Читать книгу Mean Girls: New Girl / Confessions of an Angry Girl / Here Lies Bridget / Speechless - Hannah Harrington - Страница 16

ALMOST A WEEK HAD PASSED SINCE MY FREAK-OUT at Dana, and neither one of us had said a word. She had followed my snotty advice and put Becca’s pictures all over her own wall. I’d suffered the consequences of my own rage, too, when I stepped on a thumbtack on the way to the bathroom one night.

I finished To Kill a Mockingbird, and completed my paper on The Small Town Effect. I’d focused on the wildfire spread of gossip and what it does in a small environment and to the people within it. Somehow, I’d managed to get inspired. Go figure.

All the other classes passed by in a haze of challenging busywork. They were just the classes to get through until Painting. When Max and I spoke, we talked about our assignments and other banal things like the weather. Of which there was far too much. As I sat now, outside Dr. Morgan’s office, I watched cold, gray rain pour down in sheets outside. It pounded on the windows, as though it was pleading to come in. I didn’t blame it. It was miserable out there.

My appointment to talk about college and “whatever else” had been at three-thirty, but it was three-forty now and I still hadn’t been called in. Just as I glanced at the clock on the wall again (the only one I’d seen in the school so far), I heard a muffled shout coming from her office.

The secretary raised her eyebrows wordlessly and continued filing her papers.

Dr. Morgan’s door flew open.

“I just hate this, I don’t know why we’re even pretending!” It was Dana. She stormed out and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me.

She let out a groan, and her hands flew to her head in anger. Her fingers looked like they must be pressing dents into her skull. “Why are you here?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Why?”

Dr. Morgan shuffled over to Dana. She put a hand on her arm, but Dana shrugged it off violently. “Stop! I want to be left alone! I want an empty room, I don’t want to be with this stupid, fake—”

“Bite your tongue, Miss Veers.”

“I hate you!” Dana spit at me. I stared at her in shock.

Dr. Morgan glanced at me, and then led a reluctant Dana back into her office. A moment after she shut the door, it opened again.

“Please come in.” She gestured to me. I glanced at the secretary again, whose eyebrows were still raised, and who still filed wordlessly.

I walked into the room Dana was filling with negativity.

“Have a seat.”

I sat.

“Very well,” Dr. Morgan began. “Is there some kind of conflict between the two of you?”

“Nope,” Dana said, simply.

“What is the problem?” Dr. Morgan looked to me.

“I … I don’t know.”

“There’s no problem.”

Dr. Morgan looked very seriously at her for a moment and then spoke.

“Miss Veers, I know this is an unspeakably hard time for you—” She stopped as Dana let out a derisive snort. She breathed and then started again. “As I say, I know it’s difficult. But you cannot be angry because Becca’s side of your room has been filled by a new student.”

Dana didn’t speak.

“I encourage you both to talk about what’s bothering you, so that you can work through it.”

Both of us? How was it not obvious that I had done nothing wrong?

I glanced at Dana, who was looking deadly. I stayed silent. Dr. Morgan waited at first, and then pulled out a date book.

“Dana, are you available at around four tomorrow afternoon?”

I looked at her. There was something in her expression besides fury. She looked worried. Nervous. A pang of pity struck me unexpectedly.

“Yes, four is fine.”

Dr. Morgan scribbled in her book and Dana walked out without looking at me. The door shut quietly, but a sound rang through me as if she’d slammed it.

Dr. Morgan cleared her throat and looked at me. “How have things been since your arrival?”

“Um … fine.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Really.”

She waited for me to change my mind or go on. When I didn’t, she cleared her throat.

“You know, it’s a good idea to talk about how you’re feeling to someone like me, especially when you’re in a new place and don’t know many people.”

I hesitated. Nothing that was bothering me could come out sounding anything less than selfish and self-pitying.

I smiled and shrugged. “I’m good, I like it here.”

She waited again, as she had when Dana had lied, and then carried on.

“Well, then, on to other business.” She placed her glasses on her nose and looked down at a manila folder that must be mine. “You’ve been accepted to a few colleges already, I see?”

“Yes, Florida State University and Boston University.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Two very different places. May I ask why you applied to each?”

“Boston is where my parents went. They met there and everything.” I thought of the photo album filled with pictures from their four years there. It was what I imagined when I thought of college. It was so … I don’t know, academic feeling. They had millions of pictures in front of big old buildings or in small, awful dorm rooms with big windows that looked out on a place filled with history. I imagined a grassy quad filled with studying students in scarves and BU sweatshirts, good-looking guys throwing perfectly spiraled footballs, and a slightly chilly wind carrying fallen leaves across the sidewalks that lead to brick dorms filled with first experiences.

Not that I’d thought about it very much.

“And why FSU?” Dr. Morgan asked, shaking me from my thoughts.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just always planned to go there. It’s where all of my friends are going and it’s near home.”

Then there were the thoughts that came to mind when I thought of going there. Palm trees and smooth, modern buildings. Hugely popular bands performing in the stadium. Still being able to tan in October.

