"Excuse me," Sandals says. They both move right.
"Excuse me." Sylvia's voice has an edge now. She plants her feet and Sandals moves around her.
When she gets over to Walk her eyes are fiery. She's breathing hard and clicking her nails against each other the way she does when she's upset. Walk's in no mood for this. "Why am I in trouble?" Walk asks her.
"You're not," she says.
"How come you're mad?"
"I'm not."
"You sure?" Walk asks.
"I'm sure," she says.
Twenty-Three
Kirsten
At lunch now I sit with Brianna, Rory, Madison, Lauren, and Maya. We take up an entire cafeteria table and pretty much all they do is talk about the talent show. Rory, Madison, and Brianna will be singing. Lauren and Maya will be dancing. They all stay after school to work with the professional director, who, according to Rory, Brianna's mom is paying for.
Lauren and Maya always sit next to each other. They look like twins from the back because all of their clothes have words across the butt. Maya has this dancer thing going. She walks as if every step is measured out in advance and she sits up extra straight, like slouching is beneath her. Lauren is tiny and she wears her hair like she thinks she's Cleopatra—Cleopatra with words across her butt. Then comes Madison, who half the time wears her gym clothes to school. She doesn't care. But Brianna would never say anything bad about Madison. Never.
I try to get here early because if I'm late Brianna puts her stuff on the extra seat, and I have to ask her to move it, like a complete and total loser. Of course, she apologizes the rest of lunch. But the way she says "sorry" every time she looks at me is even worse. Plus, then I'm sitting next to her all lunch, and that's risky because I haven't mastered the art of kissing her feet. I always trip on the way down.
Rory, on the other hand, is quite the foot kisser. She's so good, in fact, that I don't know when she's doing it and when she isn't. I thought I knew who Rory was, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe Rory never really liked me. Maybe she was just kissing my feet.
Today, I'm really trying hard to stay on my diet, but my lunch is so small, it's over in seconds. I think about all the snack food my mom has hidden in the garage. My mother is Costco-crazy. She finds these deals and buys in the tonnage, then forgets what's out there. There are enough of Kippy's potato chip bags to feed a starving country. She thinks I don't know about this.
"Oh my god, Brianna, you looked so good in that green dress," Lauren says.
Maya leans forward. "Yeah, and did you see Madison's brother checking you out last night?"
"He was not."
"Was too. He, like, had his eyes glued to your butt."
"You got together last night?" I whisper to Rory.
She shrugs. "We had rehearsal."
I work the plastic spoon under the tiny lip of the Yoplait to get the last little bit. The spoon slips and makes a scrapy plastic snap.
Brianna looks at me, pizza in hand. "Oh my god, I am so fat! Look at this, you guys." Brianna lifts up her shirt to show her perfectly flat, tanned stomach with a diamond-pierced navel. "Don't you think I'm fat? I'm going to have to lose ten pounds before the talent show."
Rory jumps in. "No, you look great."
"I'd give anything for a stomach like that," Lauren agrees.
"Me too," Maya says.
"Hey, want to work out tonight?" Madison suggests. "My dad just got a new ab cruncher."
"Wait," Brianna says. "I want to know what Kirsten thinks. Don't you think I'm fat, Kirsten?"
"No," I say, zipping up my lunch bag.
"I know. Let's see who's fatter. Kirsten, let's see your belly. Come on. Mine's fatter, I swear to god, Kirsten. Don't you swear, Rory?"
"Well, I, uh...," Rory wheezes.
"Come on, Kirsten." Brianna looks around the crowded cafeteria. "No one's even looking. No one's going to see but us. And I'm going to lose. I swear I will."
"Brianna, cut it out," Madison whispers. "My mother will kill me if—"
"If what?" Brianna turns on her.
"You know." Madison rocks her head from side to side. At first I think she's standing up for me, but then I realize she just doesn't trust me not to tell my mother.
"Kirsten's not going to run home and tell her mommy, are you, Kirsten?" Brianna asks.
