Immaculate (18 page)

“Sorry, I just like to film random things sometimes. I need the editing practice. Anyway, I hope it's okay that I sat here,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “I usually just sit by myself and read, but I don't know, I thought—”

“Of course it's okay, Jesse,” Hannah cut in, rescuing him. “You're totally welcome here. Though I'm not so sure about that despicable excuse for mac and cheese. I guess you're still learning the ropes here, so I'll let it slide for today.”

We all laughed at that, which is why I didn't notice at first when Kyle Bennett came up behind me, two of his absurdly square-shaped friends flanking him on either side. Kyle was our senior football quarterback and he was also, in a nauseatingly predictable high-school-movie kind of way, Arielle Fowler's sometimes boyfriend—they were more off-again than on-again, and judging by the way she had started sitting at my old table, at
Nate's
table, I was guessing they were off for the time being.

Kyle, it should be said, was also the mastermind behind the nickname
Menius
, which I was positive he had never once intended as a compliment. I had made the fateful mistake of telling our seventh-grade math teacher halfway through the year that Kyle had been copying my test answers all along—he was already a giant for his age and quite an expert at leaning over my desk. I'd had a crying meltdown to my mom about it after we both got the only As on a particularly brutal quiz, and she had insisted that telling Mr. Thompson was the right thing to do. Right in her adult mind, maybe, but after Kyle got a week's detention and a seat alone next to Mr. Thompson's desk for the rest of the year, he certainly didn't think it was
right
, and neither did any of his many cool influential buddies. And so
Menius
had started—and spread—and Kyle had gone out of his way to torment me ever since. Until I started dating Nate, that is, and he'd finally backed off.

But now he had free reign again, and he looked alarmingly smug about it. Darren Reed stood on Kyle's right in a skintight black T-shirt, ruffling his signature messy blond fauxhawk, and to the left was Eric Andrews, a stocky guy with a buzz cut and a grass-stained football jersey who was probably oblivious to the fact that he'd lived on my street for our entire lives. We had even played by the creek together a few times when we were little kids, though I doubted he remembered any of that now. To him, I was just the girl who told on his friend once years ago, and the girl who spent too much time studying and caring about school.

Kyle cleared his throat as soon as he caught my eye, and clapped his hands for attention. Darren yelled, “Quiet!” and the cafeteria buzz instantly dropped off. What felt like hundreds of eager eyes turned to our table.

“We have a brief but exciting presentation for everyone today,” Kyle called out, his shiny white grin blinding me as he stepped even closer. He swept his arms around the cafeteria like he was greeting old friends—like these were people he'd actually talk to or acknowledge on a daily basis, not just slam against lockers as his jock parade powered through the hallways.

Eric pulled his hands from behind his back and pulled out what looked like an old mini boom box. He put it down on the table next to ours and shot Kyle a thumbs-up.

A song started playing quietly through the speakers, and Eric turned a knob until the volume was so high that static vibrated under the music. The opening instrumental part sounded strangely familiar, and my mind raced to put a label on what I was hearing.

Classical music?

Why were they playing classical music in front of the whole cafeteria?

And then the lyrics started, and every part of my body, every last molecule, froze solid, like I had been transformed into a stone statue after looking into the eyes of some horrible mythological creature.

We three kings of Orient are

Bearing gifts we traverse afar.

Field and fountain, moor and mountain,

Following yonder star.

My hand flew to my mouth to trap the scream I could feel rattling up my throat. All three of the boys got down on their knees and leaned forward into bows, their arms fanned out on the floor below me.

O, star of wonder, star of night,

Star with royal beauty bright,

Westward leading, still proceeding,

Guide us to thy perfect Light.

Darren pushed himself up off the speckled linoleum and stood. He fiddled with a knob on the speakers, lowering the volume, then reached into his front pocket slowly. “I present you, my fair Virgin Mina, with gift number one.” He pulled out a handful of condoms and held them above his head for everyone to see. “Very valuable to have around. Too late this time, of course, but I'm sure there will be plenty of other opportunities.” He laughed hysterically at his joke, tossing the shiny gold foil packets onto my lap before lowering back down to his knees.

