Girl Mans Up (24 page)

AFTER OUR MINI LUNCH MEETING WITH THE REST
of the photo reps on Monday, Blake and I realize we're way behind most of the others—and we have no excuse, because we're the only ones with a third, silent partner. It almost makes me wish Tristan was on our team, because that guy just gets things done—which is why Colby's always partnering up with him during group assignments.

“We can do this, right?” I ask Blake when we head off to eat lunch in the fifteen minutes left before the bell rings.

“Absolutely. We're going to focus and plow through it.”

“You say that like it's so simple.”

“It is,” she says. “We'll just get together on nights we're not scheduled at work and I don't have practice. Or maybe you could come watch practice and we could work on things after the guys leave.”

I give her an awkward look. “Uh . . . I really doubt my mom's going to be cool with me going out every night. Trying
to get out of the house for work is already a pain in the ass.”

She stares back at me like I must be exaggerating. It's not like I'm being held hostage, but Blake doesn't get that the crap my mom dishes out—the looks, the sighs, the nagging, the threats—is sometimes just not worth dealing with every day.

“What if we work on it at school a lot?” I offer. “Maybe at lunch, and we can ask Mr. Middleton if we can get a pass to get out early a couple times. And maybe we can stick around here after school on nights I have to go to work? The mall is closer to here than it is to my house anyway.” Plus, it'll save me from having to go home before work.

Blake squeezes my forearm. “Okay. Let's do that.”

So for the next few days, every minute at school or after school is spent finishing up our photos and sorting our slide show.

Almost every minute. Some of my minutes are spent looking over my shoulder, making sure I know where Colby is at all times. In class, he's with Garrett. At lunch, he takes off with his buddies. In between classes, when we cross paths, his slit-eyed expression is all he's got for me. He got my text, I'm sure of it. So this is our truce. This is us walking away.

On Wednesday, Blake, Olivia, and I are in the computer lab at lunch. The photos are black and white because it makes the quotes pop more. In each picture, a student stands arms out, holding up a cardboard sign with a quote pasted onto it. In each of them, the quote doesn't go with the person holding it. You see a face, a body, and you don't even realize you're assuming things about what you're seeing. Then you take in
the words of the quote, but they go against what you'd assume for what your eyes are seeing.

“Am I the only one who's going to be in our project?” Blake asks Olivia and me.

We're still trying to figure out how to add the quotes on the white signs. I'm doing the mouse-clicking, while Blake leans over to point at the screen. Olivia sits next to me, watching us go.

“You should at least put your truths in there. Something! This diary is going to be epic. I mean, do you guys realize that in two weeks, the mayor of Castlehill will be seeing these photos? We have a chance to really say something. They want the truth about what it's like to be a high school student? Well, they're going to get it—the amazingly messy, ridiculous, shocking truth,” Blake says. “You guys have to be a part of it. You have to put yourselves out there.”

Olivia meets my gaze, and it's obvious she's thinking what I'm thinking. Neither of us is interested in calling attention to ourselves. Blake's badass; she's used to putting herself out there, and that's a big part of what makes her so damn hot. Not all of us are like that.

“So?” Blake says, smiling like she expects Olivia and me to throw a fist in the air after her passionate rant.

“We'll think about it,” I say.

Blake sighs. “Well, I tried.” She puts her finger on the computer screen. “That font is righteous. Let's keep it.”

Robyn comes in with this pissy expression. “You said you'd be ten minutes!”

“I know. I'm coming!” Blake says, before leaning super close to me. But she stops before our faces touch. Her perfume's like a cloud around my head. My fingers curl around her shirt and I pull a little.

“You're the hottest girl in the world,” I whisper in her ear. “I wish I could—”

“Can we go already!” Robyn shouts.

So I kiss Blake, right on the lips. I kiss her until I forget where I am. When she pulls away, her face is flushed and she rakes her fingers through her hair. I watch her go. When I get back to the computer screen, Olivia's frozen in her seat, shoulders hunched.

“Sorry about that,” I say.

