Some Girls Are

Some Girls Are Page 19

She presses her lips together. She starts the car, and then we’re back on the road, and she says, “I’m going to take some time. We’ll have a day.”

Like that would solve anything.

“Sure,” I say.

I check my face in the mirror. My eyes are red and swollen. Mom parks across the road from the school. We make our way across the school parking lot, and this is as close to invincible as I get: No one’s going to touch the girl who brings her mom to school. I get so preoccupied with how dumb I must look right now, I follow her into the front corridor, where Anna and Kara are waiting. I’m heart-stopped, frozen, and Mom’s warm and smiling, asking them how the semester’s been treating them.

“Look at you girls!” She has Anna by the hands, stepping back so she can get a good look. Anna grins at her, and Kara smirks at me, her eyebrow arched. “You’re almost out there, huh? Graduating and heading into the real world!”

Anna laughs. “Long time no see, Mrs. A.”

But it’s the way she says it. Mom’s face changes as Anna’s words sink in, making her a picture of polite puzzlement. She looks at me.

“That’s true. Regina, where have you been keeping your friends?”

They’re not my friends.

“Oh, it’s senior year,” Anna says. “You know how it is.”

“Vaguely,” Mom says, laughing.

Anna and Kara laugh in unison. Pretty-girl-nightmare-robots. “Mom, we have to see Holt,” I say. A flicker of something— panic?—crosses Anna’s face. “Come on, let’s go.”

Mom finally drops Anna’s hands and gives her a parting smile. “Right. Well, I’ll see you girls again sometime soon, I hope.”

Anna’s eyes are on me. “That’d be nice, Mrs. A.”

Mom turns her back to us and heads up the stairs. Anna grabs my arm and jerks me back, digging her nails into my skin. I wince.

“You tell Holt anything, and you’re—”

I slap her in the face with my free hand. I’m not even thinking. Pure instinct. Slap. And a strange thrill courses through me, because it felt that good. Kara gasps, and Anna drops my arm, and I watch her shocked face cycle through every shade of red there is, because I just slapped her.

“Regina, are you coming?”

Mom stands at the top of the stairs, waiting. She missed it. I hurry up the stairs after her, my heart in my throat. I’m dead. I am dead. All through the meeting with Holt, I run my index finger over the tingling palm of my right hand, the one that slapped her, and I try to focus, but it’s impossible because I am so dead. Mom and Holt talk about me, volleying each other toward some kind of resolution or something. I don’t know.

All I know is I slapped Anna across the face.

“How does that sound, Regina?” Holt asks, jarring me out of my thoughts. He and Mom stare at me expectantly. I have no idea what anyone just said.

“Good,” I say.

They smile. Good. They stand. They shake hands. Good. The meeting is over and it was good. I lead Mom out of the office and past Arnett, who is working diligently at her desk, to the front corridor, where she gives me a long hug and a kiss on the forehead, pushes open the door, and steps outside.

Into the “real world.”

The halls are empty. It’s lunch .

I’ve been skulking around corners, hiding in shadows, trying to avoid everyone, because everyone knows I slapped Anna in the face. I’m guessing Kara let it slip, because Anna would never tell anyone that story unless it ended with her kicking my ass. So far, I haven’t managed to meet up with them since it happened. That’s good. If I can get through the rest of the day without that happening, that would be great.

“Are you suicidal?”

I jump out of my skin. The last person I expect to see—Josh. He’s alone and he wants to know: Am I suicidal?

“Fuck off, Josh,” I say. I remember the day he asked me out. I needed him to help me set up Liz’s locker so it wouldn’t open with or without the lock, because Anna told me to. That kind of says it all.

“Slapping Anna in the face? You must be,” he says. “By the way, I liked that stunt you pulled in the gym the other day. Dodgeball. ‘Man up, Josh.’”

I cross my arms. “I really liked it, too.”

Josh shifts his book from one arm to the other. “You’re just making things difficult for yourself. If you keep it up, Anna’s gonna kill you.” I wonder how far he’s gotten with her. “Having fun with your new girlfriend?” I ask. He smirks. “More than I had with you.”

“Asshole.”

