“Uh— no.”
Despite Taylor’s best efforts, by the time we got to the cafeteria and collected our lunch, I’d learned Taylor read in his spare time, liked games but didn’t call himself a gamer, had no favorite football team and refused to tell me what music he listened to.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Rude. How else am I going to help you make the biggest decision of your high school life?” We stood at the end of the line, the cafeteria open before us. The majority of our classmates were already seated. I waved toward the tables. “Choosing the right clique.”
Taylor frowned at me. “Bernhardt doesn’t have cliques. ‘Due to its emphasis on academic standards, mandated extracurricular activities and student-led committees, Bernhardt provides a unique learning environment that develops leadership free of rivalries and limiting stereotypes.’”
“Wow. Someone read the school brochure a few times too many.”
“You’re going to tell me it’s not true? Everyone I’ve talked to so far has been nice.”
“Because you haven’t chosen a clique yet. Once you’ve stated your allegiance, everything changes.” I nodded toward the tables in front of us. “Do those look like tables divided by a unique learning environment?”
Taylor considered the tables. “Yes?”
I decided to help him out. It (probably) wasn’t his fault he’d been homeschooled. “The table closest to us. Notice anything they have in common?”
“They’re all high school students wearing the same uniform? I don’t know.” Taylor readjusted his hold on his lunch tray. “They look like a pretty good mix to me.”
“They’re all wearing the school pin.”
“They all share school spirit?”
“So there are only eight kids in our entire class with school spirit?” I shook my head. “No, my poor homeschooled child. Bernhardt doesn’t have ‘cliques.’ We have ‘circles.’ Or ‘discussion groups.’” I nodded to the table. “Or the school Spirit Squad. Who eat together at the best table every day because it’s convenient for their discussions about school spirit and occupy the most sought after positions in high school society on account of their excess of leadership— and school spirit.”
Taylor studied them. “Are you bitter because they sold out of pins?”
“I’m not bitter because of the pins. I’m bitter because like so many of our peers, I envisaged Bernhardt as a place free of cliques and popularity wars. You have to be smart to get in, right? Finally, all the smart kids who never made a sports team, whose essay on the evils of plastic shopping bags never got the recognition it deserved, who got called ‘nerd’ or ‘teacher’s pet’ and never got a date in junior high, had a place of their own where no one would dump their books. What did we do with this utopia? We realized anyone could be popular, so we’d better claim it first and woe betide anyone who gets in the way.”
“Mean Girls was a comedy, Milo. Not a documentary.”
“Do you see anyone at the other tables laughing, Taylor? That’s a noise infraction. The teachers trust the Spirit Squad to set an example for the rest of us and keep us in line. They’re kind of like hall monitors, except cooler.” I frowned at the back of Logan’s head. “At least at Sleepy Hollow, when I got stuffed into a locker, I knew I was getting a better grade at the end of the year than the guy picking on me. Now, I don’t even have that.”
“Maybe you should avoid getting stuffed in lockers.”
“You’re looking at a classic catch twenty-two. If you sit with the Spirit Squad now, you will be branded as arrogant and rejected. If you sit anywhere else, you’re lacking confidence, identifying yourself as a future victim.”
“I can’t stand here all day.”
“There’s safety in numbers. You want to make friends as quickly as possible. The longer you’re alone, the more of a victim you are— and the more victimized you are, the less people will want to be friends with you. It is a vicious circle. I mean, clique.” I paused. “No, I did mean circle.”
“I’ve heard enough!” Taylor turned away.
“Wait, Taylor! You’re making a serious mistake!”
Taylor paused to look over his shoulder. “Are you threatening me with not joining your ‘discussion group’?”
I gave Taylor as injured a look as I dared while in the same room as the Spirit Squad. “I’m giving you the facts so that you can make an informed choice. The sooner you find a group to belong to, the better it is for your high school career.”
Taylor sighed. “Inform me then.”
