Singled Out (14 page)

After school that day, I went to see Mr. Moesch. I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Luckily, no one else was in the room. “Mr. Moesch?” I said quietly.

“Yes, Miss Dresden?”

“May I talk to you about my test?”

“Of course, have a seat,” he said. “I was surprised at the low score, because you’ve been doing so well of late.”

I explained that the test he had graded was not the test I’d completed. “I know it sounds crazy,” I said, “and I’m sure you have no reason to believe what I’m telling you, but I swear to you, Mr. Moesch, that is not what I wrote.” I needed to drive home my point, so I said, “You must see it, Mr. Moesch. These boys ignore me and want to mess with me. I think they’re trying to be funny, or—”

“Take it easy, Miss Dresden. There’s an easy way to solve this.”

“There is?”

“Yes.” He walked over to me and handed me a blank piece of paper. “I will put a problem on the board. If you can solve it, I will let you retake the test.”

He believed me. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate—”

“Hang on now. You have to remember that it is against the
rules of the school to lie or cheat, and you have sworn to me that you are telling the truth. I am just honoring that code,” he said. “Of course, if you
are
telling the truth, then one of my other students has lied, and therefore has broken the code.”

I shut my mouth while he wrote a problem on the board.
God, I hope it’s something I know. Please, please let me know it.
I waited as patiently as I could for him to finish writing the problem, and to move to the side so I could see it.
I know this. I got this.

I began writing quickly. I handed him my solution and watched him look it over and then give me a nod. “Okay, tomorrow afternoon for the retake. And I will inform the headmaster that something unsettling is going on here.”

I thought quickly and said, “Mr. Moesch?”

“Yes, Miss Dresden?”

“Do you think maybe you could just keep this between you and me for now?”

“Why? Someone has broken the code, and therefore certain procedures must be followed.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, sir, but it would really help me if the boys didn’t know I was given a retake,” she said. “It’s better for me if they think I’m failing. Let them think they got me once and maybe they’ll leave me alone. You know how boys can be, don’t you? You were in school once.”

I could tell by the sad look on his face that he had once been bullied, or been the victim of a prank, or the butt of someone’s joke at school. He knew. He understood. “All right, Miss Dresden. If that is what you want, I will honor your request.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I piled up my books to leave and moved toward the door.

“And, Miss Dresden?” he said.

“Yes, sir?”

“I hear you have guts on the baseball diamond. I’m impressed it has extended to the classroom.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, “and thanks again for believing me.”

Dresden, one, Statesmen jerk-head losers, zero.

As I walked out of Mr. Moesch’s room, I felt the anger building inside of me over what the Statesmen had done. I wanted revenge now more than ever. A crack on the wrist was just not enough. I needed to do something else, something bigger. I would have to just wait for my moment. Eventually, it would come.

A
few days after the math test incident, I was finishing up my afternoon workout in the gym when I heard a commotion outside the gym doors. It had snowed a few inches the night before, and I assumed it was just guys having a snowball fight.

But then something made me listen closer. Maybe it was the look on the other guys’ faces in the gym. Maybe it was the low thud I heard, like the sound of a punch into someone’s gut. I can’t be certain, but something made me race over to the exit door and push it open.

And there they were—Tuttle, Briggs, and two other Statesmen, giving Sam Barrett a good beating. They were about twenty yards from where I stood, taking turns punching him—a blow to the stomach, one to the face—and Sam wasn’t fighting back.

I was torn. I wanted to run out and help him, but that might make things worse. Then they would know he had helped me. Maybe they were beating him up because they already knew. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

My mind raced, but my feet were frozen to the ground. I didn’t know what to do.

Luckily, fate stepped in and decided for me. A car pulled up along the road that ran behind the gym. I didn’t know who
was in the car, but its appearance was enough to scare off Tuttle and his goons. They raced around the side of the building.

Sam sat slumped against a tree. I looked behind me, then back into the gym, and saw the place had emptied out. Everyone had either run out the other side door to watch the fight or vanished so they wouldn’t have to be witnesses. Nobody wanted to speak out against the Statesmen. That would be prep school suicide.

I had on just a t-shirt and shorts, but I ran outside to him. He saw me coming and raised a hand to stop me, covering his face with his other hand. “Get out of here, Dresden!” he yelled.

I stopped a few feet from him. “They’re gone, Sam. Come on, let me help—”

“I said, get out of here!” He climbed to his feet, using the tree for support. With the back of his hand, he wiped blood from a cut on his already swollen lip.

“They did this to you because of me, didn’t they?” I said. “Because you helped me with math.”

He turned away from me and started moving slowly back up the hill toward his dorm. “You don’t know what you’re risking talking to me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just go back inside before you freeze to death.”

I so wanted to help him, but he didn’t want my help. Maybe this wasn’t about me, but in my heart, I knew it was. I stood there, my arms hugging my body to shield myself from the cold. The farther away Sam Barrett got, the colder I became, and for some reason, also angrier.

The car that had driven by during the fight reappeared and pulled up near me as I crossed campus. In the car were two boys who I recognized from Chemistry. I was pretty sure
the driver’s name was Clifton. They both rolled down their windows.
Damn
, I thought,
more Statesmen.

