Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [35]
Ten minutes passed before I saw Kallie, by which time I’d begun to wonder if she’d taken a mental health day. Turns out she was just avoiding anyone connected to the band—not a positive development, but certainly understandable. She stood with her supermodel posse, all head flicks and lip biting. Every boy who passed by ogled them, including Finn, who almost walked into me.
I sensed that the conversation I was about to have with Kallie might be delicate, and I wanted some moral support, so I told Finn I needed him to interpret for me. It wasn’t actually a question, so I was taken aback when he said no.
If you don’t help me, you can walk home, I signed, making the stakes perfectly clear.
Finn sighed. “Sometimes I really hate you,” he said. But he followed me anyway.
I knew she had seen me—her full lips straightened into a thin line as I approached—but she wasn’t about to initiate a conversation with someone as hopelessly uncool as me. She even turned away from me slightly, forcing me to stand right in front of her before signing.
Finn looked crushed, his eyes half closed while he relayed my message: “Piper wants to check that everything’s okay.”
Kallie curled her lip. “What are you talking about?”
I signed again.
“The band,” explained Finn. “She wants to make sure there’s no problem.”
Kallie stared at Finn, exasperated. “Why are you interpreting for her? I’ve seen her at band practice. I know she can read my lips.”
Finn looked lost, but all eyes were on me, not him. The modelettes shook their heads disapprovingly, like I’d been lying about my deafness all these years. I wanted to scream.
“I’m done, Piper, okay?” said Kallie firmly.
I thrust printouts of the blogs at her—the glowing praise, the Kallie love-fest. She glanced at the text and handed them back. “So what? I’m done. That’s my final answer.”
I took a deep breath, produced a copy of the contract she’d signed. I pointed to a clause embedded deep on page three, the one that stated no member could leave the band without majority approval, under forfeit of $1,000 fine. Mom said it wouldn’t be legally binding for anyone under eighteen, but I was willing to bet Kallie didn’t know that.
Sure enough, Kallie’s face turned ashen. “No way. You wouldn’t.”
I signed, Yes. I would. People want to see you. My mother is a lawyer. If you leave, she will sue you.
I waited, but Finn didn’t pass along the message. I gave him my death-ray stare, but he returned it with interest, then slung his book bag over his shoulder and skulked away with a shake of his head.
I felt myself redden. “If you leave, Kallie, my mother will take you to court for that money.”
“That’s crazy,” she moaned, but she looked worried.
“No one made you sign the contract.”
Kallie took a deep breath and readied herself for another assault. But when she couldn’t think of anything to say, she began tearing up, right there at the entrance to the school.
I was suddenly acutely aware that our discussion had attracted quite a crowd, most of them gawking at Kallie like she was in the process of spontaneously combusting. Which, in a way, I suppose she was.
“I—I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she cried.
To tell the truth, neither could I, but I didn’t have time to say that, as Kallie was already sprinting toward the girls’ bathroom. And however bad I’d felt the night before, I felt a thousand times worse now.
I tried to shut out the incriminating glares as I shuffled after her. My hand was shaking as I pulled open the restroom door. Thankfully we were the only girls in there, which meant there were no other witnesses as she bit her lip to prevent her whole face from creasing up.