Tell (3 page)

“Hey, kiddos.”  Neil Plummer, one of the guys who played snare drum in their line, moseyed over.  Melody tried hard not to roll her eyes.  For some reason Andy had started hanging around with Neil over the summer, and she could not for the life of her figure out why.  She found his personality to be completely grating.

“Hey, Neil,” Andy said, sounding interested.

“Hey,” Lucas added, sounding guarded.  Melody suspected Lucas was not a big fan of Neil either.

Neil tapped Melody on the arm.  “How’s it going, cutie?”

Melody shied away from him.  “I have to go to English.”  She picked up her trumpet and headed toward the instrument room.  “Talk to you guys later.”

Felicia’s teacher for honors English was Mr. Bundy, and she waited impatiently for him to finish roll.  It caught her attention when he read a name she did not recognize.  Elliot Something.  A blonde girl responded, “Here.”  Felicia glanced at her, an unfamiliar face, a strange new development in the eleventh grade, whose name did not match her gender.

Once Mr. Bundy was through with attendance, he began talking to them about his expectations of the class, what material they would cover, and the other usual garbage.  Felicia had been waiting for him to get to this part so she could let her mind wander back to what it had been thinking about all day—for the past few months, really.

Brian’s departure was creeping closer and closer.  All summer she had managed to push from her head the thought of his leaving, but she could do it no longer.  She had pretended his graduation had not happened, despite the fact that there was a framed photo of him in his cap and gown on her desk at home.  The letter of acceptance from Ohio
State had clearly just been a figment of her imagination, or possibly a clever forgery.  The boxes that littered his bedroom were obviously for the purpose of building a fort.  She had to keep telling herself these ridiculous things because she simply was not prepared to accept the fact that he was actually leaving.

Brian had first been a friend of Shane’s.  They had played football together, but Brian had finally quit because he had, by his own admission, “sucked.”  Felicia had known him by sight but not actually met him until the beginning of the last school year when Shane had started bringing him around to their house.

Felicia had been in her room practicing for a dance recital when Shane had barged in without knocking.  “Brian likes you,” he had announced.

She had been sweating, breathless, and in an absurd position on the floor with her legs splayed out on either side of her.  “What?”

“Brian likes you,” Shane had repeated.  “God knows why I’m telling you this, because it’s not like
you
tell
me
whenever your friends like
me
; you just have them excommunicated—”

“Brian likes me?” she had asked, standing abruptly from the absurd position.  “He told you that?”

“His exact words were, ‘Would it be cool if I ask your sister out, because she seems really cool.’ ”

“Does he even know my name?”

“I don’t know.”  He had walked out of the room.  “Ask him when he comes over,” he had called.

He had, of course, known her name.  And he had asked her out (“Would it be cool if we went out sometime?”), and she had said yes, and Shane had ribbed her about dating his friends when he was not allowed to date hers, but it had all been good-natured.  They had gone on three dates before the homecoming dance when he asked her to be his official girlfriend (“Would it be cool if we just dated each other and not anyone else?”), and she had told him yes then, too, and they had spent every day since then growing closer.  The two of them had shared almost everything together.

They had shared
almost
everything together, but not
entirely
everything.

Felicia shifted in her seat and looked around guiltily, even though she knew it was silly.  No one could read her thoughts.  No one
knew
that she was thinking about sex.  Still, she could feel her face heat up and knew she was turning red.

Sex was not a topic with which she felt entirely comfortable.  It had not been brought up in her relationship with Brian until the spring, or more specifically, the night of his senior prom.  Felicia had told her parents she was going to stay at Cadie’s that night, but that had never been the plan; Cadie had not even gone to the prom.  The plan was to go back to Brian’s and stay there, because his parents were not there that night.  And the two of them had stuck to their plans.

That night was the first time he had asked her to have sex with him (fortunately, the word “cool” had not crept its way into that request).  It was also the first time she had refused.  It was not that she had a strict policy
against
having sex, or felt strongly that sex should be something experienced only between married couples.  She knew that she would probably have sex with Brian eventually.  She just was not ready to do it that night.  They had compromised and done some other things.