I want to leave, but I'm stuck to my seat. I look at the clock. Lunch is almost over. If only the bell will ring.
"I think Kirsten's too thin." Brianna can barely contain herself. "So here." She hands me the rest of her pizza and bursts out laughing. "Fatten up."
The pizza is in front of me. The cheese is all melty, just the way I like it. My stomach grumbles. I imagine sinking my teeth into it.
"Look, she's going to eat it," Brianna whispers.
I toss the pizza in the garbage can fast and pretend with all my heart that Brianna was wrong.
Twenty-Four
Walk
Walk's just sitting here once again under the friendly neighborhood poster ONE WORLD: CULTURAL DIVERSITY AT MOUNTAIN. It's writers' notebook time.
Walker Jones
September 20
"If you don't like the way the world is, you have an obligation to change it. You just do it one step at a time."—Marian Wright Edelman
Everybody talks big about changes but mostly what they want you to do is keep your mouth shut. Don't say a word.
"There are right ways to make change," Sylvia says, "and wrong ways." But she doesn't mean it. Every step that looks to me like making a change looks to her like making trouble. I need somebody'sversion of things besides Sylvia's tight-as-a-drum, no-air way. I need to breathe.
When Walk looks up Brianna's elbow is on his desk. "Can I see?" she asks.
"Not a chance."
"I'll show you mine."
"Do whatever you want. But mine is mine. Not for you to see."
"Okay, be that way." She slides her elbow closer to Walk. "Oh, am I bothering you?" Her large brown eyes start that Bambi thing, and for a second Walk almost forgives her for dissing him, and for poisoning the food supply if she's done that, too.
"I would prefer you didn't lean on my desk," Walk says.
"You 'would prefer...' Oh, you are so cute." She bats her long eyelashes.
"Cut it out, Brianna."
"I didn't mean to bother you. I hope you believe me. Do you believe me?" She juts her chin out and cocks her head.
Walk does not shake his head yes or no.
"Know what? People think you're kind of cool ... kind of, you know, exotic." She takes her elbow off his desk—his exotic desk.
Walk spends the rest of Ms. Scrushy's class wishing she'd put it back.
Twenty-Five
Kirsten
When I get home my mom asks me twice how things are going with Rory and Brianna, Lauren, Madison, and Maya. It's as if she thinks I'm going to have a different answer at five than at eight. If she'd asked me this morning I might have, but now I just think: Get me away from them. All of them. I can just imagine what they're IMing each other now.
I'm on my way out of the garage with a Costco package of peanut butter crackers inside the sleeve of my sweater when my mom appears in the doorway with her tiny indoor pruning shears. My heart slips in my chest. She's going to ask me what I was doing in the garage.
"I know! Let's do a party here," she says.
"Mom! I don't want a party!"
The look in my mom's eyes tells me she's upset. She has heard something from Rebecca Dunkel.
"What?" I ask.
"It's really hard to be a lone wolf, Kirsten."
"I'm not a lone wolf."
"How about a slumber party? Wouldn't that be fun?"
I shake my head.
"Why don't you invite Rory over? Will you at least do that?"
I shake my head again—a very big, very sure shake.
"How about that Maya? Her family is so nice."
"I don't want to invite anyone over, okay?"
The corner of the crackers package pokes my wrist.
"There's always one they make fun of, Kirsten. There always is. You do not want to be that one."
"Mom, please." She's followed me into the kitchen. I grab an Evian.
"I want you to have fun, sweetie. You'll never be young like this again."
I snort. "Thank god."
"Sometimes you have to play the game, Kirsten. You don't want to be like Debby Decaterman. God, did the girls make fun of her. It was awful. But she kind of deserved it, too. She was pathetic."
"Pathetic. I know what that means. It means fat," I whisper.
My mother's face darkens. "I won't have you moping around here feeling sorry for yourself, making poor food choices." She slams the broom closet door. The dustpan crashes off the hook.
