“So sorry I’m late!” Mrs. Walker says, bustling into the room. She’s holding a big sheaf of papers and file folders, and she sets them down on her desk. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“I haven’t,” I lie. “It’s okay.” Which it’s not. Okay, I mean. And why is she holding a stack of papers and file folders? It seems like maybe she brought them in from her car or something. Her face looks all flushed, like she was outside. You’d think she would have just been waiting here at school for me, since she said she had a meeting. And if she was going to go home first, and she knew she was late, why would she stop to bring in a huge stack of papers?
And then Mrs. Walker drops that whole stack of papers all over the floor. “Oh, no!” she exclaims. “And they were all in order, too!” She looks like she’s about to have an aneurysm. “Some help please, Scarlett?”
Oh. Right. I bound out of my chair and over to help her. I start gathering up all the papers into a messy stack. And then I have a horrible thought. What if she starts putting them all in order again before she gives me my test? Even worse, what if she expects me to help her? I’m not that good at alphabetizing.
The clock moves over her head. 6:10. I decide to play the basketball card.
“So anyway,” I say. “I have to leave for my game at seven, so—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she says, waving her hand. “The test will only take you about half an hour.”
How about twenty minutes?
“Now, let’s see,” she says. She starts thumbing through the big stack of papers on her desk. I really hope my sheet isn’t in there. She’ll never find it, especially now that everything’s a mess. “Where could it have gone? Hmmm.” She spends the next two minutes looking through her pile of papers, and just when I think she’s not going to be able to find it, she extracts a sheet from the pile and hands it to me. “Aha!” she says. “Here you go!”
The paper has a big footprint on it (I think maybe mine; whoops, must not have been watching where I was stepping).
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing it and heading to my seat. Mrs. Walker sighs and starts to lay out her papers in a row on the floor, I guess so she can get them organized again. Good luck with that. Yikes.
The test is harder than I expected. There are twelve problems, and I’m supposed to do all of them, then pick the ten I’m most confident in, circle them, and hand it in.
I check the clock. Nineteen minutes. So that’s 1.9 minutes for each problem. No sweat. The first problem takes me three and a half minutes. The second one only takes three, but still. Not fast enough. By the time the clock hits 6:25, I only have five minutes to do the last five problems. So I take a deep breath, and rush through them as best I can. I leave the last two undone, and then circle the ones that I’ve finished. She never said I had to get all of them done, right? And besides, how would she know for sure that the last two weren’t the ones I didn’t want to count? I feel fairly confident that I got the first ten right anyway.
“Done!” I announce, marching up to her desk and placing my paper down with a flourish. Under my warm-up, I can feel my dress sticking to my basketball uniform, which is sticking to my thighs. Eww.
“Already?” Mrs. Walker asks. She’s on the floor, scowling at her papers.
“Yup,” I say. I grab my bag and start to back out of the room, before she can say, “But how come you didn’t even try to do the last two problems” or, worse, “Hey, Scarlett, why don’t you stick around for a second and help me with these papers?” I dash out the door with a quick “Thanks for letting me make that up!”
I slide into the girls’ bathroom and into a stall, but then realize that I can’t really take my track suit off in here, since there are girls in the bathroom, out by the mirrors. Some tenth graders who I don’t know, but still. I can’t really just walk out of the bathroom or out of the school wearing a designer navy blue wrap dress that makes me look like I’m going anywhere but a basketball game.
I flush the toilet like I was going to bathroom, then venture out of the stall. I wash my hands (fake bathroom-going obviously must be followed by fake hand washing), and then check my reflection. My hair is a mess from running down the hall—it looks like I’ve had my head in a blender.
I wish I had time to curl it, but obviously I don’t, so I settle for brushing it and reapplying my lip gloss. After a quick swipe of glitter over my eyes, I head back out into the hall and walk quickly through the dorm and outside. There’s a little bit of a chill in the air, and I wrap my warm-up suit around me. Actually, it’s a good thing I have this on. Turns out it might be a little too chilly for my wrap dress. Of course, a cute pair of leggings would have totally remedied that problem, but I’m lucky I even had the dress.
I check my watch. 6:33 p.m. Great. This gives me way less time than I thought I’d have.
Then I have to wait five MORE minutes for the coast to be clear so I can head into the woods in the back of the school, where James and I have planned to meet. There’s a little wooded area back there, with a picnic table and pavilion that hardly anyone uses.
I try to look casual as I stroll into the woods, my eyes sort of glancing from side to side to make sure no one’s watching. Once I’m safely in the trees, I remove my warmups and straighten my dress. Hmm. They won’t fit in my bag, so I drop them under a tree and vow to pick them up later. Then I walk swiftly to the clearing.
When I get there, James is waiting for me. He’s sitting on the picnic table, wearing his gray hooded sweatshirt, track pants, and a totally cute expression on his face.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I say, trying to calm my beating heart. There’s nowhere else to sit, so I sit down across from him on the picnic table, and try to ignore the fact that our knees are almost touching.
“So listen,” he says. “I’m sorry to make you come out here like this, but I needed to meet you in person, and I could not take the chance that Crissa would see me.”