“You guys are so cute!” she says, then she pushes my chair with her feet and I go rolling into the aisle. At the same time, she moves to take control of the computer. “My turn.”

The picture of Blake is one of the few we have left to design. Her sign says,
I think all the guys on the basketball team are jerks. Even me.

“Look at her,” I say, running my hand against Blake's photo up on the monitor. “Would you go gay for her?”

“I'd go gay for Elliott,” Olivia says.

“That makes no sense at all.”

“Your question was stupid,” she says.

“Hey, guys,” Tristan says. He collapses into a chair and rolls his way over to us.

“What's up?” I say.

“Not much,” he says. “That's a cool pic. Blake looks legit.”

It makes me smile.

“You wanna play
Crypts
later? Feels like we haven't played that shizz in forever,” he says.

“Yeah, it
has
been a while,” I say.

“Do you game, too?” he asks Olivia.

“Not at all,” she says.

“Pen's pretty legit. Have you seen her play?” Tristan says.

“I did give her this old Atari system and watched her play some of that,” Olivia says. “It wasn't much fun.”

Tristan smacks my arm. “You have an Atari? She gave you one? That's the shizz.”

“Yeah. All these games, too,” I tell him.

After a bit of silence while we watch Olivia prepare the next photo, cropping the edges and going through filters, Tristan hitches his chin up at me. “So you gonna invite me over to check out your new stuff or what?”

“Well, I just figured—you know, with Colby and all . . .”

“Figured what?” he asks.

“He's not going to let you be friends with me,” I say, after a long pause. Olivia continues clicking away, not reacting to the conversation going on around her. “You know that, dude.”

“I'm not Colby's peon,” he says.

“His what?”

“I might look like a spineless Colby minion, but I'm a free man,” Tristan says.

He says that now, but he'd know that's bull the second he'd try walking away from Colby. Tristan can either be a minion,
or he can leave the guys to hang out with a bunch of girls, and make an enemy of Colby in the process. Colby and his buddies wouldn't hesitate to mess with him. The fact that I'm a girl is probably the only reason I'm not getting my ass kicked.

“You
do
remember you and me were friends first, right?” Tristan says.

“Yeah, I know.”

Olivia leans her head back against the chair and starts rolling back and forth. Tristan and I copy what she's doing, and pretty soon we're all zoned out, twirling around in our rolly chairs, staring up at the ceiling.

BY FRIDAY, WE'VE FINISHED
up the thirty-five pictures that will be part of our diary. Before we send them to print for the album, we're testing them out with a mini screening at lunch. Blake and I sign out a projector and take it to an empty classroom. Robyn comes along. Olivia shows up with a bag of popcorn, which we pass around.

“How's it going?” I ask her.

She smiles and throws a popcorn kernel at my face. I flick one back and miss her completely.

Pictures go up, one after the other, and it kind of blows my mind that we could've put something like that together. It doesn't
just
look like some high school project. It sure as hell doesn't look like something I'd be a part of. This looks legit, like a real series of photos you might read about online or see hanging in an art gallery. It looks like something to be proud of, something you'd
want to show your parents. It's epic, just like Blake said. My face or my truth might not be in it, but I'm still all over this project. I wonder what Johnny will think about it.

At the end Blake says, “This will win everything. I'm sure of it.”

Olivia says, “It's not a contest. They're just going to pick the best ones—”

“That's how Blake talks,” I tell Olivia. “No one's actually winning anything.”

Blake leans against me and says, “But for real, you're going to win everything. And you get the prize.”

“Oh, god,” Robyn says. “Gross. Don't be gross.”

I put my lips against Blake's ear to tell her I want the prize.

After we pack everything up and head off in different directions to find our lockers, I walk by Tristan. He puts his hand up like he's about to wave but gives up, and his gaze falls to the ground.

“Hey,” I say, and he stops. “If you wanted to come by my brother's place later, I'm having some people over.”

“Oh yeah?” he says. “Can I bring Trent? We were gonna hit the bookstore tonight. Maybe we could come by after?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Legit!”