I walk up the back stairs. "Rory isn't my friend anymore. None of the rest of them ever were," I say in a tiny voice, so tiny she can't hear.
When I get to history class the next morning I keep my head down. I don't even look at Rory or Brianna. I decorate my notebook with dark goth doodles while Balderis drones on and on about grades and points and projects. Then suddenly I hear him say, "Who wants to do an extra-credit project?"
Walk's hand shoots up, so does Matteo's—and then my arm goes up, too. I barely do credit projects much less extra credit, but my arm doesn't care. My arm wants a friend.
"Kirsten," Balderis calls.
I wasn't raising my hand. The words swirl around in my mouth but my lips stay locked.
Balderis smiles—a real smile—the first he has ever directed at me. Oh great. Now he's going to be disappointed in me, too. I need to wear a sign: DO NOT PIN YOUR HOPES ON ME. LETTING DOWN MY PARENTS IS A FULL-TIME JOB. I HAVE NO ENERGY LEFT TO DISAPPOINT ANYONE ELSE.
"Walk, Matteo, Sophia..." He hands each of us the extra-credit assignment.
"Think about this," Balderis says. "Make a choice. Then let me know your topic tomorrow."
Just because I raised my hand doesn't mean I'm actually going to do the assignment. What is he thinking?
"Sophia, you want to work with Matteo? Walk, how about you and Kirsten pairing up?"
I look down at the page. The title is in bold type: Partner Current Events Project.
"Sure," Walk says; he comes over to my desk. "Hey, Kirsten. You want to meet at the library after last period and we can get on this?"
Today? Who starts a project the first day?
"No, wait." He catches himself. "I got science study group today. How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow is good." I can manage to get cholera by tomorrow. Typhoid fever ... West Nile virus. There's got to be at least one mosquito with West Nile virus flying around Mill Valley tonight.
Even so, I'm in a better mood the rest of the day.
Twenty-Six
Walk
The next day, Kirsten is in the library after school. She has the kind of face that looks like she should be out selling Girl Scout cookies. Wouldn't do well, though: somebody'd steal her cookies. No street smarts, that girl; wouldn't last ten minutes at City.
When Kirsten sees him, she smiles a big old needy smile. Walk takes a step back.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi," she says. She pulls back her chair, scraping the floor. Dorarian frowns at Walk. Walk smiles and waves. Dorarian does not smile. Matteo has Dorarian all wrapped up in a little box tied with a bow, but Walk hasn't made a bit of progress with her, yet.
"I read it," Kirsten says, her blue eyes big.
"What?"
"The assignment."
She wants a gold star for reading the assignment? "Yeah, okay ... You get a newspaper?"
"Oh." She nods, like Walk just gave her something really complicated to do. She doesn't move.
"What?" Walk asks.
"I didn't do it, you know. Steal Balderis's wallet. Brianna admitted she did it."
"Never thought you did."
She nods. "Yeah, thanks, you know, for that."
"But can I ask you something?" Walk taps his pencil against the table. "Why do you hang with her?"
"Who?"
"Brianna."
"I have lots of ... I sit with lots of people." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Rory, Madison..."
Walk snorts. "Your momma never taught you to stay away from snakes?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Somebody treat me the way Brianna and Rory treat you, I wouldn't go eating lunch with them."
Her lip gets shaky; she starts breathing fast. Oh no.... She's going to cry.
"Listen," Walk blurts out, "we eat at the back corner table, then we head down to the library. You can sit with us."
Walk can't believe he just said this. What is his problem? You a fool, he tells himself.
But the girl is smiling so big, he can't take it back now.
Twenty-Seven
Kirsten
At the cafeteria the next day, I head for Walk's table. My head is busy planning what to say. Can I sit with you guys today? Dumb. How about hi? Hi is good. Everybody says hi.
But no one's sitting at Walk's table. Oh great. What am I going to do now? Rory's sitting with Maya and Lauren. Madison and Brianna aren't there yet. I don't want to sit with them, but who else am I going to sit with? Maybe if I eat fast, I can get out of there before Brianna shows up.
