Mixed Bags (18 page)

“WeLCOme TO CCH,” SaID Harry
as he slipped an arm around Eliza’s waist, “home of the Mighty Maroons.”

“
Maroons
?” echoed Eliza. “As in the color maroon?”

“Well, it is our school color,” said Harry. “But there’s actually a story behind the word
maroon
.”

“A story I don’t have time to hear,” said Conner. “Excuse me, ladies.” Then he sort of nodded and dashed off.

“Conner doesn’t want to be late on his first day of school,” said Harry in a teasing tone. “Which way you girls heading anyway?”

“English,” said DJ calmly. She was trying to act perfectly natural, as if Conner’s quick departure wasn’t really a rejection, as if it had nothing to do with her, and as if it hadn’t hurt her feelings.

“So am I,” said Harry happily.

“So what is the maroon story?” asked Eliza as the three of them continued toward the English department together.

“Well, maroon is for
marooned
, as in passengers who are dumped off a ship—apparently this used to happen with illegally gotten slaves. If the ship was being pursued by the law, the captain would dump the slaves on an island.”

“And that’s our mascot?” Eliza was clearly confused. “Like we’re slaves who’ve been dumped here? Not too flattering.”

“That’s not the whole story. The marooned people turned out to be really feisty, and they fought for their freedom when the ship came back to get them.”

“I guess that makes a little sense.” Although Eliza didn’t look fully convinced as they paused by Room 233.

Harry grinned. “Hey, I don’t make this stuff up.”

Eliza patted Harry on the cheek now. “Well, you are an awfully smart boy. I think I might like to keep you around.”

Then he leaned over and gave her a little peck on the forehead. “Later.” And he continued on down the hall.

“English lit, I presume?” asked Eliza as DJ headed into the classroom.

DJ nodded, pointing to a couple of seats in the back.

“No.” Eliza put her hand on DJ’s arm to stop her. Then, pointing to a pair of seats closer to the front, she leaned over and whispered. “Back-row seats are for losers or snoozers, dear.”

DJ wasn’t sure that she totally agreed with Eliza’s little rhyme, but she followed her anyway. Who knew, maybe Eliza really had this all figured out. And maybe there were a few tricks that DJ could learn from this rather sophisticated girl. For starters, DJ would like to ask Eliza how one is supposed to deal with certain boys—the kind who liked you one day but not the next. Especially those particularly mysterious ones like Conner. Maybe she would ask her about this later.

DJ tried to pay attention as Mrs. Devin, a teacher who looked like she should’ve retired in the last millennium, droned on about what their lucky class would study this semester. It sounded like a fairly boring overview of the literary works of people who had been dead and buried for centuries. DJ couldn’t even remember why she’d chosen this class in the first place—probably just to knock off one of her English requirements and make sure that she could still have PE for seventh period (since that always made it easier for after-school sports). But if today was any sign of what was to come, DJ probably would’ve been better off in the back row because she really did feel like snoozing right now.

Instead, she began to daydream about Conner. But her daydreams were more tormented than enjoyable. And because she felt seriously worried that everything was over between them, she decided to pray. It wasn’t as if she thought she had God in her back pocket now, but she figured that he might be able to help her out some. At least she hoped so.

The morning continued uneventfully. In a way that was something to be grateful for. Last spring, DJ had desperately wished for uneventful. She had longed to simply disappear into the woodwork, but instead she had seemed to stand out like she had a flashing neon sign strapped to her chest that said, “Pick on the new girl.” For some reason—maybe it was due to her makeover or Eliza’s friendship—that no longer seemed to be the case.

Unfortunately for Casey, the mean girls still needed a target. DJ hadn’t actually witnessed this yet, but right before fourth period, Taylor gave Eliza a detailed report. “You should’ve seen Casey’s face,” she told DJ, “when those girls—the self-appointed fashion police—started tearing into her about her wardrobe choices. Talk about brutal. I wasn’t sure if Casey was going to give it back to them or run. As it turned out, she just stood there and took it.” Naturally, DJ felt horrible for Casey, but perhaps the most disturbing thing was how Taylor seemed to enjoy relaying this pathetic little story.

“She actually got slammed up against the lockers then,” said Taylor. “Hit her head and everything.”

