Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [6]
As it turned out, that’s exactly what he was doing. They’d just been released from suspension for the day, and a motley assortment of a dozen or so hangers-on had gathered to cheer them. They loitered in the hallway outside the principal’s office, presumably to draw attention to themselves, although the principal never emerged. Maybe he was concerned for his safety.
Sensible guy.
At first I kept my distance, so that teachers emerging from their lounge would know that I wasn’t connected to the motley crew. But after a few minutes I grew tired of waiting. I signaled to Finn that it was time to leave, but he ignored me. I stepped forward and was about to make a grab for him when Josh Cooke glanced up and waved in my direction. He flashed a smile and I waved back enthusiastically, touched that he must have noticed I was one of the last people to abandon Dumb the day before.
Josh saw me waving and looked confused, then amused as he pointed at something behind me. I spun around and came face-to-face with blazingly gorgeous Kallie Sims, in her trademark miniskirt and knee-high brown leather boots. Designer labels flashed from every item of clothing, like sponsors jostling for space on a winning racecar. Of course Josh wasn’t waving at me. Why would any guy notice me when they could be ogling her instead?
Again I signaled to Finn that it was time to go, and again he ignored me. He knew I’d be too self-conscious to call out to him in such a public place, so all I could do was wait while he fawned over the mini-celebs of Dumb. Since he had no more aspirations in life than to get expelled and play guitar in a rock band, they probably seemed like ideal role models.
I think I’d have stayed rooted to the spot forever if Josh hadn’t looked over and waved again, and I hadn’t accidentally waved back again, at which point he (again) signaled to Kallie just behind me, and she responded with that stupid half smile like she’d just accidentally Botoxed her mouth shut—which seemed completely plausible, by the way.
I guess I must have turned even redder than usual, because Kallie looked almost sympathetic as she glanced my way. Maybe she’d heard the rumor about me never having had a boyfriend. Maybe she knew it was true.
I turned away and tried to focus on a small spot of crumbling wall, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from twitching around defensively. Dumb were evidently enjoying their newfound celebrity, and Finn was enjoying their attention. In fact, everybody treated Finn like a long-lost best buddy, like it didn’t matter that he was just a freshman. He even gave their amplifiers a thorough checking out, and it took me a moment to realize they must have purchased new amps, like these things were practically disposable; maybe they were, for parents as rich as Josh and Will’s. I thought of my own situation—friendless at school, dysfunctional home life, freshly emptied college fund—and something just snapped.
Here’s a bizarre fact: When you stride up to a group of people and start signing in exaggerated gestures, conversation stops. It’s completely counterintuitive really, since they could keep talking and it wouldn’t interfere with my signing at all. But I knew they’d shut up, and I knew Finn would be embarrassed. At that moment, both situations seemed ideal.
Car. Now.
Finn didn’t move, wouldn’t even make eye contact.
“What did she just say?” asked Josh, clearly unaware that I could understand him without an interpreter. (After sharing the same classes for the past three years, you’d think he’d have noticed.)
“She didn’t say anything,” said Finn.
That was the final straw. Tell them they’re crap, I signed.
“What did she say now?” pressed Josh.
Finn looked up at me like he truly hated my guts. “She says you’re . . . not living up to