“Hey, Taylor,” said the guy riding shotgun. I thought it was strange he called me by my first name.

I stopped. I was curious. “What?” I said.

“Is he okay?”

“Who?” I asked, rubbing my arms from the cold.

“Sam. Barrett. He okay?”

“Why do you care?” I was both confused and angry. Then I mumbled, “Stupid Statesmen.”

“He’s a good guy, you know. Looked like he got a bad beating.”

I didn’t know if I should trust these guys and, honestly, I didn’t know if he was okay. “I don’t know,” I said coldly.

“Sorry I asked. Didn’t mean to piss you off. Relax, Dresden. We’re not
all
Statesmen, you know.” He rolled up the car window and drove off.

When I got back to the Richards house, I was shaking all over, from the freezing cold weather combined with what I had just witnessed. I ran upstairs and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. I was so panicked and confused. I didn’t know who
not
to trust anymore. I stood under the water, trying to get myself to stop shaking.

But the shaking continued and soon, tears began. The funny thing was that through all of this—losing Justin, losing Gabby, being drugged, knowing I was on borrowed time at school—through all of this crap, this was the first time I had cried. But my head was spinning with questions.
Why were they
beating Sam up? Is it all my fault? And what about those guys in the car? Were they really trying to help Sam or are they just more guys I should watch out for? I wish this whole stupid thing would end. I wish Dad was here.

I threw on my warmest flannel pajamas and got into bed. My hair was still wet from the shower, and it was dripping onto the pillow, but I didn’t care. I called my dad on my cell.

“Hey there,” said a friendly voice.

“Hi, Dad,” I said softly. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just having a cup of joe and watching the news. Is it snowing up there?”

“It’s stopped now, but we got a few inches.”

“Just a coating here, but they’re calling for more by morning.” There was a bit of a pause. “Everything okay?” he asked.

I started to cry. “Just having a bad day. Sorry.”

“What’s the matter, honey? Did something happen?”

I tried to tell him without supplying the details. “It’s lonely, and some days it’s tough being the only girl here,” I said. “None of the guys really talk to me. I feel like no one likes me.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case. I’m sure if you look around, you’ll find friends you didn’t even know existed.”

I thought about Sam. And then I thought about that Clifton guy in the car, and what he said about not everyone being a Statesman. “Maybe,” I said to my dad.

“How about this weekend, Dan and I come up and take you out to dinner? What about Saturday?”

I really wanted him to come. I needed to see someone who cared. But then, without warning, I said, “How about we arrange that meeting I was thinking about, with . . . with Mom?”

“You sure, honey? You seem like you’re pretty shaken up
right now.”

“Yeah, but I figure it can’t possibly make me feel worse,” I said. “And maybe it’ll help.”

“Okay, I’ll give her a call and then I’ll call you,” said Dad. “And until then, how about you call me every night around this time and we’ll talk? If you want.”

“Okay, Dad, I’d like that.”

“I love you, honey. I hate to think of you up there, lonely and crying.”

“You know I’m not a big crier. It’s just today I’m letting stuff get to me,” I said.

“I know. But I feel like you went up there because of me. I feel like I forced you into this situation.”

“You didn’t, Dad. You were right. I needed to do this. I needed to change,” I said. “And honestly, I
do
like it here. I’m learning so much from the pitching coach. Did I tell you he played in the Phillies’ minor league system?”

“Only a few times,” said Dad.

“And I’m finally learning things, too, Dad. I study now, for real. I don’t think I’d ever have done that if I’d stayed at Evansville. I’ll be fine, Dad. I swear.”

“I know you will.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go eat something before I crash, and then I have some studying to do.”

“All right, honey,” said Dad. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Thanks for listening,” I said.

“Any time, sweetheart.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The images of Sam’s beating
kept running through my head. I just wished I knew he was all right. Around 1 a.m., I thought it’d be a good idea to send him a text message. Maybe he would answer, and I could get a few hours of sleep. I picked up my phone and hit “Contacts.” For a minute, I considered exactly what to say. I decided to keep it simple: “R u ok?”

And then came the waiting. I held the phone in my hand for about ten minutes, but nothing. I laid the phone down next to me and waited again. Twenty minutes. Nothing again. At some point, my body gave up and I fell asleep.

But then, at about half past two, a vibration woke me. “I’m ok,” the text read.

I responded right away: “why’d they do it?”

“Not u. I told them I wanted out.”

“why?”

“u know why.”

I paused.
Is he saying because of me? Or because of Gabby and Kwan? Or is it something else entirely?
I changed the subject.

“can we meet and talk?”

“Too risky.”

“what do u mean?”

And then the phone vibrated. He was calling.

“Hi,” I said shyly.

“Hi,” he responded in a soft, tired voice that made my stomach flutter. “I thought it’d be a little difficult to explain all this through texting.”

“Are you really okay?”

“That was nothing, Dresden. You should see the beating you get when you join the club.”

“Sounds like a fun club,” I said.

“I didn’t admit to helping you with math, but they know,”
Sam said. “They saw your text to me after you got an A right before break. I told them you just got lucky, but I doubt they believed me. I think you’ll be much safer if I ignore you.”