“So what is it?” I say. I lean a little closer to him so that he can hopefully smell my perfume, which I sprayed on during my walk over here. He’s a jerk, but I want him to see, you know, what he’s missing out on.
“First, I want you to know that I’m still really sorry about all this. And the only reason I’m going along with it is because you told me not to stop.”
Well. That is true. He did offer to stop.
“I know,” I say. “And I do appreciate that.”
“Scarlett, I need to tell you what your last truth is, and it’s not going to be pleasant.”
“What is it?” I ask. Not that things could get any worse. I mean, I’m already close to being kicked out. Hopefully I won’t have to risk my life or anything. Oh my God. Our knees are touching. Our knees are totally touching. And he’s not moving away, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.
“Scarlett, Crissa wants you to find out if Amber’s dad is really stationed overseas.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. “Of course he is.” I hold up my wrist to show him the bracelet she gave me. “This is her dad’s bracelet. It’s been in Iraq and everything.”
“I don’t mean take Amber’s word for it,” James says. “I mean …” He sighs and takes a deep breath. “Look, Crissa seems to think she’s lying about her dad being in the army.”
“Why would she—” And then I trail off. Because I’ve lied about things too. About my past, about my dad. Maybe Amber’s hiding something as well. And now I’m supposed to poke around and try to find out. “Are you kidding?” I say. “I can’t do that to her.”
“Good,” James says, nodding. “I think you’re right. It’s time to call this whole thing off, to tell her you won’t do it anymore.”
I start to feel a rage coming over me. This was supposed to be my fresh start, where no one knew me. I’m not supposed to be in trouble all the time, running around like a crazy person, doing things that are wrong. And then I look at James, and I start to get even angrier.
“I c
an’t believe you would go along with something like this,” I say, jumping up from the picnic table. “I mean, what kind of person does that?”
“Scarlett, I told you, I didn’t know she was going to start this whole crazy blackmail thing.” He reaches for my arm, but I pull it away. “I wanted it to stop, I wanted to—”
“Oh, I know,” I say. “You wanted to stop, blah blah blah. But you didn’t!”
“Because you told me not to!” he says. “You told me to keep going, or else I never would have done this.”
“No,” I say. “You’re a really terrible person. I never, ever want to see you again. And I don’t care what you tell Crissa. You two deserve each other.” He looks like I’ve just slapped him, but I can’t stop myself. “I hope you know that you’ve ruined my life.”
“Scarlett—” He holds his hand out to me, like he wants me to take it, and I see the look in his eyes, how sorry he is, how bad he feels. And for a second, I want him to just put his arms around me and let me cry.
And then something horrible happens. A voice behind me says, “Hello, Scarlett.”
It’s Jasper, the security guard.
“Scarlett, this is a very serious violation of school rules,” Headmistress O’Neal is saying. She’s sitting on the other side of her desk, but she’s not wearing her usual school uniform of a suit and pearls. She’s wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, because she had to leave her house to come into her office and deal with me.
After Jasper found me, he immediately called her, and she came right over. “Scarlett, you have already been spoken to about leaving school grounds.”
“But I was just meeting my friend,” I say. Jasper immediately sent James back to his ride. Headmistress O’Neal frowns and her eyes darken. I know what it looks like. I know it looks like I was meeting him in the woods to make out or something. “Look,” I say, standing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry I was in the woods; I know I wasn’t supposed to be there, and that it was a violation of school rules.” I take a deep breath. “I know I’m going to have to be punished for it, and I’m okay with that.” Well, okay as I can be. “But right now, I really, really have to get to my basketball game, because the bus is about to leave. And if I don’t go, we’re going to have to forfeit, since we won’t have enough players.”
“Scarlett, I’m not sure you really understand what’s going on here.” The headmistress leans back in her chair and shakes her head at me. “Violating your probation is a very serious infraction. You knew you were not allowed to have visitors of any kind.”
“But—”
“Scarlett,” she says. “Please sit down. Getting in trouble while you are already on probation means you are forbidden from participating in any extracurricular activities, or being allowed to go to any school event.” I gape at her. “And until I figure out how we’re going to deal with this, you’re not going to your game.”
I can’t believe this. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. She didn’t let me go to the game. She told me that she would notify the coach and my team, and that she was very sorry, but it was school procedure. Everything is a huge mess. Not only is Crissa probably going to tell everyone in school that I’m Steve Haverhill’s daughter, but my mom is going to be so mad. Headmistress O’Neal tried to call her, but of course she was at my game, and her cell phone was turned off. Now I’m not going to be able to go to the dance, and everything’s just… ugh.
At least she didn’t hold me in her office long. She pretty much let me go almost immediately. Not that being back in my room by myself is any better. I wish Amber was here, but of course she’s still at the game, at my game, where I should be. I’ve tried her cell phone a few times, but she’s not answering. I throw myself back down on my bed, the tears making my face hot. After a few minutes, I grab one of my romance novels off the bedside table. I settle in outside of Amber’s room, so that I can be there when she gets home. Forty minutes and forty pages later, my butt is starting to hurt. Amber finally comes around the corner.
