Chapter 12

the superintendent’s secretary is on the phone, but she eyes us and gestures to the seats against the wall. Q and I sit and look around. It’s so businesslike and sterile that it doesn’t even seem connected to the school. Except for the enormous lax bro team pictures turned posters, and the accompanying logo: is the warrior spirit in you?

I sure as hell hope not.

“Can I help you?” the secretary asks, setting down the phone and writing a message, not looking up.

Quinn nudges me. “We would like to see Dr. Philmore,” I say.

“Do you have an appointment?”

My face burns. “Well, uh, no, but it’s important and just came up, so, no.”

The secretary sets down her pen. She has the severe lips of someone who does not enjoy people. “I’m sorry, Dr. Philmore is in a meeting. May I take a message?”

She’s not the slightest bit sorry, and there’s no way we can leave a message. This was a complete waste of time. I stand and a second later, so does Q. “That’s all right. Is there a better time for us to come back? Possibly schedule an appointment?”

The secretary stares at us. “No. He’s a very busy man. Issues at each school are first dealt with by the principal. Do you see any other students here?” She grabs her pen again. “Names?”

“I, we, don’t have a message. We’ll do what you said, talk to Mr. Callaghan. Thanks,” I say.

“Names,” she says as if I haven’t spoken.

“Like I was saying—”

“You are here during school hours,” she cuts me off, “so you’d better give me your names so I can contact Mr. Callaghan and let him know who you are and that you are here. He will decide if there will be any punishment for truancy.”

“Shit,” Quinn whispers and the secretary snaps her head in his direction.

“Excuse me?”

Quinn doesn’t look at her. He coughs. “I’m sorry, I’m Andrew Alva and this is Dennis Gilbey.”

I feel light-headed. What is he doing?

“Mmm,” is all the secretary says as she writes down our “names.” When she finishes she says, “You may go now.”

We climb back into Quinn’s car. “So, Alva, what the hell was that about?”

Quinn backs out. “There’s no way I was giving her our names. Sure, if she calls Callaghan he’ll know it wasn’t his evil sons, but he’ll have to guess who we really were.”

“Yeah, it’ll take him forever to figure that out once his secretary says, ‘This really pasty but jacked kid, and his ogre friend.’”

Quinn doesn’t respond. I sit in the silence as he drives and can’t fathom how bad this is going to get.

“You really think I look jacked?” he says as he parks.

“Yeah. You don’t?”

Quinn shrugs.

“There’s no hope.” I open my door. “I do look like an ogre, and we’re going to get killed because of what your jacked ass just did.”

Quinn climbs out and stares at me across the roof. “I’m sorry,” he says, but walks away like usual, leaving me to huff my way into school, late, without an excuse. Although, I do huff a little less.

After I get my pass, I take my time. I have no interest in history, but what am I going to do, cut after being late? Up ahead, the chronically tardy slackers shut lockers or slide toward class, sipping coffee. Taleana is one of them. I pass and she tsks.

“I’ll get the Shop-Vac and needle. You won’t even need to pay me. That lipo will so be worth it.” She cracks up and so do the rest of the kids with her. I wish I got that comment on film.

I round the corner and my classroom sits just up ahead. I picture me entering and having to stand in front of the room to give the pass to Mrs. Olmstead. In my mind, she has to cut her lecture and deal with me, which will piss her off, and as much as the class will be half-alive, someone’ll make a crack, and then she’ll get more pissed and assign extra work, and somehow it will all be my fault for being fat, for being late, for just being me.

I head into the bathroom and sit in the handicapped stall. It’s the only one I ever use. I just need to get my head straight.

I pass the hour scrolling through Twitter, not even really reading anything, just distracting myself. I should have responded to Ella, but I can’t now.

The bell rings and I swallow and feel enormously full.

• • •

PE is the same shit, different day. Except Gilbey watches my every move while we play this stupid-ass game called “hockey tag.” Since I can’t stickhandle the puck, I’m “It” immediately and am stuck bumping into kids for the rest of class and never once stealing their pucks. Gilbey purposely weaves toward me and puts his puck within reach. It’s an obvious challenge, but I don’t take it. He laughs and moves on only to pop up again and again.

In the locker room, I wait out the class but Gilbey sticks around and follows me into the hall at the bell. He doesn’t say a word, just laughs that twisted sound of his. I’m sweating so bad I get goose bumps. Or maybe those are just from fear?

