Cameo (18 page)

Gary poked his head out of the sliding door. He looked left, then right down the hallway. “
Psst
.” Gary hissed. “
Psst
!” This time, he was a little louder.

My patience was wearing thin. I tried to peek through the sliding doors to see what he was doing. Leonard was trotting down the hall at a leisurely pace.

“Leonard!” I called out. He started to sprint down the hall like a triathlon athlete. I guess I still had an effect on grade school boys.

“How can I serve you?” he asked.

“We have to—” I said.

“What happened to your face?” Leonard cut me off.

“Shhh!” Gary said. I rushed over to the full-body mirror in the back of the room. Had she taken a sucker punch at me while I was out? Of all the things I'd gone through, this was the straw that broke the camel's back!

“Why didn't you say I had the remnants of a fist mark on my FACE?” I yelled at Gary.

“Child! Pipe down,” he said.

I touched my pulsating eye socket. Funny how it hadn't been pulsating until now.

“Go look out for Michelle,” Gary told Leonard.

“Are you leaving?” Leonard asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“You didn't have to crush his whole dream like that,” Gary said.

“Will you be coming back?” Leonard asked as he stood post at the end of the hall.

“Please,” I said.

“Why don't you take a picture of her for your screensaver and keep it moving,” Gary said. Leonard ran up to me with his Sidekick in his hand. Gary turned him about-face. “I was kidding. Go back and look out,” he said.

“You never said what you were going to do now?” I said.

“Even the score,” he said.

“Word,” I said. I couldn't help but wonder if he was MIA. He fit the profile: nerdy, crazy, co-conspirator against Michelle's clan.

“I'll tell you once you get out,” he said.

Gary quietly sprinted to the other end of the hall. He motioned me to come to him. This was like a prison. A door slammed at the opposite end of the hall.

“Oh, shit,” Gary said. I kept my back against the wall this time. I turned around, and the wicked witch was back. Michelle came thrashing down the corridor like a quarterback on Super Bowl Sunday. Gary hid around the corner—so much for getting even. Cowardice had a paralyzing effect, even on the quasi-brave.

I wasn't about to run. It was time we had a final showdown, and this time I was going to use my brains. She hurtled toward me with her hands fluttering every which way, like she was ready for a cat fight. I threw a little acting into the bit.

“Oh, no!”

And just when she jumped toward me, I jumped out of the way. Luckily, the hardwood floor broke her attempt at a tackle. I wasn't sure if she was pretending or what. So I kicked her in the belly to confirm. She didn't so much as whimper.

“She's out like a light,” I said.

Gary returned from his corner slowly. “Child, you know I don't do fights,” he said.

“Is that so?” I said sarcastically.

“I had to let you two handle your business,” he said.

“Get her legs. And call Leonard,” I said.

“Leonard!”

We dragged Michelle face-down into her bedroom. I hope the Berber carpet gave her face rug burn.

“Yes?” Leonard came into the room dressed to the nines in a crisply ironed button-down shirt, jeans with the tags on, and fresh white kicks.

“Oh, God, what are you dressed up for?” Gary sighed under his breath.

“Come here. Get the doors,” I said. He slid the bedroom doors closed. “Get a chair, Leonard. Gary, get those stockings she used to tie me up.” They hurried back with the goods. “Let's get her up into the chair. Tie her arms behind the chair.”

“Wha-at?” Gary said in a sing-song tone.

I stood there for a moment, eyeing Michelle's limp body, trying to figure out what we were going to do with her. “What's the next step?” I asked.

“Was that rhetorical?” Gary asked.

“No!”

“Oh, don't get all crazy.” I think we were half-past crazy already. “Take a picture of her,” Gary suggested.

“Yes! And I know just who to send it to,” I said.

I took out my trusty, lean, mean mobile phone machine. I started snapping away from all angles. I would select the worst for forwarding.

“Who are you sending it to?”

“The whole school.”

“Who are you? Gossip Mafia?”

I looked Gary up and down. “What do you know about that?”

“We go to the same school—hello. Even I get the trickled-down gossip word.”

