The Reinvention of Moxie Roosevelt (20 page)

“I hear that,” Spinky said. “Like when I had my eyebrow pierced.”

I hugged her.

“Exactly like that, Spinky,” I said.

“There’s Haven.”

Haven was sitting under a tree by the side of the auditorium, her long brown hair spilling out of a wool hat, looking peaceful and expectant, as if Buddha himself might descend on a moonbeam and scoop her up into the twilight at any moment. But instead of disappearing into nirvana, Haven caught sight of me and waved. And I noticed she wasn’t alone.

I gave Spinky’s arm one last squeeze, took a breath, and walked over to them.

“Reagan. Hi. I don’t know if you were at the thing just now, but—”

“Technically, attendance was required for new students,” Reagan said. She was looking at her hands. I glanced over at Haven, who smiled and mouthed, “Hi.”

“Oh, right, okay. I won’t keep you, I just . . . what I said, about being sorry. I really meant it.”

Reagan remained fascinated with her hands, and I turned to go. If I’d learned anything, it was that there was nothing I could say that could make Reagan change her opinion of me.

“Wait,” Reagan said. I saw now that she was holding something in her hands, which she carefully handed to Haven. Then she pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of her pocket and held it up in her mittened hand for me to see.

“What is it?” I asked.

“An e-mail from Julius Severay, saying he’ll be an honorary advisor of my animal rights club and he’ll put a link to it on the Global Wildlife Coalition.”

“Reagan, that’s amazing!”

“Your mom really does know him. You really did ask her.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That part was true. Listen, I am SO sorry about the sea cows . . . about everything . . .”

“Julius Severay is a legend,” Reagan said, staring at the paper. “This is huge. This is going to make a difference.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “I’m really glad.”

“Outstanding,” said Spinky. She was beaming, now that peace had returned to our little group.

“Now we need a terrarium,” Reagan said.

“For . . . for the e-mail?” I asked.

Reagan pointed at Haven, who was holding both hands out in front of her like she was begging for a bit of bread.

“Meet Siddhartha,” Haven said. “Reagan let me name him.”

Spinky and I peered into Haven’s hands. A tiny turtle sat motionless in her palms.

“I was walking Sage’s parents to their car with her, because they wanted to take her to Pizza World,” Reagan said, “and I found him halfway across the blacktop. Do you know how many cars are pulling out of that lot right now? He never would have made it.”

“Wow, he’s gorgeous,” Spinky said. “Are we going to keep him?”

“We can’t keep him,” Reagan admonished. “He belongs in the wild. But I was thinking maybe he could hang with you and Moxie until we sort out a good place to release him.”

“We’d love that,” I said quickly. “I have a shoebox that would work until we can get something better. Siddhartha will be safe with us.”

“I know that,” Reagan said. She glanced at me, then returned her attention to the little turtle. I was learning enough about Reagan to guess that there was going to be no tearful hugging session right now—we would not be sitting up all night braiding each other’s hair and giggling. But we were okay.

“Let’s go then,” I said. “Let’s get Siddhartha into his bunk—he’s probably stressed out.”

“Let’s just pick some grass for him, so he has some familiar smells around,” Reagan said.

We were all three bending down to pull handfuls of grass when someone called out.

“There they are now—hey Spinky, Moxie!”

Our proctor, Kristen, was walking down the path, her hand on the shoulder of a girl I didn’t recognize.

“Your Worthiness,” Spinky called. “How might we assist you?”

“Very funny.This is Danni, your new roommate. She just got in before dinner—I left you guys a note.”

Apparently Spinky had gotten her information wrong. This girl was about as goth as a Powerpuff Girl.

“We were getting ready for the show,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Danni.”

“Hi,” said the girl. “Hey, I just saw you onstage. You’re the Moxie.”

“I am,” I confirmed. “I am the Moxie.”

She was a vision of sorts, in perfectly pressed jeans and a pink Lacoste shirt, collar flipped up, under a green down vest. She had large brown eyes and golden brown hair pulled back by a velvet headband. She looked like she’d just come from lunch at the yacht club. “And I am the Spinky,” Spinky said.