Text from Quinn: G, turkey sandwich w/mustard not mayo. Apple or banana.

I get my food and Ollie appears and chuckles. “Man, stress makes me eat more. Not you?”

“I had a date with a brownie last night, if you know what I mean?”

Oliver chews his sandwich, dripping with mayo. “One of the best girls I’ve ever dated. She only agreed to get with me, though, after I’d already stuffed my face.” He grins a knowing look that makes my loathing feel like a side dish.

“She’s filthy that way, but if that’s the price you have to pay to get her, well, it’s worth it.”

Ollie laughs and smacks the table. “I like you, Greg. You get this shit.” Then he opens his mouth but immediately shuts it. His eyes go wide and he tries to motion with his hand, but it just flops back to the table.

“What is it?”

“Me, you little fuck.” Alva slides into the seat at my side.

My mouth goes dry. “What’s up?”

“I know that you, your inflatable raft here, and that douche Quinn have been working out. What I want to know is, where’s the change? You’re still disgusting.”

I don’t speak but do feel my lunch coming back up.

“That’s fine, don’t talk. I’ll just fill in the blanks for you.” Alva clears his throat. “I also know that you and Quinn stopped in to see Philmore this morning.”

My heart seizes and I look over Alva’s shoulder at the defibrillator.

“Surprised? Don’t be. There isn’t a fucking thing that goes on at this school that we don’t know about. Shit, in the entire town.” He leans closer. “I also know because of how close that shithole of a gym where you work out is to us, that you probably have questions about what we do. Let’s hope for your sake that for once, you keep your fat, fucking nose where it belongs: out of other people’s business.”

My mind goes in too many directions for any clear thought, but I manage to say, “And if I don’t?”

Alva draws even closer, as if he’s a snake trying to wrap around my body. “You know what I’m going to say, so do I really have to say it?”

“Yeah, you do,” Ollie pipes up.

Ollie’s staring at Alva as hard as he can. But Alva just laughs.

“Fine. I’ll make your life so miserable you’ll want to kill yourself. Unless you already feel that way. Then maybe we’ll just push you to do it.” He claps my back hard enough that I feel the welt rising as he walks away.

“You okay, Greg?” Ollie’s voice sounds as scared as mine.

“No. You?”

“Greg?” Ella’s voice. She’s between our table and the entrance to the cafeteria. I start to smile at her but freeze. Just beyond her is Callaghan.

Ollie speaks out the side of his mouth. “Go. See her. I’ll distract him.”

“’K.”

Ella shrugs but I just keep moving forward with Ollie at my side.

“Mr. Callaghan?” Oliver says, and Callaghan takes his eyes off me for a moment, long enough for me to slip to Ella.

“So?” she says.

It takes a moment to get my brain to transition to her, but I manage. “So, yeah. Yesterday. I got caught up with Quinn and Oliver.” I point toward Ollie, who sounds like he’s talking a mile a minute about some new school club.

“You said that.”

“I did? Shit, sorry.”

She shifts her weight. “I just assumed it was with them. Sorry, I’m not trying to be a bitch, it’s just, what the hell, Greg? Blowing people off is rude. You could have texted.”

“Right, right, but I don’t have your number.” I laugh like it’s hilarious, but Ella just stares at me.

“So put me in your contacts.”

I fumble with my phone.

Ella gives me her number, and then asks, “So what were you doing? Still working out?”

Oliver is no longer speaking. I hear him coughing but do not turn around. I know Callaghan is there, listening. If I were smaller, Ella might see him, but I’m so wide he’s eclipsed. “Working out, like you thought, but Quinn got sick and we had to get him home.”

“Really? Is he all right?”

I can feel Callaghan on my back. Shit, maybe this is amusing for him, listening to me trying to talk to a girl.

“Yeah, stomach bug or something. He thinks it might be something he ate.”

Callaghan cracks a step to my side. Ella jumps and I feel like I might piss myself. “Miss Jenner, if you don’t mind, I need Mr. Dunsmore for a moment.”

Ella says, “Sure,” but since he wasn’t really asking, it’s not necessary. I see Ollie move to her. I hope he doesn’t say too much.

Callaghan angles me toward the wall and looks straight into my eyes. His are gray and open so little it’s as if he’s just woken up. “Why did you and Mr. Casey go to Dr. Philmore’s office this morning?”

“I, uh, wanted to.”