Since then, it seemed that Brian was not shy about asking her to have sex with him.  Felicia was equally not shy about saying no.  She sated him in other ways, and that seemed to satisfy him, for awhile.  But sometimes when she offered, he would refu
se and pout for awhile before grudgingly accepting her offer.  She could tell he was growing impatient, particularly with his departure for college coming toward them at a seemingly alarming rate.

Still she refused, though now she was having a harder time of coming up with reasons why.  She was not ready.  She told him that time and time again—she was not ready.  But that did little to satisfy him, and she did not feel there was much else she could say.

Felicia and Cadie did not talk about things in the way of sex.  In one conversation, Felicia had revealed that she and Brian had not done it yet, and he was pressuring her slightly to do it, but that was all she had said.  She had not let on the things they had or had not done together.  She did not feel comfortable talking about sex.  Even if she did, talking to Cadie probably would not have brought any great revelations, because she knew that Cadie had about as much experience as she herself did.  Cadie had had one actual boyfriend, a guy named Tom Geist that she had dated for six months, and Felicia knew they had not had sex.  Therefore, she considered herself pretty much on her own in her actions in this area.

God forbid she tell Shane.  She had no idea how he would react, but she had a feeling it would not be good, considering he had known Brian since middle school and had been Felicia’s brother since the age of one year and 364 days.  He was
slightly overprotective, even though he had no qualms about sleeping with her friends.

Three

Cadie took a seat in the back of the room at the beginning of her AP English class.  She preferred to sit in the back, though she did not really know why.  Her eyes had trouble adjusting between the chalk board at the front of the class and her notebook when she was taking notes.  It probably did not matter anyway; teachers almost always moved the kids where they wanted them.  She looked around at the familiar faces as they filtered into the room.  One face she had not been expecting to see was that of Stacy Monroe.  She was hard to miss, wearing a baggy navy sweater, navy-and-white striped shorts, and navy flats.  Her wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a white scrunchie.  Stacy always looked like she was desperately trying to bring the eighties back.  She saw Cadie across the room and her face broke into a bright smile as she approached.

“Hey, how are you?” Stacy asked, taking the seat next to Cadie.

“I’m pretty good.  How was your summer?”

“Totally lame.  I had to work the whole time.”  Stacy was a server at T.G.I. Friday’s.  She tucked her bangs behind her ear.  They were not quite long enough to make it into the ponytail.  “So what did you do this summer?  Writing anything good?”

“Nothing special,” Cadie answered automatically.  It was the typical response when someone asked her about her writing.

Stacy had worked on the school’s literary publication,
The Inner Eye
, with Cadie for the first two years of high school, which was how the two had become friends, but Stacy had quit at the end of their sophomore year to join the cheerleading squad.  Ever since then, Cadie’s time at the literary magazine meetings had been a lot less fun.

It was sad, Cadie realized, how little time she and Stacy had spent together since her decision to quit the magazine’s staff.  Cadie harbored no ill will toward her for doing so—even though she teased her about joining cheerleading—but the truth was that she missed the time they had spent together.  Stacy had been
one of Cadie’s best friends, second only to Felicia.

“Are you still doing
The Inner Eye
?” asked Stacy.

“Yeah,” answered Cadie.  She hesitated, debating whether or not to elaborate further. 
What the hell
, she thought.  If anyone would find this news interesting, Stacy would.  Felicia was not terribly fascinated by Cadie’s tales of
The Inner Eye
.  She dropped her voice.  “Actually, Mrs. Davinsizer asked me to be the editor this year.”

“Oh, my God,” Stacy whispered.

The reason that they were whispering was because Theodore Collins was on the other side of the room.  He was another member of the literary magazine team and had been kissing butt since his first day on staff.  When last year’s editor, Amber Miller, had graduated, he had been sniffing around Mrs. Davinsizer’s desk, as she was the literary magazine advisor.  Cadie would have liked the position, but sucking up was not her style.  Apparently it was not Mrs. Davinsizer’s style either, because she had pulled Cadie aside after her third period journalism class and asked if she would like to be the editor.  She had given her until next Tuesday’s meeting to make her decision.  Cadie hoped Theodore would not find out before then.

“That’s awesome,” Stacy continued in a hushed tone.  “Are you going to do it?”

Cadie made a noncommittal noise.

