“I just... It would be great if you’d come out of your shell this year. People have no idea how cool you are.”
I chuckled. “Because I’m not. I can barely string two words together around new people and none around boys. Once upon a time you used to be the same.”
My friend gave me a sympathetic look. “I grew up, Comet,” she replied gently.
I flinched. “And I haven’t?”
“Just...just try harder. I think you still think you’re that little kid who couldn’t speak to her parents, much less anyone else. You’re not her anymore. Try. Please. For me?”
I nodded, the ham and cheese sandwich Mrs. Brown had made me suddenly tasting like dust in my mouth. The thought of trying to be more social made me uneasy. I didn’t want to be put in situations that made me sweat under my arms and flush strawberry red like a loser.
I wanted to feel safe and comfortable.
And I didn’t see what was so terrible about that.
THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG
How do you conquer each moment,
When you have no one on your side?
Make peace with the idea that life,
Is just one continuous high tide?
—CC
Walking toward form class for daily registration that morning, I saw Steph coming toward me and braced myself. I worried for a second that she knew Vicki and I had been avoiding her last night, but the nearer she got to me the bigger her smile grew. When we met outside the classroom door she threw her arms around me and hugged me.
Used to Steph’s impromptu displays of affection I laughed and hugged her back.
“That was for yesterday.” She pulled out of the hug but huddled against me as we walked into our form room together. “I know I just went on and on about myself. I got so worked up about the audition. Anyway, everything okay with you?”
And this was why it was difficult to stay mad at Steph. I smiled at her as we sat down at a table together. “Everything is fine with me. How did the audition go?”
“Wait, wait.” Vicki suddenly appeared, sliding into a seat at the table. “I want to hear.”
“I already apologized to Vicki on Snapchat last night,” Steph said, which explained Vicki’s renewed enthusiasm for supporting her.
“The audition?” Vicki said.
Steph beamed. “It went great. All those hours spent singing ‘All That Jazz’ in the shower paid off. They asked me back for another audition next week.”
I squeezed her arm. “Steph, that’s great. Well done.”
“Thanks. Ahh! I so want to play Roxie.”
“You’d be the perfect Roxie,” Vicki insisted.
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
In unison, we turned toward the new voice, and residual anger from long ago burned in my throat. Heather. It was hard for me not to resent her, and I wasn’t sure I cared if that made me unforgiving.
Vicki leaned back in her seat, one eyebrow raised. As cool and laid-back as my friend was, she could also emanate serious pissed-off vibes. Like now. “And what does that mean?”
Heather smirked. “I made it to the second round auditions, too.” Her gaze zeroed in on Steph, who was staring up at her with a mixture of guilt and irritation in her eyes. “And I’m going after the part of Roxie.”
This was a surprise, because Heather had been director’s assistant on the school shows for the past few years. She loved bossing people around. She had not, however, played a part before.
Why now?
Perhaps because Steph had snogged Heather’s ex-boyfriend at her party and she was evil and vindictive?
We were all thinking it.
Vicki snorted. “Good luck with that, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“Why?” Heather’s gaze locked with Steph’s. “Because you’re so special? Aye, right.”
“Take a walk, McAlister,” Vicki huffed. “No one likes a drama-llama.”
My onetime nemesis gave Vicki a narrow-eyed gaze but strutted across the room, hips swaying, hair swinging, and took a seat with her friends.
“I hate the way she walks.” Steph glowered. “Where does she think she is? At a bloody runway show?”
There was a tiny, tiny part of me that was a little gleeful about all this. It was wrong. It was small. I knew that. But Steph had been disloyal once in order to play nice with Heather McAlister, and now she was getting a taste of why it was futile to suck up to a girl like Heather. She enjoyed causing problems and misery for people.
“What a cow.” Steph turned to look at us, her blue eyes round with shock. “Was she always such a cow?”
Vicki and I exchanged a look. “Yes.”
“God. You kiss someone’s ex-boyfriend and you might as well have murdered him, the way she’s acting.”
I caught sight of movement in my peripheral and turned as Andy Walsh, a video-game-and-rugby-obsessed boy in our class who somehow managed to cross social cliques with admirable proficiency, leaned his chair on its back legs toward us. He balanced it perfectly as he whispered to us, “It’s not about Lister. She’s just pissed off because King messed around with her at her party but doesn’t want to date her.”
Tobias.
“So she’s taking it out on me?” Steph whined.
Andy shrugged. “She’s taking it out on everyone. And it’s not like King made her any promises.”
I noted the hero worship in Andy’s eyes and just stopped myself from rolling mine.
Vicki grinned at him. “Seriously? That would make him the first guy to not run around panting at Heather’s arse.”
Andy grinned back. “The guy is a god among men.”
I groaned but Vicki chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely starting to like him more.”
Once Andy had turned his attention from us, Steph leaned toward me. “I know why she’s being a bitch to me, but now I also know why she was a bitch to you, Comet. At the party I asked her friend Liza why Heather has such a problem with you.”
Not really sure I wanted to know why Heather had a problem with me, I stiffened.
Vicki, however, demanded, “Tell us, then.”
“Well...” Steph’s eyes lit with the power of knowing gossip we didn’t. “Apparently, Heather’s life isn’t as perfect as she wants people to think. Her parents are on her constantly to be the best. At everything. And she was. She was top of her class at her primary school. Then first year hits and you, Comet, scored top marks in our English and history projects in the first term. Liza said her parents gave her such a hard time about it, and that’s why she came after you. That’s why she can’t stand you. Because you showed her up to her parents.”
Despite Heather’s cruelty, I felt more than a flicker of compassion. While my parents didn’t show me enough attention, Heather’s sounded overbearing. It didn’t soothe the humiliation I’d felt when she was bullying me, but at least now I understood that her lashing out had nothing to do with me personally.
It would appear to be a pattern of Heather McAlister: taking her