Outcast (21 page)

Chad
grabbed my hand, and I wanted it to be perfectly fitted in mine. But it felt like Trina was trying to wrench her fingers between ours.

Hardly anyone wanted to perform Shakespeare again, so it wasn’t difficult to get a part. The main roles were given to juniors and seniors. Grace convinced Henry to participate backstage with lighting and sound. He did it just to be around Grace.

I didn’t fully understand the language. But one part stood out above all others. In the play, Shylock demands a pound of flesh from Antonio in exchange for the money he borrowed. Stupid Antonio agrees even though Shylock hates his guts and would love to cut a huge chunk of his flesh out in revenge. And Shylock has every right to hate Antonio who has mistreated him, spit on him, and regarded him like dirt. It’s about revenge—taking your pound of flesh, what’s owed to you. I looked at Trina with her perfect skin and good fortune and saw my real-life Antonio. All I needed was a knife and an excuse to take mine from Trina. Maybe I already had.

I watched as Trina behaved icily toward
Chad
. But he didn’t seem to care or notice. Instead, he put his arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. Trina glared at us. It didn’t just happen once; it occurred with more and more frequency. Whether it was in class or out in the hallways, she seemed to turn from a light shade of green to a burning emerald. I felt a little like Shylock, taking
Chad
away from her was like cutting away a pound of flesh.
But
, I wondered,
was a pound enough to exact my revenge on Trina?
I wasn’t so sure it was. Not af
ter all the things she’d done.

Homecoming. It escalated like a fever once again. Instead of church and Jesus, it was football and team spirit. I wanted to be a part of the festivities, but it was too late. I had made my decision.

I thought about staying home even though I was no longer grounded. My mother would have allowed me to stay up late and watch television for a change. But the more I thought about spending a Saturday night with my parents, the more it depressed me. I told
Chad
I would see a movie with him, but I reminded myself it was simply a means of getting out of the house. I was still upset with him and couldn’t get past the fact that he slept with Trina, shared something so completely intimate with her. I couldn’t stop running possible scenarios through my head like where it happened and how often. And not only the specifics, but the fact that he saw her naked, and she saw him, too. She touched him, kissed him, and was with him in ways that made me sick to think about.

Before meeting
Chad
, I went over to Grace’s as she prepared for the dance. I wanted to mend things between us, and it seemed like a good start.

I sat on her bed and watched as she applied her makeup. I expected to hear the latest gossip, or at least an update on how things were going with Henry, but she spoke nothing of those things. I felt uncomfortable.

“Where’s
Chad
?” she finally asked.

“Home. We’re going to a movie later.”

“That’s nice.” She puckered her lips and slid garnet lipstick over her mouth. 

“Is everything okay between us?”

“Of course.” She smiled, but like the color that stained her lips, it seemed artificial.

I really wanted to leave, but decided I should stay until Henry arrived and they left for the dance. I excused myself to use the bathroom.

I returned to the sound of male voices in the dining room.

“Hi Noelle.” Jake said, offering a smile.

A friend of his stood inside the doorway. I was happy to see that it wasn’t Mike. This guy didn’t look at me twice.

“Marco, this is Noelle, Grace’s friend.” Jake turned to me and scanned my clothes. “You’re not going to the dance?”

I shrugged, not wanting to offer a detailed explanation of how I wished to punish my boyfriend for having sex with another girl.

Just then, Grace promenaded down the stairs. A red, spaghetti-strapped thing encased her body. The crinoline made a scratching sound, and she looked like an Armour hotdog with pumps. But her family thought she was beautiful enough to be Miss
America
.

Henry arrived in a tuxedo with tails, a maroon cummerbund, and a matching bow tie. He pinched a corsage to Grace’s dress.

It turned out that Grace’s parents rented a limo for her, and Jake showed everyone the perks of the vehicle. For me, it was a good time to slip away. I made my way down the driveway, but Jake popped his head out of the limo and called to me.

“Noelle, where are you going? Come here and look at the car.”

I was forced to inspect the inside of the limousine.

