Blackbird Fly (14 page)

My mouth dropped. Me—steal Gretchen's purse? I looked at Alyssa, Gretchen, Mrs. Hill, and Principal
Earnshaw, one after the other, in a panic.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Why would I do that?”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you were looking for more lip gloss.”

Mrs. Hill put up her hand. “I think you should step outside, Alyssa. This really only concerns Gretchen, since it is her purse.”

“Yes, yes, good idea,” mumbled Principal Earnshaw.

Alyssa made a noise that almost sounded like a huff but wasn't completely a huff. I'm sure she knew that if she made too big of a stink, she'd get in trouble. As she walked out with Mrs. Hill she glared down at me and whispered, “Kleptomaniac.”

“I don't understand.” I looked at Gretchen. “Do you think I took your purse?”

“If you promise me you didn't take it, I'll believe you,” she said.

“Why would I take your purse?” I asked.

Gretchen looked at her feet. “Alyssa said she saw you by the gym, and it looked like you were carrying something under your arm. She said she called your name, and you ran off real fast, like you were trying to get away.”

Principal Earnshaw raised his eyebrows at me.

My cheeks were hot, and my insides quivered.

“That's not true!” I said. “And why would I take your purse anyway?”

“You took that twenty dollars from Mr. Z,” whispered Gretchen.

“That's different,” I said. “I was trying to put it back.”

“I'll just ask you simply, Analyn,” said Principal Earnshaw. “Did you take Gretchen's purse?”

“No.”

“If we find out differently, you'll be suspended for five days. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Principal Earnshaw turned to Gretchen. “I think
we should take Analyn's word on this until it's proven otherwise. Meanwhile, I want you to make a list of everything that was in your purse when it was taken.” He pushed a pencil and a sheet of blank paper across the desk.

“I didn't take it, Principal Earnshaw,” I said. “I swear.”

He nodded. He looked like he believed me, but I couldn't be sure. My body was on fire. I'd never been so angry. As if I would take Gretchen's stupid purse! She forgot it somewhere at least once a week. Anybody could have taken it. She didn't even have anything to steal, unless you were a thief who liked to wear peach lip gloss and berry-and-roses blush.

“It's possible the purse will turn up,” said Principal Earnshaw as Gretchen scribbled on the paper. “In the meantime, we'll just consider the matter unresolved.” He nodded toward the door. “You can go back to class.”

When I walked out, Alyssa was sitting in one of
the chairs outside his office with her legs and arms crossed. When she saw me, she narrowed her eyes.

“I know you took it,” she said.

“Why are you out to get me all of a sudden? I never did anything to you, except be your friend,” I said. “You're the one who—”

“The one who what? Got on the Dog Log and went to a dance with some weirdo? That's not me,
Apple
. That's you.” She turned away.

I didn't leave immediately. I stood there for a few seconds and looked at her even though she wasn't looking at me. When she had first moved here, I was her only friend. We used to share pinkie promises and stuff our faces with popcorn. We sat cross-legged on the carpet of her house and ate peanut butter out of the jar with oversized spoons. We jumped on the trampoline and giggled for hours.

I thought I hadn't done anything to her, but I was wrong. I
had
done something, even though I wasn't really the one who did it. I got myself on the Dog
Log, and that meant she was tainted because she was my friend. She wanted to move up the tiers, and I was one of the things she was getting rid of so she could. Just like she got rid of the T-shirts and busted-up sneakers she used to wear when I first met her.

I thought about her party. I thought about all kinds of things. I thought about Evan and what he'd said and done at the dance.

He was right. He was
so
right.

“You suck, Alyssa,” I said.

I walked away before she could answer, but something told me she wouldn't have anyway.

Evan scrunched up his nose. “You look horrible.”

I put my backpack on top of the library table and sat across from him. We had an unspoken lunch routine now: no meal, just the library. Occasionally we brought snacks from home or got something out of the vending machine, but mostly we skipped lunch altogether and spent the time reading books or talking about stuff. I
told him about the Beatles, and he told me about hobbits and Middle-earth and airplanes. Meanwhile, I stashed my lunch money, saving up for the guitar. My mother would freak out if she knew I wasn't eating lunch, but then again she's never tasted the lunch at my school.

“Are you okay?” asked Evan.

“Not really.” I didn't want to tell him what had happened. Mostly I was afraid that I would start crying. If only three o'clock would come, so I could go home and cry alone. Maybe I'd even try writing a song about it. A lot of great songs are sad songs, like “Yesterday” and “The Long and Winding Road.” “That weird vibe I was getting this morning wasn't my imagination.”

I told him the whole story.

“Why would Evil Dorothy call you a kleptomaniac? And why would she accuse you in the first place? No one would ever believe that you'd steal something.”

I pressed my lips together.

“Unless there's something you're not telling me,” added Evan suspiciously.

“Kinda. But before I tell you this, I want you to know that I am
not
a thief.”

I told him everything—about my dream to be a songwriter, almost stealing the twenty dollars, and the one-day suspension. I left out only two details: my idea to run off during the field trip and the fact that I was on the Dog Log. If he knew about that, I'm sure he would find a reason to quit hanging out with me.

He listened to everything as he chewed on his fingernail.

“Wow,” he said, when I finally shut up. “I can't believe I went to the dance with a criminal.”

I stared at him, and he laughed.

“You don't think I'm a kleptomaniac, do you?” I said.

“Of course not,” he replied. “Have you explained all this stuff to Mr. Z? About how you tried to put the money back?”

