Part 10 (2/2)
Instead of the guilty look I expect, Johnny's grin is both stunning and violent. ”They can try.”
”I hate you.”
He sobers quickly. ”I know you do. And I'm going to do everything I can to change that.”
I'm quiet in contemplation for a few moments. ”You know what?” I say suddenly. ”I'm almost glad this happened. I'm just now starting to realize you are a seriously disturbed individual.”
Johnny p.i.s.ses me off by crossing his eyes, then smacking at the side of his own head to make them normal again. The grin is back.
”You're going to love me again, Teeny,” he says, now utterly confident.
I sigh in exasperation. ”Johnny, I may have to kill you.”
Then I leave before I can strangle him with my own hair.
I'm grouchy in Government, and Nick laughs at me, knowing why. I'm glad he thinks it's so funny. On the plus side, I get to know Sara a little better. With her surprisingly kooky sense of humor, I can see us becoming friends. Through a strangely t.i.tled headline about a string of car thefts in L.A., I discover that she, too, is a fan of eighties music. I wonder where she sits at lunch, and if it would be too weird if I asked to sit with her.
Another plus? Kara and Arianna completely ignore me now. Oh, they still send vicious looks in my direction-just to let me know I'm still despised, in case I forget. But they don't say a word. Kara tries to trip me in Spanish, though. I walk past her desk to throw something away, and she deliberately sticks her foot out. It's not even stealthy, and when I laugh at her, she snarls like a rabid hyena.
Laundry Room Girl seems scared to death of me. Does she think I'm going to call her out in front of everyone? She can't possibly be worried I'll beat the c.r.a.p out of her. I know I'm vicious, but to the unknowing, I look more likely to bite someone on the ankle than punch them in the face. I would need a chair to reach Laundry Room Girl. If it came to that, I wouldn't be ashamed to drag one up to her lanky a.s.s.
I kind of wish she was blatantly b.i.t.c.hy to me, you know? Her face plays a very active role in one of my worst memories, and I would kind of like to mess it up. No, I don't really have anger issues, and I don't have some kind of past trauma that makes me so violent. I'm pa.s.sionate-it's in my blood. On the Somers side, all the men are laidback and somewhat meek, but the women are a wild bunch, and a wee temperamental. I've heard stories about my grandmother chasing my grandfather around the house with a knife over a disagreement regarding a television series. My great great grandmother shot her cheating husband in bed; and Mich.e.l.le famously took down a cheerleading squad for bullying a friend in high school.
That's another reason why I don't think Johnny and I belong together. I'm bad for him. What he needs is someone to talk him down when he gets riled-not try to p.i.s.s him off even more. We fight just as much as we get along, and we enjoyed both activities equally. What kind of relations.h.i.+p is that?
A bad one, obviously.
Lunch time.
It's a completely different experience from yesterday. Tanya catches me in line, and tries to get me to sit with her and her group-on the outermost ring of tables, next to the trash cans. I might have said yes, but the she tells me she wants to hook me up with her friend, Bobo.1 `don't want to hook up with a Bobo.
A couple of other girls ask me to eat with them. Since I have no idea who they are, I politely decline. I'm thinking I'll just go eat in my car, when Mack comes along, and picks me-and my tray-up and carries me to the elite tables. He places me across from Johnny and Nick, who are both smirking like little boys. I glare at Johnny. He shrugs and grins, then quickly turns to Nick and starts talking about their Call of Duty game. I'm about to leave-just for the principle of the matter-but then I notice at the other table, I've ruined Kara's appet.i.te. She puts her fork down, and grimaces at me before leaning over to whisper something to Sloane, sitting on the other side of her. I've never met someone so physically repulsed by my presence. On one hand, I'm really offended; on the other-I'm kind of impressed that I have such a strong effect on someone. I wonder what she would do if I sat down next to her, and started taking bites of her salad?
If Arianna weren't so busy mauling Ben's face, she'd probably be disgusted by me, too. Gross, she just fed him a carrot-from her mouth. Speaking of gross, what are Ryan and Jason doing? It looks like they're trying to spit in each other's ears. I look away quickly, glad they're sitting at the other table.
Laundry Room Girl is conspicuously absent-not that I'm complaining. Maybe Johnny banished her from the table, knowing I would never sit so close to her? Hm. I notice someone else is missing from the group.
”Where is Dean?” I ask Mack, who is about to devour what appears to be half a cow.
”Dean never eats in the caf,” Mack says, before taking a huge bite of his burger. ”He ofweyz gumph erp deep.”
