Cooking? Hannah asked.
Well, yeah, Danielle said. And making people cry.
I’m sure some part of her is using the scones as an excuse to ignore Chase, but maybe some other part of her feels bad.
Now, when she taps my desk, it makes me jump.
“Did you see who sent this?” She has a little scrap of white paper clenched in her hands. I take the paper from her and unfold it. It has five words scrawled across it, written in blue ink:
DANIELLE OLIVER IS A SLUT
I crumple the paper and let go like it’s burned me. “I wasn’t looking. Sorry.”
I glance around the room for a guilty face, for someone who might be paying us a little too much attention. Chase is slumped in his desk on the opposite side of the room. I note the pencil he’s chewing on and then look back at the blue ink on the paper. There’s a chance he used a different writing implement and then slipped it back in his bag, but I really doubt Chase could be that sneaky.
“Where did you get it?” I whisper.
Ava leans past Danielle to whisper back. “We just found it. It’s like it came out of nowhere.”
We all turn toward Chase, and he must feel the heat of our stares, because he looks up and locks eyes with Danielle. He stops chewing on his pencil and cocks his head, the expression on his face unreadable.
“I don’t see how anyone thinks they can get away with this,” Danielle says at lunch, popping a grape tomato from her salad into her mouth. “It’s like treason.”
We’re in the senior section, by the windows where the tables get the most sunlight. Prescott is small enough that everyone has lunch at the same time, but it means we’re always fighting over the best tables, like we’re vying for spots in a lifeboat. People used to care a lot about who they sat with, but now that we’re seniors, we’ve all gotten over ourselves, and stuff that used to matter doesn’t anymore.
Right now though, it’s just Danielle, Ava, Hannah, and me because Danielle is keeping the note a secret. Before this weekend, I don’t think she would have even let me see it. I know it’s probably because I was there with her at the party. I’m fully in this now.
She lays the note down on the table, smoothing out the edges with a black-polished fingernail.
“Whoever did it probably doesn’t think they’ll get caught,” Ava says, flipping her hair—bright green now for Saint Patrick’s Day—behind one shoulder.
“Does the handwriting look familiar?” Hannah leans over the note and studies it. The letters are a mix of upper- and lowercase, some big and some small. Like someone was trying to make sure they wouldn’t be recognized. Ava is always watching these true crime documentaries on Netflix, and sometimes she texts us articles. This note kinda reminds me of that—like someone is asking for a ransom.
“Don’t worry,” Danielle says. “I’ll find out who did it.” She smiles, then eats another tomato. I can hear it burst between her teeth.
“Hey.” Andrew sits down in the chair next to mine, and Danielle snatches the note off the table, putting it away before he can see. Then she leans toward him, tucking a strand of dark hair behind one ear, revealing a row of silver studs.
“Drew, I’m sorry about this weekend. The, you know . . . wrapper.” Her face turns pink. “I should have said something sooner. I can’t believe he didn’t throw it out.” She reaches across the table and pats his arm.
“It’s no big deal,” he says, taking a casual bite of his sandwich. But the tips of his ears turn pink to match her cheeks.
“If you could just . . .” She clears her throat. “Could you not tell anyone about it?”
“Everybody already knows about it,” Ava says, biting into a baby carrot with a loud crunch. “Clearly.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know every little detail.” Danielle reaches over and grabs another baby carrot, flicking it with two fingers so it spins back across the table, landing in Ava’s lap.
“Ouch!” Ava says, even though the flying carrot definitely didn’t hurt.
“Hey, Danielle,” a voice calls out from behind me. Chase is making his way over to our table, a backpack slung low over his shoulder. “Hey, guys.” He nods to us. “Dani, can I talk to you?” He rests a hand on her shoulder but withdraws it quickly when she turns to look at him, her gaze icy.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Ava says in a clipped tone.
“Ava,” Danielle hisses. “Seriously. We’re not in seventh grade anymore. I can speak for myself.”
“Fine,” Ava says, standing up. “I was just trying to help.” She grabs her food and walks to the busing counter, slamming down the tray just a little too hard.
Whenever Danielle and Ava fight like this, Ava usually storms off and spends the next few hours with her theater friends, who she ironically likes to say are “less drama.” But I know she’ll probably be back with Danielle by the end of the day.
“I’ll talk to her,” Hannah says. She gets up and follows Ava out of the cafeteria.
“Sorry about that.” Danielle turns to Chase. “What’s up? Do you want to sit down?”
Chase rearranges the dirty Red Sox cap on his head, putting it back slightly askew. “Well, actually, do you want to go for a walk or something? I kind of wanted to talk.”
“We can talk here.” Danielle motions toward Andrew and me. “They’re harmless.”
“We can go.” Andrew starts to get up from his chair. “You guys can ha—”
“Don’t be silly.” Danielle reaches a hand out to touch his shoulder. Her voice is sweet, but her back is straight, her movements stiff. It strikes me that she knows what’s coming. Her armor is on, laced up tight. Does she want us here for moral support? It feels wrong—Danielle needing anyone’s help for anything.
Chase slumps into the chair next to her.
“Okay.” He seems caught off guard at having an audience. “So this weekend was really fun.” He looks at Andrew for a second. “Nice party, dude.” Andrew nods that special guy-nod back. “It’s just—” he begins again, but Danielle interrupts.
“Here’s the thing. I don’t think you really understand what this weekend was for me. I just don’t like you like that, Chase. No hard feelings.”
“That’s not what I—” he tries to butt in, but she keeps talking.
“I just kind of want to explore other options, and I really don’t want to be locked down with one guy. It’s not a good time. We can be friends though, right?” She pats his hand and looks at him, her eyes big.