It had always been the plan. But when I thought of it, it just felt like it would be too easy.

My friends and I would stay in our habits at school. I wouldn’t make a whole other group of friends. I’d go home a lot. I’d have fun, but wouldn’t try anything new. I had horrible images of myself graduating and sticking around, never seeing anything new. Never taking a risk.

“Which are you leaning toward, either one?”

“I’ve been planning on going to FSU.”

“And what major are you considering currently?”

“I don’t know yet.”

She looked at me as if waiting for me to decide on one. When I gave a pitiful smile, she said, “All right, that’s fine. Most people don’t know at this stage anyway. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“I wanted to talk to you, or whoever, about maybe a scholarship. I don’t know if I have the grades or … I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to ask about it.”

“Well, the problem there is that scholarships are easiest to come by when you do have a major in mind.” She squinted and then bent over to open a drawer behind her. She pulled from it a stapled packet. “Fill this out.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called Major Undecided. It’s basically a test to find out where your interests really lie. I must encourage you to answer honestly. Take your time doing it. This could really help you. So don’t look at it like homework. Look at it as a ticket to your decision.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“Well, if there’s not anything else we need to discuss, then you’re all set.” She eyed me carefully. “And you’re sure there’s nothing else?”

“That’s all for me.” I stood, and then hesitated. “I mean, it’s been difficult, in some ways. But that’s just because I’m new. It’s always hard to be new.”

She nodded, waiting for me to go on.

“I just … I feel weird because I’m in Becca Normandy’s room and I feel like everyone else feels weird about that, too. I’m not trying to take her place.”

“Of course not.”

“And Madison and Julia … I don’t know if you know them, you probably do … well anyway, they were friends with Becca, and they keep asking me if I like Max Holloway—” my heart skipped a little on his name “—and I never said I did. And even if I did, it shouldn’t be up to them what I do with it, right? I know it’s kind of weird because Becca’s his girlfriend … but if he liked me back, then would it be messed up of me to just go with it?”

“Don’t worry about the other girls. They are going through something very traumatizing, and it’s making them all think too hard. I must admit, I was afraid of what the repercussions might be when you arrived.”

The idea that she had seen this coming startled me. “Really?”

“Of course. You replaced—” she did quotes with her fingers “—a student here whom a lot of other students cared for. Especially Dana, Madison, Julia, etc. I’m sure it’s very difficult to feel welcoming of someone who wouldn’t be here if their friend still was.”

That was blunt.

“But what you must remember,” Dr. Morgan went on, “is that anything they do that is an effect of their own fluxing emotions has nothing to do with you.”

When I left, I wasn’t sure if I felt better or not.

Saturday afternoon, Blake invited me to go into town with her.

“Manderley is like being stuck in an attic. Dusty, cold, and you feel like you might be struck by lightning at any moment. Sometimes it’s just nice to get out.”

We wandered around Main Street for a little while, chatting about this and that, before deciding to get a bite to eat from a French café called Les Filles de Cuisine. I hoped it would taste anything like my mother’s cooking.

I saw the menu had Orangina, like most of these Americanized places, and ordered it immediately.

“Blake?”

We both turned to see Madison and Julia coming in.

“Madison, Julia, hey.” Blake sounded as tired of them as I was.

They pulled the other two-seater table up to ours. “I love this place,” said Madison. “Their food is so good. I didn’t think we’d be able to come though.”

“Why?” I asked. For some stupid reason.

“Well …” Julia and she exchanged a look. “Last time we were here, Becca was with us.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“That was where we sat last time …” Julia looked longingly at a table occupied by a couple. He said something to her, and she blushed.

“Aw, they are so cute,” said Julia. “They even remind me of …”

“I know!” Madison exclaimed. “I was just going to say that! That day even.”

Julia looked to us to explain. “We were here right after Christmas, and she was wearing that silver necklace Max gave her. Do you remember it, Blake?”

Blake stared at the menu on the table and said quietly, “Yes.”

“It was from Tiffany & Co.,” Julia explained to me. “He’d had her name engraved, and the date they got together.”

“Oh, she looked so pretty that day. She had on those cute riding boots—they were the same ones Kate Middleton had been wearing in this one picture … well anyway, they were so cute.”

The waiter came over and took our order. I ordered lobster bisque and Croque Monsieur. I hoped to God they’d stop talking about Becca when the waiter left. But no.

“When we were here that day, we were just talking, whatever, like we always did, and then Max came in. He just showed up. Johnny was with him, but he was in here talking to us. That was the day I realized Johnny had feelings for Becca.”

Blake looked at her. “Do you think Becca ever had feelings for him?”

“Are you serious?” Julia scoffed and carried on. “Anyway, they sat on that bench there. They were there for like ten minutes. He looked at her necklace, and then they kissed … I was so jealous.”

“Me, too,” Madison said. “I want a boy to love me that much. He was always trying with her. He refused to let her go.”

“He really fought for her.”

“They were on their way to getting back together right before she … right before she went missing.”

“They broke up?”

“Yes, for a little while. I don’t like to talk about it,” Madison said, as if it were her own breakup.

