Mackiewicz seems mollified. “Good. I know you can do better.”
Glad somebody’s sure of that.
On impulse, as soon as I escape from his class, I head to admin. Ms. Smith is the only one around at this time. She looks young, to the point that I suspect she was my age when she had Dylan. I imagine her wanting to be a dancer or something; I doubt her dreams included working in the school office.
“I was wondering if you could get me a copy of Shane Cavendish’s schedule. He’s out sick today, and I’m taking his homework to him.” My voice doesn’t reveal that I happen to know a juicy secret about her.
“Not a problem. That’s sweet of you.”
“Y’know,” I mumble, when this is actually kind of stalkerish.
I’ve never been so interested in a guy before, certainly not to the point that I’d go out of my way to learn his class schedule. When she takes a page from the file and trots off to copy his classes, I take it a step further. Rocking up on my toes, I peer at the folder she left on the counter. His address is in the upper-right-hand corner of the form he filled out during registration. Upside-down reading is one of my weirder skills, so I can see the address. I memorize the house number and turn away, like I haven’t just crossed a line.
I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy.
“Here you are, hon.”
“Thanks.” I take the paper and figure I might as well visit Shane’s classes now. Teachers who aren’t stuck on monitoring duty will be in their rooms, working on stuff for the afternoon or writing a novel, or in Mr. Johannes’s case, possibly cooking meth, whatever floats their boats.
In short order I get five of his seven assignments. Not bad for a spur-of-the-moment plan. By the time I get to the lunchroom, Lila has already made it through the line and is obviously looking for me. Her face lightens with relief when she realizes I didn’t ditch her. As if I would. Making an executive decision, I head over to the sophomore table where Shane and I sat yesterday. There’s only four of them, so there’s room. This time, I wave. To my surprise, they wave back, looking pretty happy to see me. Hm. When Lila joins me, they’re surprised, but they say “hey” to both of us as we sit down.
“Who’re your friends?” she asks.
I glance over at the four: three girls, one guy. “I have no idea.”
A red-haired girl smiles. “Kimmy, Mel, Shanna, and Theo.” As she performs the introductions, I memorize their names and faces. If we’re sharing their table from now on, we should be social.
Mel is a freckled, athletic blonde while Theo is small, brown-skinned, and fond of sweater vests. Kimmy is a pale redhead with an infectious smile whereas Shanna has long black hair caught up in Lolita pigtails, and her makeup enhances almond eyes. She seems like the rebel of the group.
“Sage and Lila,” I say.
“We know.” Theo stresses the last word in a weird way.
I exchange a look with Lila, who shrugs. “Should I be afraid to ask?”
“Maybe,” she says.
Mel offers, “We think it’s really cool of you two. Brave.”
“What?”
“You know. Being out.”
What the … “Let me get this straight … People think Lila and I are dating?”
“Dylan Smith says that’s why Lila broke up with him. Cuz she’s a big dy—”
Kimmy claps a hand over Theo’s mouth before he completes the word. I’m glad; otherwise, I’d have to smack him. “First, that’s crap. But if it were true, Lila’s out of my league.”
She laughs, cocking her head. “I dunno. You’re looking pretty cute today.”
Theo looks like this is a dream come true while the girls stare, wide-eyed.
I sigh. “Don’t encourage him.”
“True. But this is exactly why I broke up with Dylan. I mean, he told everyone I slept with him when I did not. Then when I got fed up and dumped him, he said I was a lesbian. Because, obviously, only a chick who’s into girls would let go of a prize like him.”
“What a douche,” Mel says.
“That explains the looks I’ve been getting all day, though,” Lila adds. “I’m sorry, Sage. I should’ve guessed Dylan would invent some shit about your breakup the minute we started hanging out.”
I shrug. “I don’t care what people say about me. To be honest, it’s kind of novel for it not to be related to the Post-it notes.”
“I think that’s pretty cool,” Shanna volunteers.
I smile. I’m a little surprised, however. Of this crew, she dresses the darkest, but I should know not to judge a book by its cover. I look squeaky clean, innocent even. What I don’t tell her is that I’m beyond doing stuff because someone else thinks it’s a good idea. These days I do things to fill craters inside, filling up the bad echoes with goodness. God knows I need it.
“Do us a favor, though,” I say to Mel, who seems the most sensible of the four. “Spread the word that it’s just gossip, okay?”
“Not a problem,” Kimmy says, already texting.
We make general conversation after this, and midway through lunch, I look up to see Tara and Kenny standing by the table. They both look awkward, so I try to make whatever it is easier with a smile and a friendly “hey, guys.”
“Is it true?” Kenny asks. As usual, he has on his cherished Mario hat. Kenny is really good at two things: math and video games. He’ll probably make a million dollars before he’s thirty.