“Believe me, I'm not the brains behind Gossip Mafia.”

“Do the do. Send away. Let's sit her by the teddy bears. Leonard, you go get that creepy board with the pictures of her,” he said.

“If we're going to put this in the morning text, we need her to look more deranged so it makes the first paragraph,” I said.

“Leonard, bring me the scissors,” he yelled. A sinister smile crept on his lips. “Now this is my territory—haircuts,” he continued.

These MIA guys were nuts. Leonard bowed his head when he brought Gary the scissors as if he were paying his respects to Gary. Then he handed me the board.

Ten minutes later, I emailed Jane. High fives were in order all around.

“Good work, team!” I said.

“Goodie for that witch! But we should go before she wakes up,” Gary said.

“Oh, I have just one more thing to take care of,” I said.

On my way to the closet, I checked the full-body mirror. Well, the welts on my eye had finally gone down. But I couldn't forgive that easily. I scooped up that pair of skis into my hands. “Are you taking those?” Gary asked.

“Too conspicuous?” I said.

“I don't care. She probably doesn't even use those. Her family never goes skiing,” Gary said.

I put the skis back down. In my mind, I was going to clock her one good time in the face with the back edge of the skis to leave a welt on her face like she had left on my face. An eye for an eye was what I wanted. But I had reached my mean threshold. Not that she didn't deserve a good whack in the face. Just because she was violent, though, didn't mean I had to be violent. In fact, I'd probably go my entire life without experiencing so much violence again. Hopefully!

“You better bounce soon,” Leonard said.

I think spending too much time in Michelle's room with her being in there had him scared. Gary and I looked at each other and laughed. We walked out, and Leonard quietly closed the doors behind us. I broke that stalker board in half and took it with me. I'd kindly deposit it in the garbage at the curb.

“So what did you say in the text?” Gary asked.

“Vote for me for prom queen. You know you want to be me. XOXO Bitchee Michee.”

I giggled. Now it felt like it was finally over.

“You are so bad!” Gary said.

“Wait,” I looked back, and Leonard was following us out. “Thanks for all of your help,” I kissed Leonard on the forehead.

“Let's make like a banana … and split,” Gary said.

“I had such high hopes for you.” I rolled my eyes. Split? Come on.

“Isn't that the coolest thing to say? Leonard says it sometimes,” Gary said.

“I do not,” Leonard said.

“It's just so sad no one will know that was my work. I mean who else could do an asymmetrical bob in ten minutes?” Gary said.

He did have some guts. He had to have guts to cut a girl's hair six, maybe seven inches while she was knocked out cold.

“Yeah, we need to go a little faster,” I said. Once Michelle saw that haircut, she was going to go ballistic.

“Lenny, call the 'rents and tell Aunt Beatrice that Michelle, um … had a wild party in the basement and now she's all tied up in her bedroom, and say you think they were drinking and stuff. Make sure you tell them she's unconscious,” Gary said. Gary's eyes popped out of their sockets when he said the word “unconscious.”

“Okay.” Leonard ran away with a great, big smile.

“Now they'll rush home, halting yearbook production,” he whispered slyly.

It was like Gary was another person. He even talked differently. He was in his element. Wow. To think we weren't even friends all this time. He was great. Cindy would've loved him.

“Tell Roger, thanks,” I said.

“You know Roger?” he asked.

“What are you talking about? Don't you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. We walked down the stairs.

“I have some business downstairs with a certain doll face and my yearbook photos,” he said.

“So you dig girls?” I said.

He flung himself against the banister and slapped his hand to his chest. Then in one snap second, he tripped down three steps backward and was really grasping the banister for dear life. Was that a yes?

“Do you think I should leave out this door?” I had my hand on the front door. But that wouldn't make for a stealthy exit.

“No, try the side door. That's how the maid puts out the garbage. It's almost always open, and no one would see you. I came in through there.”

We walked through the kitchen. There was no hiding, no looking over our shoulders …well, okay, I looked over my shoulder once. After being knocked in the head, you might do that a few times. I sure felt big and bad though, like, “What! You want some of this!”

