Chapter 8

Mary very gravely replied, “Far be it from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleasures. They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds.”

— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Sixteen

Too soon, my cozy bonding experience with Jane and Liz—okay, Liz isn’t exactly the cozy type—came to an end. What no one mentioned during our shopping spree was that they had a double date on Sunday night: Jane with Charlie, Liz with Alex.

A little hard at this point for Liz to keep claiming that nothing was going on with Alex. Even Dad looked skeptical as they went out the door.

It left Cat and me home with Mom and Dad, which only gave me more reason to figure out how to fix my life. If I could. I was still much more afraid of Jane Austen than Jane and Liz were, and they were the ones going out tonight with guys named Bingham and Darcy.

I holed up in my room the minute dinner ended, pulled open my closet door, and dragged out the Gap shopping bag I’d stuffed inside the closet. Three new tops, two pairs of pants, and a skirt. A short skirt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn a skirt or dress, but it must’ve been a wedding or funeral. In other words, compulsory.

Ignoring the skirt, I inspected the other items. Should I wear something new tomorrow? If I did, would the laughter from everyone in all of my classes get even worse? Was it possible that the laughter could get worse?

And . . . what would Josh say?

Probably nothing. The same thing he’d said for two weeks now, ever since that day in the cafeteria when he tried to explain what he’d done. Ha.

I bit my lip, considering. After tossing the clothes in a heap on my bed, which startled Boris into springing off the top of my armoire and onto my new clothes, I threw myself on my bed. Pointless. Utterly pointless. Josh wouldn’t care, and Chrissie and her cheerleader pals and everyone else would laugh. Bottom line, nothing would change.

Okay, maybe nothing would change, but this could be the start. The start of what, I had no clue. I still had no plan for the rest of my life, or even the rest of this school term. But something had to change.

Sighing, I eyeballed the clothes at the end of my bed, where Boris now lay, purring. At least the clothes might get a reaction, and hopefully not because they were covered with cat hair. I could hardly wait for school tomorrow.

Not.

“Is that Mary Bennet? Wearing clothes that look halfway decent?”

“No way. What’s she trying to prove?”

“Her sisters are kinda cute, though. Even that one in reform school.”

“Since when was Mary cute?”

I stared straight ahead as I walked down the hall to first-period English class, but it didn’t help. My ears worked perfectly fine from every direction, and that’s exactly where the comments were coming from: every direction.

“Mary, did you actually go shopping? Or have you finally raided your sisters’ closets?”

I felt my face flush—I couldn’t help it—but kept going. One foot after the other.

I also told myself I looked good in the skinny blue jeans and yellow peasant top that hugged my boobs and flared out at the bottom. Even Liz had said so this morning, a minute after her eyes went wide and she nearly choked to death on her Pop-Tart.

“Nice combat boots, Mary. Next time, check out a shoe store, too. Or won’t your daddy pay for that?”

The flush deepened. At this point, it felt like the roots of my hair were on fire. But I didn’t touch my hair, and I didn’t look down at my feet. Why bother? I’d worn a new outfit but hadn’t changed the other essentials. Okay, I washed my hair this morning instead of just pulling it up in a ponytail. Then, before it was dry, I pulled it up in a ponytail. Same with the boots. I mean, these boots had gotten me through high school. Through life. Whenever I couldn’t take it anymore, I’d stare down at my feet and—okay, yes, I know this is weird—reassure myself that I hadn’t lost my entire soul.

But why couldn’t I find my soul in a cute pair of shoes like everyone else?

Maybe because these boots went so well with the overalls. I’d hidden the overalls in the laundry room last night before Liz and Jane got back from their double date, terrified that one of them—probably Liz—would use the Gap trip as an excuse to toss them in the garbage. The same overalls I’d retrieved from the laundry room this morning and stuffed in my backpack and then, a moment ago, in my locker. Don’t ask me why.

Lost in a daze, I nearly walked past my classroom.

Too bad I didn’t.

Mr. Skamser hadn’t arrived yet, and the taunts that had followed me all the way down the hall just kept coming.

“Yo, dude. Check her out.”

“Not your usual rags, are they, Mary?”

“Who ya lookin’ so fine for?”

Several heads turned in Josh’s direction, including—stupidly—mine, but Josh just sat there reading Demian. As if he hadn’t finished it at least a week ago. As if he spent all his waking moments rereading the books Mr. Skamser assigned for class. Just for fun.