“That’s terrible,” said Eliza. “I hope she reported this.”

Taylor laughed. “Yeah, right. Then those girls would probably really tear into her.”

“Why did they do that?” demanded DJ.

Taylor rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why do you think they did that?”

“Because they’re just plain mean,” said Eliza.

“And because Casey is just plain begging for it,” said Taylor. “You can’t dress and act like that unless you want serious trouble. And she is definitely getting it.”

“Poor Casey,” said Eliza. “I wish we could do an intervention.”

“A fashion intervention,” said Taylor as the three of them went into US History together.

They’d barely sat down when Mr. Myers began taking roll. DJ tried not to worry about Casey, but Taylor’s awful story of Casey slammed up against the lockers kept replaying through her mind. Despite the abuse DJ took last year, nothing like that had ever happened to her. Aside from the fact that it must be completely humiliating to be treated like that, what if this bullying continued or got worse? What if Casey got seriously hurt? Finally, DJ took Rhiannon’s advice again. Instead of worrying obsessively about Casey, DJ prayed for her. She prayed that God would do an intervention. Maybe something like what had happened to her just last night. It was hard to believe that scene on the beach had occurred less than 24 hours ago. But she was thankful for it just the same.

After history, the girls headed to the commons. “Let’s put our stuff on that table,” instructed Eliza as they entered the commons. “Then we can get some lunch.”

“If there’s lunch worth getting.” Taylor flopped her bag onto a chair and scowled. “I think I’ll ask Clara to pack me a lunch tomorrow.”

Then the three of them went over to get in the lunch line. Eliza spotted Kriti coming into the commons and waved to her, pointing out the table that they had just reserved. But just as Kriti was placing her bag on the round table, a couple of girls that DJ remembered from last year approached her. They pointed angrily at the table, and although DJ couldn’t hear them, she could tell they were saying something mean.

“Look.” DJ nudged Eliza then pointed toward the table. “I think those girls are giving Kriti a hard time.”

“Why don’t you go rescue our Indian princess,” teased Taylor.

“Maybe I will,” DJ shot back at her.

“I’ll save your place,” said Eliza.

DJ wished that Eliza had offered to accompany her instead, but she headed back to the table anyway.

“You don’t look old enough to be in high school,” said Madison Dormont to Kriti. This was one of the same girls who had picked on DJ last spring. “What are you, like twelve or something?”

“Maybe she’s a child genius,” teased the other girl, Tina Clark, another foul-mouthed mean girl.

“What’s the matter?” said Madison. “No speakee English?”

“Is there a problem here?” demanded DJ from behind her.

Madison turned with narrowed eyes. Then she peered more closely as if trying to remember DJ. “Yeah, the problem is that this is
our
table.”

DJ stood taller as she simply shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“It is so,” insisted Tina.

“Sorry, but it’s
our
table now. My friends and I already put our stuff here.” DJ pointed over to where Taylor and Eliza were waiting in line and watching rather intently. “See,” she said as if speaking to very young children, “those are
my
friends and these are
our
bags and this is
our
table.”

Madison and Tina both looked over at the lunch line now. Just then Eliza smiled and cupped her hand in a cute little wave and Taylor waved too, although not nearly as sweetly, and her expression was totally serious and somewhat intimidating.

“Whatever!” snapped Madison. “But just because you and your Barbie-doll friends got this table today, doesn’t mean you’ll get it next time.”

“I guess we’ll see about that,” said DJ.

Then she and Kriti watched as the intruders went to save another table. DJ turned to Kriti, who still looked a little upset. “Those girls are so lame.” DJ shook her head. “Why don’t I stay with our things for now.” Then she dug a five-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to Kriti. “Just order me a cheeseburger and fries and a coke, okay?”

Kriti nodded with an uncertain expression.

“Eliza will give you cuts in line,” promised DJ.

“Okay.” Kriti went over and DJ sat down, ready to ward off any more interlopers.

Before long, Rhiannon showed up. DJ told her to leave her stuff and go get some lunch. “Did you see Casey?” she asked as Rhiannon hung the strap of her large carpet bag over the back of a chair.

“Not since third period. I have art with her.”

“How did she seem then?”

Rhiannon’s brow creased. “Not happy.”

