Secrets & Lies: Two Short Stories (7 page)

When I made the cheerleading squad last August, I thought I was set for the next four years. I thought that was all it took to be one of the popular girls at Hamilton High. I thought things would be simple after that.

If only.

“Mom!” I ran down the stairs, my bare feet slipping on the hardwood. “Mom!”

“In the kitchen, Bailey.”

I hurried through the dining room and turned the corner to find Mom standing by the counter, pouring a mug of coffee. She was already dressed in a navy suit and heels.

“Mom, is there clean laundry? Have you washed anything of mine?”

“Not since last week. Why?”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

“Bailey, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I whined.

“That is ridiculous,” Mom said. “You have plenty of clean clothes. What about that dress Greg bought you for Christmas?”

“I can’t wear that to school,” I told her. “Have you seen it? It’s floral! And lace!”

“I thought it was really pretty.”

“Everyone would laugh at me.”

Mom sighed. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve got clothes upstairs—plenty of them. I’m sure you’ll find something.” She put down her mug of coffee and looked at me, hard. My brother called it her “lawyer look.” He said it was the face she used to intimidate people on the stand. “And, Bailey.” Her voice was calm but firm. “Check your attitude, okay? If your stepfather heard you say that about the dress it would really hurt his feelings.”

“Sorry,” I said, lowering my head.

“Go get dressed. The bus will be here soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I swear, I haven’t always been like this. I mean, I’ve always liked fashion, but I didn’t used to be so… my brother calls it “self-absorbed.” But I kind of have to be. Being a cheerleader didn’t make things simpler—it made them more complicated. Way more complicated. Because now people were paying attention. And it was ten times easier to ruin your reputation than to build it. So I had to watch every step I made. Every word I said.

Every outfit I wore.

I ended up going with a pair of dark-blue jeans and a white cotton tank top.

“Honey, it’s March,” Mom said when she saw me waiting at the front door for the bus. “You’re going to freeze to death in that shirt.”

“I’ll survive,” I told her.

She sighed. “Whatever you say.”

She was right, though. I was freezing. All day long I found myself rubbing my arms, trying to warm up. Seriously, the teachers at Hamilton High have their air conditioners on year-round. It’s got to be some sort of child abuse.

It wasn’t so bad, though. Especially after I noticed Brody Frasier looking at me in geometry. When I met his eye, he totally smiled. Then he sort of blushed and went back to working on a proof. You know that moment on a roller coaster when you make a big drop and you’re weightless and your stomach is in your chest? That’s how I felt for the rest of the period.

Okay, so maybe having a boy smile at you doesn’t seem like a big deal, but this was. Brody was a sophomore, and he was on the baseball team and he had these gorgeous blue eyes—but he was smart, too. He was always carrying around books like
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
and
Lord of the Flies
. And he wasn’t reading them because he had to—that’s what he read for fun.

Almost every girl in the ninth and tenth grades had a crush on Brody Frasier. And he’d just smiled at me.

And it only got better.

I was still excited and fluttery as the bell rang, and when I tried to grab my books, I ended up knocking my notebook off my desk.

“I got it.”

I looked up and saw Brody walking toward my desk. He knelt down and picked up my notebook—I was so glad it was a plain blue one and not one of the sparkly pink notebooks I used for some of my other classes.

“Thanks,” I said when he handed it to me.

“No problem.”

I thought he would just walk away then, but he didn’t. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet, like he didn’t want to leave but didn’t know what to say, either. I felt like I was on a roller coaster again.

“So…” I said. “Proofs are kind of hard, huh?”

Lame, lame,
lame
.

He smiled. “I like them, actually. Math isn’t normally my best subject, but I don’t know. I like the logic part.”

“Oh.” I felt a little embarrassed. Math usually was my strongest subject—that’s why I’d taken Algebra I in middle school and got to be in a sophomore geometry class my freshman year. Why had I just admitted to him that I thought they were hard? Now Brody probably thought I was an idiot or something.

“You know, if you ever wanted help sometime—”

I felt my cheeks go red.

“I’m not saying you
need
help with geometry,” he added quickly. “But… Well, if you do, I’d be glad to help. We could get together after school or something. Do homework together and… hang out.”

