TAKING SIDES
It was 7 a.m. We were all supposed to be at breakfast within the next half hour. As I printed out my paper for English class, I could still hear the girls banging around in bathrooms and opening and closing
windows. With each new slam, my muscles coiled a bit tighter. I shoved the paper into my bag and emerged from my room showered, dressed, and ready for battle. Whatever Cheyenne had up her little Lacoste sleeve next, she was going down. Rose, Tiffany, and some of the other girls were gathered just outside my door, looking so tense they could have been awaiting drug-test results.
"They're still working?" I asked. "They're still working," Tiffany replied grimly. Cheyenne strode out of her room, clapping her hands. "All right, ladies, in the hall, please!" she shouted. The six girls came rushing out of various rooms, red, sweaty, exhausted. I knew they were hoping this was it. That they could hit the showers and get ready for their day. But something in Cheyenne's eyes told me this was not the case. "Before you're done with your morning chores, each of us has a special task for you to complete," Cheyenne said, shooting me a sidelong glance. What? No, we don't. "I'd like each of you to select a sister and ask her for a task," Cheyenne said. No one moved. I saw the other girls exchanging amused glances. They already had chores in mind for these girls. Yet another minor detail Cheyenne had kept from me.
"Chop chop!" Cheyenne snipped. "The longer you wait, the later you'll be for breakfast." Astrid sighed and stepped from line. "Cheyenne, is there anything I can do for you?" she asked. "Well, thank you, Astrid. That's so nice of you!" Cheyenne trilled. "Actually, there's this crazy buildup of dust and gunk in the corners of all my desk drawers. It's so nasty. Would you mind cleaning that out for me? Thanks." She was kidding, right? She was going to make one of her friends late for that? Astrid disappeared into Cheyenne's room, and we all heard the sounds of drawers sliding open, their contents rattling. "Next?" Cheyenne prompted.
Missy stepped out of line and faced Vienna. "Is there anything I can do for you, Vienna?" she asked politely. I could tell she was proud of herself for her fortitude. For being such a good little plebe. "I've been meaning to color-coordinate my closet. Get on that, would you?" Vienna asked. Missy nodded and turned away, looking pleased with her cushy assignment. "Oh, and wear gloves. Your fingernails look like you've been digging in manure," Vienna added. A few people snorted laughs. Missy ducked her head and fled the hall. Every one of my muscles tightened as I willed someone, anyone, to just ask me. Ask me what I want you to do for me. Someone. Anyone. Kiki cleared her throat and stepped up to me. She pulled her ear buds out of her ears, and I heard angry guitar music screeching from them. "Reed? Anything I can do for you?" she asked.
She knew. I could tell from the confident way she looked at me. She knew I would not play along. "Actually, yeah. You can go take a shower and get ready for class," I told her. Kiki didn't even flinch. She ran for her room. "Stop! You're not going anywhere!" Cheyenne shouted. Kiki slammed her door. Enough of a shock for Cheyenne to momentarily lose her will. Quickly, Constance stepped up to Rose. "Rose? Is there anything you need me to do?" she asked. Rose glanced at me uncertainly. She bit her lower lip. You can do this. Screw Cheyenne. End this now. "No, Constance," Rose said finally. "Nothing I can think of." My heart expanded to fill my entire chest. "Rose!" Cheyenne shrieked. "You--" Sabine stepped over to London. I bit my tongue. Bad choice. Tiffany would have given her a pass, I was sure of it, but London . . .
"Is there anything you need me to do?" Sabine asked. "Nope," London said with a shrug. "London!" Vienna and Cheyenne screeched as one. As sounds go, this one was bloodcurdling. "What? I don't," London said innocently. "I did, but then Rosaline showed up yesterday and practically sterilized the entire room! She even threw out my condoms and confiscated my stash. Mother so has that woman under her thumb." This time I did laugh. I couldn't help it. Rosaline was London's parents' cleaning lady. Her mother shipped the woman up to Easton from NYC once every two weeks to clean London's living space, bring her care packages that invariably included diet books she didn't need, and spy on her daughter. This week she'd not only done her job, but had done me a huge favor as well. Cheyenne let out a screech and stormed to her room.
