Singled Out (8 page)

I shook my head. “Just talking to myself.”

“Hey, Benny!” a girl exclaimed, skipping toward us. Blonde and super preppy, she had “rich girl” written all over her.

“Claire, how are you?” he asked, giving her a hug.

I took my cookie, exited the happy reunion, and sat down at one of the round tables. There were a few other girls there I said hello to, but the music was so loud, it was kind of pointless to say more. I looked at the big clock on the wall. It was 7:25. I’d promised myself, for the sake of the Richardses, that I would stay a whole hour, so I had to hang out for another half hour or so. I scanned the room for something to do and drank my soda. I figured I’d just do some people-watching.

The girls were all very pretty. By the way their nails were done, not to mention their expensive shoes and their occasional diamonds, it was clear they had money. But they weren’t tacky or overdone like some of the girls back home. They looked classy.

A slow song came on, and the couples formed. In the distance, I could see Ben dancing with his friend Claire. That Tuttle guy was across the gym surrounded by a group of his cronies, laughing. They were probably discussing how to get rid of me. I wondered how much time I had left before they tried something.

And then I spotted the other Barrett—Sam Barrett. He was dancing with a girl not too far away from me. He held her at enough of a distance that I could see he wasn’t that into her. She was a lot shorter than he was, and had glasses and long curly brown hair that swayed as they danced. Maybe she was a cousin, or a friend. I would think Sam “The Captain” Barrett could do better than that.

He looked my way and caught me staring.
Oops!
Still, I didn’t look away at first. I stared back for a while, wanting to flip him off or stick out my tongue at him. Or maybe I kept looking his way just because he was gorgeous.

He was still looking at me.
Okay, I have to end this.
I looked to my left and finished my soda.

After a few more minutes of sitting, I had to do something, so I got up from the table and walked over to the back of the gym, toward the trash cans, to toss my soda can. Mr. Sabatini stood in the back, chaperoning and checking his Blackberry. I was going to say hello to him, but I suddenly felt kind of dizzy.
Maybe it’s too hot in here. Maybe I just need some water or air.
I smiled as I passed by Mr. Sabatini and pushed through the heavy exit door. The hall was dim, but I could see the door at the end of the corridor that led outside.

I tried to walk toward it, but with every step I took, I couldn’t make myself go straight. Twice, before stopping myself, I bumped into lockers on the right. I put my arm against them and tried to steady myself. Everything was spinning.
What’s going on?

I sat down on the floor and leaned my head against the lockers, still trying to focus on the door at the end of the hall.
If I could just get up.
I heard a door slam behind me and footsteps approaching. It was too dark to see who was there. All I heard was, “Come on, you’ve got to get up. We have to move.”

And then I completely blacked out.

I woke up to the sound of coffee dripping into a pot. My head was pounding and everything looked a little blurred. My
eyes were dry because I had fallen asleep with my contacts in, so it took a minute to focus. This was not my perfect blue room at the Richards house.

And then I heard someone else in the room. I peeked out from under the covers, afraid to move and let the person, whoever it was, know I was awake.

The last thing I remembered was being in the hallway outside the gym and feeling dizzy.
What in the world happened? Oh my god, someone slipped me a date rape drug!

Suddenly, the person in the room moved into my periphery, and I could see clearly who it was—Sam Barrett. He was sitting on a black desk chair, swiveling back and forth.

I immediately sat up and scowled. “What the hell?!”

Sam grabbed his chest and almost spilled his coffee. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Only then did I realize I was wearing an unfamiliar t-shirt over my black dress, which was riding up around my waist. I pulled the covers up and wiggled my dress down toward my knees.

My head pounded, but I refused to show weakness in front of him. “You better start explaining,” I said.
Oh my gosh, maybe I got loaded and hooked up with this guy. No way! He despises me as much as I despise him.

He rolled his chair next to the bed. He leaned forward, his coffee in one hand, and pushed his hair back with the other. He looked sad, like he was about to deliver some bad news.

“I guess you had a little too much to drink at the dance last night.” His face changed to its usual know-it-all sneer.

“Too much to drink? What? How did I get here?” I said. I didn’t drink anything besides soda.
Or did I?

“You wandered onto my floor and passed out in the hall. I
was going to call for help, but I didn’t want to be blamed for your condition.”

I hated his righteous attitude, like he was so much better than me. I got up, feeling embarrassed, and reached for my black sweater lying on the end of the bed. “If you say so,” I said defensively. “What happened to my sweater?”

“Vomit happened,” he said, pointing at the stain on the front.

My face burned with rage. I couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. I grabbed my puked-on sweater, scooped my black shoes off the floor by the bed, and darted out of the room.

He yelled after me, “You’re welcome!” as I slammed the door behind me. “And you can keep the t-shirt!”

I ran down two flights of stairs and out the exit door at the end of the stairwell. There were three dorms on campus, and I wasn’t sure which one I’d just left. I stood outside in the early morning air and looked around to get my bearings. Once I realized I was standing outside of Nichols, I took the path to my left, because it would lead me back toward the Richardses’ place.

How could I have let this happen? When did I drink something alcoholic? I don’t remember doing that. How could I have let my guard down like that?
As I approached the Richards house, I realized I had been gone all night, and that I was probably in deep crap.

Knowing the Richardses, they had called the police, as well as everyone in the school.
Oh, no. This is it. This is how I’m going to get thrown out of school. Someone must have drugged me. Sam must have drugged me. He drugged me and locked me in his room all night so I couldn’t get back before curfew.
I would just have to explain to Dr. Richards that I had been drugged and held against my will. He would believe me. He had to. Right?

