Well, I was the one in the principal's office, so I might as well tell it. Come to think of it, I was the one with Henning on the Senior Weekend. I was also the one who really betrayed Kimber, unlike Deena who's just a confused mass of hormones.
I wasn't confused, I was just self-destructive. I knew I'd catch trouble by hanging out with those Swedish guys, and I wanted to catch trouble. I guess I was suicidal. Who knows?
By the time I found myself in a chair in the Main Office, I'd bounced off rock bottom. I hated Rob for blowing me off in the hallway. I know why he did it. And, yeah, I'd cheated on him with Henning, though not the way everyone thought. But I still hated him. That was the worst moment of my life, standing there at the mercy of those jocks, stared at like a freak. At that instant, I truly wanted love and affection.
I know what you're thinking. Lou came along and gave me what I wanted. You're right. He timed it perfectly. But Lou does that a lot. It's how he got to be a lacrosse star and a prize student and a hunk. Why do you think guys like that have ego problems?
So there I was. It was a windy, rainy spring day, the kind where you think about different ways to die. I looked like the wreck of the Hesperus: raggy denim jacket, wrinkled concert T-shirt, old jeans, wild hair, red eyes. Total scrub.
I watched people come in and out for a while, and chewed at my fingernails. I had to go to the bathroom but I was too shot to bother. Then Mr. Sachs came out of his office and beckoned to me. I got up with a lot of insolence, to show I wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid either. Sachs is a killer. He's short and stocky, with cropped hair and a potbelly. He always wears a white shirt and tie, and reading glasses halfway down his nose.
So I followed the hanging judge into his chambers. He shut the door behind us and said, "Sit down, Martha."
I sat down in this big leather chair by a conference table that butted up against his desk. Ever sit in a principal's office? The whole school is like cinder block and linoleum and acoustic tiles, but the principal's office is panelled, with thick carpeting and heavy drapes and soft lighting and hanging plants. How much can you care about kids in that kind of womb?
Well, Sachs eased into his chair, which was a massive executive jobbie, and he peered at me through those half-glasses. He had a file folder open, with all the reports that were written up on me after the weekend. My intestines were rolling over. Martha the Brave was losing it.
"I'm not going to rehash this situation," he said. "You know what you did. You know it embarrassed the school, and your family, and you."
I kept my eyes down and played little finger games. I could hear the rain blowing against the window beyond the drapes. "Yeah," I said.
"You may have endangered the future of the Senior Weekend."
I shrugged.
"Does that bother you?"
I looked up. "I don't think I endangered the Senior Weekend."
"You don't, huh?" He slid the file away from him with a brusque gesture. "Martha, I have had at least ten phone calls from parents who want to know why we need to take our kids down to Washington to sleep in hotels."
I made an incredulous noise. He plowed right on.
"Don't look shocked. This is a blue-collar district. They're conservative. We have to sell our activities, and sell them hard. These people think kids should be doing reading, writing, and arithmetic all day, every day. For the most part, I agree with that. But I also believe in our co-curricular program. One thoughtless, selfish act like yours jeopardizes that program. That's why people are mad at you. Can you understand that?"
He was punching me out. I had no reserves left at this point. Remember, I had no real home, with my dad an alcoholic and my mom finding herself. Not that Mom was that supportive of me even before she lost herself. But I was drugged out and depressed. It's my insanity defense.
"No, I don't understand it," I said. "I know I wasn't supposed to hang out with those guys after curfew. I know I wasn't supposed to sneak into the bar and have drinks with them. I know I wasn't supposed to walk Henning back to his room. But I don't see where that kills Westfield's image."
"That wasn't all that happened, Martha."
"Yes it was, damn it."
"Watch your temper."
I slammed myself back in the chair. I was suffocating in this office. It reminded me of my shrink's office. "This is so stupid. Some kids lie about me because I'm radical and I don't mousse my hair. And you guys swallow it."
Sachs looked at me with his little drill-bit eyes. "You were seen walking the young man to his room, and going in. You weren't seen coming out. And the hallway duty teacher reported that you never returned to your own room."
"I know." My fists were both clenched. "Man, I've said this a million times. I stayed in Henning's room with Henning and another guy, and we kept drinking. I finally left the room, but I couldn't find my way down the hall. I made it to the ice machine and passed out. I woke up the next morning and by the time I got back to my room, everyone was down having breakfast."