Sighing, I went to my seat, right in front of Josh, and straightened my English book and notebook and folder and five different pens in a neat little pile. In the midst of all my mindless organizing, Mr. Skamser walked in. The guy was the definition of clueless, but even he glanced at me and frowned slightly, as if something was wrong with this picture. Either that or he suspected me of not being prepared for class, but that definitely hadn’t happened again since the infamous day I left Demian at home.

As the buzzing in the room dropped to a low roar, Mr. Skamser sighed. “If you’re all done discussing your weekends, I hope we can proceed.”

Two girls on my left kept whispering about my outfit.

“Emma, is there something you’d like to share with the entire class?”

Emma giggled. “We just wanted to know why Mary Bennet—”

Emma was, not surprisingly, a cheerleader. Giving up on my strategy of ignoring everyone, I turned and glared at her.

“—like, why she’s dressed like that.”

Mr. Skamser frowned at Emma, then at me over the tops of his half-glasses. “Mary looks like everyone else in class.” His eyes swept the room. “The girls, at least.”

The whole room broke into laughter. Except for me. I just wanted to crawl under my desk.

“Now, if that’s your biggest concern today, Emma, perhaps you can tell us what you learned from your study of Demian. Perhaps something besides your opinion on his clothing.”

I snorted. Score one for me.

For once in my life.

The rest of my classes, plus lunch period, featured more of the same abuse, so I wasn’t exactly ready to thank Jane for her fashion help. Cat even laughed as I passed her in the hall before fourth period. Cat, whose fashion sense consisted of texting her pals before school each day to find out what they were wearing. And then copying them.

I dragged my butt into Physics class, wondering which was worse: the fact that every kid in school thought my new clothes were even stupider than my overalls, if that was possible, or that Mr. Gilbertson had asked us to be ready to give a brief oral update on our roller coaster projects in class today. Team by team.

Kinda made a girl want to hurl. But I’d already done that, of course, which was why I no longer was part of a team.

In a way, though, the rest of my day had toughened me up to handle the stupid Physics assignment, including the fact that, yes, the entire class would laugh when I admitted I still didn’t have a partner and couldn’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

For a change of pace, Mr. Gilbertson started with my side of the room, where for once Josh happened to be sitting, instead of next to his buddy Kyle. I wanted to ask him if they were having a lovers’ quarrel, but opted not to.

Good thing, considering what happened.

“Mary?” My name came from two directions, and I suddenly realized that both Mr. Gilbertson and Josh were talking to me at the same moment. I knew which one I had to respond to, under penalty of death or a failing grade, but I looked at Josh.

I caught him staring at my shirt. At chest level.

Hadn’t he ever noticed that girls have boobs?

Even me?

As I debated whether to reach across the aisle and slap Josh when his eyes didn’t travel up to mine, Mr. Gilbertson cleared his throat and called my name again, prompting the class to laugh. Everyone except Josh and me.

Flushing, I looked at Mr. Gilbertson.

“Glad to have your attention.” He shook his head, prompting a few more giggles. “You’re the only student who hasn’t signed up with a partner for the roller coaster project. But Penelope appears to have switched to a different class, so . . .”

What was I supposed to say? Yep, I’m the loser without a partner? No wonder Penelope dropped out of our class?

“Did you want to join another team?”

Right. Like everyone was jumping up and down to have me join them. Not. In fact, the room right now was the most silent it had ever been.

“I don’t . . .”

“Mary can be on our team if that’s okay.” Josh flashed a quick look at me, half apologetic and half impossible to read. “Actually, she was supposed to be my partner.”

“Dude, that blows!”

Kyle apparently didn’t know anything about me joining their team, and definitely didn’t agree, and I was so stunned I just stared at my lap.

I finally gave Josh a quick, totally insincere smile, then shook my head at Mr. Gilbertson. “I’m happy to do the project by myself. I don’t need a partner.”

“But Mary—”

I cut Josh a look. “My name is MB. Besides, I already finished the project.”

I hadn’t, of course. I hadn’t even started! But I also didn’t take charity, especially from a guy who finally noticed me only when I got some new clothes. And boobs.

As if.

I spent the rest of Physics class debating whether to throw myself out the window. The fact that our classroom was on the first floor kept me in my chair. But when Mr. Gilbertson told everyone to shut up, repeatedly, I kept hearing all this buzzing about how I’d turned down not only Josh but even Kyle. Not that anyone with half a brain would want Kyle for a Physics partner, but they thought he was cool and assumed I was desperate. Even Mr. Gilbertson gave me a few curious looks.