The Bobbsey Twins went silent, then began chattering on about where they thought she was. I shut them out until Julia said the words I had also thought.

“You know, I think Dana knows more than she lets on.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Blake.

Julia nodded. “She’s been acting so freaky and everything. I just think she knows something. Remember the night of her meltdown?”

“Oh, yeah, when she said ‘You know’ to Max? I think that meant something.”

“Me, too.”

“Speaking of Dana,” said Madison, “what happened with you guys?”

“Yeah, we heard you screaming at each other.”

I was afraid they’d ask me that. “She just kind of freaked out.”

I didn’t want to give specifics.

“She said you just started randomly throwing things at her.”

“No.” My cheeks were getting hot. “She was hurling insults at me, and so then I took down all of Becca’s pictures and gave them to her.”

Gave was a bit of a stretch….

“I just didn’t want them up on my wall anymore. She’s the one that wants them up, and I just feel weird looking at her pictures all the time since I didn’t even know her. It makes me feel like I’m intruding on her space.”

Neither of them looked like they knew what to say.

Blake shrugged. “It was weird. It’s not a shrine, it’s a dorm room in a school.”

“That’s not quite fair….” said Julia slowly.

“Sure it is, it’s my side of the room now. She was being a bitch.”

Everyone looked shocked. Blake smiled and took a sip of her drink. The other two changed the subject, and said nothing more about Becca for the rest of the meal.

“Thank God you called. Seriously, I’ve been desperate,” Leah was saying into her end of the phone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s Michael.”

Ah. Big surprise. Something was always happening with Michael. That’s another thing I wasn’t looking forward to at FSU—another four years of Ronnie-Sammi-esque drama. “What happened?”

“I am just so done with him. So done with him. He keeps acting superjealous, when I’m not even doing anything. I was with Emma yesterday and he got infuriated when I didn’t answer his texts. It’s so annoying.”

I really hoped she was finished with him. If this continued on into college, and I really was her roommate, I’d absolutely kill myself. Or them.

“Just let go of him, Leah, seriously. You guys have been beyond finished for like three years.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean, he’s done everything you hate. He’s read your texts, your Facebook messages, your emails, he’s followed you when you left your house … How have you stayed with him?”

“I don’t know. Because I love him? I really care about him. Ugh, I wish I could just let go, but it’s so hard. How’s your love life by the way?” she asked, brightening.

“Oh … um, nonexistent.”

“Really? There’s no one at all?”

“Really. Well. There’s this guy … but.” Suddenly everything about Becca seemed like it was difficult to explain. I couldn’t say that there was a missing girl and everyone misses her and it’s really screwing up my life without sounding like a total jackass. Or maybe just thinking it made me one. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Does he love her?”

“Apparently.”

“Aw. I’m sorry, that sucks. Well, is there anyone else you like?”

“Nope. I don’t even really know anyone. Leah?” She was talking with the mouthpiece covered up.

“Can I call you back? Michael is here.”

“Not really, I have to turn my phone—”

“Love you!”

And she was gone. I looked at my phone. It was nine already anyway. I sighed and stood up to return my phone to its own little jail cell.

I walked up to see that Max was returning his phone. I took a deep breath and walked toward him. He spotted me as he handed his phone over.

He smiled, and I smiled back. More backflips.

I said hi, and he said hi, and that was it. I could do nothing more to prolong the moment. I walked up the stairs and away from him.

That was all I could have done. Max and I had barely spoken. And all I’d gotten were reasons to avoid him.

When I arrived at my room, my heart still in my throat, I found my door locked. I hoped that meant Dana wasn’t in the room. No such luck, however. She was there, looking as morbid as usual.

“Only five minutes after nine,” she said, looking at her alarm clock. “Hmm.”

“What?”

She sighed and set down her book. “Becca was never back this early. She used to stay out until the wee hours of the morning with Max.”

“What makes you think I was with Max?” I thought of our brief encounter.

She laughed, and it did not suit her. “I just meant that she was always with Max. But I guess you can see now how you misunderstood.”

I flushed pink. Dana stood and drifted into the bathroom. I wanted to smack her. My eyes scanned the wall of pictures, landing on one of Becca in a royal-blue shirt, her goldenblond hair in curls. She leaned back as Max kissed her. My heart fell.

I kicked off my shoes, and immediately stubbed my toe on that stupid Louis Vuitton suitcase. The pain that shot up my foot sent some kind of wave through me. I walked over to the bathroom and threw open the door. She had just tossed her shirt on the ground, and covered herself up as I walked in.

“I’ve had enough. You cannot talk to me like that and just expect me to take it. You don’t know me, you just hate me because you miss your fucking friend. And I have told you that I understand, and that I sympathize. But you are just—”

“Oh, shut up, you’re turning an ugly shade of red.”

She smiled smugly at me and rolled her eyes, and I almost lost it. I envisioned slapping her hard and tossing an easy, “Who’s red now, bitch?” over my shoulder as I left her to cry.

But instead I just steadied my breathing and stalked out.