When I got to the Richardses’ front door, it was quiet. Since the sun was just starting to come up, I figured it was probably not even six o’clock. There was no one in the foyer when I stepped inside. I tiptoed up to my room. Maybe I could at least change out of these clothes and appear somewhat presentable before the inquisition. As I crept quietly down the hall, I wondered if I should lie about where I’d been or be honest. If I was going to lie, then where would I say I’d spent the night?

I opened my bedroom door and almost shrieked. There was someone underneath my bed covers. I assumed it was a girl, because I saw long, straight brown hair sticking out on my pillow.
Who the heck is this? Should I wake her up?

I sat in my alcove and stared briefly at her. Then I gently kicked the bed a little bit, hoping that would be enough to stir her. She sat up and looked at me. “Oh, good, you’re back,” she said with a yawn. She pushed off the covers and swung her legs out of the bed. She was wearing a black dress, similar to mine, and had my hair color. It was kind of freaky.

“Who are you?” I asked, keeping a safe distance from her.

“I was playing your body double until you got back.”

“My body double?” I said.

“Yeah. Worked like a charm, too. Dr. Richards was watching TV in the living room, and I walked in the front door and ran up the stairs so quick he never knew the difference.” She crossed the room and examined herself in the mirror.

“So they think I was here all night?”

“Uh-huh. And I better get out of here before they see me,” she said, trying to smooth down her hair.

“Wait a minute. Who told you to do this?”

“Sam. Paid me fifty bucks, too,” she said, slipping on her shoes.

“Sam Barrett?” I asked.

“That’s the one,” she said, smiling. “He’s so hot I would have done it for free.”

Sam paid her to pretend to be me? But doesn’t he want to get me in trouble?
My head was spinning.

“Okay, then, I’m going to go. Cover me, would you?” she said, opening my door.

“Huh?”

“Just stand by the door and let me know if anyone’s coming,” she said.

“Oh, okay.” I stood by my door and watched my double sneak down the wide stairs and out the front door.
Did that really just happen?
I was too tired to think. I peeled off my clothes, throwing them on my closet floor, slipped into my black yoga pants and a clean t-shirt, and climbed into bed. There was no point thinking about any of this now, when I couldn’t think clearly.

Exhaustion won out for the moment.

T
he clock read 10:43 when I woke up. It took me a minute to realize it was Saturday morning, and to remember where I had woken up five hours earlier— in Sam Barrett’s dorm room.

I sat up and tried to figure out what to do.
Should I tell someone what happened?
I got out of bed and hustled down the hall to the bathroom. I had never needed a shower more. I cranked the temperature up and stepped in.

As I showered, I thought about how Sam had said I passed out in the hallway near his room. But my mind refused to believe that story. The last place I remembered being conscious was in the hallway outside of the gym, so how could I have made it all the way across campus, into his dorm, and then up three floors to his room? That wasn’t possible. Someone must have carried me up there.

I shut off the water and wrapped a towel around my hair. And then I remembered something else. I remembered someone telling me to get up. “Get up. We have to move.” But who was it? What had happened to me during the hours I was out? I was afraid to even imagine.

As I got dressed, I considered what to do with the dirty pile of clothes on the closet floor. I took out Barrett’s t-shirt and looked around the room for someplace to put it. I thought
about throwing it away, but I worried that someone might see it, so I stuffed it into the bottom of one of my dresser drawers for the time being. The dress and sweater went into my laundry basket. Today was definitely a good day to do some laundry, so Mrs. Richards wouldn’t find or smell the dress or the sweater.

When I finally got downstairs, Mrs. Richards was in the kitchen. “Hey, Taylor, you’re a little late for breakfast. Would you like to have lunch with Matthew?” she said.

I was starving. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“I guess this is what it’s like to be a teenager, huh? Sleeping ’til noon?”

“Sorry about that. I guess I’ve been working out too much.”

“Oh, no problem. A little extra sleep never hurt anybody. Wish this little guy would sleep in once in a while,” she said, putting a cheese stick in Matthew’s hand. “How was the dance?”

“Uh, okay. Not too painful.”

“You were home early enough.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t really my scene.”

As I wolfed down two grilled cheese sandwiches, Dr. Rich walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, young lady. Or should I say, ‘Good afternoon’?”

“Hi,” I said, still chewing.

“When you’re done with lunch, come see me in the den.”

I nodded as I chewed, but my stomach turned.
Uh-oh. He knows.
I quickly finished the rest of my lunch and made my way toward the den. I figured, why delay the inevitable?

“Taylor, have a seat. I want to talk to you about something.”

I sat down.
Should I say something about last night before he does? Would he believe me this time?

“I received a call this morning from your math teacher.”

A different uh-oh.

“He informed me that you failed your first two quizzes. He also said he checked with your other teachers, and you’re pulling just a C or so in all of your courses.”

I winced. Like I needed this today.

“Now, I know that you are here on a scholarship for athletics, but in order to keep that scholarship, you have to maintain a C average or better in all your courses or, come springtime, you won’t be able to play baseball. And to be honest, they may withdraw your scholarship by the end of this semester, unless your grades improve.”

“Withdraw?”

“Take it away and send you back home.”

I was embarrassed. Dr. Rich had been so nice to me, and I was letting him down. “I’m really sorry, Dr. Rich.”

“Well, you don’t have to be sorry. You just have to figure out what to do about it.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“So make a plan for yourself. Figure out how to bring those grades up, starting right now. Go see you teachers, and sign up for tutoring, but don’t waste any time. Do something now.”