I wouldn’t know if Josh was giving me any looks, curious or otherwise, because I didn’t look at him again. I shot my wad turning him down, and in front of the entire class.

Was I an idiot?

Now, fifteen minutes later, I kept asking myself why I’d done it. Because he blew me off for a couple of weeks? Because he stopped blowing me off, not so coincidentally, on the first day I showed up in cute clothes? And wasn’t that why I bought the clothes in the first place?

I was an idiot, and it wasn’t even Jane Austen’s fault.

I should’ve listened more closely to my sister Jane instead of being so dead set against buying new clothes. She’d done me a favor, hadn’t she? At least in theory? Was it Jane’s fault that I blew it? Was it Jane’s fault that I waited until senior year to rebel against Jane Austen and The Book? Was it Jane’s fault that I wore the new clothes she picked out but didn’t bother to get rid of my ponytail or hiking boots?

Even though I felt practically naked, I knew I looked like every other girl here. I swiveled my head, taking in the other girls, even though most of them were staring at me and half of them were giggling. No one wore overalls, of course. Half were in shorts or short skirts, which felt way too brave for me this morning. In retrospect, though, there’s no way today could’ve been worse unless I’d shown up in my undies.

The bell finally rang, and I moved at glacial speed as I pulled together my books and other junk. The more people I avoided on the way out the door, the better I’d like it. I didn’t need to worry about Josh, though, who was the first one out the door. I sighed. I’d hammered him when I turned him down in front of God and everyone.

Or had I hammered myself?

For a smart girl, I think I just won the award for dumbest move of the year.

I trudged down the hall to my locker, barely aware of the continued whispers and stares. At some point, these kids had to go back to living their own lives, didn’t they? Since their own lives had to be way more interesting than mine?

I rolled the dial on my locker combination, hardly aware of the numbers spinning around the dial.

“Mary? MB?” Josh’s voice was right at my ear, and I jumped. “Sorry! I was, uh, wondering if you were having trouble with your locker.”

I glanced to my left and looked into his eyes, the way I hadn’t dared do in Physics class. Also unlike in Physics class, his eyes were firmly focused on mine, not on some other part of my anatomy.

“Um . . .”

God. I couldn’t speak in front of the guy. Except in Physics class, of course, and I wished that hadn’t been the exception to the rule.

“You okay?”

For an idiot? “I guess. I mean—”

He held up a hand. “I know. You’d rather not talk to me, obviously. It’s just that you seem a little— I don’t know. Different today.”

I felt myself getting angry, which loosened my tongue just like it had in Physics class. “So I’m different. I bought some new clothes, okay? Why does everyone have to make such a big deal about it?”

All I wanted to do was get out of there. Before Josh said anything else. Or before I did.

I concentrated on my locker com and finally yanked the damn thing open. Too late, just as it all tumbled out on the floor, I remembered what I’d stuffed in my locker. Books, papers, the remains of my lunch—since I hadn’t been able to stomach it but figured I might get hungry by the end of school—and oh, God. The overalls.

As my face flushed a bright shade of crimson, my skin feeling like I was being boiled alive, I tried to stuff everything back inside and slam the locker shut before Josh could take a peek and, worse, comment. Especially on the overalls.

Too late.

The door slammed against a pile of books wedged at the bottom, and Josh bent down to pick up . . . my overalls.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Happy to.” He held the overalls out to me as if they were biohazardous. “Hey, what’s up with this? Didn’t you want your parents to see you in your new clothes?”

I rolled my eyes. First thing in the morning, Mom was out the door and Dad was too busy contorting himself into lotus position number forty-two in the middle of the living room to notice a nuclear bomb detonating, let alone what one of his daughters was wearing to school.

“It’s not like that.”

I couldn’t possibly explain to Josh that I brought the overalls in case things didn’t work out today. Kinda like a security blanket. Not that they’d helped, since I’d decided at some point during the morning to just suck it up and take the abuse being heaped on me.

“You sure?” Josh still stood there, my overalls in his hands, since I’d frozen in place, utterly unable to reach toward him to retrieve the overalls, let alone admit that the overalls belonged to me. Even though obviously they did. I mean, not only were they in my locker, but no one else at Woodbury High—and this included the kids whose parents farmed—wore overalls. Overalls were my fashion statement. Such as it was.

“Yeah.” I sighed, finally grabbing the overalls from Josh’s hands and tossing them back on the floor. “I’m sure.”

