Girl Mans Up (13 page)

I DECIDE IF I IGNORE JOHNNY'S TEXTS FOR A COUPLE
weeks, it'll send the right message. I got better things to do anyway. Hanging out with my brother all the time, getting him to drive me to school—that sounds like stuff a twelve-year-old does. Why would Blake want to date a twelve-year-old?

On the way to school one day, while Tristan drools against the bus window, I tell Colby that Johnny moved out. It's probably time I say something about it, because Johnny's been gone for over a week now. And maybe it'll give me an excuse for having been ignoring Colby, too. All I've felt like doing lately is hanging out with Blake, or talking to her on the phone, or texting her. Or watching YouTube—been doing a lot of that.

“Get outta here,” Colby says. “He moved out?”

“Yup. Finally. As if I'd stay at home until I'm thirty.”

“Yeah, seriously. Imagine being thirty and having to screw chicks in your parents' basement.”

“Pathetic.”

“I told you he needed to move the hell out and grow up,” Colby says. “I was wondering what was up with you going MIA for two weekends in a row.”

“Yeah, well, my mom's been crazy, making me clean out the whole basement. She wanted me to call you guys to come help move furniture down from the spare room, but I didn't think you and Tristan would be into doing that all weekend.” I look away because I don't want to know if he bought that or not. I'm kind of suspecting I've gotten better at this lying thing, which is good, but it's also bad.

“That's what you did on the weekend? Both weekends?” he asks.

“Last weekend, I did that. The weekend before, I was helping Johnny pack,” I say, pretending to check my phone like I got a text.

“Well, you missed a good one. We all drove to Toronto on Saturday, and we tried to get into this strip club. It was hilarious. They almost let Ike in 'cause of the beard,” he says, and I laugh. Even when his face goes back to serious, I'm still forcing out the rest of my laugh. “So you know Ike's buddy, Jake, the one with the massive ear spacers?”

“Not really,” I say.

“That's funny—because he's pretty sure he knows you.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you and him hung out the other day. A couple weekends ago, actually. That's what he was telling me on Saturday.”

“What are you talking about? I never hung out with that guy.”

“Went to see some band play at the community hall?” Colby says, and when I glance at him, he snorts. “He told us about how he saw this queer dyke sitting with the hottest chicks there. I'm pretty sure there aren't that many queer dykes around here.”

“It was after I helped Johnny with his stuff. I was there with Blake for a bit.”

“Wrong,” he says. “You were there with Olivia. That's who you were sitting with the whole time. I'm not making this stuff up. Jake was there, dude. He saw you.”

“It wasn't like that.”

No more playful nod of the head from him now. Just slits for eyes. “What's it like then?”

“She was sitting all by herself, so Blake was all ‘Sit with Pen.' I mean, what was I supposed to do?” More lies. “I wasn't gonna tell you because I knew you'd get pissed, and for nothing.”

“Why the hell was Olivia there in the first place if she wasn't with you?”

“Uh . . . I think she's dating the bass player.”

I probably shouldn't have said that.

COLBY BARRELS THROUGH EVERYBODY,
swipes some kid's baseball cap only to stick it on some random girl's head, knocks Trent's binder out of his hands, and tells Garrett to screw off—all this on his way to the lockers from the bus. I stand at my locker, watching for Olivia's head to appear
somewhere, hoping she's puked her way out of coming to school today. When Colby types on his phone, I'm imagining all the dumb crap he could be sending to her.

I'm such an idiot. Screwed Olivia over just to save myself.

When Blake gets to school, it makes me feel like even more of an ass. She's deep in conversation with Robyn, and both of them have their hair super straight, like they made a deal to both go for the straightener today. It makes Blake look . . . softer, I guess? Like she'd be less likely to knee you in the balls than usual. I think she'd make an exception for me today.

So I run away to hide. I loop around the shop class hallway and come out by the end of the faculty parking lot. Then I hang by the side entrance, waiting to spot Olivia. Two minutes until the bell rings, still no Olivia.