Oh my God. Oh. My. God.

“I—”

“Brody,” Mr. Daud, our teacher, called from his desk. “Can I see you for a second? I’m having trouble reading your handwriting on this homework assignment.”

“Sure,” Brody said. He looked at me again. “Let me know about… proofs.”

“I will.”

He smiled. “See you around, Bailey.”

He walked away and I sighed. I closed my eyes for a second, feeling a little light-headed and a lot euphoric.

“So you like my brother, don’t you?”

Justine Frasier, Brody’s younger sister, was standing by a desk a few rows away, staring at me.

“I… uh… I mean—”

She laughed. “It’s okay. You’re not the first.” She scooped up her books and flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder. “You are the first he’s seemed to like back, though.”

“Really? You think he likes me?”

“Seems likely.” She started walking toward the door and I hurried to catch up with her. “My brother’s not the biggest talker. I’m pretty sure that awkward mess a second ago was his attempt at flirting.”

“Wow. That’s so great. I mean, I—I kind of like him, so—”

“Well, obviously,” Justine said. “It’s written all over your face.”

“It is?” I felt my cheeks flush, then my ears get hot.

“Relax. Brody can’t tell. He’s totally oblivious.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Good.”

“Hey,” Justine said, stopping outside of a classroom door. “You should come sit with my friends and me at lunch.”

“Really? I’d love to.”

“Great. See you then.”

She walked into the classroom, and I headed down the hall toward biology in a daze. This day was almost too good to be true. Justine Frasier wanted to eat lunch with me and her brother might like me. It was pretty much the best thing that could happen to a freshman at Hamilton High.

Thank God I didn’t wear the floral dress.

***

By the time the lunch bell rang, my joy had turned into pure nerves. I kept running through scenarios in my head. Every possible way this lunch could go bad and totally ruin my life.

“Hold still,” the lunch lady snapped as she attempted to put a glob of mashed potatoes on my tray.

“Sorry,” I said. But I couldn’t help it. My hands were shaking.

The truth was that lunch periods had been stressful for me since starting at Hamilton High in August. My family had only moved to Hamilton in May, right after I finished middle school. I thought it would be easy to find a group of friends at my new school—we were all freshmen, after all. This was the beginning. We were starting high school together.

But Hamilton is a tiny town. All these kids had been going to school together since kindergarten. They already had their groups of friends. And I hadn’t found one to fit into yet.

Don’t get me wrong. Everyone was nice, but I’d sort of flitted from table to table at lunch, never really cementing my place anywhere or becoming very close with anyone. I couldn’t help hoping that this lunch invitation would put an end to that.

Becoming close friends with anyone would be nice. But becoming close friends with Justine Frasier? Being a permanent installation at her lunch table? It was almost too good to even imagine.

Justine was president of the freshman class, a member of almost every club, and the star of this year’s musical—
My Fair Lady
. She was also really smart—almost all her classes were Honors or AP. I always thought girls like that would be called geeks or something, but not Justine. She was the most popular girl in the ninth grade. She was even dating a junior basketball player named Eddie—and they’d been nominated for homecoming court. Being one of her best friends would be like a dream come true.

I’d just spotted Justine and her friends when I heard someone calling my name. “Bailey!”

Elsie James, a girl I knew from the cheerleading squad, was walking toward me, carrying her tray. “Hey,” she said. She sounded a little nasal, like her allergies were bothering her. “So how are you feeling about that bio test tomorrow?”

“Oh, um. Pretty good. How about you?”

“I’m nervous. I was sick last week, so I’m missing a day’s worth of notes.” She put her tray down at the closest empty table.

“I have notes,” I told her. “You can borrow mine if you want.”

“Really? That would be awesome. Thanks, Bailey.”

“No problem.”

“Bailey.” Justine appeared at my shoulder. “I thought I saw you over here.”

“Hey, Justine.” Elsie brushed some dark curls behind her ear and smiled. “I love your skirt.”

Justine smiled and ran a hand down her fitted black skirt. “Thank you. It’s actually supposed to be knee length, but my legs are a little too long.”