“I'll text you the address,” I say. “And don't tell Colby, all right?”

He gives me a thumbs-up. “Yeah, no worries, Pen.”

We bump fists, and then he takes off for his locker. At the same time, I pull out my phone and text him Johnny's address.

WHEN THE LAST BELL
goes off, I stop at my locker before meeting up with Blake and Olivia. We walk through school like this: Blake on my right, fingers hooked together, and Olivia to my left. We head for the lobby, talking about Blake's show coming up at the end of December.

My eyes land on Colby and Garrett, hanging out by the girls' locker rooms, just as Tim and Ray head over. It looks right, Colby surrounded by his people. Not so much because guys should stick with guys, but because pricks should stick with pricks.

There's a look between us, and his mouth curls in a smirk.

I ignore it, but Colby's gaze moves to Olivia, and he raises an eyebrow, nodding like he's hitting on her. Olivia's eyes are closed and she shakes her head slowly.

“Don't react,” I tell her. “That's what he wants. You know that.”

“Are you kidding?” Blake says, then she gives Colby the finger. Garrett starts laughing and holds both his middle fingers out. “That guy needs to be taken down a peg.”

I push her hand down. “Blake, seriously. You don't know—”

“Yeah, I do. You think these guys aren't calling me fat, or slut, or bitch every other day? You think I just put my head down and let it happen?” Blake says. “I mean—the guy told people I have crabs, for shit's sake.”

Olivia's still looking down.

“Look,” Blake says to Olivia. “I don't know what the deal is with you and him—Pen's been pretty good at keeping it all very
secret—but it's obvious you and Colby have bad history. Aren't you sick of it yet? Aren't you sick of walking around afraid you'll run into him in the halls, that he'll say something stupid?”

I'm about to open my mouth when Olivia goes, “Yes.”

“Don't you guys think that maybe it's time Colby felt like shit for a change?” Blake says.

The three of us glance over at him. He leans against the wall, a foot up against it. The look on his face makes it pretty obvious he's loving the fact that we're paying attention to him.

“Yeah,” I say. “It's time.”

“So . . . let's get him then,” Blake says.

BLAKE THINKS SHE CAN DO ANYTHING—AND SO
far, it's not like that's ever been proven wrong. She stands there with this confident, no-one-can-mess-with-me glare, and Olivia's gaze is glued to her.

“What do you want to do to him? How do you want to get back at him?” Blake asks Olivia. “And don't pretend you haven't thought about it a million times.”

Olivia's voice is even, and her eyes are on Colby. “Pen took a picture of him.”

Blake waits for her to go on, her brow scrunching up like
she doesn't follow. But it's like I already know what Olivia's going to say.

“You didn't delete it, did you,” Olivia says to me.

“No.”

She looks Colby's way again, but he's talking to Garrett about something, like she's not worth his time anymore—again.

I fill Blake in. “I took a picture of him one of the days we were shooting for the project.”

Blake nods with an evil smirk. “Absolutely amazing. We are so putting it up there. What quote should we brand him with?”

“Can you send me the photo?” Olivia says to me. Her eyes stop me, flaming with this crazy intensity, and I think maybe this is her manning up right in front of me.

“Okay,” I say.

It's not sitting right with me, this plan. It feels shady, this idea of humiliating him. But Blake's right: it's time Colby got back some of what he dishes out.

Tristan's with the guys now. Garrett puts him in a headlock, messing up his hair. Tristan laughs and looks at the ground, like anyone's supposed to buy he's having a good time hanging out with his buddies. Free man, my ass.

“Let's go wait out front,” Blake says. She touches my arm when I don't follow her lead toward the doors.

“Tristan's so pathetic,” I say, pointing at the guys. “Why doesn't he just walk away?”

We all look at the guys, at Tristan in the middle. Just standing there.

“So call him over,” Blake says. When I give her my you-don't-understand face, she says, “What? If he's your friend, call him over.”

“It would just make things worse. He'd have to choose between me and Colby.”