DJ kept an eye out for Casey, but she didn’t see her anywhere in the commons. DJ wondered what she’d do if she did see her. Would she invite her to join them? And if she did, would the others get mad? Not Rhiannon, of course, but Taylor would. And Eliza might not show it, but she’d be irritated too. Maybe Casey had made some new friends by now—freaky kids who needed to make a statement to the world by making themselves look ridiculous.

Finally, Eliza, Taylor, and Kriti came back to the table, setting down their lunches and getting seated.

“I can’t believe you’re going to eat that.” Taylor eyed DJ’s cheeseburger with undisguised disgust. “Do you have any idea how many calories are in that greasy meal?”

“Fat too,” warned Eliza. “You really should be more careful, DJ.”

“Thanks for the nutritional counseling session,” said DJ. “But don’t worry, I’ll burn off all the calories and more at volleyball practice after school.”

“You are seriously going out for volleyball?” asked Taylor.

“Well, it’s not that serious, but I am going out.”

“You actually want to hang with the jock girls and go around smelling like Deep Heat and old sweat socks?”

DJ made a face at Taylor before taking a big a bite of her cheeseburger.

“Just when I thought there was hope for you.” Taylor turned to Eliza now. “See, you can take the grunge outta that girl, but you can’t take the girl outta the grunge.”

“Volleyball is fun,” insisted DJ. “And good exercise.” She pointed a fry at the salads that Eliza, Taylor, and Kriti were picking at. “And if you guys went out for sports, you could indulge in some real food instead of grazing on greens all the time.”

DJ looked at Kriti now. “And what about you? You mentioned that you’d think about going out?”

Kriti’s brow creased. “I don’t think so.”

“But you’re good.”

She nodded. “Yes, but I’m considering something else.”

“What?” demanded DJ.

Kriti looked down at her salad and mumbled, “Debate team.”

“Hello, geek squad,” said Taylor.

“My forensics teacher thinks I’d be good. He’s already encouraging me to try out for it.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” said Taylor. “I’m sure it’s not easy to recruit kids, even the geeks, enticing them to put on those shapeless debate team jackets and stand in front of a live audience and make total fools of themselves.”

Kriti scowled at Taylor now. “I wonder what you’ll be saying ten years from now, Taylor, when I am an attorney or maybe even a judge and you’re serving cocktails in an airport lounge.”

Taylor laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Eliza lifted her hand in a big wave now, and DJ looked up in time to see Harry and Conner strolling their way. Harry was smiling, but Conner looked as if he was seeking another quick escape route. And this just made DJ just plain mad. She knew it was because of her, but she didn’t know why. And if Conner was this uncomfortable with her, maybe he should just get it out in the open. This whole avoidance, running away, and hiding from her business was getting beyond ridiculous. Good grief, the way Conner was acting, you’d think she had some contagious disease or cooties or something. What was wrong with the boy?

“Maybe I should just leave,” she said quietly to Eliza.

Eliza turned and looked at her. “Why?”

“Because Conner obviously has a problem with me,” she whispered.

Then Eliza sort of nodded. “Now that you mention it, I did notice that you two seemed to be at odds last night.”

Taylor laughed loudly. “At odds? Don’t you get it, Eliza? Conner just isn’t into DJ anymore. Isn’t that obvious?”

Naturally, Taylor made this flattering statement when the guys were close enough to overhear her. Humiliated once again by Taylor, DJ looked down at her barely touched, calorie-laden cheeseburger and fries, which suddenly looked totally unappetizing. But that might’ve had to do with the rock that she felt lodged in her stomach just then. So, scooping up her Hermès bag and unfinished soda, she quickly stood. “Excuse me,” she said, without looking up. She didn’t want to see Conner’s face. Face burning, she turned and walked straight toward the door. Look who was running now.

Mix six teenage girls and one ‘60s fashion icon (retired, of course) in an old Victorian-era boarding home. Add boys and dating, a little high school angst, and throw in a Kate Spade bag or two…and you’ve got the Carter House Girls, Melody Carlson’s new chick lit series for young adults!

Stealing Bradford

Book Two

Softcover • ISBN: 978–0–310–71489-7

The Carter House girls are divided when two of them go after the same guy. Rhiannon and Taylor are at serious odds, and several girls get hurt before it’s over.

Books 3–8 coming soon!

Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!