Pictures flashed and hugs were exchanged as Grace and Henry stepped into the car and disappeared. Grace never even said goodbye. I felt slighted. I went over to the house to make things better between us and ended up feeling worse than if I’d never tried. I wasn’t sure what I did this time to make her mad at me.

“If you’re not going to the dance, what
are
you doing?” Jake asked.

“Hanging out.”

“Alone? You can’t sit around and watch TV on Homecoming night.”

He made some strong assumptions.

“We’re going to
Mill Avenue
. Why don’t you hang out with us?”

Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly want a high school girl to ruin his image in downtown
Tempe
. Besides, I already had plans with
Chad
. I couldn’t cancel them. Or could I? The more I considered Jake’s offer, the more attractive it became. It was the perfect way to get back at
Chad
for being with Trina.

“Okay, but I need to make a phone call first.”

I wasn’t a good liar, so my nerves sparked as the phone rang.

Chad
picked up. “You coming over?” he asked excitedly.

I felt massive amounts of guilt. “I can’t,” I said.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I mean, no.”

“Want me to bring you something? Chicken noodle soup? Pizza?” he joked.

His sweetness sent pangs throughout me. “No.” The word slid off my tongue like peanut butter.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.” He sounded disappointed.

His voice screamed with sincerity. For a moment, I considered changing my mind, but then the image popped into my head again of him and Trina together. Lips on lips, legs entwined. I tried to elbow the picture from my mind, but it wouldn’t go away.

“I will,” I lied.

As I kept stride with Jake and Marco on
Mill Avenue
, the guilt melted away. The guys picked up a six pack of Miller Genuine Draft and emptied what they could into their Starbucks coffee mugs.

“You don’t mind if we drink, do you?” Jake asked.

I couldn’t say no if I’d wanted to. They were the ones who invited me out.

Marco checked out the low-cut tops and tight jeans on passing girls. Jake did, too. But he was more discreet about it.

Marco wandered into different bars along the stretch of
Mill Avenue
, leaving Jake and me to hold the coffee mugs. I didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but I was sure it had something to do with women.

“Have some,” Marco said, handing his disguised beer to me as he ventured into McDuffy’s Sports Bar. I was curious enough to try it. I had never tasted beer before; one sip wouldn’t kill me.

I started to tip the mug to my lips when Jake stopped me. “Better not.”

“It’s not like I haven’t had beer before.” I didn’t want him to think I was as naïve as I appeared to be—or was.

When the fluid passed my lips and hit my taste buds, I felt like gagging on the bitter flavor. Jake laughed. “You’re a real beer connoisseur, I see.”

“I’m just not used to this brand. That’s all.”

He leaned in toward me when he smiled. He seemed a little buzzed. “You’re cute, Noelle.” He touched my nose, and then quickly retracted it, probably remembering I was fifteen and his sister’s friend.

Beer or not, I was flattered. My pulse quickened and suddenly everything needed attention. I pushed my hair behind my ear, adjusted my necklace, and plucked an imagined eyelash from my eye.

Marco returned. “There are some really hot girls inside. Wanna go in?” he asked Jake.

“Naw, I’m good,” Jake said, his eyes tracing a path to me.

At first Marco treated me like I was nonexistent—a cigarette butt on the pavement. But after Jake’s refusal to go in, Marco glared at me coldly. I was ruining his good time. Really, why had Jake invited me along anyway? I was a third wheel.

“Maybe they’ll let her in,” Marco tried.

I glanced at my watch to cover the awkwardness I felt. It was ten o’clock. “I really need to get home anyway,” I said to Jake.

“Yeah, sure.”

For some reason, all the chattiness and complimentary words were gone on the ride home.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I said.

“Sure.” Jake glanced over at me and gave me a quick smile, his eyes shifting to the rear-view mirror where Marco sat.

“Maybe in a few more years you’ll be ready for that scene, huh?”

All the flirtation was gone, replaced by a nervousness, as though he only then realized I was fifteen.

“I guess.”