"What? What did I do? Cheyenne!" London scurried after her in her platform sandals. "Cheyenne! Are you mad at me?" Tiffany patted Rose on the back as the hallway cleared. Constance, Sabine, and Lorna all stood there, however, looking around uncertainly. Didn't they get it yet? They were free. "You guys. Seriously. Go shower. You're done for the day," I told them. Then, and only then, did they finally disperse. Guess I had some power around here after all.
THE GAME
"Good morning, tortured souls!" Mr. Winslow strode into our English classroom, all puffed up and loud. "Before we get to our Elizabeth Bowen, let's have your papers!" I slid the blue folder holding my fifteen-page missive on Edith Wharton out of my bag and stood with the rest of the class. Mr. Winslow cast a cursory glance at the title page of each paper before placing it on his desk. He frowned thoughtfully at some. Others he laughed at, clearly pleased. He was one of the few teachers, perhaps the only teacher, at Easton who could have been considered handsome in any circle. On the young side--which, when it came to Easton faculty, meant pre -forty--he had dark brown hair that actually made it past his earlobes on his more unkempt days, and an easy smile. Plus, by Friday he always gave up on shaving. The dark stubble look really worked for him. But what he really had going for him was that he was human. And nice. Bare qualities in adults around here. "Ah! Ms. Brennan!" he said as I handed over my offering. "Looking forward to this one." He ticked off my name on his assignment sheet. I shot him a surprised look. "Oookay." "What? Anyone who wins Firsts twice in her first year as a transfer student gets a buzz going in the faculty lounge," he said. "Let's hope you live up to the hype." "Thanks. I think."
I turned around, my heart fluttering with nerves. Should I be psyched that I had a rep for excellence now, or petrified that I'd never live up to it? Somehow I had a feeling it was the latter. I was about to take my seat again when I noticed that three students had yet to get up. Constance was digging through her bag in a panic. Lorna had removed every last one of her books from her own backpack and was paging through them. Sabine simply sat in her chair, staring stoically forward. "What's going on?" I whispered to Sabine, sliding back into the seat behind hers. "My paper's gone," she said. She didn't move. Just kept staring straight ahead. "What do you mean, gone?" I asked. "I printed it out at the library last night and put it in my bag. Now it's gone," she said flatly.
I glanced at Constance, who was still digging, now on the verge of tears. At the front of the room Astrid calmly handed in her own paper. Kiki as well. Missy wasn't in this section, but I had a feeling that if she had been, her paper would have been ready to go. "Okay," Mr. Winslow said, running his finger down his checklist. "I seem to be missing three papers. Ms. Du Lac? Ms. Gross? Ms. Talbot? What have you got for me?" He looked up with an expectant smile and was greeted by three nauseated stares. His joy disappeared. "Ladies?" he asked, stepping around his desk. "It was in my bag this morning, Mr. Winslow," Constance half whimpered. "I swear it was. I can run back right now and print it out again--"
"You know the policy, Constance. If you don't have it in class--" "You can't give us all zeroes," Lorna said, sounding panicked. "We did the work." "We can bring them in later," Constance added. "How fair would it be if the entire class was held to the deadline, but you all were not?" Mr. Winslow asked with a pitying expression. "I'm sorry, but I have to give you zeroes for today. If you like, we can talk about makeup work later." "But, Mr. Winslow--" "I'm sorry," he said, making a note on his clipboard. To his credit, he truly did look upset. "There are rules and I have to adhere to them." As he turned to the board, a couple of kids in the classroom snickered. Sabine tore a blank page out of her notebook and crushed it in her fist. My heart felt sick. I simply could not believe that Cheyenne had sunk so low. Stealing their papers? This was immature, even for her. "If this is the game she wants to play, we'll play it," I said under my breath, both to myself and to Sabine. After all, I'd learned from the best.