A text comes from Blake:
Where r u? Wanted 2 talk 2 u b4 class.

Me:
sorry—late 2day—but i'll be staring @ u all through french class

Her:
Ok. :) Can u stay after school with me & O? About the project. Meeting with Mr. Middleton.

Me:
probably—u seen Olivia 2day?

Her:
Yeah. A min ago. No idea where she went.

Oh, man.

First bell goes off. Back in the grade-eleven hallway, there are only a few people left scrambling or just taking their sweet time to get to class. Tristan's still at his locker, just waiting.

“Colby wanted me to wait for you,” he says.

“Why?”

Second bell goes off. He shrugs. “We're late for class.”

“I know that. Just go. I'll catch up.”

He heads off toward French class with a sigh. Once I've got my books, I make a stop at the bathrooms, just in case.

She's there. At least I think it's her, by the sound of the cough I hear coming from the one occupied stall. It sounds like her. Maybe it's not.

I cough. Nothing.

So I clear my throat.

Wash my hands.

There's a sniffle from behind the door, like someone's blowing their nose. It could be her. It could be any girl in the world.

Clear my throat again . . .

Nothing.

So I go to leave, but then come back. It's like I'm a creeper right now. I pretend to kick the garbage can. “Oh, man. Stupid thing's always in the way.”

“Pen?”

“Finally! Yeah, it's me.”

“What's wrong?” she says.

“Uh . . . are you, like, done in there?”

The toilet flushes and then she comes out to wash her hands. It looks like she puked recently because her face is pale, her cheeks red, and she's kind of . . . sweaty-looking. Strands of her black hair are stuck to her forehead and cheeks.

“I did something stupid,” I say.

She stares at me through the mirror, flicks water off her
hands, then turns around. She looks ready to fall, or cry. Or both. “You told him?”

My face is what falls because I hadn't even thought about how she'd think I told Colby she's knocked up. It makes me breathe a massive sigh. “No! Oh, man. No, I didn't tell him
that
.”

“Well—what did you do?” she asks. “Am I in trouble?”

“This keeps getting better and better,” Colby says from behind me. The
F
word goes through my head over and over, and Olivia's wide eyes are begging me to let her in on what's happening. Too late. I turn to Colby coming into view.

“What's up, Pen?” Colby asks. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “Hiding in the girls' bathrooms because you think I won't come in here?”

“You can't just walk in here like a—” Like a stalker, but I don't finish the sentence. “You're not allowed in here, dude.”

“If you're allowed, then I figure I'm allowed, too,” he says with a twisted little grin. He turns to Olivia. “How's your bass-playing boyfriend?”

“What?” Olivia asks, searching my face.

“Oh, was it a secret?” Colby asks. “It's not good to keep secrets.”

“Colby, man,” I tell him. “Just lay off.”

He's ignoring me. “Don't be mad at Pen for telling me all about your older musician boyfriend. She's my bud, you know. It's her job to tell me everything. Everything.”

“I don't have a boyfriend. I don't know what's going on here,” she says.

“Don't lie,” Colby tells her, after taking a few steps closer to her. We're like a triangle right now. “Lying is bad.”

“I didn't,” she says. “I don't know what you're talking about!”

“You move on pretty quickly, huh?” he tells her. It pisses me off so much that he said that. “Say one thing, do another. This is why I never trusted you. No matter what you said.”

Colby's words actually seem to have hit her, like if it had been some special command in a game, it would've knocked a third of her health points down.

“I lied!” I say.

They both turn to look at me, but it doesn't matter that I said that. He just wanted to lay into her about something.

“I have to get to class,” Olivia says, taking two steps back, keeping her eyes on me long enough to make it clear I'm the one she holds responsible for this. All I can do is suck in a breath and hold it while I watch her walk away.

“What the hell is your problem, huh?” he says to me. “Are you being this dumb on purpose or what?”

Some girl comes in, gives us a dirty look and leaves.