Callaghan waits and leans in, just like Alva. “I could suspend you for what you did, using someone else’s name like that. There are security cameras there, Greg. I figured someone with your interests would have figured that out.”

Shit, he’s right. “I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”

“Oh, I know that. Because if you have anything you need to talk about, you come to me. And if you don’t, I’ll know anyway. Think about that.” Then he turns on his heel and is gone.

Ella and Ollie come to me. “Greg, what was that all about?” Ella asks.

I look quickly at Ollie. He seems to understand what I’m looking for from him. “My project. Apparently Blint’s been talking to him. He was just wishing me good luck.”

Ella looks shocked. “Wow, that’s so not like that creep, but good for you.” I brace for a fat joke. None comes.

A pit opens up inside, deeper than the one I try to stuff with food. This is all too much at once. I’m not good at holding things together. At some point, either I will break something, or I will just break.

And then they will have won.

• • •

We’re presenting our trailers in Blint’s class, which I totally forgot, but it’s probably good because I’m scared shitless of the reaction. We’ve already watched half from the class, and they’ve either been terrible or halfway decent. The good topics have ranged from small businesses in the area getting started, an inside look at the police force, and an account of one kid’s grandfather’s tours in Vietnam. The shitty ones were about some handbag company, the cheerleading squad (Taleana’s), and that stupid show on the Jersey Shore.

Blint gave us all these rubrics to complete for each one, I think in an effort to keep us awake. There’s no way in hell he’s actually going to use these for grades. Then again, he’s barely awake, stuffed up on his stool, appearing to take notes. He could just be doodling.

“Ella?” Blint says, and Ella rises. I’d like to whisper “good luck,” but I’m not sure how she’d react.

She loads her trailer and the opening image is frozen on the projection screen. A collage of students, but with dividing lines that look like concrete and barbed wire, a concentration camp. I don’t know how she did that, but I need to know. Someone near me says, “So fucking creepy,” and I’d like to strangle her, but Ella begins.

“My documentary is about the cliques here at school. I’m interviewing as many as will let me, and filming them when they hang out and come into contact with other cliques, especially ones that don’t get along. My aim is to see whether we’re all really that different, or truly more the same than we realize.”

That right there is the kind of eloquence I’m going to need with Callaghan. I’m taking notes.

The initial image rumbles like an earthquake has hit and then a piece of the collage pops forward and takes over the screen. It’s of the chic girls, the rich and beautiful. The clip plays. Lots of laughter and perfect teeth. “It’s not our fault that our parents have a lot of money, so I’m not going to walk around being all ashamed of who I am. Why should I? Would you ask some hot girl to not be happy about her boobs?” The girl laughs and looks like a model. “Oh, wait, that’s us, too.”

The scene slides back into the puzzle and another pops up: the goths. “Yeah, we don’t fit in. That’s the whole point. We dress this way to make a statement about not being a part of anything.” Ella asks a question off camera that is inaudible. I make a note to tell her to type the questions for subtitles. “I guess. Sure, we’re a part of us, but that doesn’t mean we’re accepted.” The girl sneers and her face slides back behind her barrier. This is the most intriguing piece so far, even better than mine.

Another brick, the bros, Alva as spokesperson. He smiles at the camera but does not blink, just stares, and it’s unnerving. “Yeah, of course we’re the best here. We’ve won State the past five years in a row and have been in the top five for the past fifteen years.” He pops his collar. “And beyond the field, we’re everything. Coach Mallory’s donated more to this school than anyone else, all because we have the most successful tournament in the state, and because he’s the embodiment of what it means to be a Warrior. Name one business that doesn’t have our roster and schedule in its window. You can’t.” Again, another question from Ella. Alva’s smile falls a fraction. “Sure, people don’t like us, but that’s just jealousy. I’d be jealous of me if I was someone else.”

Ella’s trailer finishes with scenes from the nerds, the jocks, the gays, pretty much every group we have, except for the film geeks—because I think that’s just the two of us. I score her rubric and clap. Only a handful of other students joins me. I look around the room and all the slackers and stoners shoot her dirty looks. Same with the party kids, the snobs. I guess they didn’t like the reflection in the mirror.

Ella steps away from Blint’s podium and Taleana says, “Fucking slut!”

“Excuse me?” Ella stops next to her desk. I can’t believe how controlled her voice is.

