Goodbye Stranger (21 page)

—

Ten minutes later, Tab was resting on Bridge’s shoulder in the waiting room, talking and crying through a mouth full of cotton while the receptionist pretended not to look at them.

“And then, thith morning I told her what I did, and she thaid…she thaid I have to
tell
. That’th part of it, she thaid!”

“Part of what?” Bridge said. “Tab, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You started in the middle.”

“Didn’t you get my voith mailth?”

“I didn’t have time to listen to any of them! I just ran over here.”

“Bridth?”

“What?”

“I like your earth.”

“My earth? Tab, you’re not making sense.”

Her head still resting on Bridge’s shoulder, Tab reached up and felt for Bridge’s cat ears. She patted them awkwardly. “Your eeerth!” she said.

“Oh, my
ears.
” Bridge removed Tab’s hand from her head. “That’s nice. But I still have no idea what you’re talking about. Who do you have to tell what? And why?”

“I’m talking about thivil dithobedienth! She thaid I have to ‘take rethponthibility’!” Tab sat up and looked urgently at Bridge.

Bridge stared at her. “Who said?”

“The Berperthon! Bridth, I pothted the naked picthur of Patrick.” She pounded her chest with an open hand. “From hith phone, during thoccer practith.” She mimed texting with her thumbs.

“Wait,” Bridge said. “You’re saying—it was you?”

Tab nodded miserably. “I’m going to get thuthpended!” she wailed.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeth, I am! And I have to tell Em,” Tab said, waving the spitty paper towel she had balled up in one hand.

“Wow. She’s gonna flip.”

Tab nodded and then closed her eyes.

Bridge patted Tab’s face carefully. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tab nodded and said, “You’re the betht.”

“Tab? Where’s your mom?”

“Getting the car. Come over?”

“Your mom won’t mind?”

Tab shook her head. “I need you, Bridth.”

—

An hour later, Bridge and Tab stood in Tab’s small kitchen, eating mini-marshmallows and waiting for the Stove Top to cook.

“Text Emily again.” Tab’s face was smaller without the cotton in her mouth. “Where
is
she?”

“I texted her four times,” Bridge said.

“Then check your phone.”

“I’ve
been
checking it, Tab. If I get a text, we’ll hear it.”

Tab stirred her Stove Top slowly. “She’s going to hate me.”

“She’s not going to hate you.”

“How do you know?”

“We have a rule, remember? No fights.”

“That’s true.” Tab looked a little bit hopeful.

“So when’s your mom getting here with your antibiotics?” Bridge glanced at the bag of marshmallows.

“With the hot chocolate, you mean?”

“Yeah. The way you’re plowing through those, there won’t be any left.”

Tab stuffed two more into her mouth and said, “Tough.”

Then Bridge’s phone dinged, and Tab dove for it.

“Too late!” Bridge snatched it. “Ha. Those dentist drugs are slowing you down.”

Em:
No WAY I’m coming over—I officially hate Tab.

Bridge:
What? Why?????

Em:
Guess what? TAB posted that picture of P. Total triator.

Em:
*Traitor!

Bridge:
Who told you? Please come!

Em:
She told me! She was LAUGHING. No way.

“What’s she saying?” Tab said. “Is she coming?”

“Tab. I think you may have called Emily from the dentist’s office.”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Tab spent the next ten minutes crying on the kitchen floor while the Stove Top burned. Bridge hadn’t seen Tab cry this much in her whole life. It was awful. Then the doorbell rang.

“It’s freezing out,” Em said, marching past Bridge. “Where is she?”

“You came,” Tab said. She’d managed to get up from the floor and was standing next to the couch, holding the bag of marshmallows.

Em hesitated. “You look terrible,” she said. “Are you okay? Never mind. Sit down. I have a present for you.”

“A present?” Tab looked confused. She sat down on the couch.

“A whole
bunch
of presents,” Em said. She sat on the coffee table in her coat, pulled her backpack onto her lap, unzipped the smallest front pocket, and pulled out a handful of torn paper. “Hold out your hand.”

They were notes. Em put them into Tab’s hand, one at a time.

Slut.

Rat.

You suck.

“Oh, and here’s my favorite,” Em said. “ ‘Skank.’ That kind of says it all, I think. Don’t you agree?”

Tab looked stunned. “Where did these come from?”

“My locker. I actually prefer this to being hissed at in the hall, if you want to know the truth.”

“But—when did it start?” Tab asked.

“Why? Do you actually care about someone other than the Berperson and her special rules of life?”

Tab looked like she was about to cry again. Bridge couldn’t stand it. “Come on, Em,” she said.

Em sighed and, still wearing her coat, lay back on the coffee table. “I got a couple of them after Sherm got all the boys in trouble—I figure that was David Marcel, mad about getting suspended. But they really started coming after
someone
posted Patrick’s selfie.”

“Idiots.” Bridge scooped the notes out of Tab’s hand, crunched them up, and dumped them on the table.

Tab sank back into the couch. “I feel—so,
so
terrible, Em. It was supposed to be civil disobedience. Like we talked about in Human Rights Club.”

Emily laughed. “I think you should reread that chapter or something.”

They heard the key in the door, and Tab’s face changed. “My parents don’t know yet,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything.”

But it was only Celeste. She came into the living room, blinking snow off her eyelashes.

“No way, it’s snowing?” Emily said, without getting up. “Finally! A decent development in this sucky day.”