“Yes. He even offered to give me free guitar lessons.”

“So when do you start?”

“I haven't started yet. I don't have a guitar.”

“Just borrow one from Mr. Z.”

“I'm not going to ask to borrow something from someone I got caught almost-stealing from,” I said. “That would be beyond embarrassing.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I'm saving my lunch money. Eventually I'll have enough to buy the guitar.”

“Good idea,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crinkled dollar bill. He pushed it across the table. “For the Apple Yengko Fender Starcaster Donation Fund.”

Sometimes trouble comes as no surprise. But sometimes trouble arrives unexpectedly. That's what happened when Evan and I turned down the south hall after lunch. Jake and Lance were standing in
front of my locker with their arms crossed.

“Oh, great,” Evan muttered.

“Let's just keep walking,” I whispered, keeping my head down. “Don't make eye contact.”

“But—”

“Shst.”

“—you can't let them—”

“Shst.”

Evan heaved a big sigh. As we got closer I repeated quietly: “Remember. No. Eye. Contact.”

The funny thing is, even when you're not making eye contact with people, you can always tell when they're looking at you. When we walked past, I felt their eyes on my back.

“Hey, dog-eater!” Jake called out.

Evan's head swiveled in Trouble's direction. It took him less than five seconds to disregard the no-eye-contact rule.

“Don't walk away from us, klepto! We wanna have some words with you.”

Evan stopped and turned around. Everyone was rushing to class and the hallway was thinning out, but a handful of kids turned in our direction. I thought about bolting, but I couldn't leave Evan standing in the middle of the hall.

“Shut up, you boorish doofus,” said Evan.

Silence.

“You and your dog-eating girlfriend better give Gretchen back her purse,” said Lance. He and Jake headed toward Evan, their sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.

Evan crossed his arms. A small crowd formed around us.

Jake and Lance stopped on either side of Evan, pushing me out of the way, but Evan didn't budge an inch. He kept his arms crossed and his eyes focused. He looked like some kind of middle-school superhero.

Jake shoved a finger in Evan's chest. “Your dog-eating girlfriend is an ugly thief.”

“Sorry, but I don't have a dog-eating girlfriend,” Evan said.

“Yeah, you do,” Jake said. “Right here.” He reached over and yanked a lock of my hair. I immediately jumped back and smacked his hand away.

Jake laughed. “Wow, you got a lotta bite for a puppy.” He reached over again, but instead of yanking my hair, he jabbed me under my ribs.
“Yip! Yip! Yip!”

Evan stepped between us. “It's nice to see that you've expanded your vocabulary beyond the usual grunts, but if you do that again, I'm gonna have to pummel your face. Which might be an improvement, but still.”

Jake threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I'm not kidding.”

“Looks like you're the guard dog now,” said Jake. He reached around Evan and yanked my sleeve.
“Yip! Yip!”

“Stop it!” I said.

Ms. Bonnabel rushed over, arms waving, and immediately broke up the crowd. “What's happening here? What's happening?” she asked.

“Nothing, Ms. Bonnabel,” Lance said. “Just trying to get to class.” His face looked angry and red.

She glared at all of us suspiciously. “Okay, get going, get going,” she said.

“You can't let them treat you like that,” said Evan, when Jake and Lance were out of earshot. “You're letting them get away with too much.”

What did Evan know? It was easy for him to say.

“Well, I don't need a boy to protect me,” I snapped. “You just don't understand. You're not the school freak.”

He snorted. “Yesterday I went to the office to pick up the necessary forms to start a Model Airplane Youth Builders Organization. You think I don't know what it's like to be an outcast?” He shook his head. “There's only one difference between how I deal with boneheads and how you deal with them, and it has
nothing to do with me being a guy or you being a girl or both of us being freaks.”

“What is it then?” I asked.

“I don't listen to anything they say, because I know that whatever they think about me is wrong,” he said. “But you think they're right.”

That was the last thing he said before we went our opposite ways to class.

M
orning announcements aren't usually all that interesting. These days I used that time to doodle guitars in my notebook.

We always end with the Pledge of Allegiance. When Principal Earnshaw announced on Wednesday morning that “today's pledge will be recited by Evan Temple, one of our newest students,” my ears perked up. We stood. We put our hands on our hearts.

Sometimes the kids on the PA system sound nervous and shaky, but Evan sounded like his usual self. We recited along with him. When he said “liberty and justice for all,” we all sat down, but suddenly Evan's voice
did
get shaky. You never expect to hear anything after “liberty and justice for all,” but this morning Evan said, “I would like to announce that Gretchen Scott's purse was found in the quad this morning behind the vending machine. It was not stolen as was previously reported. Thank—”

The microphone made a screeching sound, and I heard a muffled reprimand before the PA system clicked off.

Mr. Ted stared at the speaker, confused. “That was anomalous,” he said.

Everyone looked at me. Braden scribbled something in his notebook and held it up for me to see. It said:
You're still a dog-eater.

When the bell rang, I was the first one out the door.

Evan was leaning against my locker, blowing at his bangs.

“Oh my god,” I said. “I can't believe you did that. Are you in trouble?”

“I was told I would never be allowed to say the pledge again.” He moved aside so I could get to my locker. “I told them I would find a way to survive.”

“How did that even happen?”

“I was in the office, turning in my form for MAYBO, and I—”

“Wait.” I stopped turning the combination on my lock. “You were turning in your form for
what
?”