It was like my boyfriend said, no other girl would do this. So it sure felt good standing in my own shoes. It was like the weight of five men had been lifted off my shoulders. Now what five-foot-eleven, 140-pound girl would hold five men on her shoulders? I didn't know, but metaphorically, yeah, that could be me.

Outside as sure as the sun rises every morning, there he was inside the Mustang parked right across the street, just where I'd left him. I ran up to the car and knocked on the window. He got out of the car.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You waited for me all that time?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “I gave my word,” he said.

“You didn't leave for a minute? Not even to get food?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said.

“So this was like a stakeout for you,” I said.

“I played solitaire and listened to my iPod,” he said.

I laughed. My gentleman opened the door for me. As I watched him walk around the car I knew this would be the last time in a long time I'd ride shotgun with him. It was half-past twelve on a weeknight!

“So what happened?”

“I'm so over talking about Michelle. You know I took care of business,” I said.

“That's my girl.”

I turned the radio on.

“Where do your grandparents live?” He turned on the ignition.

“Let's just wait a minute,” I said. I kissed him. “You know you're like my angel. I can't believe you really waited for me all this time,” I said.

“I was going to go inside. I kept calling you to see what was going on, but I figured you would come out sometime. I know you weren't about to stay there overnight. A few more minutes, though, and I would've called the detective,” he said.

I put my seat back. “Open the sun roof. There's a full moon out,” I said.

He put his seat back too.

“Is it past your curfew?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I called my people.”

“Your people?”

“Yeah, the people who own the house I live in.”

“Oh, those people.”

“Yeah, I told them I was helping a friend out. My mom was kind of worried, but I told her that my friend just needed a ride home. She asked me if you needed help. See, my whole family got your back.” Guys always had a habit of extrapolating the truth.

“I just want you to have my back,” I said.

“Yes, sir!” he said.

“Good. I like that,” I said.

We held hands and watched the moon and the stars for a minute. It had been so long since I had looked at the Big Dipper.

Life was so much more complicated than looking at the stars. Who would've thought I would ever be here? In my mind, he was the guy who'd never called, but that had all changed this week.

“Can't we just stay here all night?” I said.

He laughed. “Avoiding going home?” he said.

“Somehow, if I arrive home at 6 a.m. versus 1 a.m.
,
I think my punishment will be much worse.”

“I agree.”

I wiped my lip gloss off his full lips. “We have to make a right at the corner and take that street for about ten blocks.”

“Let's burn out then.”

“Now, don't go too fast. No rushing.”

“I got this. And I wouldn't rush.” Were we still talking about driving home?

I told myself I wouldn't talk until we got there. With boys, less was always more. And I had him just where I wanted him. However, about halfway there, suddenly I had a change of heart. Who wants to ride for ten minutes without saying anything? Come on.

“I still can't believe this whole secret society thing escalated this far. It was completely out of hand,” I said.

Jason cleared his throat. “You think this is the worst thing that could happen to you, don't you?” he asked.

“I'd say this ranks up there pretty high. Don't you?” I said.

“I know of things that could be worse,” he said.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Last year, I was going out with this girl, Kelly.” My Jason spoke of her as if his memory of her was quite vivid. The way he carefully selected his words when describing her had me wondering if he would one day describe me like that. “She had everything. She was smart, hilarious, and pretty. She was a nice person. Then, one day, it didn't matter,” he said.

Maybe he had told me more than I wanted to know. I was feeling a little uncomfortable. I preferred to stay in my world. Kelly had recovered from a small nervous breakdown in her senior year of high school. She was one year older than us. She was about to finish her freshman year at college with a 3.8 GPA. Apparently, they were still in touch. His tone told me that he had loved her. I couldn't help but wonder, no, maybe just hope he would love me. They had dated for two years and, toward the last six months, her family life had started to get really rough. Her parents got divorced and her mother started working three jobs to pay the bills. She had to watch her four little brothers and sisters all day after school and on weekends. “She was under all this pressure. Babe, even though things seem bad, they could be worse. And it can always get better,” he said.