Celeste looked at Tab’s face, then stared at Em, who was still lying across the coffee table like a sacrifice. She stepped a little closer and squinted at the pile of notes lying next to her. Bridge hadn’t managed to crunch them very well, and they were mostly legible. “What’s going on?” Celeste said. “And what’s that
smell
?”

“I lost one of my two best friends,” Tab said flatly. “And I’m going to get suspended. Burnt stuffing.”

“No, you didn’t,” Em said. “And you’re not going to get suspended.”

“Tab, what are you talking about?” Celeste said.

Tab stamped her foot on the rug. “Boys are evil.”

“What do you mean,
suspended
?” Celeste said.

So Tab confessed, for the fourth time that day.

“Okay, you guys, back up,” Celeste said. “Back up all the way to the beginning.”

They started with Patrick’s first text to Emily, and they told Celeste everything. Tab finished by describing her meeting with the Berperson that morning, how the Berperson was “so weirdly upset” and said Tab had “exactly twenty-four hours” to tell Mr. Ramos that she was the person who’d posted the picture of Patrick.

Tab wiped her nose with a wad of paper towel she found in her pocket. “You hate me now, right, Em? We can’t be friends anymore.”

Em looked at Tab. “What’s wrong with you? Of course we’re still going to be friends.”

“You said you
hate
me.”

“I was mad. It’s called a
fight.
Jeez.”

“But we don’t have fights,” Tab said. “Ever.”

“Well, maybe we should learn.”

Tab’s eyes got big. “Learn to
fight
? What about our rule? What about the Twinkie?”

Em carefully tore a marshmallow into two pieces and handed one to Tab. “With this marshmallow, I hereby release you from the Twinkie promise.”

Behind Em, Bridge was mouthing two words to Tab.

Tab sat forward and tilted her head, trying to read her lips. “What? Say what?”

“Say you’re
sorry
!” Bridge said.

“Oh! Didn’t I say that? Em, I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry.” She popped the half marshmallow into her mouth.

Em laughed. “You guys are a good team.”

“It still isn’t fair,” Tab said. “I just wanted Patrick to know how it felt! How it felt for
you,
when he sent your picture to everyone.”

“
How
many times do I have to tell you?” Em said. “Patrick didn’t send my picture to anyone!”

Tab rolled her eyes. “Em, please don’t tell me again about how someone grabbed his phone.”

“Someone did grab his phone!” Em said.

“Really? Who?”

“I told you, I don’t know! But I believe him, Tab. Listen, I didn’t know him before. You guys were right about that, okay? But I know him now. Can’t you take my word for it?”

Tab shook her head. “I can’t take your word for it if you’re taking his word for it.”

Celeste had been unusually quiet through the whole story. Even when she heard about the knee-length shorts, her expression didn’t change. Now she said, “Emily, I think I know who grabbed Patrick’s phone and sent your picture to David Marcel.”

“You do?” All three of them looked at Celeste.

“How well do you guys know Julie Hopper?”

Tab exploded. “Julie Hopper! She’s a—girl! Why would she send Em’s picture to a boy? To
David Marcel
?”

Celeste laughed. “What? You don’t think girls hurt girls? Tab, you live in a dreamworld.”

“I do not!” Tab looked at Emily and Bridge. “Right, you guys?”

And then Celeste started crying.

The girls pushed close to her, patting Celeste’s snow-damp hair and not asking questions. After a minute, Celeste took the paper towel Tab held out and blotted her face with it. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a crap week.”

“Oh my God, you guys,” Em said. “Oh my God. Celeste is right.” She held out her phone. She’d been texting with one hand while patting Celeste’s shoulder with the other.

Emily:
Hey

Patrick:
Hey U

Emily:
Question for U

Patrick:
?

Emily:
Did JH send the picture to DM?

Patrick:
…

Emily:
Is that a yes?

Patrick:
…

Emily:
?

Patrick:
yeah

Emily:
SERIOUSLY?

Patrick:

Emily:
??? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?

Patrick:
Issues.

Patrick:

Tab clutched the phone, frantically rereading. “Wait. Patrick
didn’t
send your picture to anyone?” She looked from Em’s face to Bridge’s. “I actually
deserve
to get suspended.”

“I didn’t believe him either,” Bridge said.

“And for the last time,” Em said, “you are
not
going to get suspended!”

Celeste pushed her hand into the bag of marshmallows. “Oh yes, she is. She’s totally going to get suspended.”

OUTLAWS

Celeste was right again. When Tab explained everything to Mr. Ramos the next morning, he suspended her for three days.

“Starting Monday,” Tab told Em and Bridge at lunch. “And get this: I’m kicked out of the Talentine show.”

“What?”
Bridge said. For some reason she felt tears threatening.

“Yeah, I can’t be in it. I’m still allowed to go, though, because it’s on Friday and I’m not suspended until next week—so, Em, will you be my date?”

“Of course I’ll be your date,” Em said. “We’ll sit front row center.”

“Or maybe
back
row center,” Tab said. “The two of us should probably lie low for the rest of the year.”

“Lie low?” Em made her hands into guns. “Who are we, Bonnie and Clyde?”

Tab made a face. “According to my parents? Yes. We might as well have robbed a bank.”

“Okay,” Em said. “We’ll sit in the back.”

“Did I tell you guys about this flower-delivery thing they do at Celeste’s high school on Valentine’s Day?” Tab shook her head. “It’s sadistic. All the popular people walk around with a million flowers and everyone else feels like crap.”