Eric stood up next, opening his hand to reveal a small pink plastic bottle. “Perfume for your purse, Virgin Mina. I hope you like the scent I picked. It's called Seductress. Sounded just perfect for you.”

I balled my fists against my eyes to block out everything that was happening, as if it would all cease to exist if I couldn't actually see it anymore. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Please let this be a nightmare
. I was dreaming, and I'd wake up soon.

Myrrh is mine: its bitter perfume

Breathes a life of gathering gloom.

Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,

Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.

The music clicked off, and I dropped my hands from my face.

“That's enough!” Jesse's voice, strong and angry, filled the sudden silence.

“Yo, asshole,” Kyle said, standing up and getting so close to Jesse that their chests nearly touched. “We haven't finished yet, so sit the fuck down and mind your own business.” He gave Jesse a small push backward, throwing him off balance as he stumbled over an empty chair.

“And for Virgin Mina's last gift,” Kyle continued, holding up a small clear bottle, “I present her with Johnson & Johnson's finest baby oil. Very important for the baby on the way, obviously, and I'm sure she'll find lots of other creative uses, too.”

Jesse lunged at Kyle, and they tumbled against the wall behind our table. Jesse was a few inches taller, but he still had nothing on Kyle and his overmuscled football player's body, especially with Eric and Darren just waiting for the right moment to jump in. Kyle punched once, hard, his fist landing on the edge of Jesse's cheek.

I felt Hannah push her chair back and get up beside me, and I followed her motions without thinking, hurrying to catch up with her as she ran over to Jesse.

“Stop it, Kyle! Stop hitting him!” she was screaming, hands thrashing at both sides as she flung herself into the middle of the action. I was just steps from joining her when my hands rushed to cradle my stomach. I couldn't help break up the fight. I couldn't risk the chance of Kyle's fist anywhere near my body. I backed away, frantic to be as far from danger as possible.

“Help,” I said, gasping, looking around me. No one seemed to notice, even though their eyes had been glued to me just seconds before. I was nothing now, invisible compared to the drama of the fight.

A shrill whistle blew from across the cafeteria, and I looked over to see two aides rushing toward us. Kyle stepped back as they approached, fists clenched at his sides in surrender. Relief swelled through me and I moved closer to Jesse and Hannah, needing to make sure that they were both okay now that the baby was safe.

A heavyset aide with cropped black hair stepped up beside me and spit out her whistle, while the second aide, white-haired and petite, hung back, keeping her distance. As my eyes landed on her and her face came into focus, I froze.

Iris.

She was here.

In my cafeteria. Almost swallowed up in the background as my classmates seethed and roiled like a wild, stormy sea around her.

She was looking at me, too, those same piercing green eyes, as her lips twisted up in a smile. A friendly smile. A reassuring smile.

I looked down for a second to steady myself against the table, and when I looked up again, there was no Iris. There was still a second aide, small and white-haired, but her face looked nothing like Iris's. And she was too far away for me to even see her eye color—how had they looked so green before?

I shook my head, dizzy from the image.

“All right, show's over, men. You're both coming with me.”

“Jesse,” I said, my heart still racing as I tried to bring myself back to what was happening around me. “I'm so sorry. Let me come with you and explain.”

“Mina, it's fine.” His jaw was already bruising from the hit, and a few spots of blood had been smeared above his top lip. “I'll go with her. You don't have to worry about me.”

