Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [63]
Bridget read my mind. "Can she do this? Can she write about us? Is she like, gonna write about us?"
I couldn’t answer her. I was speechless.
Within a half hour, Manda and Sara had arrived on the scene. It was the first time all four of us had been in the same room together since school let out. Only now we were joined by an elephant named MandabangedBurkeallsummer that stood quietly in the corner while we all ranted and raved about Miss Hyacinth Anastasia Wallace. It went something like this:
Sara: Omigod! I should’ve known. I had a hunch she came from money, too.
Manda: I should’ve known. Virgin Mary? Puh-leeze.
Bridget: I should’ve known. Like, I sort of felt we were being used somehow.
Me: I should’ve known. Her street slang never sounded right.
After hours of Hy-steria, the apex was a hilarious conversation about the ethics of friendship. It went something like this:
Sara: Omigod! How could Hy lie to us like that? She was our friend. Friends don’t lie to each other.
Manda: Grrrrrrr … I can’t stand liars! Liars are the lowest of the low!
Bridget: I’d take the ugly truth over a lie any day. Like, at least you know where you stand.
Manda and Sara: So true!
I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Junior year sure is starting off with a bang. More like a gunshot through the back of the head.
the fifth
I’ve imagined Marcus Flutie in many places.
I’ve imagined him sneaking up on me on my walk home from school.
I’ve imagined him hitchhiking on Route 9 in the rain.
I’ve imagined him in a bar years from now, ordering me a beer for old time’s sake.
I never imagined him sitting in his assigned seat in homeroom this morning.
Or sitting right in back of me in History.
Or English.
Or Physics.
But that’s where he was. Again and again and again. And that’s where he’ll be—because he’s back.
Leave it to Marcus to outdo the Miss Hyacinth Anastasia Wallace scandal. All morning everyone was wondering, Why the hell is the school’s biggest drug addict in our honors classes? Why isn’t Krispy Kreme with the Dregs where he belongs? And why is he wearing a jacket and tie?
Of course, no one would dare open their mouths to ask him. And our teachers were no help. Once they acknowledged him during roll call (Sara D’Abruzzi … Jessica Darling … Marcus Flutie …) they ignored his presence altogether. For his part, Marcus just sat quietly and mysteriously in his seat. He knew that the longer he kept his mouth shut, the more mythological the PHS legend of his return would be. I couldn’t even look at him, let alone talk to him. If I looked at him, I just knew I’d break out into a nervous, neo-Saint-Vitus’ herky-jerky.
Our alphabetical destiny guarantees that he sits behind me in every class, and I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head all day. I could feel it so intensely that I swear he was trying to tell me his story telepathically: I’m back, Cuz. I told you I wouldn’t narc on you. But I didn’t pick up on any signals. By our third silent class together, it was clear that Marcus wasn’t going to say a word to me. I appreciated his stealth and understood that it was meant to protect me. Yet Marcus sitting six inches, yet a bizillion miles, away was bamboo-under-the-fingernails-variety torture. Especially when he wouldn’t stop jiggling my chair with his feet. My seat vibrated all day.
Sara was pissed off at herself for having missed out on not one but two of the biggest Pineville High scandals of all time. Since the New York Times had already scooped her on Miss Hyacinth Anastasia Wallace, Sara took it upon herself to find out everything about Marcus’s return. And by God, if she didn’t redeem herself by getting the lowdown by lunchtime,