“That won't be a hard choice to make. Anyone can tell he doesn't like Colby,” Blake says. “He's one of us. He's probably just been hanging out with them because he's not sure you want him around.”

“That's what he was telling you, back in the computer lab. You guys were friends first, before Colby came along,” Olivia says. “You got that, right?”

Blake and Olivia watch me while I watch Tristan.

“You guys go ahead,” I tell Blake. “I'll catch up.”

Blake hooks her finger in mine and says, “Go be righteous, babe.”

“What!” I let go of her hand and throw mine up. “I was gonna call you babe. You beat me to it.”

“You snooze, you lose,” she says.

I watch the two of them wander through the lobby, headed for the doors. Over by the girls' change room, the guys are talking, messing around.

I take a couple steps in their direction. They're still at least twenty-five steps away.

“Tristan,” I shout. They all look over, even Tristan. I hitch my chin up. “You coming?”

His mouth spreads into a wide grin. He moves between Garrett and Tim, smoothing the dress shirt over his skinny
chest, flinging his bangs into place. Then he turns to the guys, snaps his fingers into guns and, although I can't see his face, I picture him winking at them.

Then he heads my way.

SO NOW IT'S TRISTAN
and me, just walking away.

“Okay, so Trent is totally down for tonight,” Tristan says, like this is just us running into each other in the hall between classes. “I don't have to bring alcohol, do I?”

“Nah, dude. This is just a very chill affair,” I say. “No booze.”

The pounding of feet against tile rushes toward us. My body tenses up. I knew it was coming.

“Wait up, girls,” Garrett yells, just as Tristan and I are about to reach the doors.

Tristan stops in his tracks. I smack his arm. “Keep walking! Come on, dude, man up.”

Blake's watching from the curb. She taps Olivia on the arm, gesturing for her to pay attention. That's when I glance behind me, seeing the guys making their way over. Colby pushes through them. “Get your ass over here, Tristan.”

“Uh . . . ,” Tristan says, waiting next to me. “You're not gonna decide tomorrow that we're not friends anymore, right? You're not gonna do that again?”

“I didn't—never mind.” I take a breath and put a hand up. “Do you want to hang out with those guys or not?”

Tristan shakes his head, then pretends to dust off his shoulders. “All right. All right. Let's get out of here.”

So I push through the door, Tristan behind me. Blake and
Olivia crowd around us, and we walk away as a group.

“Pen!” Garrett yells my name a couple times. Then he goes, “Steve! STEVEN OLIVEIRA!”

“Ignore him,” Blake says. “He's bound to get distracted by a bright light soon.”

Tristan laughs. “Bright light. Legit, that's legit.”

“Hey, Steve! Penelope! Just one question!” Garrett says. They've followed us out the door.

“I don't care,” I throw over my shoulder. “No one wants to hear your stupid questions.”

“Just one!” Garrett says.

Olivia screeches to a stop and whips around. “What! What is your problem?”

We've all stopped and backed up to stand with Olivia on the curb, right around the spot we were the day she lost it on me after missing her bus. Garrett holds his hands up like a shield. The rest of the guys are pounding over, Colby at the front.

“Was it good?” Garrett asks Olivia.

“Was what good?” Olivia asks, and I wish she hadn't.

“When Colby fucked you,” Garrett says to her.

I'm ready to lunge for him, but then Colby's shouting from behind him, “Garrett—don't you talk to her.”

Garrett makes this big show of acting like he's just realizing some mistake he made. “Oh, wait, sorry. Not you.” He turns to me, even points a finger at me, and now that's where everyone's attention is. “I meant you, Pen. Was it good when Colby tapped that? Did it make you feel heterosexually straight? Did you feel like a woman?”

Someone pushes Garrett. He stumbles but recovers quick. I'm like a missile with Colby as a target before I even realize I'm the one who pushed Garrett because he was in the way. The girls are yelling my name. Colby veers right, circling the outside of the library, just jogging his ass away from this mess.

They're laughing at me—I don't know who. The laughter and the shouts are pushing me forward. He's not getting away with this one.

I'm gonna get him.