“First thing you need to know is that the closer and more easily accessible to the lunch line, the higher the social status of the people sitting at it. Over there, for example, the Feministas— you’ve met most of them already. Then the jocks that aren’t on the varsity team, the drama and dance kids. You’d stand a fighting chance there, but only if you can tolerate Musical Mondays.”
“Musical Mondays?”
“Communication entirely in lines from musicals. Sung, not spoken.”
“Pass. What’s that table?”
“Band. You don’t have to smell funny to join, but it doesn’t hurt. Beyond that, the arty kids and the anime club—”
“Isn’t pink hair against the school dress code?”
“Not in whatever series they’re marathoning this week.” I nodded beyond them. “The kids glaring at us? The future librarians aka the Swots. The only rule at their table is that no one talks unless all pencils are down.”
“And the table beyond that? Skaters? Emos? Punks?”
“Any other school they would be the stoners or the dropouts. But this is Bernhardt. The biggest risk they take is waiting until the day before it’s due to start an assignment.” I shook my head. “There’s a rumor Hannah borrowed chemicals from the school lab without permission to make hair dye, but nothing was proven. Mostly they deal in forged homework assignments and test answers.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Being on the varsity or junior varsity team is dependent on maintaining an A average in your grades. There is an underground trade in homework. Bernhardt’s unique all right. Just not in the way the brochure wants. On that note, it pays to walk around the cafeteria rather than between tables. Less opportunity for people to trip you.”
Taylor gave me another sideways look. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind his clear blue eyes.
I was compelled to keep talking despite the fact that I couldn’t breathe. “Anyone else, I’d say pick a table and make the best of it, but you… It’s a risk, but I think you could pull it off.”
“Pull what off?”
“School Spirit.” I nodded to the table.
“Why would I want to sit with a bunch of kids that you describe as power hungry and elitist?”
“They’re not all that way. See the blonde girl, patting her hair? Fern. This time last year, she was the teacher’s pet, known for crying when we dissected frogs and campaigning for meatless Mondays. Then she wound up tutoring Carson, football player extraordinaire. He was captain of the junior varsity team as a sophomore and even played in varsity matches. No surprise when he won class president. Could have dated any girl in the school— and he chose Fern. Now, she’s the obvious choice for Head Cheerleader next year and everyone knows it. Smart, pretty, talented. No one would be able to stand her if she wasn’t so nice. But her kind nature makes her exactly what you’re looking for. A way in.”
“Are you seriously advocating I suck up to a girl I don’t know to get to sit at her table?”
“It won’t be easy. Those other girls? Diva supremes. Victoria and Maria don’t like anyone or anything. They’re not too cool for school; they’re too cool for life. And on Fern’s other side is Declan, drama superstar with attention deficit disorder. As in, if he’s not getting enough attention, something’s wrong. On that note, he is the popular gay kid. You can be gay, but you can’t be more popular than him. That’s the rul
e.”
“That’s a stupid rule.”
“This is high school. It’s all about rules, especially stupid ones. And making the stupid rules is a lot better than following them, so let me finish.” I nodded to the broad-shouldered guy laughing loudly at his own joke. “Logan is proof that all the education in the world cannot make you less of a jerk. Then again, he is a shoo-in for football captain next year. All he needs is an A minus in all his subjects, and he is pretty much king of the school. You know the saying ‘power corrupts’? Logan is that theory in action. And so are most of his friends, except Boomer, there. The tall guy.”
“I don’t—”
“Boomer’s a nice guy,” I said. “But he doesn’t have the spine to stand up to the rest of them. He’s only at the table because he is the only junior on the varsity basketball team, and they had two unexpected vacancies. The rest are Logan’s football friends. Actually, Logan talked to you about wrestling, right? There’s your opening! Ask him about—” I turned back and found Taylor heading in the wrong direction.
I had to jog to catch up with him. “What are you doing?”
Taylor looked down at my hand on his arm, casually shaking it off. “Having my lunch.”
