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I took my face away from the window and leaned back against my seat as the bus rounded the corner. If I hadn’t been there to see where the party had once been, I never would have known it was there at all.
School was normal, which is to say soul-crushingly depressing. I sat in class and wrote the lyrics to “Dancing in the Dark” in my best cursive handwriting in the margins of my notebook. I imagined Vicky sweeping into the room, with Pippa stalking in behind her on four-inch heels, and a
I drew a picture of all of this in my notebook. But that was as close as it was going to come to reality. Not least because it was only eleven thirty, so the sun wasn’t setting, and, even if it were, I wouldn’t have been able to tell, because it was raining.
Eventually it was time for lunch. Sophomores are not allowed off campus, and they are not allowed to wander the halls. Therefore, here were my options for how to spend my lunch period:
Option one: Sit in the library and read a book and listen to my iPod, which is basically the perfect way to spend thirty-five minutes of a school day, except that you are not allowed to eat in the library—nor are you allowed to eat in the halls or classrooms—so when I go this route, I am ready to faint from hunger by the time school lets out for the day.
Option two: Sit in Ms. Wu’s classroom and discuss math with her. This is actually a great bargain, since she doesn’t seem to know or care that we are not allowed to eat in classrooms. When I’m with Ms. Wu I get to eat my sandwich without ru
Unfortunately, Ms. Wu teaches during my Friday lunch period. Ms. Wu’s classroom is a good option on Tuesdays. But not on Fridays.
Option three: Sit in the cafeteria, at a table with my friends.
Oh, did I not mention that I have friends now? Did I somehow leave that out? I have friends now. Surprise!
My friends are named Sally and Chava. They are both less popular than me, and I don’t know why, but I hope it’s because they are unbelievably boring. They have only one interest, and that is: what the popular kids are doing.
Sally and Chava follow the popular kids’ lives like soap operas. Brooke Feldstein ca
I must note that Sally and Chava are not friends with Brooke Feldstein. I don’t think they have ever talked to her. They just follow her antics from afar. They are Brooke Feldstein’s silent but adoring fan base.
Today I was hungry enough from walking all night that starving in the library wasn’t an option, and Ms. Wu’s Friday class ruled out that one, so I was stuck with my dear friends in the cafeteria.
The big news of the week was that Jordan DiCecca had broken up with his girlfriend, Laura, for this other girl, Leah. Everyone knew this. But had he cheated on Laura with Leah before breaking up with her? That was the real question.
“He definitely did,” said Sally over lunch. “There is no way Jordan would have broken up with Laura if he hadn’t already tried out Leah to make sure that she’d, you know, put out.”
Chava chewed on her lip, looking doubtful. “He could have just asked her. Like, ‘Hey, Leah, if I break up with Laura, would you have sex with me?’”
“Come on, you know Jordan,” Sally said. We didn’t. “He would want some sort of guarantee on his investment.” Sally bit into a stick of celery. Sally and Chava eat only raw vegetables for lunch because they are trying to lose weight. Then they split a pack of Entenma
“Laura and Jordan were together for more than a year,” Chava said thoughtfully.
Sally nodded. “It was a year in February.”
“That’s forever. This is such a huge change. It’s really sad, you know?”
I could tell she wasn’t kidding. Chava looked like Neil and Alex hearing that we were getting a new sofa. I guess nobody takes change that well.
“You could stage a sit-in about it,” I offered.
Blank looks from my friends.
“You know. ‘We won’t budge from this cafeteria table unless Jordan and Laura get back together!’”
Sally and Chava looked way less enthusiastic about this idea than Alex and Neil had.
“I’ll make protest signs for you to carry,” I went on. “If that would help you any.”
Sally leaned forward, lowered her voice, and said, “I wonder how long he and Leah will last.”
You may wonder how I managed to make these friends. Well, I will tell you: making friends is actually not that hard when you drop every single one of your standards.
Our cafeteria tables are unofficially arranged with the most popular kids sitting in the center. As you work your way out to the edges of the room, the tables become filled with less and less desirable people. Amelia Kindl’s table, for example, is four rows in from the back row. Sally and Chava’s table is in the very outer rim of the cafeteria, directly in front of the bathrooms. In every regard, it is the worst table.
I was out of school for a couple weeks after I cut myself. Which wasn’t even as enjoyable as you might expect, since I spent the entire time worrying about going back to school. When I finally did, and I entered the cafeteria for the first time, I looked for a table where no one would have any clout to order me to move, or to ask questions that I didn’t want to answer, or to make me clean up after them. I sat down at Sally and Chava’s table, and they didn’t tell me to leave, so now they are my friends, apparently.
“I wonder what she’ll wear to the dance tonight?” Chava mused.
“Probably something new,” Sally said wisely. “Leah always gets a new dress for dances.” She turned to me. “Hey, do you want to come over to get ready for the dance together?”
“Um.” I swallowed a bite of my PB&J. “Is there a school dance tonight?”
“The Spring Fling,” Chava replied, and she didn’t even add anything like “Obviously” onto her answer. Chava is a little dumb and impossibly boring, but she is doggedly nice.
“How did you miss all the posters and the a
“Well, that is the goal,” I said.
“Anyway, will you come over before so we can get ready together?” Sally asked. “My mother said I’m allowed to wear body glitter, just for tonight.”