There’s a rush of fluttering papers and scraping chairs as the class breaks for lunch. Violet gives me a knowing look from across the room and then goes to join Gretchen and Alison. I feel a stab of jealousy, but part of our cover is that Violet and I won’t hang out together at school. I follow the crowds of kids to the cafeteria.
I sit at my usual table near the door. A number of people are already lined up at the center table, waiting to take a bowl of banoffee pie. It’s the same as before—the goths, the sports crowd, the geeks. My heart lurches as Gretchen pushes her way to the front, flanked by Alison and Violet.
But if anyone was expecting another laugh-in, they’re in for a surprise. One of the goth girls—tall and skinny with dark black eyeliner—elbows Gretchen out of the way. “There’s a line, you know,” she says tersely.
I hold my breath as Gretchen turns to face the girl, craning her neck. “What did you say?” she challenges.
The tall girl snorts. Two of her pale-faced friends come up on either side of her like twin phantoms. “Wait your turn.”
“Get over yourself,” Gretchen says. Her face has a strange grayish tinge to it… Is she sick?
The tall girl glances at her two friends, glares at Gretchen, and gives a little snort. “You know what?” she says, flicking her hand. “You go ahead. Be my guest.”
Gretchen gives her a fake little PTA princess smile. She takes a big goopy piece of pie. Everyone is watching as she holds the plastic spoon to her nose, sniffs it, then takes a bite.
“Hah,” the tall girl says. “You’re going to get so fat.”
The last word seems to echo around the room. For what seems like an eternity, no one speaks, or even breathes.
If there’s a word in the English language for the color of Gretchen’s face, then I’m sure I don’t know it. At first, it turns kind of pink and spotty like she’s been scratching a rash or something, but then it immediately turns a shade of greenish gray like pea soup left in the fridge too long. The spoon in her hand drops to the floor. Everybody turns to stare as her cheeks get all full and puffy, and her eyes bulge out from her face. “Watch out,” Violet cries. But before anyone can even react, Gretchen’s mouth opens and a volcano of vomit erupts, flying across the table and landing in a slick, brown mess all over the floor.
There’s a collective gasp of horror. And then the tall goth girl shrieks, “Oh, gross—it’s Retchin’ Gretchen!”
“Retchin’ Gretchen.” The words move through the cafeteria like a river. There’s the odd groan and trickles of laughter, and a growing sense of mayhem. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Violet sneak out of the room. I get up and run after her.
Outside the cafeteria, I slump against the wall. “What have we done?” I sigh at the same time she blurts out, “Our lovely pie!”
“That was so awful,” I say, not sure whether I feel like laughing or crying. “We never should have given out free samples. I mean…do you think Gretchen’s okay?”
Violet shrugs. “I think so. And it wasn’t our pie that made her sick—she had a stomachache earlier.” Her eyes grow wide. “Retchin’ Gretchen.” Laughter sputters from her mouth.
The cafeteria begins to empty in a mass exodus.
“I’ll see you after school, okay?” Violet says.
“I don’t know…” I begin walking down the hallway so no one will see us talking. Now that our pie has humiliated Gretchen, she’ll want to know who’s responsible. How could I ever have allowed myself to get into this situation?
“Come on, Scarlett!” Violet says.
“Look,” I say, “I can’t do this anymore. If my mom finds out—”
“So that’s it then?” Violet interrupts. “You’re just going to let her win? Like you’ve been doing all along?”
I whirl around to face her, my anger boiling. “You just don’t get it, do you? And luckily for you, you never will.”