"Kirsten?" Rory smiles like the old Rory. Without thinking I sit down next to her like she's still my friend.
Brianna's seat is empty, just waiting for her to arrive. No one would dare put their stuff on the Queen's seat; it's permanently reserved for her.
I'm just about ready to get out of there when suddenly she and Madison show up. Brianna slams her books down, sending Rory's chips flying.
"I can't even believe it. I totally, totally can't believe it," Brianna says.
"What?" Maya asks.
"I got a fail test notice from Balderis for the test last Friday, but I didn't fail. I got a C."
Maya shrugs her narrow shoulders. "It's a mistake."
"I just spent the last half hour talking to him. Turns out he's taking off two hundred points for bad behavior—that's what he called it—because of the day we were playing around with his wallet."
The wallet. I shift position on the round saucer seat, which is built for a bikini-size butt, not one the size of mine.
"I worked it out with Fishhouse," Brianna continues. "It's totally not fair for Balderis to dock my grade now. It is so wrong. So, so wrong. I got a C!"
Everyone is looking at her. I don't know whether to look or not look.
"Bet anything you're going to get one, too," Brianna tells Rory.
"I got a B plus on Balderis's test," Rory whispers.
"Minus two hundred points is an F," Brianna tells her. "It wasn't even a regular school day. We were, like, helping him. How can he take off for that? It's so totally bogus."
"We can't fail," Rory says, "or they won't let us in the talent show."
Lauren tosses her Cleopatra hair. "Go talk to Fish-house," she says.
"Yeah," Madison agrees.
"I will. Maybe we both should?" Brianna looks at Rory.
Rory stares at the pocket of her backpack where she always keeps her inhaler. Her nostrils are flaring like she really needs it, but it makes her look weird, so she doesn't get it out. Better to die than that.
"At least you don't have Dolman," Brianna tells Rory. "Practically everyone fails at least one test from Dolman."
Rory says nothing.
Brianna looks around. "What's your problem?" she suddenly asks me.
"Nothing," I say. I'm just sitting here perfecting the totally blank look. Blank Looks "R" Us.
"I expect you to help me with this, too, you know."
"Me ... I...me?"
"I could have let you take the rap and then I wouldn't be in trouble. But I didn't. I got you out of it."
"Yeah, but ... but..."
"I try really hard to be a nice person and look out
for my friends. We are friends, right?" Brianna asks, her voice soft, her mouth open, her eyes totally sincere.
Is she kidding me? After yesterday?
She stares at me so intensely it feels like there is no one in the cafeteria but her and me.
"What do you want from me?" I whisper, or maybe I just think I say this. Maybe I say nothing.
"Oh come on, Kirsten, don't look so worried," she says. "I really like you, you know. I really do."
I have to get out of here.
She seems to already know this. She picks up my backpack and hands it to me and I start walking.
I glance back at her expecting her to be mad, but her face is shining. She's waving her hand.
I smile back. I can't help myself.
Then I see she's waving to a dark-haired eighth grader who is the cutest guy in the whole school.
Twenty-Eight
Walk
Walk doesn't see Kirsten at lunch for a day or two. He figures she isn't going to take him up on his offer. But then on Monday she's headed for his lunch table. Of course it was too much to hope she'd turn him down. "Yo, Kirsten." Walk makes room for her.
Kirsten smiles and giggles. "Hi." She kicks her legs over the seat.
"Hi," Matteo says.
Hair Boy and Jade just stare.
"Do you have candy?" Jade asks.
"I wish," Kirsten says. "The office lady does, though. Sometimes she'll give you a piece."
"Not here today," Jade answers. "And neither is her candy."
Jade's a candy-head. Her lunch bag looks like she's been out trick-or-treating with it. No sandwich, no fruit, no chips, just candy, only today she forgot her bag.
"Hey, how many bathrooms you have?" Walk asks.
"Me?" Kirsten shifts on her seat.