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At the lunch table Mairi asks me if my parents are getting divorced. She says her mother told her that my daddy was looking to get his own apartment in Atlanta.

I pretend not to hear her. I concentrate on eating my tuna fish sandwich, like it’s the most important thing in the world, but inside it feels like something in me is breaking. Then she says, louder, “Annemarie, is it true your parents are getting divorced?”

It’s like the cafeteria has gone silent, and all I hear is buzzing in my ears. In that moment, it’s just Mairi and me. There’s no one else at that table, just me and her. I feel like a skinny brown rabbit under Mairi’s paw, and there’s no way out.

Everyone stares at me. Even Elaine.

At times like these, you realize just how alone you are in this world.

I chew slowly, then finally say, “No. No, that’s not true.” My voice sounds quivery and weak, and I hate it. I hate everyone at this table. “They’re crazy about each other. They’re completely in love. Tell your mother to mind her own damn business.”

Mairi’s mouth falls open. “My mother says that your mother’s a drunk, and that’s why your father’s leaving,” she blurts out.

“Shut up. Shut your fat mouth. She’s not your real mother anyway; your real mother didn’t even want you.”

Hadley gasps, and I almost gasp too. I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. Mairi’s gaping like a dying fish; her mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. Her blue eyes look shiny, like she might actually cry. There, I’ve done it now. I’ve committed social suicide. I’m done for.

Shaking, I stand up and crumble my lunch bag into a tight ball. And then I walk away. I think I may have given up my seat at the lunch table for good.

Later that night, Elaine calls me.

“Mairi was way out of line,” she says.

I don’t say a word.

“We all thought so. After you left I told her she shouldn’t have said it.”

Silence from my end.

“I’m sorry, Annemarie. I should’ve said something right away; I was just so surprised. I mean, you never mentioned anything. …” Her voice trails off.

“That’s because it’s not true. Mairi Stevenson is a damn liar, and so is her mother.” My voice breaks. “Everybody knows that Mrs. Stevenson’s a liar.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I really am. Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“But … Annemarie, it was kind of harsh to bring up Mairi being adopted. You know she’s sensitive about that.”

“You knew too?”

“Yeah, she told me a few months ago.”

I swallow. “Well, if everybody already knew, I don’t see what the big deal was.”

“Everybody didn’t already know.” She pauses. “Annemarie, she cried in the bathroom the whole lunch period.”

I didn’t know that. How could I have known that? The only time I ever saw Mairi cry was when Sherilyn accidentally broke one of her porcelain dolls.

“You sure she was really crying? She’s a good actress, you know.”

“Annemarie!”

“What? I’m just sayin’.”

“She was really upset. Maybe you should talk to her.”

“Got nothing to say.”

At lunch the next day part of me wants to walk right on by their table, like I don’t even see them. But I don’t; the thought of sitting alone at lunch is more than I can bear. I wish I could be that brave. Instead, I sit down at the table and take every item out of my brown paper bag. Tuna fish sandwich again, bag of pretzels, two chocolate chip cookies, and a juice box. I stare down at my lunch, saying nothing.

Elaine says, “How was the math quiz, Annemarie?”

“Pretty hard.” I look around the table, and everyone is silent. Mairi won’t even look at me, and Hadley’s glaring in my general direction.

The rest of the lunch period, the only person who talks to me is Elaine. Two tables over, Sherilyn sits with Carol Motts and Dana Toto. Their heads are bent close together, and they’re giggling. Carol and Dana aren’t cool. Carol’s strict Southern Baptist, and she isn’t allowed to wear pants, so she wears culottes instead. Culottes aren’t cool. The boys call Dana “Toto,” and they bark at her when she walks down the hallway. Not cool either. But at this moment I’d give anything to be sitting over there with them, giggling with our heads touching.

Sherilyn looks up and sees me watching her. I smile. She gives me a half smile and then returns to their conversation. I wish she’d have gestured for me to come over, and I wish that I’d have been able to do it. But I wouldn’t have, and I guess she knows it.

As we’re leaving the cafeteria, Hadley grabs my arm. “We haven’t forgotten about what you did yesterday, Annemarie,” she hisses.

I say nothing.

“You owe Mairi a huge apology.” Her brown eyes narrow. “Are you even sorry?”

“Yes.” Not that it’s any of your business.

“Then tell her.”

“Well, is she sorry for what she said to me?”

“What she said to you wasn’t nearly as mean as what you said to her. Anyway, she was just asking you a question. You didn’t have to bite her freakin’ head off.” She rolls her eyes. “Look, if you want to keep hanging out with us, you better apologize to Mairi.”

Satisfied, she releases my arm and walks away.

After school I ride my bike over to Mairi’s house. As I walk up her paved driveway, my heart hammers in my chest like a little brass drum. What if she slams the door in my face? What if Hadley’s with her? I can’t face the both of them.

I ring the ivory doorbell, and a minute later she opens the door. Just Mairi, holding a piece of peanut butter toast in one hand. I thought she’d stopped eating carbs.

“What do you want?”

She’s not going to make this easy. “I came over here to say I’m sorry.”

Her lips are clamped shut. I go on, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was none of my business.”

She nods, and quickly I add, “But you shouldn’t have said what you did about my parents.”

Mairi shoves the rest of the peanut butter toast into her mouth. She takes her time swallowing. She doesn’t look at me when she says, “I know.”

Chapter 37