“You heard me.” Taleana whips her head as she speaks. “I see what you’re doing and it’s bullshit. Rolling up on our boys. Trying to make us look bad. You don’t knock my girls. No one does.”

Blint moves slowly, as if he just wants this to resolve itself.

Ella smiles. And it looks genuine. “One, your boys disgust me; they’re all yours. Two, you don’t get to tell me what to record. If you don’t like what you saw, change.” She half turns to Blint, who’s now standing and squeezing his temples. Ella has to say, “Right, Mr. Blint?” to get his attention.

“Yes. Yes. Taleana, I’m sorry that you didn’t like this piece, this exposé . . .”

I almost laugh at his use of the word. I was right. Right?

“. . . but you were all given freedom to choose your topics. I see nothing wrong with Ella’s work.”

Taleana looks at our teacher and then at Ella. She wads up the rubric and throws it in Ella’s face. “Well, fuck that!” Taleana stomps out of the room without turning when Blint squeaks her name.

Ella takes a deep breath and moves down the row to her seat. I smile at her when she’s close, but she doesn’t see me. She’s inside her head, looking at that scene, playing back the details. I wonder what she sees, because I’m thinking courageous, but she looks more vulnerable.

“All right then. Next?” Blint says. He resumes his perch and some kid gets up and delivers his lackluster presentation on growing hydroponic plants. I have a suspicion that he works better with another variety of herbs, but at least he was smart enough not to film them.

And now it’s my turn.

I take a deep breath and drown out all sound. If I don’t, all I’ll hear are the whispers and jokes. No point in that. I’m about to show them how they should be prepared for a change. A new me.

Blint tells me to begin, and I steel myself and proceed. I’m not nearly as smooth as Ella, but I manage to deliver the details. I’m fat, we all know it, and it’s about time I did something. Here it is.

I play my trailer and when the last beat drops there’s an image of me on the floor covered in sweat, writhing from the pain. Badass if you ask me.

The laughter begins as a few pops, and the kernels burst at a rapid speed, and soon the entire room is losing their shit. All except for Ella. Blint halfheartedly tries to stop them.

All that’s left for me to do is return to my seat. I sit and stare at my desk and ignore the “Greg?” I hear from Ella every few seconds. If my goals are laughable, pathetic, what does that say about me? If the idea of changing isn’t going to affect how I’m viewed around here, why bother? I’ll just stay Dun the Ton and to hell with all the rest. I’ll eat and make films, or just eat and then maybe someone will make a film about me getting buried in a piano box after having to cut down the wall just to get my corpse out of the house.

The bell rings and I’m out in the hall and there’s pressure on my arm. “Greg, are you okay?” Ella’s voice is soft against the noise.

I nod. I thought my piece would be awesome. I thought it might change some perceptions. How could I have been so wrong? Fuck me.

“There she is.” Taleana’s voice cuts through everything and she’s by Ella’s side. “So are you planning to enter that piece of shit film into the contest? You wanna have everyone at school all over your ass. Is that what you want, you little bitch?”

I am amazed by two things. One, how strong Ella seems. She’s listening to Taleana with her eyes straight ahead. Two, that Taleana paid enough attention in class to realize that the school will be watching and voting on these films. Maybe she isn’t a complete flake?

“Are you finished?” Ella asks, and it sounds like she’s talking to a telemarketer on the phone.

Taleana opens her mouth, says, “As if.”

Ella sighs. “Yes, I am entering my film into the contest. Is that a problem for you? Are you going to do something?” Ella shakes her hands at her sides in mock terror.

Taleana laughs. “Don’t you realize who I am? The fucking cheer captain at this school.” She bends down to get level with Ella. “And do you realize how much of a hard-on our principal, this school, this town has for sports?”

Ella doesn’t answer.

“Didn’t think so. Because if you did, you’d know to keep to yourself, mind your own fucking business, and stay the hell outta my way.”

I’m surprised Ella doesn’t ask Taleana if she’s finished again. She so looks like she wants to. A small crowd has gathered and I’m sweating over this conversation. This is the exact wrong place for me to be at this moment, but it would take a Mack truck to move me from here.

“And apparently you can’t tell that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Fuck.” Ella steps closer to Taleana.

Taleana’s face turns so red I’m afraid she might literally explode.

“What the fuck is going on?” Alva’s voice surrounds us, and then he slides in, poised and confident, even while pissed off. Asshole. Sick, psychopathic asshole.