“You made this big deal about getting her off your back, and now you're the one who won't leave her alone,” I say. “I lied about Olivia and the bass player because I thought it would get you to move on.”

“She's
my
ex. I get to do what I want,” he says. “If she thinks getting a new boyfriend will bother me, she's crazier than I thought. She'll still be calling me.”

“She'll call you?” I say. “Or you'll call her.”

“What do you care, huh?”

“I don't—”

“You do. Why do you care so much?” he says. “You're such a bad liar. You didn't even
ask
me if I wanted to come see that band play when
I
take you everywhere I go. Your whole basement-cleaning thing's probably bullshit. So were you hanging out with Olivia all of
this
weekend, too? You didn't want me getting in your way with her, right? Admit it, Pen. Admit you like her.”

He makes my fists curl. He makes me clench my jaw. It's like he might as well hold a finger up to my arm and poke it, over and over. He won't stop.

“Just leave her alone,” I tell him. “That's all I'm saying.”

He makes this face, like I just said something funny. “Or what?”

“Just . . . stop. You just really need to lay off her,” I say.

“You like her,” he says. “Admit it!”

“Yeah, I like her,” I say. “Just not like that.”

“Like what then?”

“She's nice and funny. You should know that since you guys had a thing,” I say. “Obviously you know that if you can't stay away from her.”

“Oh, suck it, Pen. Stop talking like some douche with the feels.” He runs the sink and flicks water around me, never actually touching me with it. “So you're gonna swoop in and take her, huh? Because you're such a badass.”

“I'm not taking her,” I say. Why does having a girl's back mean I have to have a crush on her? It makes me wonder
if—“
You
like her, don't you. Like, really like her. That's why
you
care so much about this. That's why you're worse than usual.”

This time he gets me with the water, in the face. It drips down my left cheek. “I care because you're trying to step on my territory, trying to show me up. Are you the nice guy now? Is that what your deal is? You're Pen the Nice Guy. Girls don't want the nice guy, dude. Girls laugh at the nice guy, especially when the nice guy is a girl with tits. Pretty nice tits, though. I'll give you that.”

Water droplets fling onto the front of my shirt.

“You know what, Colby?
You
can suck it.”

He grins at me. “You know just because you cut your hair doesn't mean you can be me, right? You can't even be in the same category as me. You're still just Pen, except I'm starting to not be able to stand you.”

“Yeah, well, same here.” My fist is up over my thigh, hovering in the air. Just in case. Just in case I grow some balls and decide to—

“What is going on in here?” It's some grade-nine teacher we usually see patrolling the hallways. He's looking at Colby mostly, because I'm off to the side. “What are you guys doing in the girls' bathrooms? And during class time? You think it's funny to come in here and prevent girls from using the facilities?”

Colby laughs.

“You think that's funny, huh?” he says, then he points to the exit. “Office. Now.”

“Sir,” Colby says, a thumb pointed over his shoulder at me. “That's a girl. It's Penelope.”

The teacher's eyes are on me when I turn, and he recognizes me. Everyone eventually recognizes me, after they look a little more closely. “Well . . . regardless. Office. Both of you, for your late slips.”

So we follow Mr. Jones or Johns—whatever his name is—to the office, where we get late slips that have to be signed by our parents.

COLBY AND I MAKE
it back to French class for the last twenty minutes, interrupting Mrs. Wexler's reading. I head for my usual seat at the back, Colby not far behind me. I pull out my book while Mrs. Wexler carries on reading aloud. Blake twists in her seat to give me a confused glare. I give a barely noticeable shake of my head, hoping she'll understand that I'll fill her in later.

“You and I are gonna have to settle this,” Colby says to me.

“Settle what? I have nothing to settle,” I tell him. “I'm done with all this.”

“
Mademoiselle
Oliveira, since you insist on chatting, why don't you carry on with
la lecture
?” Mrs. Wexler says, and I swear the way she says “mademoiselle,” it's like she's rubbing it in.
“Nous sommes à la page cinquante-six.”