After school, I waited for Sam and Jamie by my locker. Sam was the first to arrive, as usual.
“Hey,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow, still dressed in gym shorts, his hair messy and unkempt.
“Hey.”
“How’d the test go?”
I groaned. “As expected. Ms. Hull is the worst. I swear she throws questions in that she didn’t even go over just to make sure we fail…” I trailed off, spying Jamie as she made her way around the corner, books clutched to her chest. “’Bout time!” I called, relieved to see she was alone.
“I know, I know…” She rolled her eyes.
“Are you wearing lip gloss?” I asked, furrowing my brow as she drew closer.
“Yeah, so?”
“I’ve never seen you wear lip gloss.”
“I do. All the time.” She reached for her locker, to the left of mine by just a few spaces, and twisted the combination lock, chewing her bottom lip as she concentrated on opening the door.
“Okay, so tell us everything.” Why was she holding out on me? “How did it go? What’s it like over there?” She felt miles away, as if she wasn’t even paying attention. When she slammed her locker shut, she winced, pressing up on her toes as if she was going to explode with information.
“It was…pretty normal, actually.” What a letdown.
“Normal?” It was Sam’s turn to scowl.
“Yeah, I mean, they’re actually kind of cool.”
“Cool?” I jerked my head back as if I’d been slapped. “Seriously? How are they cool?” Besides every conventional way possible.
“Don’t be like that,” she cautioned me, running a hand over her hair. “I’m not saying I want to be friends with them, I’m just saying…it wouldn’t hurt to give them a chance. Maybe we misjudged them.”
“Misjudged?” I demanded, shaking my head. “Did we misjudge them when they told everyone Sam was dating Mr. Navarro?” Our old science teacher. The rumor wasn’t true—Sam wasn’t even gay—but it was enough to make Sam’s fifth grade year miserable and Mr. Navarro left shortly after. No one knows whether it was voluntary, but I suspected it wasn’t.
“Or when they got everyone to call you giraffe because you were so tall in seventh grade?” Sam added.
“Of course not,” she said softly. “But that was Vanessa. It wasn’t Grant.”
“It was all of them,” I said firmly. “Grant went along with everything. They all did. What about when they had someone steal my purse and throw it in Billy Eskin’s pond after junior high graduation? The first party we were actually invited to, and they had to make sure we knew we weren’t wanted.”
“I’m not saying they haven’t done horrible things…”
“What about when Courtney and Bryant pantsed you in the school lobby in front of everyone?” Sam asked.
She put her hands up to stop the examples, of which there were plenty. “I get what you’re saying, okay? I get it. They’re the worst. I agree with you. But…Grant’s different than we thought. He’s…” She stared ahead with a far-off look.
“He’s what, Jamie?” I challenged. “Because short of you telling us he had a brain transplant, there’s no way you can explain away how awful they are. It was fine when you were just talking about kissing him for the sake of it, but now you’re acting like…”
“Like what?” she asked, when I didn’t say anything right away.
“Like you want to be one of them.”
She set her jaw. “Don’t talk like that. I’m one of you. One of us. You know that.”
Ms. Mullins walked past us. “Have a good night,” she called absentmindedly, reminding us the school day was over and we still needed to leave.
“We’ll talk about all of this later,” I said. “I’m starving. Y’all wanna go to Jewell’s or Petals?” The only two restaurants within walking distance.
“Jewell’s. I need cheese sticks in my life,” Sam said quickly, turning to lead the way down the hall.
“Actually…” Jamie cut us off, and I knew what she was going to say before she’d even had the chance. “Grant wants me to hang out with him after school.”
It was a punch to the gut. An affirmation of everything I feared. “Seriously?”
She pressed her lips together, her head drooping to one side. “Come on, Cait, don’t make this a thing. We hang out every day after school. It’s just one day.”
“Whatever,” I said, shaking my head and looking at Sam, who looked equally confused and upset.
“Cait, please—”
“Just go, Jamie,” I said harshly, my muscles quivering with confusion over her betrayal. “It’s fine.”
“Why doesn’t he just hang out with us?” Sam asked, apparently genuine.
Her forehead crease deepened, and I knew she was thinking what she would never say out loud: Grant Du Bois would never hang out with us.
But then…why was he hanging out with her?
“I think he already had something planned…” She glanced over her shoulder. I could suddenly hear him laughing with his friends, coming down the hallway, though I couldn’t see him yet. “I promise, tomorrow, we’ll hang out like usual. I’ll tell you everything.” She squealed, pushing up on her tiptoes again and clasping her hands in front of her chest.
“Yeah, yeah. Go. It’s fine.” I looked down, refusing to watch as she raced away from us in the direction of Grant’s voice. When I met Sam’s eye, he offered a small smile.
“I’m still good to go to Jewell’s if you want…”
I shrugged, sulking toward the door. None of it felt right without Jamie. “I’m not really hungry anymore. Let’s just go home.” I felt his hand bump mine, a sign of solidarity as we made our way down the hall and out of the building, a gaping hole in our usual lineup that matched the one I felt growing in my stomach.
Chapter Seven
Present Day
Back in my hotel room, I lay in bed, my laptop resting beside me as I flipped mindlessly through the channels. I could feel the mint-scented face mask beginning to dry, my skin becoming tight and itchy as it did.
As soon as it was ready to wash off, I’d be able to start writing, but in the meantime I was looking forward to diving into mindless television I was never free to watch at home. Anything without a singing animal would be quite nice.
On the nightstand, my phone began buzzing, and I ended my search for a show when I saw Grant’s name on my screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
“Oh, just…” I stared over at the unopened laptop. “I was just getting ready to start writing. You?”
“I just put the twins down for bed.” His voice sounded lighter, and I heard him take a sip of something, immediately picturing the glass of red wine he had before bed every night.
“How’d today go?”
“Oh, it was fine. Hudson got in trouble for hitting again—”