I’m halfway down the hall when a minicrowd surges out of the cafeteria. I duck into an alcove by the water fountain. It could be Kara, Anna, Marta, Jeanette. Any of them. The crowd passes by and it’s none of them, but the group of students spot me as they pass, and I hear a buzz of recognition. “That’s the girl who slapped Anna Morrison in the face.” I wonder if I even have a name to these people anymore.

When the coast is clear, I continue my way down the hall. More people come out of the cafeteria in little fits, and I keep ducking into corners whenever I can.

I just need to get down this fucking hallway alive. That’s it.

“I take it the rumors are true.”

I turn around and Michael’s behind me. My gaze goes straight to his lips. We almost kissed. I actually have to fight those words from coming out of my mouth, and then I have to fight to keep a blush off my cheeks because I actually have to fight to keep those words from coming out of my mouth.

I don’t understand what happened between us, but I really, really want to.

I nod and lean against the wall.

“Yeah,” I say, and then I laugh. I didn’t believe it before, but now I really, really don’t believe it. “I slapped her, Michael, I just—did. I’m so dead.”

He leans beside me. There is no trace of the bloody nose he was sporting yesterday. He’s wearing a blue sweater, and it really brings out his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the brown strands away before they fall back across his face. He looks good. This is a stupid time to notice something like that, but I’m a dying woman right now and we almost kissed so I guess it’s allowed.

“Who came into school with you this morning? Was that your mom?”

“We had a meeting with Holt,” I say. “I’m missing too much school.”

“But are you really missing it?”

I smile weakly. “I seriously think I need to go into hiding.”

“It’s Friday. Maybe she’ll cool off over the weekend.”

“Anna doesn’t cool off,” I say. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in the cafeteria, writing in your Moleskine or something?”

“I heard what happened.” He doesn’t look at me. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t—”

“Dead?” I ask. He nods. “Well, I’m not. But the day is still young. All I have to do is step down a deserted hallway alone, and I’m sure they’ll jump me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t walk down any deserted hallways alone, then.”

Another group forces its way out of the cafeteria. Lunch must be winding up. It makes me nervous, but it’s not so bad standing next to Michael. It’s safe here, in the hall next to him. I close my eyes and try to enjoy that feeling while I can.

“I could walk you to your classes,” he offers. I open my eyes. “And meet you outside of them when you’re done…”

“I thought you said we shouldn’t hang around each other anymore?” I say, and his expression makes it immediately clear that I shouldn’t have. “Oh. You still think that.”

“You helped me yesterday….” he explains. “The least I can do is help you get through a day.”

“Forget it. It’s not like it’s going to get better,” I tell him. “But thanks.”

He gives me this look. “Regina, just let me—”

“No.”

I walk away before he can say anything else. I feel stupid. Like he’d actually want to hang around me. No. He just doesn’t want to owe me anything.

The bell rings. No traces of Anna or Kara. I wish I’d known I was going to do it—slap her. I would’ve relished it more.

I would have hit her harder.

Reg-

This is getting boring. We need to talk. If you want out of this, meet me in the paper supply closet at lunch.

—A

There are a lot of ways I expect Monday to go. This is not one of them.

The note is wedged in the slates of my locker. When I open it and see her handwriting, everything stops. The lunch bell rings, and the halls filter out until they’re empty, and it’s just me and those words and nothing else.

This is getting boring. We need to talk.

I don’t believe it.

I want to believe it.

I unfold the note again and study her handwriting. It’s definitely hers. The paper supply closet. It’s not far from here.

Kara ‘ s at the fountain when I turn down the hall to the supply closet. She’s bent over, her hair dragging around the drain while she laps up the fluorinated water with her tongue, strongly reminding me of a French poodle. I pass her and hope she won’t notice me, but she does. Of course. She straightens and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.

“You look tired,” she says.

The note from Anna circumvents any desire I have to smash my fist into Kara’s face while there’s no one around to witness it.

“Nice tooth,” I tell her. “They almost color-matched it.”

She rolls her eyes and turns down the hall. I listen as her footsteps get farther away. I reach the supply closet, stand in front of the door, and count to ten. I need to go into this looking right. Anna can see weakness, sense it, and I need to be calm. Calm.

I grab the doorknob and step inside.