“Spinky? Is that your real name?”

“As real as it gets,” Spinky replied. “I heard you were totally goth. And that you made quite an exit.”

Danni laughed. “Oh god, goth was
so
last year,” she said. “And yes, I went to the science lab with a fever and ended up passing out on the floor. Mono is so contagious, they ended up sending me home.”

That’s
what had caused the mysterious departure of Dannika Sorenson? Everyone will be so disappointed, I thought. People prefer window-shattering explosions and escaped killer viruses to simple truths.

“Danni, your parents are waiting in the administration office,” Kristen reminded her. “I just thought I’d introduce you, since we were walking by. I’ll bring Danni back up to the room before check-in.”

Danni gave us a little wave, and I watched her walk off, her brown ponytail bouncing in tandem with Kristen’s blond one.

“I guess we don’t have to worry about Marilyn Manson posters,” I said cheerfully as the four of us walked toward Sage.

“Hey, hang on, people,” Spinky said. She pointed up to third-floor Sage at Haven’s window. “Behold.”

Two strings of silver wire had been slung through the little hooks that kept the windows from pitching out all the way when they were cleaned. The wires met halfway down the window and were wrapped around a bronze object that gleamed in the moonlight like the Holy Grail.

“You did it!” Haven exclaimed. “My incense burner!”

“It’s a triumph of physics,” Spinky said. “I even tried it out.You can drop the incense in, and the updraft brings the scent right back into the room. Plus, I had Kristen take a look. Miraculously, it doesn’t violate the fire code.”

“Thanks, friend,” Haven said. “You rock.”

“I do what I can,” Spinky said modestly. “Let’s go up, and I’ll show you how to reel it in if you want to clean it.”

“Guys, what’s going on in the archway?” Reagan asked.

She pointed toward the stone passageway that separated the quad in front of Sage from the faculty parking area on the other side. A group of girls had gathered there, and a few of them were taking pictures.

“I hope nothing’s wrong,” Haven said.

“I hear laughing,” I said. “Should we go look?”

“I’m taking Siddhartha upstairs,” Reagan said. “Turtles don’t like cold. Or crowds.”

“I’m going inside too,” Haven said. “There’s a
Poltergeist
marathon on the Haunting Channel and I want to catch some of it.”

I smiled at Haven. When it comes to personalities, one size definitely does NOT fit all.

“We’ll be up in a minute,” Spinky said. Haven pulled the heavy door open and held it for Reagan, who was holding her hands in front of her like she was carrying one of the crown jewels.

“Let’s go see what all the fuss is about,” Spinky said.

We made our way into the archway, where about fifteen girls were standing around staring at the parking lot. I instantly saw what had captured their attention—a white stretch Hummer limousine of revolting and improbable proportions occupying three faculty spots.

“Ew,” I said. “Thank goodness my mother isn’t here—she’d freak out if she saw that thing. She’d be homeschooling me by now.”

“How do you park something like that?” Spinky wondered. “It must be like trying to dock an ocean liner.”

I though I’d seen enough when three people pushed past me, enveloped in a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume. I caught sight of an unmistakable profile as they passed. Lockwood Southington, with a tall, nervously thin blond woman in a turquoise tweed pantsuit and white pashmina wrap, and a girl, hanging her head down so low her features were mostly invisible. But not to me.

“Oh no,” I said.

“What?” Spinky asked. “Are you allergic?”

I guess she meant the perfume. I shook my head. There was no point in keeping the secret now.

“I think those are Kate’s parents,” I said.

Spinky squinted at the Hummer.

“What? Where? Do you see a police car?”

I shook my head.

“Her dad isn’t a cop, Spinky. He’s a hotel magnate—a billionaire. The Lockwood Southingtons. They’re famous for being rich. Kate is one of
those
Southingtons.”

“Uh-oh,” Spinky said. “Not the background in law enforcement we were expecting.”

“I have a feeling
she
wasn’t expecting them at all,” I said.