Sachs tightened his lips, which were pretty tight to begin with. "But nobody saw you by the ice machine. Not the whole night. That's pretty unlikely, isn't it?"
"I don't know. Maybe nobody needed ice. But it stinks that you believe the sluts who turned me in."
"Watch your mouth."
"They were sore at me because they were hot for Henning. And they didn't like me because I wasn't a cute little Westfield coed and I wouldn't wear the Senior Weekend T-shirt. Man, you're an adult. Can't you see through people like that?"
Wrong approach. You don't cast aspersions on the principal's psychological expertise. "I can see what I have to," he said coldly. "The problem is, Martha, that you're not just an innocent victim. You've compiled a record of disruption, truancy, and insubordination that stretches back to seventh grade. You've been suspended eight times in the last two years. I have to consider patterns, Martha."
"Yeah? What about my pattern of being ranked fifth in the class? What about my pattern of winning the science fair? What about my pattern of raising money for that kid's heart surgery, or running the Christmas party in the nursing home? How come those patterns don't mean anything?"
"They mean a lot," he said. "They tell me what you could be. The other things tell me what you've decided to be. But none of that really matters, Martha. You compromised yourself and the school. That's what I have to deal with."
So now I was out of the game, with no cards to play. Except one. But forget it. I'd have to tell Sachs that Lou Ross had seen me by the ice machine, at about two o'clock in the morning. And I couldn't. Because Lou had asked me not to, and I couldn't tum him in. First of all, it would be the most cowardly stinking thing I could do; and second, Sachs would peg it as a desperate attempt to get out of being punished.
Actually, I took comfort in my loyalty. I was going to die, taking Lou's secret to my grave. I'd be noble while he remained a snake.
Sachs leaned forward and said, "At Senior Orientation in September, you were told that misbehavior on the Senior Weekend would result in loss of other privileges. So, as of Monday, you will have to surrender your parking permit . . . "
For a second, my heart jumped up. That was it? Loss of my almighty senior parking spot?
But he kept going. " ... and you will not be permitted to attend the Senior Prom. I'm genuinely sorry about this, and none of it is done vengefully. But honors students are expected to follow the same rules as other students, and your behavior was not acceptable. Now, is there anything you want to add, or question?"
I hadn't heard him after the word "Prom." It rammed me in my belly. It paralyzed my limbs. Which was ridiculous. Like, what prom? Rob had walked away from me. I had no date. This was the least damaging thing they could do to me.
But it was everything. I don't know why. Maybe because the Prom was my one lifeline to being sober and straight and pretty and in love and happy. I remembered how phenomenal I felt at the Banquet, discovering Rob, loving my bare shoulders. Yeah, it was inside me, that dream. It's inside every girl. And I'd blown it.
So I stared at his paper clip holder and it glistened because I was crying. I felt myself shudder all over as I clasped my hands together. Finally, they'd gotten to me. Tough little Martha had stood toe to toe with the Big Guys all her life, spitting and snarling and punching. Little Orphan Annie, they used to call me. Now I was just a dirtbag in the principal's office.
I hated Sachs. Sleazy old man, I thought. I bet you're getting a charge out of imagining me with Henning. I bet you wish there were videotapes.
It didn't help. Sachs said, "I know you're upset, Martha. You want to sit in here for a while?"
I shook my head savagely. "Can I go back to class?"
"Sure. But you should pull yourself together."
I looked at him, snuffling and tearing. Pompous ass. If you wanted me together, why did you pull me apart? But I didn't say anything. I was still pretty respectful. I got up and opened the door. The fluorescent lights of the office hurt my eyes. All of a sudden there was a clatter of phones and typewriters and voices. And I could see the rain dribbling down the windows and the wind tossing the trees.
I hulled my way out of the office and into the corridor. I realized I hadn't even gotten a pass back to class. Good. I wanted to be challenged. I stopped in the hallway, turned toward the windows and sobbed like a jerk. But I kept it quiet so nobody would come over and comfort me. A few kids passed by and stared, but they didn't say anything.
So I'd been barbecued. I'd been denied the Senior Prom. It was official recognition of my failure. My body gaped like a screaming wound, and I hurt in every nerve and muscle. I knew if I got into my car I'd drive off a bridge.