I wanted to protest, but I couldn't think about anything except Iris, that overwhelming belief that she had been there, watching over me somehow. I nodded my silent agreement, stepping toward Jesse and wrapping my arms around his neck in thanks. He stiffened at the touch, and I pulled back, realizing that everyone was staring.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. My cheeks were flaming, and I couldn't meet his eyes. “Everyone's watching . . . and I didn't mean for anyone to get the wrong idea about you. About us.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said, giving my shoulder a soft tap before turning and following both aides through the maze of tables toward the side door, Kyle close behind him. I stood looking out over the eerily still cafeteria, blinking as reality slowly started to settle, a few whispers giving way to the normal sounds of chatting and laughing and yelling across the tables. When my daze lifted, I realized I was directly facing my old table. I looked for Arielle's face, the reason this had all just happened to me, but she wasn't there—she was probably too busy slapping hands with Kyle's friends on the other side of the cafeteria.

But Izzy and Nate were there. They were staring into each other's eyes from across the table, their faces hard and pale under the fluorescent lights. People talked around them, to them, but they both seemed too lost in their mutual thoughts to notice. They were sharing something, some deep, unsettling vision, and I ached to grab both of them, shake them out of their stupors—make them look at me and listen to me and understand just how hard this was for all of us. But they looked so far from me now, so removed from all my pain. I couldn't worry about them, not anymore.

And though part of me wanted to find Arielle and scream at her, yank her perfect, shiny hair, I knew it wouldn't do any good at this point.

I had to let everyone go, everyone but Hannah and Jesse and my family. Everyone who didn't and couldn't believe in me and my story. Seeing Iris, whether I had imagined her there or not, had made it all so much clearer. I couldn't worry about changing anyone else's mind. I only had the power to change myself.

I wasn't ready to talk about Iris, though—about that second of absolute certainty, not even with Hannah. She reached out from behind me as if she'd heard my thoughts, pulling me down onto the seat next to her.

“I wanted to help,” I said, “but I didn't want Kyle to accidentally hurt the baby.”

“I know. Trust me, I would have gone totally psycho on him if he'd laid a hand on you, so we're all better off that you stayed away.”

I squeezed her hand, weaving my fingers through hers. “Everyone knows now, Hannah. Even if some people were confused when it was happening, I'm sure Kyle and his friends will be screaming the whole story through the halls until every last person in this building knows everything. I mean, they blared ‘We Three Kings' and threw condoms and baby oil at me, Han. Who the hell does something like that to someone they barely even know? I mean, obviously I know that Kyle and Arielle and their friends never really liked me, but still? This? This much?” Saying it all out loud made me want to crawl into an infinitely deep, dark hole in the cafeteria floor and stay there until no one even remembered that Mina Dietrich had ever existed in these hallways.

“They're such immature shitheads that they'll do anything to put someone down.” She sighed. “But you're right. There's nothing we can do to stop the news from spreading.” No frills to pretty up the truth, no silver lining.

“What am I going to do now?”

“I know what you're not going to do. You're not going to run away. You're not going to hide. You're not going to let any of these damn idiots think you have anything to be ashamed about or sorry for. Okay, Meen? You keep doing what you're doing. You go to class, you make plans for the future. You take care of yourself and that baby growing inside of you. You keep living. And you hold your head up high because you are so much more special than even I could have ever imagined. And I picked you as a friend the first second I met you, so that's saying something.”

I nodded and tried to smile, but my lips refused. “You're right. I don't hide. I live my life. Fuck them, Han. Fuck them all.” The words sounded harsh and more powerful than I felt, but they filled me with a burst of hope—hope that I really could rise above the judgment and criticism to come. I could be strong. I could be courageous.

A bright white paper plane flashed out of nowhere and soared toward me, the nose making a small jab against my forehead before the plane tumbled down my face and chest and landed on top of my untouched food. Heat prickled along my neck as I felt eyes turning back to me. I picked the plane up and unfolded the paper, careful to hold my trembling hands steady.

ALL, BEWARE:
THE SECOND COMING IS NOW UPON US.

I smiled as I tore the paper in half, and then in half again and again, until the plane was just a pile of shreds on the floor below me. And then I blew a kiss to no one in particular, nothing but the air, and picked up my sandwich to start eating.