. “Let’s not fight anymore, okay? We’re family now. That means you love me and I love you. Deal?”
Mojo barked again. I know that this wasn’t human conversation, but boy, did it feel good to get along for once. Maybe he’d even start to walk on a leash without me carrying him. My arms would be grateful for that.