The inevitable moment arrived. Everyone was stopping to look at the Southingtons. Half the school had probably already seen Kate’s parents. What was going through her mind?

I thought about it for a second. A person can go two ways after being publicly humiliated. You can be psyched that it’s someone else’s turn to be in the spotlight, or you can feel much worse for them than you might have thought possible. I was feeling truly dreadful for Kate Southington.

I realized Spinky was staring at me.

“Did you know?” she asked. Then she whistled under her breath. “That’s what she thought you told me. You knew, didn’t you?”

I shrugged.

“And you didn’t tell—even when she came at you like that.”

I shook my head.

“It just would have looked like I was trying to get back at her. And if you think about it, Spinky, insane as it seems now, I can understand how she wanted to pretend to be somebody else.”

“Yeah, you said a mouthful,” Spinky replied, casting a discreet look toward the flashy couple. “Listen, let’s wait for her while she packs those people into their limo. She’s going to need some friendly faces after her family takes off.”

“You wait,” I said. “I’m probably the last person in the world she wants to see.”

Spinky laughed. “I think her parents are ahead of you on that list, Mox. Wait with me. If she tells you to buzz off, then you can. But the girl could probably use some friends around now. I think you might be a much more welcome sight than you think.”

We stood off to one side of the archway on the parking lot side, stamping our feet to keep warm. Kate had pulled open one of the Hummer doors, and was looking at her feet as her parents continued to stand there. A uniformed driver appeared, looking flustered that one of his famous charges had performed his door-opening labor. Kate’s father was talking, and her mother was smiling at the students who were still standing around, like she was having her picture taken for
People
magazine.

“I just wish I could understand why she started hating me so much in the first place,” I said. “But she hated me on sight, before she thought I was going to tell her secret. She went through the stuff in my room—that’s how she found my Personality Log. I guess she always planned on using it against me eventually. I still don’t get it. I didn’t even put her in the book.”

Kate’s mother now climbed daintily into the limousine, which I thought something of an accomplishment given her precarious, dangerously high heels.

“Maybe,” Spinky said thoughtfully, “that was part of the problem. With her regular-person identity, she didn’t even rate a mention in the Personality Log. Or maybe she just saw something in you she didn’t like.”

“What?” I asked.

“A person trying to reinvent herself. My granny says sometimes the people that bug us the most are the ones who have faults we’re secretly afraid we have too.”

I considered what Spinky had just said as Lockwood Southington got into the limousine. As soon as the driver closed the door after him, Kate ducked her head and walked briskly toward the archway. She probably felt like half of Eaton had just seen the contents of her underwear drawer. I kind of knew how she felt.

Spinky was right. Kate and I, in our own bizarre way, were variations on a similar theme.

Kate almost walked right past us, head down, moving fast, but then she caught sight of Spinky.

“Hey,” Spinky said. “Moxie and I are going to go raid the vending machines for some Twinkie therapy in our room.Want to come?” She said it casually, with no acknowledgment of what we’d all just seen, or the enormous SUV that was now navigating through the stone gates at the parking lot exit.

Kate hesitated, and took in my presence with a quick glance.

“Maybe some other time,” she said to Spinky.

We made eye contact for the briefest of moments before she started moving away. There was nothing friendly in the look, but the raging hostility was gone. It was as if Kate had recognized the thing we had in common, and it had taken the venom out of her sting. We weren’t going to be friends, but we didn’t necessarily need to be enemies either.

“See you later,” Kate said to Spinky, and she hurried off toward the Sage entrance.

“We tried,” Spinky said. “I think she’ll be okay. I’ll check on her later. So how many quarters do you have?”

“How many quarters do I need?”

Spinky gave me her best leprechaun grin.

“How many Twinkies can you eat? Remember, it’s Twinkie
therapy
. The more you eat, the more therapy you get.”

And suddenly I realized I was starving. I could think of nothing better at this moment than retreating to the third floor of Sage to eat Twinkies with my strange and wonderful roommate. We probably made an odd-looking pair—me my usual unremarkable self, and Spinky with her dog collar and combat boots and the rest of the armor she wore every day.