YOUR CHOICE
"I feel so naughty," Tiffany joked, looking down the table in
the cafeteria at lunch. She lifted her camera and snapped our picture. "I kind of like it." Everyone laughed nervously. Even though it was ridiculous to be nervous. But I saw Tiffany's point. The eight of us--myself, Josh, Rose, Tiff, Trey, Constance, Sabine, and Lorna--were the only students in the spacious sunlit room. I had sought each of them out between classes that morning to share my plan, and they had all shown up dutifully. Constance and Lorna had been uncertain at first, but after some wheedling, their resentment of Cheyenne had come through. Lorna, especially, was sick of Missy getting preferential treatment while she was crapped upon left and right. Guess the girl had some personality after all. It seemed like both she and Constance were now ready to take a stand. At least, I hoped they were. The scene we were about to endure would not be for the weak hearted.
Gradually, the lunch crowd started to arrive. I took a bite of my sandwich and waited. My stomach didn't want food right then, but it was going to have to take it anyway. We had to look casual here. That was crucial. Then Ivy Slade emerged from the lunch line alone, her eyes finding me as they always seemed to lately. She walked right by us, gazing at me as she passed by. "Hi, Ivy!" Rose said. My heart caught. She paused. Looked from Rose, to me, then back again. "Rose," she said. Then she just kept right on walking. "Okay, what is that girl's deal?" Constance asked, leaning toward the table. "She is creep-adelic!" "No, she's not. She's totally normal," Rose said. I glanced across the cafeteria at her. She was still watching me. "I wouldn't say totally normal."
"She's just been through a lot, that's all," Rose said, shaking her head as she took a bite of her food. "We used to be friends," she added morosely.
I was going to ask her more, but that was when Cheyenne, Vienna, and Portia finally emerged from the line, chatting like everything was normal. "Here we go," I said under my breath. When Cheyenne looked up, she tripped herself and had to grab a chair for support. Oh, how I wished she'd gone down. It would have made the moment perfect. "Okay, everyone. Act normal," I told the table. Cheyenne started the long march over to us in her heels, the fury evident in her very step. "So you think we're ready for the first game, man?" Trey asked Josh loudly, taking a bite of his roll. "I heard Barton has some sick new talent this year." "Nah. We're ready," Josh said. He leaned back in his seat, hooking his arm over the back of the chair casually. "Some phenom freshman's not going to take us down."
"What do you think you're doing?" Cheyenne demanded, slapping her tray down on the next table so she could cross her arms over her chest. "They do not get to sit here. I thought I made that clear." She glanced over at Constance, Lorna, and Sabine like they were gnats. "It's a big cafeteria, Cheyenne," I said coolly. "If our presence bothers you so much, why don't you take that table over by the bathroom? Can't really get farther away from us than that." "This is our table," Cheyenne said. "Billings always has this table." "And the next one," I said with a shrug, popping a grape into my mouth. "I guess you could always sit there." "You are so ridic," Portia said with a laugh. "I mean hilariously ridic." "No one here is laughing," I replied. "And no one at this table is moving. So you can stand there and hover all period, or you can sit down. Your choice."
Cheyenne stood there. We went back to our lunches. Josh and Trey continued their soccer smack talk. Rose and Tiffany chattered on loudly about alumni weekend and the dinner at the Driscoll. I asked Constance to pass the salt. And yet Cheyenne stood. And stood. And stood. I was growing impressed by her fortitude, actually. But there was no way I was going to give. "Cheyenne? My feet hurt," Vienna said finally. "Fine," Cheyenne said through her teeth. She turned around and yanked out the chair behind Constance's, slamming it into her purposely. I bit my tongue. Then, just for the hell of it, she took the chair opposite it, facing me across the two tables. "But this so isn't over," she said. "Looks over to me!" I replied. "Freaking priceless," Portia said under her breath as she sat. "I wait three years to sit at that table and now I'm relegged." "Speak English!" Cheyenne said through her teeth. "Relegated! God! Take a pill!" Portia replied, annoyed. I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. Then I saw Kiki, Missy, and Astrid emerge from the line. It was time to put phase two into action. "Kiki! You guys! Over here!" I shouted, standing. "We saved you seats."