See it? Hopeless. Desperate. Empty. Crawling in the pits. I was now going to go to Lou, to tell him this, to try to prevail on his decency, on his sense of fair play, on his code of honor.
But Lou has no decency or sense of fair play or code of honor. So he wouldn't reassure me and do the right thing. What Lou did have at this point was a powerful need for another girl. And what I had at this point was a severe need for love.
So if I went to Lou, there was every probability that he and I would do the wrong thing.
So I went. And we did.
It was even romantic. We met by this lake that is one of Westfield's great attractions. Back in prehistoric times, it was a summer resort for Italian people from Brooklyn. Now there's developments all around it and it's polluted. But it's a great hangout for kids.
So we met at the lake at about four in the afternoon, which is too early for most of the crowd to be there. We chose a little beach, mostly pebbles and dead grass. I skimmed rocks across the gray water of the lake. Nasty clouds slid across the sky, and a cold wind slammed my back.
Lou stood next to me, his hands jammed in his jacket pockets. His face looked blue-white. He has a beautiful profile. Like a fashion ad. I'd always put him down as a typical prep, and I'd always thought Kimber was a fool for going out with him. I knew he was brilliant and he was easy on the eyes, but mostly I dismissed him as an establishment stooge.
But now I was vulnerable. I told him what went on in Sach's office. He listened. We didn't look at each other. He just stared out over the water.
"So what do you want me to do?" he asked.
"I don't know. You saw me by the ice machine."
He sighed, real tense. "You want mes to tell Sachs I saw you?"
I shrugged. "I know you can't do it, Lou."
Lou kind of picked up his chin and breathed in. His jaw pulsated. We could hear cars humming by on Market Road. My heart was fluttering, and I didn't really know what I wanted to happen.
Lou turned to face me. "If you really want me to tell Sachs, I'll tell him. I don't want you to hang."
You students of how to make it in a wicked world, take note. See what he did? He didn't get huffy and say, "Look, Martha, I can't get myself into trouble." He didn't get virtuous and say, "But Andrea's reputation is at stake." An amateur would have said those things.
Not Lou. He turned the screws on me. Now, was I going to let him destroy himself? No way. Lou understood the teenage code better than anybody. I said, "I'm not asking for that, Lou. I'm really not. I just don't know what to do."
His eyes got soft and caring and he put his hands on my shoulders. I was wearing my stiff denim jacket, so he couldn't transmit a lot of tenderness, but his touch went through me like high voltage anyway. "I'll do what you want me to do, Martha."
I nodded and sniffled away tears. "It doesn't matter. It wouldn't do any good."
He gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah, you're right about that. Sachs would say that my sins don't excuse yours."
"Probably."
"What a pisser. Half a million bucks in drug deals going down every day and Sachs goes after you for giving Westfield a bad image!"
"I got the publicity," I said. "The dealers don't."
"And that's what matters, man. The dealers might come after Sachs and shoot his kneecaps."
That made me laugh through my tears, and that gave Lou an excuse to gather me in for a hug. And oh, man did I need a hug. They've done research on hugs, you know. They do things to your body, release some kind of chemical or something that makes you feel better. Well, Lou released my chemicals. I hugged him back and I buried my face in his neck. The wind pounded us and rain spattered down.
"I'm sorry," I blubbered. "I don't usually fall apart."
"Bull," he said. "Everyone falls apart."
He kissed my hair and rubbed my back. He'd snowed me. He'd let me know that I was going to twist in the wind while he kept his reputation unstained, and the way he'd done it, I was falling in love with him. What a flimflam man. Most likely to run the world.
It was all over by then. I looked up and he looked down. His eyes went soft like cheese melting. That's the kiss signal. I was sucked up like Dorothy into the cyclone, and I shut my eyes and opened my mouth and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him with Mach 5 passion.
And that's where I'll fade out. Want to know how I felt that night? Forget it. Guilt about Kimber, overlaid with love for Lou, overlaid with guilt about Rob, overlaid with hatred of Sachs. I'm shocked I didn't fragment into six personalities.
But I didn't have much time to get introspective. Because, like I said, the lake is a big hangout. And Lou and I were observed. And it all hit the fan.