Second Helpings (20 page)

HHHH2. Yet to disguise his/her identity, he/she might have outed someone she was friends with in a benign way. (Like me, Bridget said. What was said about me wasnt all that embarrassing. And Lens sexual quest makes you look kinda good.)

HHHH3. The perp is highly intelligent and/or has access to the kind of techie know-how that would disguise the sender. (Hello, Class Brainiac! And your dad is a computer nerd, Bridget said, with increasing Sara-variety know-it-allness.)

HHHH4. The perp has a way with words. (Youre only the most infamous editorial writer in the history of Pineville High!)

HHHH5. And a hatred for the Upper Crust. (Hello!?)

HHHH6. And needs a forum to vent. (Who just lost her column in the school paper?)

By the end of her analysis, I was half-convinced that I had indeed written it. But I didnt. Unless Ive developed a whole new dozing disorder to replace my insomnia. Maybe I sleep-write, like those sleep eaters who scarf an entire fridge worth of food without revving out of REM mode.

Bridget, I said. I swear to you, its not me. Id actually like to find out who it is.

This is the truth. Whoever wrote it seems like someone Id like to get to know.

the twentieth

Pineville High makes the news again! The Pinevile Low e-mail made the front page of the Asbury Park Press . Oh, Ill be so proud to tell my fellow college freshmen next year where Im from.

According to the article, an anonymous concerned mother was doing her daily snoop through her kids e-mail in-box, found it, then forwarded it to all the Pineville powers that be. Of course, this is the same group of technological geniuses who required almost a month to undo the hacked class schedules, so its no surprise that the sender of the e-mail has not been found.

Omigod! Im totally gonna prove its you, Sara hissed.

Id like to see that, I replied.

In related news, the Big Walk-Out was scheduled to begin after homeroom, and it would last as long as it took for justice to be served. Hundreds of PHS students stormed the doors and flooded the parking lot, carrying painted signs saying, TWO WRONGS DONT MAKE A RIGHT! and THE PUNISHMENT DOESNT FIT THE CRIME!

What were these rabble-rousers protesting? The war in Afghanistan? Hell, no.

Listen to their cries of freedom:

WHAT DO WE WANT ? shouted Scotty.

HOMECOMING ! screamed the crowd.

WHEN DO WE WANT IT?

FRIDAY.

It brought tears to Havilands eyes. Tears of despair. Marcus, Len, Bridget, and I watched the Big Walk-Out from Havilands classroom on the second floor. We were the only ones in honors who hadnt joined the cause.

Despite this never-before-seen show of solidarity, the administration stuck to their decision to cancel the homecoming dance for the first time in our schools history. It was schoolwide retribution in response to the refusal of the person behind Pinevile Low to come forward and claim responsibility for the painfully public humiliation it caused our school district.

Anyway, the administrations widespread interrogation proved to be unsuccessful, so Principal Masters resorted to one of his favorite tactics: punishing everyone for one persons crime. Hence, the protest. When it was in full swing, Masters made an announcement over the loudspeaker.

Any student who does not get back to class by the next period bell will be suspended.

No one moved. No one cared.

And will be permanently restricted from all after-school activities.

No one moved.

Which includes participation in all sports, and the big football game against Eastland on Friday afternoon.

I havent seen students run that fast since P.J. tested his lactose intolerance by chugging a milk shake.

We should do something else on Friday, Marcus said, grinning down at the melee.

What do you mean? I asked. What I really meant was, What do you mean by do and we ?

Bridget piped in, Like, we should organize an alternative event to homecoming!

Exactly, Marcus said, nodding his approval.

Like what? Len asked.

Len, I think this is the perfect time for Chaos Called Creation to get out of the basement.

Len turned green. Urn. Flu. Um. Were not ready for a show.

Bridget jumped up and down with excitement.

Whats the point of being in a band if you dont perform? Marcus asked.

We perform.

For the four walls of wood paneling in your basement. But Im talking about people.

I dont know. Um, said Len, glancing in my direction.

I think its a great idea, Len. I cant wait to hear Chaos Called Creation . I said the last few words with an unintentionally sarcastic emphasis that resulted in a spontaneous exchange of looks between Bridget and Marcus. Len didnt notice.

Um. Okay. Where?

Silence all around.

I got it, Bridget exclaimed. Bruisers house.

Groans all around.

Her house is the only one thats big enough, Bridget said. And shes, like, the only person I can think of who will be able to promote the party on such short notice.

Bridget was right. Saras huge oceanfront homestead was the only domicile in the Pineville school district that actually looked like those colossal party houses in the movies. Everyone else threw parties in dark, damp, cramped basements or similarly crowded quarters with inadequate pissing facilities. Bruiser had become quite the party-throwing expert. She knew to set up several booze stations throughout the house so no one would have to wait in line to get liquored up. She knew to put party slipcovers on all the furniture, and to put temporary rugs on the hardwood floors and other high-traffic areas. She knew to lock all her parents valuables in an off-limits room, usually her dads home office because it didnt have a bed, and all beds were always put to use at one of Bruisers parties. So I hear. I had stopped going to her bashes a long time ago.

Youre right. Um. But shell never do it.

She wished death by overdose on Marcus, remember? I chimed in.

Marcus turned to Bridget and said, These two make a perfectly pessimistic pair.

They, like, totally do, Bridget replied.

Len and I just stood there awkwardly, praying they would get back to the original subject. Bridget finally did.

Look, Bruiser will do it because shell, like, be worshiped for rescuing homecoming. Shell find a way to take credit for the whole idea. Be persuasiveyou know, like the way you used to be in your editorials. Only not such a downer.