“But you walked right past the Spirit Squad. You even walked past the jock table and the drama kids. You’re heading” —I followed Taylor’s line of vision all the way to the extreme back table and the sole girl sitting there— “directly to Loserville. Seriously. You do not want to sit there. Everyone will treat you like you have the plague!”
“Good,” Taylor said. “Because if they’re anything like you describe them, I don’t want anything to do with them— or your disgusting opinions.”
Every word he said seemed echoed loudly inside my head. Again, I found myself entirely unable to breathe. “My what?”
“I hate shallowness. People aren’t commodities. You can’t label them and assign value to them like you do clothes or brands. Anyone who tries to makes me sick. And you’re the shallowest person I’ve ever met.” Taylor delivered his opinion in the same calm, measured tone that he’d used to tell me he was homeschooled. Only his lowered tone indicated the seriousness of the exchange. “Go back to your popularity contests and your rules. I want no part of it.”
I stood stunned as he turned, walking over to the almost empty table. The black-haired girl sitting there looked up. Taylor motioned to an empty seat, and after a long moment, she nodded, actually taking out the buds of her iPod to hear him.
I watched Taylor sit with an incredible feeling of numbness.
Having my self-esteem crushed was nothing new. But Taylor…
Taylor had sent my entire self-worth reeling. And he’d taken my seat.
****
Chapter Two
“Milo! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
I jumped.
A hand clamped on my shoulder, and Candice steered me down the hall. “Newspaper meeting. Or did you make other plans?” Her fingers dug into my shoulder.
The question was rhetorical. My plans were irrelevant compared to Candice, a force of nature in senior form. She was hard as steel and unmoving as a rock. Where other girls restyled themselves to fit the latest trends, Candice’s tight curls and fire truck red nail polish had remained unchanged her entire Bernhardt career, despite student opinion and teacher disapproval. I fully believed she’d caused the recent natural hair movement just by existing.
“You know nothing could ever come between me and a newspaper meeting. I just— forgot. Distracted.” The usual after-school chatter filled the corridors, energy levels increasing the closer we got to the time to go home. “Working on a story.”
“No spoilers.” Candice propelled me into the AP English classroom. “You can give us the full summary at the meeting. Hi, Sam. Ready to start?”
The final member of the newspaper staff slid off her desk. “Actually, um.” She glanced down at the floor. “I’m not staying.”
Candice’s bag hit the top of the desk with a loud thunk. “Another orthodontic appointment?” she asked, letting go of me to pat her hair, looking for the pen she habitually kept there. “You’re going to have the most expensive teeth in school.”
Sam didn’t smile. Her hands twisted the hem of her uniform sweater.
I poked Candice in the arm. “What’s up, Sam? Did something happen?”
“I quit.”
Candice stiffened. “You what?”
Sam took a deep breath. “I quit.”
“You can’t—”
“Watch me.” Sam gained speed as she went, like a pen rolling off a desk. “I’m sick of this. Sick of being ignored by my friends, pushed in the halls, tripped— I hate it! And Coach called me aside after practice yesterday to tell me that she was benching me for my lack of team spirit! Like it’s my fault no one will pass to me!”
“You being benched is only going to harm them,” I told her. “Wait it out. You’ll see—”
Sam shook her head. “Sarah Gillepsie’s been after my place on the team since the start of semester,” she said. “I can’t get benched!”
“So you’re going to give in?” Candice’s voice had a weirdly hollow note to it. I glanced at her, but her face remained as impassive and unimpressed as ever.
Sam looked stricken and then determined. “So what? It’s not like it’s a real paper! Or that anyone even reads it! I wish I’d listened to my friends and joined a real club—”
“That’s fine,” Candice said. “Your contributions won’t be missed. I accept your resignation.”
Sam hesitated. For a moment, I thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead she turned. “Fine!”