”Huh?” Holy c.r.a.p, how can one mouth hold so much food?
Mack swallows in one big gulp. He takes big drink from his milk before answering. ”He always goes out to eat.”
I frown, remembering Dean's lunch offer just yesterday. ”Are we allowed to go off campus for lunch?”
”We're not, but who's gonna tell Dean no?” He raises an eyebrow at me. ”Now are you gonna eat those fries?”
”I'll give you my fries if you give me your cookie.”
”Huh. How 'bout half?”
”Deal.”
We make the exchange, and Mack happily devours my fries. ”Hey,” he says. ”When are you going to bring me that Mexican lasagna you promised me?”
”Uh...” I smooth a hand over my long hair, mentally going over my schedule. ”I could probably do it late Sunday afternoon, after I get back from my dad's.”
He brightens. ”That's perfect. You could come over after I get back from church, and we could go swimming in my pool afterwards!”
”That sounds fun,” I say with a smile. Then I stare at him, eyes wide. ”You go to church?”
”Absolutely,” Mack replies with a serious look. He thumps his right fist over his chest. ”I love me some Jesus.”
”Oh. Yeah, me too.”
I grin at Mack, and he grins back, his teeth dazzling white against the darkness of his skin. I notice Johnny watching us out of the corner of his eye. He looks pleased that Mack and I are getting along so well. He could never understand why I didn't like his stepbrother as much as I liked the others. Yeah, well, I don't care for Ryan and Jason all that much, either. They really are trying to spit in each other's ears.
Don't even get me started on the sea harpies.
I manage to ignore Johnny for the rest of lunch, and he lets me. He and Nick appear to be having an intense conversation, and from the way they both occasionally glance at me, I can guess what the subject is. Nick gestures a lot with his hands while Johnny frowns down at his food. If they're scheming about something, I don't want to know.
I'm sleepy during AP Lit. Mr. Shannon engages the cla.s.s in a discussion on ”The Scarlet Letter” regarding adultery, and should the government be allowed to regulate personal behavior. Somehow it turns into a heated debate on whether the school should install video surveillance in the halls and cla.s.srooms.
”When it becomes a matter of safety, then yes, I believe we can suffer the indignity,” a short-haired girl speaks up, pus.h.i.+ng her gla.s.ses further up the bridge of her nose. ”Installing video cameras inside the school would create a huge deterrence for the arsonist, as well as prevent student-on-student hara.s.sment-such as bullying.”
”That's a bulls.h.i.+t excuse to invade our privacy,” Ben says, balancing a pencil between his fingers. ”Liddell's using the fires as an excuse to push the surveillance issue, and ride her power trip all over our civil rights. Think about it-we'd all be under her thumb. Students and teachers.”
”A thought that has been on several minds,” Mr. Shannon mutters dispiritedly. Then he jerks his head up. ”I didn't just say that.”
Hm. Note to self: never call Aunt Jo ”Aunt Jo” in front of anyone. She is not well liked.
”Come on,” Ben continues, leaning forward in his seat, his dark eyes intense. ”This is the same violation of privacy s.h.i.+t as online monitoring. It's insane that I have to watch what I write on my personal profile-on my own time, at home-out of fear that I'll get penalized for stating an opinion. Now I have to tiptoe through the school, on my best behavior-hoping some depraved school official isn't zooming in on my tight little b.u.t.t?”
”Funny you should say that, Ben,” Sloane says in a smooth cultured voice. ”Wasn't it you who got busted last month for posting the 'Guess that a.s.s' game on your profile?”
”Yes, thanks for bringing that up, Sloane. I'd like to point out that those girls were willing partic.i.p.ants whose names and faces were not shown to protect their ident.i.ties.”
Oh, my G.o.d, I saw that! Some of the comments were so mean, and funny. Like the one a.s.s who had guesses like ”some kind of large forest-dweller” and ”Mom?!” I wondered why he took it down.
”That's so degrading,” Gla.s.ses Girl is muttering. Ben flashes a kissy face in her direction, and her fair skin flushes a bright red.
”Uh...” Mr. Shannon rumples his curly hair, clearly at a loss for words. My heart sinks a little when his gaze lands on me. ”Miss Juliet! Why don't you weigh in on this debate? Do you think Leclare would benefit from having cameras installed within its hallowed halls?”
Ugh. What does this have to do with ”The Scarlet Letter?” I had some really scathing things to say about adultery.
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