“I’d understand if you did. Like with your ponytail.”

I narrowed my gaze at him, even though my stomach went queasy. “What’s the matter with ponytails?”

“Nothing! It’s just that my sister used to wear her hair in a ponytail every day, no exception. Finally it started to screw up her hair, I guess, so Mom told her to leave it down. Like, under pain of death. So she left the house every morning, and when she got a block away from home, she put her hair in the ponytail. And pulled it back out in the afternoon right before she got home.”

His sister sounded even more twisted than me, but I wasn’t sure that was Josh’s point. “How long did she do that?”

He shrugged. “Ninth grade. The whole year.”

Definitely wacked. In a ninth-grade sort of way. And I should know.

“Well, I didn’t do that.” I admit my mom would be thrilled if I did anything with my hair other than cramming it into a rubber band seven days a week, but she never said anything. Okay, maybe she sighed once in a while, but I was used to it. I had Mr. Skamser for class, after all.

Josh kept glancing at my ponytail, probably thinking I was just like his sister, only she limited her wacked behavior to ponytails and ninth grade. I went all the way: overalls and hiking boots, too.

Not that I went all the way. I didn’t mean that at all!

He frowned. “What’s the matter?”

If I stayed here much longer, I’d blurt out something even more stupid, which was hard to imagine but definitely possible. Knowing me.

“Nothing. I just like to wear my hair in a ponytail.” Or, at least, I’d never figured out what else to do with it, and I hadn’t ever wanted a hairstyle anyone might possibly call cute. “My mom doesn’t care about my hair, and she doesn’t care about the overalls, and in case you’re wondering, she’s never mentioned the hiking boots, either.”

Josh stared down at my hiking boots. Great.

“Aren’t those a little warm?”

At the end of September? When it was seventy-five degrees outside and, standing here by my locker babbling nonsense to Josh Lawton, felt twenty degrees hotter?

“No, they’re just comfortable. I guess.”

Actually, they were probably the opposite of comfortable. Liz wore boots like this, but only if she really was hiking, and I didn’t even hike. Jane wouldn’t be caught dead in them, and Cat and Lydia probably didn’t even know they existed unless they ever looked at my feet.

Which, considering their high levels of self-absorption, seemed unlikely.

Why did I wear these stupid hiking boots? Because I associated sneakers and running shoes with Gym class, which I loathed? Because I wouldn’t wear any kind of heels if you paid me?

Okay. Because they went with overalls. Which I wasn’t wearing at the moment.

Argh.

“So.” Josh glanced again at my ponytail, and at my overalls lying in the heap on the floor, and at my hiking boots. And tried really hard, I thought, not to stare at the rest of the outfit I’d worn today. “I guess I better get going. Kyle and I need to work on the roller coaster project.”

The one I’d supposedly finished.

I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t ask about it. “Are you going to the Mall of America to ride more roller coasters and call it research?”

My jaw dropped as I realized with horror the subject I’d just brought up, but it was Josh who turned pink.

“Uh, no.” He gave me kind of a lopsided grin and shrugged as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I think I’ve had enough roller coasters for a while.”

“Look, I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand. “No need. You tried to warn me, I guess, and you gave me all that money back. Not that I wanted it. I was happy to pay.”

I stared at the floor, watching the toe of one of my hiking boots scuff the other. “I really am sorry. It’s just that I don’t do well with roller coasters.”

“Believe me, I know.” Josh whistled. “My mom wondered why I broke down and did my own laundry that day for a change. I figured if she saw all that puke, she’d think I’d been out partying.”

Puzzled, I looked at him. “On a Saturday afternoon?”

“You really don’t get out much.”

So he’d figured me out. Finally. I turned back to my locker, stuffed what I needed into my backpack—including the overalls—and the rest inside, and shut it firmly. I glanced at Josh but didn’t meet his eyes. “Anyway. I gotta go.”

“Hey, I was kidding. I don’t party on Saturday afternoons, either.” He shrugged. “I don’t even party too much at night. It’s not good for my training schedule.”

Skateboarders had training schedules? “But you party.”

I wasn’t even sure what he meant by partying. Drinking? Drugs? Making out? I had a pretty good idea they wouldn’t be playing pin the tail on the donkey. I just didn’t know what they would be doing. Like, at all. That had to be the definition of not being a party girl.

“Well, sure, but—”

“Like I said. I gotta go.”

Before Josh invited me to party with him sometime.

Or before he didn’t.