Me? Why me? Why was the fate of Pineville Highs homecoming weighing heavy on the shoulders of the most antisocial person in the history of the school? Besides Taryn Baker, that is.

Because youre the only one of us she deigns to talk to, Marcus said.

The moment he said it, I knew he was right. Of course, Id have to do it, since I was the only one of us on speaking terms with Saraand thats using the phrase loosely.

Youll just have to, like, kiss her ass a lot.

Lucky me.

Protestors straggled into the classroom, defeated.

Im sorry, Len said.

Yeah, Im sorry I have to kiss Bruisers ass, too.

Um. No. I mean that our plans are ruined. And. Um.

Oh, my tragic fate: Ill never attend a Pineville High homecoming dance. He had no idea how much I didnt give a damn.

Im not crushed, really, I said. We can still have fun, I guess.

We can?

Fun is a foreign concept to both of us. We really do make quite a pair.

Look, I didnt go last year either and I didnt care one bit. I even went out with my mom to buy an anti-homecoming dress

Oops. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I didnt want anyone else in the room to remember the blue shirtdress I wore last New Years Eve, a relic from the Paleolithic era of high-school memory.

Thats it. Um. Well call it the Anti-Homecoming. If you dont mind me swiping your idea.

No, theres no copyright on it.

Um. Copyright. Thats so funny.

Nothing indicates un-funniness more than the phrase Thats so funny unaccompanied by even the quietest peep of legit laughter. Len does this a lot with me.

You can even wear. Um. Your Anti-Homecoming Dress.

Marcus and Bridget nearly fell out of the window when he said that. I almost jumped.

Oh, poor Len. He was the only one in the room who had no idea I sent that dress to the Salvation Army after its one and only wearing. He has no idea that I could never wear that dress again, because it reminded me too much of a night that changed my life, but not in the way I had planned, that it reminded me too much of, well you know. Him.

Theres no need for me to belabor the point, now, is there?

the twenty-first

I need a skin graft. My lips are permanently damaged from the amount of ass-kissing I did today.

Bridget was right. Once I played into Saras ego as the savior of homecoming, she was all for hosting the party. It was not so easy to persuade her to let Chaos Called Creation make their debut.

Omigod! Why should I let Krispy Kreme set a freaky foot in my house?

It always sounds strange whenever someone refers to Marcus by his old nickname. He hadnt dunked any new doughnuts as far as Len knows. Then again, why would Marcus be any more honest with Len than he was with me? Marcus could have banged any number of girls in his spare time and admired their days-of-the-week underwear.

Im waiting for an answer, Sara said, tapping her foot. Why should I let in that freak?

Freak. Freak show. Aha!

Because a band will draw a major crowd to the party, just like the talent show is always SRO every year. Kids will come because of the freak factor. Many will come to see if Chaos Called Creation is any good. Even more will come to see if they suck.

Sara thought about this for a second. While I think my talent show argument was a strong one, I think the real reason she agreed is that she still thinks Im the Mystery Muckraker behind Pinevile Low . Shes afraid that if she pisses me off, Ill write something even worse about her, especially since I have been privy to many things about her that are indeed so much worse than what was already said.

If they suck, Im pulling the plug and putting on some real music.

Then youll let them play.

Yes, she said. They can play in my game room.

Saras house has many superfluous rooms. The Game Room, as she puts it, is a miniaturized version of one of her dads many arcades. It even has a little stage for karaoke. But for the Anti-Homecoming, it would be the platform for Chaos Called Creations debut. The Game Room for the Game Master. How perfect.

Cool, I replied. Ill let them know.

Then she ran over to Scotty and Manda, who took a break from probing each others uvulas to hear her say, Omigod! Im totally saving homecoming. Im throwing the quote Anti-Homecoming unquote .

What the hell is the Anti-Homecoming? Scotty asked.

Then Sara explained how she thought an alternative event for homecoming needed to be planned and blahdiddyblahblahblah. Manda was psyched.

The best thing about it is that I can still wear my fuck-me dress!

Scotty suddenly became very interested in fashion. Fuck-me dress? he said, with a raise of his eyebrows and a knowing smirk. I thought every dress was your fuck-me dress.

Mandas face twisted with insult. Only she is allowed to acknowledge her skankiness. Thats what makes her a powerful female, or so her theory goes. She smacked Scotty straight through to the skull with her notebook. Shut up, you prick.

I guess that after three months together they arent so blinded by sex anymore. Scotty and Manda are starting to see each other for what they really are. The enemy. I cant wait until they break up.

And guys can still wear their suits! Sara said.

Im not wearing a fucking suit, Scotty muttered, almost to himself. And P.J. wont want to, either. P. J. was supposed to be Saras date.

Ooh, honey, Manda cooed, smoothing down the hair she had mussed up only seconds before. But you look so hot in a suit. She lowered her voice, but it was still loud enough to hear. And you know what happens when you look hot

We all know what happens. To think that I helped orchestrate the event that will provide their precoital entertainment tomorrow night. That is, unless they just shed all their inhibitions and have sex at the party, which is really not all that different from the display they put on in the halls every day. Ever since Pinevile Low , Scotty and Manda have been going out of their way to prove to the public thatyes!he can get it up. Its really nasty. They get more action during any one of their four-minute trysts between classes than I will get in my entire life. Im not exaggerating. Seriously. There are a lot of eyewitnessesteachers and students alikewho will back me up on this.

When I think about sex in the Scotty-and-Manda sense, Im so relieved that Im still a virgin. The fact that I havent done the nasty things (and with them it is nasty, because its them) that they have done and continue to do with shocking regularity gives me a sense of peace.