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Excerpts

Chapter 2

I dump the whole bag with all the sandwiches in the basement garbage in front of the janitor's office. I feel so bad about all of them missing their lunch because of me. I'll have to find some way to make it up to them.

By the time I get back to my social studies class, the bell has already rung and Ms. Wellman is sort of annoyed, but mostly she's busy with the new girl. I have to control myself from breaking up when I see her, the new girl. I mean, the clothes, forget it. Trailer trash. Knockoff Express. I mean, like anyone would bother to knock off Express clothes that are already crappy enough. Too much.

I giggle. I can't help it, and then Maryanne Tobby, an RC like me, practically gets hysterical. She covers her face with her Kate Spade and all you see is her long blond hair bouncing up and down. And that starts everyone else, and finally Ms. Wellman catches on and gets furious with us. She's a butthead anyway.

"Class," Ms. Wellman says, "if you can control yourselves for a minute and show some manners, I'd like to introduce you to your new classmate. This is Twyla Gay Stark."

In between the snorts and swallowed laughter everyone tries to make hello noises, and Twyla Gay sort of nods them back.

"Twyla Gay is from Lubbock." Ms. Wellman is smiling like it's a great place, but everybody knows about Lubbock.

Texas is a very big state, and that bump on the map has to be someplace in the middle of the Panhandle, which is more like Noplaceville -- nothing but farmers, dry and dusty, with half-dead towns. Everyone knows that thing they say about how happiness is seeing Lubbock in your rearview mirror.

Then, my luck, she assigns her the seat right next to me. Just what I need, a loser who's going to be asking me a million lame questions and expect me to be her friend.

Twyla Gay smiles at me and takes her seat. I just turn away. She'll so get the hint.

Everything's going okay, and then Butthead Wellman says, "Myrna, why don't you show Twyla Gay the ropes."

I look up at her like, Huh? Maybe she'll ask someone else. But she doesn't get it and I'm stuck. It's not like Twyla Gay's such a dog, in fact, her face is okay looking, but everything else about her -- like her hair looks like she slept in curlers, her clothes are really cheap looking, her shoes are way wrong, clunky like we were wearing two years ago, and then when she starts to talk, you can barely understand her. She's got, like, this moron accent from the sticks. The RCs see me with this hick and I'm the loser.

When the bell rings, I try to grab my things and hurry out, but I can't lose her. There she is, running to catch up with me. I pretend I don't know she's there, but she follows me right into my last class. Lucky me, I got a new best friend.

I still don't look at her.

But it's worse in this class because Anna Marie is in it. Last thing I want is for her to tell Jeanette Sue I hang out with freaks. I scoot around Twyla Gay like I never saw her before in my life and practically run into Anna Marie.

"Hi," I go, real casual like, with a smile because, well, even though she doesn't like me so much, we're good friends now, but she's busy searching though her papers, so she doesn't answer. Either she didn't hear me or she thought I was talking to someone else. That happens.

Then Twyla Gay takes the empty seat next to mine and gives me a big, "Hi there," but I just pretend I don't hear her and start getting very busy with my papers.

When Anna Marie looks up, she sees me and I roll my eyes and nod toward Twyla Gay like, Do you believe her?

But Anna Marie doesn't respond. I think she's maybe a little cross-eyed, 'cause I swear she looks like she's looking right at me.

For the whole rest of the class I keep my head turned away from Twyla Gay. But she so doesn't get it. And when the class ends, she's on my tail again.

Even when I walk out of the school, she's there. She's, like, so ruining my afternoon. I had planned to maybe hang out with the RCs for a while. Maybe even walk Jeanette Sue home. She's only about fifteen minutes out of my way. But now I'm careful not to look around for any of them. All I need is for them to see me with this creep. I start walking fast toward my house, when I realize that my new best friend is talking to me.

Not that I can really understand what she's saying, but it sounds like she saw me walking to school this morning and she has to pass my street. Not that she lives in my neighborhood; this is definitely a Vickery house person.

"Huh?" I turn around and give her a real, like, What are you bothering me for? look.

She starts to repeat her story, when I cut her off. "Yeah, I get it. You have to walk past my street. Big deal."

We're just passing the coffee shop when she asks me if I want a soda. Actually, I am thirsty. I should have saved one of those sodas from lunch.

"My treat," she goes.

I make sure no one is watching. "Okay," I go, but the kind of okay that means "just this once."

Copyright © 2004 by Francine Pascal