It was awhile, but it eventually happened. As I reached my locker, fuchsia and tangerine marker screamed to me from across the hallway.
Loser
, in bright, bold letters, decorated the metal door. Students gathered around to stare at it as though it was an original Picasso. My cheeks flushed with humiliation. Though everything I needed for the day was in that locker, I refused to approach it. Unfortunately, everyone knew who the message was for. The entire audience gawked at me, knowing the label was mine. My fears of retaliation were realized. Trina was the artist behind the graffiti. I knew she’d get me back, and she did.

I looked around, eyes gaping at me, and saw her and the entourage sneering. Jamie cupped a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Margaret bowed her head in a feigned act of embarrassment. Where was
Chad
? Or Grace? Or Cassie? I needed support. There was no one around.

I pretended to be unaffected as I parted the concert of whispers and stares, nearing my locker. I grabbed what I needed and headed for the administrative offices. I felt like a tattle tale, but I wanted the stigma removed from my locker.

I stormed into Mr. Pace’s office. He was our principal after all. He was talking to his secretary, so I stood in front of them until they directed their full attention to me.

“May we help you, young lady?” Mr. Pace reluctantly forced the words through his tiny mouth.

“Someone wrote graffiti on my locker.”

They both stared at me as if I’d spoken a foreign language.

“Graffiti?” 

They seemed to be taking an unusual amount of time to process the word and the concept behind it.

“Yes.”

Mrs. Peters, his secretary, stared open-mouthed. They behaved like a Jewish Ba
t
Mitzvah was taking place in the school.

“This is a Catholic school.” Mr. Pace pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have graffiti.”

“You do now.”

“We’ll have someone walk by and take a look at it.” He dismissed me just as the bell rang for the start of homeroom. “Off you go, young lady.”

“But...”

They treated me like someone who reported a broken fingernail.

As I turned to leave, I heard my name.

“Noelle.” It was Ms. Sherwood, my counselor. She beckoned to me from the offices with a finger. “Word in the hallways is that your grades are dropping.” Ms. Sherwood was never one for greetings and formalities. She got right down to business.

“Your teachers are concerned about you. You’re an honor student performing at anything-but-honor-roll level. What’s going on?”

“I have a lot on my mind. I’ll get back on track.”

“Anything you want to chat about?”

I considered relaying the whole locker incident and outcast thing to her, but I was fairly sure I didn’t want the advice she’d offer. I could hear her saying that I should ignore Trina or make an effort to resolve things with her. Neither of which I wanted to be told. If I knew she’d give me tips on how to successfully dunk Trina’s head into the toilet, then she would be a good sounding board. By virtue of the fact that she was a counselor, I doubted she’d offer that kind of advice.

“Not really.”

“First quarter grades are going to get you booted out of honors. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I’ll get back in by midterms.”

“If you need to make an appointment…”

She ripped off a late pass and handed it to me.

“Thanks.” I shrugged her off with a wave and headed to class.

I skimmed two chapters in History, glanced at the Cliff’s Notes on
East of Eden
, and scribbled down a Calculus answer or two before getting ready for bed. I knew my grades were slipping, but I had plenty of time to bring them up to honor status. At that moment, I had more important matters to consider. My thoughts swirled around getting back at Trina. I had to think creatively. Rats dangling from nooses outside her bedroom window were not going to cut it anymore. I needed something that would hit her where it really hurt—her social life.

As I washed my face, scores of ideas streamed through my head. None of them seemed practical. Where would I get the elephants to trample her? There would be too many witnesses if I pushed her down a flight of stairs. I needed to think.

However, the muffled sounds of Becca in her bordering room interrupted my train of thought. I dried my face, but left the water running. I leaned against the door, and it pushed slightly open. I saw Becca on the bed with her back toward me. She was on the phone, stifling cries.

“He said he’s not looking for that right now…”

Her conversation was riddled with pauses. I assumed she was talking to Gloria.

“I don’t know what to do.” She started to cry again. There was another brief pause. I wished I were privy to both sides of the conversation.

“I know, but he told me he loved me.”

Kevin. 

“No,” Becca answered whatever question was asked of her, vacuuming the snot and tears. “He said it was, but now he doesn’t want to see me anymore.”