“You have to!  You’re an idiot if you don’t.”

“He has a lot of friends on staff.  They might revolt if he’s not the editor.”

“Who cares?  Do the whole thing yourself.”

Cadie took a deep breath.  “I don’t know,” she said carefully.

“Look, you don’t want him to be the editor.  So this is the easiest way to make sure that he doesn’t get it.”

“That’s true, I guess.”  Cadie looked around the room.  “Where the hell is Mr. Johnson?”

“Are you going to accept the position or not?”

She felt backed into a corner.  “Yeah, probably,” she answered.

“Okay.  Good.”  Stacy sat back in her chair contentedly and looked around the room.

It occurred to Cadie that if she took the position of editor, it was pretty much going to consume her entire life.  Stacy was one of the few people who had ever found the literary magazine interesting.  Cadie was suddenly very glad that she and Stacy had wound up in this class together.  “We should hang out more,” she said abruptly.

Stacy nodded her agreement.  “We definitely should.  You should start coming to the post-game parties.”

“Maybe,” Cadie said indifferently, thinking that that was one thing that was probably never going to happen.

“They’re not that bad.  The one this Friday is at my house.  They’re usually a pretty good time.”

“I’ll think about it.”  She would not, but she figured it did not hurt to say so.  The post-game parties were get-togethers after the home football games on Friday nights, typically hosted by either a cheerleader or a member of the football team.  Cadie did not run with that crowd of people.

“Hey, you know where we should
definitely
hang out?” Stacy said suddenly.

“Where?”

“Tomorrow morning, in your car on the way to school.”

Cadie smiled.  “I can’t help but marvel at your amazing subtlety.”

“I know, it’s awesome, right?  Anyway, Will’s mother is making him take his three cousins along with his sister, so he doesn’t have room.”  Stacy had been dating Will Cowher, a member of the football team, since the end of junior year.  “I wouldn’t ask, but it’s either find a ride or take the bus—”

“Don’t say that,” Cadie interrupted.  “I’ll take you.”

Andy stood in the locker room and waited for Lucas to finish tying his shoe.  He crossed his arms and looked around irritably.  “Who the hell makes these schedules?” he demanded suddenly.  “Seriously, I don’t understand why someone would think that gym right after lunch is a good idea.  I have chicken patties inside of me that are not fully digested yet.”

Lucas stood from his crouched position, stared at Andy contemplatively for a moment, then said, “You complain a lot.”

Andy was offended.  “No, I don’t.”  The two of them started walking towards the locker room exit.

“Yes, you do.  First you complained about how Melody gave you a hard time about doing chorus.  Then you complained because you have to look up stuff online for some chemistry experiment that you guys are doing next week.  Now you’re bitching about your schedule.”

“Having gym after lunch is poor planning,” Andy pointed out.

“I agree, but only because I share those classes with you.”

They emerged from the locker room and into the gymnasium.  The girls were already on the other side of the gym.  A group of them had formed a circle and were bouncing a kickball back and forth, waiting for class to start.  Others were standing in clumps, chatting.  Most of the guys were shooting a few hoops with a couple loose basketballs, though a few were sitting on the floor with their backs to the padded walls.  Everyone in the room was wearing blue mesh shorts and golden yellow t-shirts.

Neil was one of the guys with a basketball, and he let it drop to the floor when he saw Andy and Lucas, then jogged over to them.  “Gentlemen.”  He looked at Andy, who was staring across the room.

Andy nodded in the direction of the girls.  “Do you see what I see?”

Neil turned to look.  “I see a lot of reasons why I’m very thankful for shorts,” he responded, then made a face.  “I also see at least one person who should
not
be wearing shorts.”

“The third girl in from the right.”

“Next to the girl with the cellulite?”

“It’s Amanda,” Andy snapped.

“With the cellulite?” Lucas asked, grinning.

“
No
, not with the cellulite!  With the kickball!”

“Oh, I see her now.”  Lucas looked at Andy sidelong.  “Is that why you joined chorus?”

Andy nodded slowly, still staring across the room.  “Could be.”

“Dude, that’s really not worth it,” Neil said.  “You know what you have to do for a final in chorus?  Abernathe makes you sing solo.  In front of
everybody
.”

