Part 8 (1/2)
Oh, my G.o.d. Her words are just so dramatic and over-the-top, I want to laugh in disbelief, even as I cry because-because they're so mean!
”Wow,” I say finally when I can find my voice. ”You guys already filled the quota, huh?
They hiss at me like p.i.s.sed off cats.
I turn to Laundry Room Girl. I want to tell her exactly what I think of girls who go after guys that they know are in a relations.h.i.+p, girls who let themselves be groped on a was.h.i.+ng machine by a drunk guy with a girlfriend. I want to scream at her, and put all the blame on her for my misery. I want to shave her bald for being so pretty and model-like.
But I don't say a word to her. Because if I do, I'll cry. The ugly kind of crying, with the snot and the hysteria. And I refuse to shed a tear in front of these sea harpies.
I abruptly walk away. If they say anything, it's drowned out by the ocean waves in my ears. I find an empty seat in the back of the cla.s.sroom, and sit down. My face is burning and my heart is racing from the encounter.
I'm sh.e.l.l-shocked. I can't believe that just happened to me. I've never had problems with other girls before-well, not that bad, anyway. That was mortifying. How could Johnny be friends with them? The room buzzes around me with gossip and laughter. It's not my imagination that I'm at the center of it.
The teacher finally comes in, and provides the toppings on my humiliation sundae by making me stand in front of the cla.s.s, and introduce myself in Spanish. I suck at Spanish.
This is going to be a long day.
By lunch time, I am ready to climb a tall building and start screaming things like, ”Juliet SMAs.h.!.+” as I swat at pa.s.sing airplanes.
It's like that scene in the movies, where the pariah walks down the halls as people point and stare at her. I'm the wh.o.r.e that broke Johnny Parker's heart. I've been told this by two different girls. I flinch every time I hear that word. I want to scream at the unfairness of it. I want to yell, ”I'm not a wh.o.r.e, I'm a virgin!” But that would start off a whole thing, so...yeah.
Oh, but the cafeteria is like a Las Vegas buffet. I can't believe the selection of food, and the quality of it. I could write a poem about the salad bar. No, I couldn't. I don't like salad that much. But it's amazing!
Instead of long tables like in Jefferson's cafeteria, Leclare has round ones like in a restaurant. I notice Nick and Mack, and the others in the center of the room, at what looks to be the tables of honor. The rest of the tables form circles around them, with the popular kids in the inside circle, and the less popular ones on the outside. If they gilded the table and hung a neon sign proclaiming ”This is the Elite,” it would be less obvious. Of course, we had the division of social cla.s.ses at my old school, but...not so obvious as this.
Back at Jefferson, I knew my place. Heather and I got along with mostly everyone, though we didn't hang out with any one clique. We were popular in our own way, I guess. Of course, my status raised considerably at the end of junior year when I started dating Johnny.
If I were still dating him, I would be a.s.sured a place at the elite table. I could be a sea harpy.
I slink through the lunch line, noticing Nick occasionally glancing around the cafeteria-is he looking for me? I am not sitting with them. I'm not sitting with the sea harpies. I unconsciously pick food that would do a fair amount of damage if thrown at someone's face. They have chili. Not my favorite dish, but it's the perfect food to dump over a mean girl's head.
Well, now that I have my tray, what now? I quickly scan the crowded cafeteria, looking for an open table, or maybe a friendly face. I catch the eyes of several guys who smile at me. But it's not the ”come sit with me, I'd like to get to know you” kind of smile. It's the other kind, the ”yeah, I'm looking at you, but only 'cause you're female” pervert smile.
I could have stood there like an idiot forever, but then I notice a table in the corner whose occupants look like they're getting ready to leave. Gripping my tray tightly, I make a beeline for that table.
Only to get beat there by an obnoxious group of girls. And they get there just before I do-which leaves me standing at their table with my tray and a sour expression, while they settle their b.u.t.ts on the chairs, cackling at me.
At least it's not the spiteful kind of laughter. More like, ”ha, we beat you!” One of the girls even looks like she's going to say something to me, maybe ask me join them (ha). She looks up-then past me, her eyes growing wide.
I glance over my shoulder to see what she's looking at.
Dean.
I love how he's suddenly the center of attention. How could he not be? He looks too perfect to be real, tall and beautiful in his crisp school uniform. Like someone stole him from a s.e.xy cologne ad, and Photoshopped him into a high school cafeteria scene.
The table-stealers react as if a celebrity has dropped into their midst. They blush and giggle, staring up at Dean in awe. He ignores them, looking down at me with his extraordinary eyes. They look incandescent under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.
I blink up at him. ”Um. Hi.”
He grabs my tray while I'm trying not to stare at the thin scar above his mouth. ”Come with me.”
I haven't lost my grip on my tray. I try to pull it back, but Dean's a lot stronger than I am, and the tray doesn't budge. ”No, thanks,” I say firmly, tugging harder. ”I don't really feel like sitting with everyone today.”
His expression holds a hint of impatience at our little tug of war. ”We're not staying here. Come on.”
Surprised, I let go. ”Where are we going?”
He doesn't answer, and I have to hurry my pace to keep up with him. The two of us together doesn't escape the notice of-well, the whole cafeteria. I hear my name being called. Mack is waving at me and gesturing for me to come over. I wave back, but continue to follow Dean toward the exit. Along the way, he dumps my food in the trash bin and sets the tray on a nearby rack.
”Hey,” I say, catching up to him as he heads out through the double doors. ”I was going to eat that.”
Finally, he spares me a glance. ”No, you weren't. I'll take you to get some real food.”
”What?” I stop abruptly in the hall.
With a sigh I sense more than see, Dean slows down, and half turns to face me. ”Do you want to eat, or not?”
”I was planning to,” I say. ”Until you threw my food away.”
”You were going to eat five stale rolls and two bowls of lukewarm chili?”
”Maybe I was. Why do you care?” I cross my arms over my chest, and wait for his reply.
Dean pauses, running a hand quickly over his jaw. ”Johnny told me to look out for you,” he mutters at last, glancing away. ”I owe him a favor.”
Of course! I should have known.
”Ugh!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I start to stomp away, then suddenly stop and whirl around again. ”Look, I appreciate you rescuing me from a potentially awkward situation in there, but I don't need anyone looking out for me-especially on Johnny's behalf. You don't have to take me out for a pity lunch. I'll be fine.”
A flash of annoyance crosses Dean's perfect features. He stares down at the keys in his hand. ”Don't make a big deal out of this. It's a meal, not a date.”
”I know it's not a date,” I say through clenched teeth, my temper rising. ”And I'm not making a big deal out of it. I'm simply saying I'd rather not. So, you know, don't do me any favors.”
”I'm not. You need to eat, I need to eat.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. ”Might as well do it together.”
Why is he ha.s.sling me about this? ”No, thanks. I'm suddenly not hungry.”
Again, I try to walk away, but his deep growly voice stops me.
”You have something against lunch, or you have something against me?”
I glance at him over my shoulder. ”Do you really need to ask?”
He shakes his head slightly. ”You're still stubborn.”
”And you're still a bully.”
I toss this out without turning around again. Still, I can feel Dean's stare burning into my retreating form. I don't look back.
So, I'm irritated and hungry, and now there's no time to grab something from the cafeteria. Not that I wanted to go back in there, anyway. I change course and head for the bathroom down the hall. I guess I'll just hide in there for the few minutes I have left.