“Mer, something did go down last night but I just can’t get into it here. Promise I’ll fill you in later.”
“You know I’m here. For anything.”
“I know. Thanks.”
“Well, glad you can handle Naomi because I definitely can’t right now.” Meryl rubs her forehead. “I think I’m gonna ditch the rest of the afternoon and sleep this one off somewhere.”
“How very studious of you, Miss Miller.”
The kid who collects the attendance sheets for the school office has a mad crush on Meryl, so he always covers for her when she ditches class.
“That’s why it’s junior college all the way for me, Miss Choudhury.” Meryl squeezes my shoulder.
I smile back at her. Then I take a deep breath and prepare to face the Squad.
MHS has a strict dress code forbidding outfits that expose the midsection. However, somehow Naomi was able to blatantly disobey that policy when she ordered the new cheerleading uniforms with crop tops that ended just a few inches below our chests. Like Meryl, rules don’t apply to Naomi.
I take another deep breath and suck in my stomach as I position my lunch tray to partially hide my belly. Then I begin the descent into damnation.
It takes only about a minute to get from the lunch line to where everyone is sitting but it is the most excruciating minute of the school day. For those sixty seconds, it’s like you’re on display for every single kid to find all of your physical flaws. Guys don’t ever sweat the Lunch Walk, but for us girls, it’s a daily hell. Even hotties like Naomi don’t escape unscathed.
I keep my head down so as to avoid eye contact as I weave through the maze of tables. Even if I don’t see them, I can feel all their eyes on me. The new cheerleading uniform makes me especially vulnerable. I think I hear a few low whistles interrupted by a roar of laughter.
“Thunder thighs,” a random girl calls out in a not-so-hushed voice. I ignore her and just keep on walking.
The moment I finally sit down, I’m locked into a group embrace as half a dozen cameras go off in my face.
“Pioneer Poms!” Collette shouts.
My stomach growls louder than a mama bear protecting her baby cub. I ignore Collette, stick my fork into the lasagna, and practically inhale it all in one bite. Jess is on the other side of me and I notice that both her and Collette are furiously refreshing Heffers and Hos over and over.
Heffers and Hos is Meadowdale’s own Gossip Girl 3.0. It’s an anonymous gossip site that posts photos and videos of MHS kids in all sorts of compromising positions. Every week, readers vote for a new Head Heffer and Honorary Ho, and those girls are relentlessly tormented until their successors are chosen.
I peek over at Jess’s phone to see what’s got her and Collette in such a frenzy. Collette gets excited about any kind of gossip, even if it’s about people that she’s never met, but Jess is usually way more blasé about such things.
“What’s up?”
“Shhh, I don’t want Naomi to hear,” Jess hisses.
I look past her at Naomi, who is scolding the junior-varsity poms team two tables away. I can’t hear what she’s saying but I’m pretty sure at least two of the girls are crying.
“The princess seems occupied by the dressing-down that she’s delivering to her unworthy subjects,” I say in an exaggerated English accent. A string of gooey melted cheese runs down my chin and I try to catch it with my tongue. “Spill.”
“OMG, Violet, maybe keep your mouth closed when you have a mound of barf in there,” Collette admonishes. She leans in closer to me and Jess, then shields her lips in the most obvious way to let everyone know that she’s blabbing about something she shouldn’t be. “H and H supposedly has something scandalous on Naomi.”
I heard some rumblings about Naomi gossip around third period but I’ve been too preoccupied with my own chaos to pay attention. “Like what?”
“Duh. We don’t know yet. Could be a juicy tidbit or a dirty pic.” Collette practically squeals with delight. “That’s what we’re desperately trying to find out.”
Jess reaches across me and pokes Collette. “Act cool, she’s coming back over here.”
I shrug and return to my lunch. Just as I’m about to shove another huge chunk of pasta in my mouth, Naomi snatches my plate away.
My half-empty belly fills with instant anger. “WTF?”
“Austin Coopman is staring straight at you,” Naomi whispers.
“So?” I seethe as I grab for my plate unsuccessfully.
“You don’t think I’ve forgotten, do you, V?”
I’ve been crushing on Austin ever since the fifth grade when he started going to my elementary school. It’s a well-guarded secret that only Meryl and Naomi know. Although Naomi and I haven’t discussed my infatuation with Austin for years, so it’s surprising that the girl remembers or even cares. “Naomi, this isn’t some Victorian novel where I’m afraid to let him see me eating. Give me back my lunch.” I was pretty neutral about it before, but now I hope that whatever H and H has on Naomi, it’s extra-salacious.
“He’s walking right over here and if he’s forced to witness you chowing down on this melted lard, he’ll be totally turned off.” Naomi looks down at my lasagna in disgust. “I’ve had real-life boyfriends, not just virtual ones, Violet. Trust me.”
I am about to retaliate when suddenly I feel a firm hand press against my back. I turn around to see Austin smiling down at me. My stomach does a tiny flip at the sight of his lopsided grin. We hooked up right before school started. Sort of.
“Gonna go all groupie on our resident rock star?” Jessica whispers loudly.
I’m not sure if Austin hears her but I feel my neck grow hot regardless.
“Hey, Violet, can we talk for a second?” Austin gestures to a corner far from the Squad. “In private?”
I nod and stand up. Austin grabs my hand and starts to lead me away.
“Cutie pie—”
I throw major stink-eye at Collette, which thankfully stops her from finishing her sentence. As I walk hand in hand with Austin, I can feel everyone looking at me. This time, it’s a good thing.
Unlike the teen flicks that I devour, popularity is no longer exclusive to jocks and cheerleaders. At least, it isn’t like that at Meadowdale High, and from what I see online, my school isn’t an exception. There’s still a ruthless high-school hierarchy that preys on the weak, but these days, with all the prodigies in music, sports, and anything else you can think of, teens have to do a lot more than letter in varsity to be “in.” You can’t merely be good at something; you have to be exceptional at it, like a YouTube sensation or a social media god.
Austin stays far away from the whole popularity scene, which only adds to his mystique. Although everyone thinks of him as a rocker, he’s actually a classical guitarist. Playing Bach and Beethoven on the acoustic guitar might not seem sexy, but practically everyone at school wants to be his number one fan. He’s an exceptional kid who’s already earned national recognition as one of the best young classical guitarists in the country, and his talent combined with his Jake Gyllenhaal looks make Austin the closest thing to a rock star that MHS has.