“Your girlfriend has a problem with my film project,” Ella says and sounds more annoyed than angry.

Alva scoops up Taleana, who goes from angry to being caressed in a second. It looks so much like bad acting on a soap opera it’s disgusting. Alva sees me, and smiles.

“Wouldn’t it figure that you have something to do with this, fat fuck?”

“This has nothing to do with Greg. This is my project.”

Alva looks at Ella. “Right. We all know Dun the Ton walks around with a phone in his hand because he can’t find his dick. Don’t protect him.”

“I’m not. You’re wrong, that’s all.”

Again, Ella’s voice is harsh, defensive. Still, I don’t like how quickly she jumped away from my defense.

“Am I?” Alva has shifted Taleana and is leaning toward Ella.

“What the hell is wrong with the two of you? Are you really this stupid?” Ella says. “Listen. Your girlfriend is pissed because I’m showing people who she really is and who you and your douche team really are. If she doesn’t like it, then she should work on that. This is my film, not Greg’s. If you can’t wrap your brain around that concept, it’s not my problem. Do you follow?”

There’s a gasp in the crowd behind Alva and Taleana. It punctuates exactly how I feel. What the fuck is she doing?

“Yeah. I follow. But you need to remember one thing, you little twat. This is our school. It seems that you’ve forgotten. Just ask Dun, he’ll help you remember.”

Alva and Taleana strut away, and Taleana says, “Warned you. I’ll check your ass later.”

I’m sweating so bad I should go and change my shirt. Ella spins toward me. “What, Greg? What did he mean?”

I look away and the scene from yesterday flashes before me. Across the hall, the lockers that should have Kyle and Stephen at them, grabbing books or watching us, are closed. They’re not here today. Alva’s right. This is his school. Quinn’s right, too. It’s the team’s town. “You know what he meant. Just that we shouldn’t mess with him. He thinks we’re working together or some shit.”

Ella purses her lips. “No, that’s bullshit. You know something.”

I stay silent. But down the hall, where Alva and Taleana have paused, there’s a squeal.

“Of course! That’s it. That little slut is fucking Moby! No wonder she’s protecting him.”

The laughter echoes up and down the hall, followed by the whispers that will keep the rumor alive.

Ella’s eyes are brimming with tears. I don’t know what to do. If I reach out to her, it will only reinforce what will soon be the school’s “truth.” If I don’t, and I let her suffer, what does that say about me?

“Ella, I’m sorry.” I reach for her.

She pushes my arm away. “Fuck you, Greg! I don’t need that! I need you to be honest with me. Of all the kids in this school, I never expected you to lie to me.” She clenches her jaw against the tears. “So tell me the goddamn truth.”

I swallow and nod. Shit, I wish it didn’t have to come out this way. I wish I could have kept her in the dark. But why? To protect her? She doesn’t seem like she’d want it. Or need it. But now, with what Taleana just said, maybe we both do.

“All right, Ella. But not right now. It’s not safe out in the open like this.”

“‘Not safe.’ Greg, what the hell?” She wipes tears from her face.

The words lodge in my throat. “Something I recorded.”

Her eyes grow large. “What? Tell me.”

I rub my face with my hand. The bell’s going to ring any second. Now is not the time to have this conversation. “Later.”

“What, after school, so you can blow me off again? Not now, because you don’t want anyone to see us together?”

“No. It’s not like that.”

“What then? You want me to come see you while you’re working out?”

It’s absurd, but Q and Ollie know what’s up, and if I’m going to bring her into this weird fold, why not have us all on the same page? We’re there already, us outcasts, including Ella. Because if she wasn’t before, she certainly is now. Shit. “Yeah. Trust me, it’s the only way.”

“Trust you? That’s asking a lot, Greg. So give me a hint. What did you record?” Her words are hushed.

I know there is no other option. I need her help, and she needs to know. “Would it surprise you that the bros are hazing one another?”

Ella stares down the hallway. Back to where Alva and Taleana were. To the spot where the first ugly rumor about her took shape. I have no clue what she’s thinking, what’s going on inside her, but now I want to know more than ever.

“Greg, there’s not a whole hell of a lot that surprises me. I’ve seen more than you understand.”

Her words reach into me and hold fast. I’ve seen it all. Haven’t I? “I don’t understand.”

She turns to me and smiles. “You give me your story, and I’ll let you know mine.”

There is nothing more in this moment that I would love to hear, or that I am afraid of.