“It looks great.” Elsie gestured to the seats at her table. “You guys can sit down if you want. I’m waiting on Tess and Grace, but there’s room for two more.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said. “That’s really nice—”

“But Bailey and I already have seats,” Justine said. “Thanks for the offer, though. Maybe another time?”

“Sure. Anytime.”

“Excellent. Come on, Bailey.”

I waved to Elsie and followed Justine across the cafeteria to her table. She was sitting with other popular underclassmen, including two sophomore cheerleaders, a freshman football player, the JV girls’ volleyball captain, and the sophomore class president.

“Sorry,” Justine told her friends. “I had to go rescue Bailey from Elsie James.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “She asked us if we wanted to sit with her. Isn’t that cute?”

“She is so weird,” Melanie, one of the cheerleaders, said. “What kind of name is Elsie, anyway? Sounds like a cow’s name. You’re not, like, friends with her, are you, Bailey?”

“Um…” I looked down at my tray, not sure how to answer. Elsie had always been really nice to me, but I had a feeling that wasn’t the right answer. “I mean, I don’t have anything against her, but we’re not, like, besties or anything.”

“Don’t bother with her,” Justine told me. “Trust me, she’s not worth knowing. You’ll be a lot better off if you steer clear of that girl.”

“She’s so weird,” Melanie repeated. “When she first got on the squad, I thought she was cool, but she’s
so weird
.”

“Melanie, dear, remind me to get you a thesaurus.” Justine sighed.

“A what?”

“Never mind. Continue.”

“Anyway,” Melanie said. “She’s, like, into those Japanese cartoons or something.”

“Anime?” I asked.

Everyone at the table turned to look at me.

“You watch that geeky stuff?” Ryan—the football player—asked.

“N-No. My brother used to, though. So I know a little about it.”

“Whatever. That’s a stupid reason not to like Elsie,” Justine said. “Lots of people are into anime.”

I gave her a small smile, glad to see she was at least reasonable. And once she said it, everyone started to agree. Nodding and mumbling things like, “Well, sure,” and “You’re right.” It seemed like she was the ringleader here.

“No, that’s not my problem with Elsie.” She sighed. “She’s just so… annoying? And overconfident. She’s always flirting with guys who are way out of her league. And trying to hang out with people who are just cooler than she is. I almost died when she asked us to sit with her. Did she really think she had a chance?”

“I-I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“It’s just sad, you know? She’s delusional. And so, so shallow. She’s such a social climber.”

“She is pretty full of herself,” the other cheerleader, Wendy, said. “She’s constantly telling us how to do our flips at practice. Just because she’s been doing gymnastics since she was five or something. She’s always bragging about it. Like, get over yourself.”

“She does do that a lot,” I admitted. “But she helped me fix my backflip.”

“Bailey, your backflip was always awesome,” Melanie said. “You’re the best underclassman on the squad.”

I blushed. “Oh, thanks. I try really hard.”

“And you do a great job,” Wendy said. “Elsie James shouldn’t be showing you anything. Like I said, she’s just full of herself.”

“Overconfident,” Justine repeated.

“I guess she kind of is,” I said. “I never really thought about it. She always seemed pretty nice, so…”

“
You
are the nice one, Bailey,” Justine said, smiling at me. She had the same smile as her brother—big with straight white teeth. Either their parents had spent a ton on orthodontics or perfect smiles ran in the family. “Obviously you only see the good in people. I wish I could be more like that.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” I said. “But you’re kind of right about Elsie. Now that I’m thinking about it, she is a little… Well, I mean, I just remember one time I came into the locker room because I forgot something, and I walked in on her in her underwear posing in front of the mirror. Like in sexy poses—”

“Oh my God!” Wendy snorted. “She was checking herself out? No wonder she’s always the last one out of the locker room after practice. Talk about narcissistic.”

Everyone started laughing. Then Ryan started doing overexaggerated model poses at the table and it sent everyone into hysterics. Well, everyone but me. I tried to smile, but I felt kind of sick. Maybe I shouldn’t have told them that story. I hadn’t meant to make fun of Elsie; I’d just wanted something to add to the conversation. To fit in.