They walked over, and Josh and Trey, as prearranged, got up and headed off for one of the Ketlar tables. "Thanks, guys!" Rose called after them.
Cheyenne's face was perfect. Tiffany, kindred spirit that she was, snapped a shot of Cheyenne for posterity. Kiki slid right into Trey's vacated seat and opened her iced tea. Astrid hesitated for a split second, looking from Cheyenne to me. When her eyes fell on Constance and the others and their hopeful expressions, she did what I hoped. She opted for neophyte solidarity and took Josh's chair. I knew she was cool. Knew it. "Thanks anyway," Missy sniffed and joined the others. No shock there. There was an empty chair at the very far end of the table for her, but no one had actually expected her to take it. I looked down the table and smiled. These were exactly the people I wanted to sit with. These, to me, were true Billings Girls. Round Two had just gone to me.
ONE PERSON
I was still high on triumph when I came around the stacks into the computer section of the library later that day and it all fell to pieces. I stopped in my tracks. Josh and Cheyenne. Josh and Cheyenne sitting with their knees together, facing each other, whispering and laughing and gesturing. Looking, to borrow a word from Sabine, cozy. Cheyenne flipped her blond hair off her face and smiled her Crest- commercial smile, her all-American beauty somehow infinitely more glaring now that it was all up in my boyfriend's face.
"Hello?" I heard myself say. Josh glanced over his shoulder. His face fell and he pushed backward, away from Cheyenne. She simply smirked as I strode over. "What's going on?" I asked tersely. I looked at him, not her. I didn't want to have anything to do with her. "We were just talking about the food committee," Josh said, somehow looking me right in the eye. "We're trying to decide whether to just do passed hors d'oeuvres or have stations at the cocktail hour." "And I still say stations are too gauche," Cheyenne said to him. "And I still say hungry guys want carved meat," he replied. It was flirtatious banter. They were flirtatiously bantering right in front of me. "You can go now," I said to Cheyenne. Josh did a double take. "Reed--"
Cheyenne narrowed her eyes at me. "That's fine. I suddenly don't feel like being here anyway," she said. Then she gathered her books and stood. "Call me later, Josh," she said, smiling down at him. "Yeah. Sure." It was all I could do not to kick out my foot and trip her as she walked away. I turned and looked down at Josh, my heart pounding. "What was that?" I demanded. Josh blew out a sigh. "I know you don't like her right now, but we're working together. I couldn't avoid it." I dropped my books at the next computer and sat. "Really? Looked a bit chummy for alumni dinner talk." "It's the library. We were whispering. We had to sit close to each other to be heard." He studied my face quickly. "Wait a minute. You're not, like, jealous of her, are you?" My face must have said it all, because he laughed. "No way. Come on. I thought you were just mad at me because you guys are fighting. Me and Cheyenne? Please."
I hated the way I felt right then. Suspicious and sad and stupid for feeling suspicious and sad. I crossed my arms and stared at the Easton crest in the middle of the computer screen. "I'm not the only one who's noticed it," I told him flatly. "Great. So now the Billings Girls are just inventing things to gossip about?" He took my hand and slid closer to me. "Reed, you're it, okay? You're my girlfriend. Cheyenne is . . . not my type." "Whatever you say," I said noncommittally, unwilling to just accept it. Unwilling to be the girl who just forgets what she knows she saw and believes her man unconditionally. "God, I wish you would just quit Billings. Being around them is making you paranoid," he said.
"I already told you. I'm not going to quit," I said. "Why not? You so don't belong there anyway," he said. "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. He sat up straight, looking momentarily confused. "What? I just think you're so much better than those girls. Smarter, kinder ... just better." My shoulders relaxed slightly. "Cheyenne would go nuclear if she heard you say that." "Just one more reason to ditch the place," Josh said. "I don't want the two of you to be at war." The two of us. Not me. The two of us. He cared about the two of us. "Forget it," I said stoically, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not going to quit. I'd rather stay there and try to change things." Josh smiled adorably and reached up to pinch my cheeks. "My little activist," he teased. He kissed my forehead. "I love it."