As the door slammed shut behind her, I let out a breath. “If this is how Monday turned out, I am afraid for Thursday—”
Candice’s expression didn’t even flicker. She stared fixedly at the door Sam had vanished through.
I had a sudden sickening feeling. Candice was a school legend. She’d gained a reputation amongst students and teachers alike for her take-no-prisoners attitude ever since her first freshman week, when she’d hit the school quarterback with a dictionary when he’d tried to remove her from her chosen desk at the library. No one had ever seen her show the slightest hint of vulnerability in the four years she’d attended Bernhardt. Ice queen didn’t cut it. Candice was an entire iceberg, the single most terrifying person I knew. There was no way she was about to cry!
I swallowed. As the Titanic had discovered, icebergs had a lot more going on beneath the surface. Candice’s non-reaction could have been nothing. Or it could be the frozen shock of someone who’d been pushed too far. “Hey.” Was I going to lose an arm? I put my hand carefully on Candice’s shoulder. “She’ll be back. They’ll all be back—”
Candice crumpled. Her face gave way first and then the rest of her, and suddenly our ice-cold editor was leaning on me. Global warming had a lot to answer for!
I awkwardly patted her back. “A few more weeks, and everyone will forget—”
“But what if they don’t?” Candice had even told off the principal! No way was she crying on my shoulder! I was hallucinating. Had to be. “Last year, our paper won best in state! Now— we have a staff of two and a readership of zero. Even Mr. Perry doesn’t read it, and he’s in charge! If Ally knew what I’d let the paper become—”
“You’re a great editor, Candice. That’s why Ally chose you to take over the paper. She knew you’d stick to it, no matter what happened.” I tried to sound confident. “We just have to wait it out.”
Candice drew a deep breath. “Right. The truth’s more important than some dumb popularity contest.” She let go of my shoulder and turned her back on me. “I guess we need to decide who’s taking over Sam’s features.”
Other people might have considered her rude. I respected Candice’s attempt to regain her professionalism. “I will do anything you need me to.”
“Thanks, Milo—”
“Except cover sports
games.”
“Sam was our sports reporter.”
“I can’t, Candice. You know, the track team practices on the indoor track now, the same time as the basketball team? I have been hit by stray balls so many times now they’ve named a play after me. Why would I want to go to a game with all their supporters there? They’d kill me!”
“So I’ll take the guys’ teams; you take the girls’.”
“That’s even worse! At least when the guys play, they’re on the field. The girls’ games, the guys are free roaming. The coach doesn’t even try to keep them in line!”
“Milo, is everything all right?” Candice turned around to look at me.
“We’re high school students. Nothing is ever all right.”
“You know what I mean. We knew that running the Carson story wasn’t going to make us popular, but this… A bit of backlash is expected in the journalism world, but bullying is something else.” This time it was Candice’s hand on my arm. “If you want to go to the teachers, I’ll back you up.”
I smiled thinly. “So they can tell us what an excellent opportunity this is to develop our problem-solving skills? They’re not going to help. What do you think that assembly about peer support was?”
“I’m serious, Milo.”
“So am I.” I looked down. “I’m their target. If I dropped the newspaper, you wouldn’t have to deal with any of this—”
“Not happening. You’re deputy editor for a reason.” Candice squeezed my arm. “And the reason is you care about the paper— about writing— more than anyone else in the entire school.” She paused. “Except me, of course.”
“But—”
“No buts. It was my decision as editor to run the story, and it’s my decision as editor that you are not quitting.”
“Um—”
“Anyone messes with you, I will feed them their own textbooks,” Candice promised. “Now. Our next issue.”
I managed an actual smile this time. “Next issue.”
Candice sat on the teacher’s desk, binder opened across her lap. “Current events. The junior class elections are the only major school event happening now.”
This day was never going to end. I slumped forward onto my desk. “And they’re not happening.”
“Exactly! This is a story, Milo. We have to report it. As the only junior on the paper, this has your name all over it.”