“Scarlett!” she says. “Where have you been? Are you okay? I was so worried.”
“I went to meet James,” I say, and now that I’m saying the words, I start to cry again. “And I got caught, and now I’m in trouble and it’s just a big mess.”
“Scarlett, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says. “But I think you should know that—”
From around the corner comes the stomping of feet, and another, sort of shuffling noise. Amber’s eyes widen, and she tries to pull me into her room. “What are you doing?” I ask. But she’s not fast enough, and I get my answer soon enough. “We had to forfeit,” Andrea Rice says, coming around the corner. She’s on her crutches, and she’s followed by the rest of the team.
“Oh, hi, guys,” I say, swallowing. I never realized how big they are. Tall girls, these five. “I am so, so, so sorry about this. Really, I didn’t mean to—”
“You know, we were really starting to think you wanted to be a part of the team,” Andrea says. “We were just talking the other day about how we had you wrong in the beginning, and about how hard you were working, and about how we actually thought we had a chance to win tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking down at my hands. I think I’m going to cry again.
“‘Sorry’? That’s all you have to say is ‘sorry’? We had to drive all the way out there, just to forfeit.” She shifts her weight to her good leg. Her eyes are flashing, and for a minute, I get nervous that she might try to hit me with her crutch. The rest of the team huddles behind her, shooting daggers at me with their eyes. “I don’t know if you’re going to be allowed back on the team, but we just want you to know that honestly, we don’t even care.” And then she turns and hobbles down the hall, the rest of the team following behind her.
“Wow,” Amber says.
“I know,” I say miserably, sliding down the wall to the floor.
“I was coming up here to warn you.” Amber slides down the wall next to me. “On the way out of the other team’s gym I was behind them, and they were furious. I honestly thought they were going to jump you.”
“Lovely.”
“Scarlett, what happened?”
“I went out to meet James,” I say. “And I got caught.” I look down at my hands and swallow the lump in my throat.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Don’t worry.” She leads me into her room and sits me down on her bed. She hands me a tissue out of the box on her nightstand, and I blow my nose.
“Everything’s a mess,” I say. “I can’t go to the dance, I missed my basketball game, I just—”
“Look, it’s going to be fine,” she says. She hands me the box of tissues and I take another one. “I’m gonna go get us some snacks from the vending machine, and then we’re going to sort this whole thing out. Okay?”
“Okay.” I sniffle. Amber grabs her purse and heads out of the room. It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. I’m going to tell Amber everything that’s going on, including all the stuff about my dad. And then I’ll have my mom set up a meeting with Headmistress O’Neal, and I’ll try to explain things.
I put Amber’s tissues back on her nightstand, and that’s when I see it. Her journal. Just sitting there. And then I start to think that maybe if Amber did lie about her dad, she would have something in her journal about it. But I can’t read her journal. That would be a total invasion of her privacy. On the other hand, I do plan to tell Amber about my dad, so maybe she’ll tell me about hers. And then I’ll know anyway.
I reach over and run my finger along the cover of the journal, then lift it up gently and peek under the cover. I see row after row of Amber’s neat, straight handwriting, although I’m not close enough to see any actual words.
“What are you doing?” Amber’s back in the doorway, her arms filled with cookies, crackers, and chips.
I drop the cover of the journal so fast it bounces off the nightstand and falls onto the floor.
“I … I was just …” I take a deep breath. “I just thought …”
“You just thought you’d read my journal?” She drops the snacks into a pile on her desk and whirls around to face me.
“No. I mean … I wasn’t really going to read it, I was just. Look, the last thing Crissa wanted me to find out was if your dad was really overseas.”
She looks at me incredulously for a long moment, and when she finally talks, her voice is low and even.
“Look, Scarlett, just because you have some big secret about your dad, doesn’t mean I do.” She marches over to her bulletin board and pulls down a picture and shoves it in my face. It shows a smiling man in army fatigues, his arm around Amber. “See now?”
And then I realize there was no lie. Amber was telling the truth, and Crissa set it up so that I would think she was lying. She set up this whole game so that I’d have to do all these horrible things, get caught and almost kicked out of school, and then at the end, have to accuse my friend of being a liar. And if I was thinking straight, if I wasn’t so caught up in my own anger and lies, I would have realized that.
“Amber, I’m so sorry, I just—”
“Scarlett,” she says. “Please leave.”
And so I do.
By the time I get to my room, I’m about to explode. Everything is a complete and total mess. And all because of Crissa! Never mind that I was the one who decided to play along with her little game. Never mind that I was the one who broke into the office. Never mind that I was the one who snuck off campus. If she hadn’t made James start writing me those letters, I never would have done any of these things in the first place! Honestly, who does she think she is? She’s had it out for me from day one for NO REASON. I’ve been NOTHING BUT NICE to her this whole time.
When I get to my room, I throw open the door, ready to explode. Crissa’s sitting there on her bed, talking to her mom on her cell phone.
“Yes, Mother,” she says. “I will make sure that Mrs. Walker knows that.” She’s painting her nails on her nightstand, the phone cradled against her shoulder. She’s painting them clear. Who paints their nails clear?