“There isn’t a
final
in chorus.”

“Yes, there is,” Lucas chimed in.  “Melody told me.”

“Why would there be a final in chorus?”

“Because she’s on speed?” Neil guessed.  “I don’t know.  She kicked a girl out of choir last year because she said her shoes were too bright.”

“I’m thinking of asking Amanda out,” Andy announced.

“Have you ever talked to her before?” Lucas wanted to know.

“A couple of times.”  He stared at her for a bit longer.  “What do you guys think?”

“I don’t think she would ever go for you,” Neil responded.

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, why would she have sex with you when she’s used to having sex with Shane Stolarz?”

Andy threw his hands up in the air.  “How does everybody
know
this?”

“Andy, how long have you gone to this school?” Lucas replied, laughing.  “Everybody knows everything about everybody else.”

“Okay, well, do you think I should ask her out her not?”

Lucas tilted his head from side to side thoughtfully. 

Neil answered before Lucas could.  “What would that girl want with you?  She’s probably beating guys off with a stick.  Me, I prefer a girl who uses her hands.”

The chairs on the stage were arranged in a semicircle directed toward the auditorium.  The stage lights were on, causing students to squint and shield their eyes as they watched Mrs. Abernathe scurry back and forth from the wings, carrying stacks of books as she went.  She had recruited one of her protégés, Rachael Dunmyer, to help her.  Meanwhile, the rest of the students sat and watched, feeling slightly guilty at not volunteering their services, but not guilty enough to actually do so.

“Does it make sense to you that we need books for theatre class?”

Felicia turned to her left.  The girl sitting next to her was very tall, with long, straight blonde hair and big blue eyes.  It was the new girl that she had seen during English class that morning. Elliot Something.  Something that started with a letter towards the end of the alphabet, because she had been one of the last called during roll.

Elliot nodded at the stack of books that Mrs. Abernathe was making taller and taller.  “I mean, what do you think they can really teach us out of a book?  Do you think they’ll have pictures of people looking scared, so we know how to do it ourselves?”

Felicia smirked.  “Maybe it’s about the history of theatre or something,” she responded after a pause.  “Like, we’ll probably have to learn about Shakespeare.”

“Oh, great.  So we can study him in two of our classes.”

Felicia’s smirk bloomed into a smile.

Elliot leaned forward, extending her hand.  “I’m Elliot.”

Felicia shook it, confused.  She had never known of anyone their age who introduced themselves by shaking hands.  “I’m Felicia.”

“I just moved here,” Elliot explained.

“I figured,” Felicia answered.

Elliot grinned.  “Yeah.  It’s kind of a small school.”

“You think?”

She laughed.

Felicia hesitated.  She was not used to strangers making small talk with her, and she definitely was not the type to strike up a conversation with someone that she did not know.  Or even someone that she did know.  But Elliot seemed nice enough.  And she probably did not know anybody here.  “Where did you move from?”

“Philadelphia.”

“Why on earth did you come here?” Felicia asked.

Elliot shrugged.  “My dad lost his job there.  He was looking for a new one for about a year before he found one, and it was here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  It kind of sucked.  But everything’s okay now.  I can buy clothes.  Which is good, because I was getting tired of wearing paper bags.”

Felicia was startled for a moment, then laughed.  She glanced over at Mrs. Abernathe, who was still carrying books.  Glimpsing over the stacks of books, she estimated that there were about thirty-five gathered there.  Glancing over the students assembled, she guessed there were about twelve.  She shook her head.  “So how was your first day here?” Felicia asked, turning her attention back to Elliot.

Elliot took a deep breath.  “You’re the first person who’s really talked to me, actually.”

Felicia was slightly ashamed when she thought that she almost had not spoken to her.  Considering it was eighth period, and the last of the day, Elliot would have gone home thinking that this school was full of snobs.  “Well, what lunch do you have?” she wanted to know.

“Um, second.”

Felicia looked out over the auditorium, feeling slightly embarrassed, but unsure as to why.  “You can sit with us tomorrow if you want,” she offered quietly.  “I mean, me and my friend Cadie.  We usually sit by ourselves.  But you can sit with us.”  She finally turned to look at Elliot, who was smiling.