“Cacti,” Mr. Bernard offers timidly.
“ – CACTI, and you smell horrible and you’re the stupidest asshole I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting and if you could just go jump off a building and die alone I would be very grateful!”
I slam the door behind me and lean against it, breathing deep. With all the angst out, I can smile again, think straight again. I skip to class. Kayla quirks a brow.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m currently devising terribly fiendish torture scenarios in which Jack doesn’t get out alive with his penis intact.”
“Oh.”
“He is getting crossed off the decent human list,” I assure her. “With red ink! And a million exclamation points!”
“Do you think he really did it? He taped all those pictures up by himself? Where did he even get them?”
“There’s only one person who has access to my past like that,” I murmur. As I make my way to Wren’s typical hideout at recess, I realize I haven’t cried. Not a single tear. And why should I? I’m not proud of who I used to be, but it’s not who I am anymore. I’m different. I have four streaks of purple in my hair, and I haven’t fallen in love in three years, twelve weeks, and five days. I’m doing good. I’m doing so much better than that person in the pictures was. I hold my hand out and run down a line of lockers, tearing off the pictures as I go. I slam the wad into the trash triumphantly. My fat butt decorates the floor, ripped and shredded and made dirty by the thousands of footprints that’ve walked on it. Some people have scribbled FAT and HUGE BITCH. The janitor is sweeping pictures up by the dozens, his usual death-glare turning a little soft when he sees me.
The student council room is clean and tiny and smells like pencils and stale doughnut holes. Wren is instructing a Freshmen guy with glasses and two Freshmen girls with mousy hair on the merits of not running in the halls and getting good grades or some drivel. I come up behind him and slam my hands on the desk.
“Yes, hello, good evening everyone. It is I, butt crack girl. Please evacuate the immediate vicinity before I show you my new and updated butt crack.”
“Isis, what the hell –” Wren starts. The freshmen shoot him nervous looks, and he motions for them to go. When they’ve closed the door, I sit on Wren’s desk and cross my legs over one another like a dainty lady.
“You gave my picture to Jack, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You talked to Nameless, and he gave you my picture.”
“No! I swear to you, Isis, I haven’t talked to Will –”
I flinch, and he clears his throat.
“ – uh, Nameless, for a whole year! We’re not all that close!”
“How else would Jack get that picture?”
“Look, I’m not saying I know who did it, but didn’t you notice there was no comment from the faculty? Principal Evans didn’t get on the PA system to comment on the pictures at all. He usually reprimands defacing school property like crazy. But this time? Nothing.”
“Are you saying Evans did this?”
“I’m not saying anything,” he lowers his voice. “I’m just saying it’s odd, is all, and that if you talk to Evans, you might get some more information.”
He stares at me with his round, unblinking hazel eyes. I finally relent. There’s no way someone as cute as him could have done something as evil as supply my enemy with prime blackmail photos, even if they were friends once.
“Alright. I’ll talk to Evans. But –” I point in his face. “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot. Jack told me at Kayla’s party he did something bad. And you got scared. And I’m gonna find out what it was.”
Wren’s face goes so pale for a second I think he’s had a heart attack. His lips get thin and he glowers. It’s all the proof I need that what Jack said was true. He really did something bad. Something that’s making Wren tremble under his polo shirt and horn-rimmed glasses. But I can’t pry it out of him now. I have a principal to confront. I stride out and leave Wren behind. Evans’ secretary is a pretty dark-haired woman and a spotty birthmark over her forehead that makes her look half Dalmatian and half awesome.
“Can I see Evans, ma’am? It’s urgent.”
“Sure, sweetie.” She smiles. “He’s free. I’ll buzz you in right now.”
I take a deep breath right before the door and compose myself. I can’t kick this door down. I have to be sociable, I have to get the truth from him, and that means pretending I’m nice and pretending I’m easy to fool. So I smile my brightest smile ever and push through the door.
Evans is at his desk, typing away at the computer. Glass figurines of penguins litter his bookshelves, and an ostentatious, tacky gold bust of his own head sits on his desk next to his nametag; PRINCIPAL GOODWORTH M. EVANS. I swallow a snort. Goodworth. What kind of name is that?
Evans looks up, his bald patch more noticeable than ever. He grins.
“Ah, Isis. I figured you’d come in to see me today. Please, sit.”
He figured, huh? That’s not promising. I sit in the plushy chair across from him.
“My picture is everywhere,” I start.
“I know. I saw. I’m terribly sorry – kids these days are just so cruel. I had Marcus clean them up as soon as I saw them.”
“He’s still working on that.”
“I know. Poor man.”
Nothing about Evans’ voice sounds sincere – it’s all half-sweet, meaninglessly airy words. He doesn’t care at all. He just keeps typing at the computer, with no time for me. Either that, or he doesn’t want to confront me. He can’t look me in the eye, and it’s not a good sign. Guilt does that to people.
“I wanted to ask you about Jack,” I say. Evans chuckles.
“No, I won’t give you his home address, his schedule, his phone number, or his social security number.”
“What?”
“That’s what the other girls ask for.”
“I’m not other girls, Mr. Evans.”
“So I can see.” He smiles, typing on the computer even more rapidly. “You were expelled from your last high school because of – what did the police call it? Intent to harm? According to your permanent record here, you fought everyone you could get your hands on, anyone who looked at you a strange way. What made you so touchy, I wonder?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe years of vicious bullying for being fat.”
“But that teasing inspired you, didn’t it? That’s why you lost so much weight. So really, you should be thankful for it, and to the people who antagonized you.”
I laugh incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Language, Isis,” he says smoothly. “We wouldn’t want another mark on your permanent record now, would we? It’s already so scuffed up.”
I underestimated this guy. He plays the game well. Of course he does. He’s had years of adulthood – where everyone smiles when they hate someone and bottles up their emotions – to practice in. He’s a master of passive-aggressive-bullshit-taekwondo. And I’m more a master of the aggressive style. We’re basically dancing around each other in two incompatible styles, so neither of us is getting anywhere. I change my stance.
“I heard Jack’s super smart,” I add a simpering tone to my voice. “That must be because this school is so good at teaching, huh?”
Evans looks up, his chest puffing. “Of course. Our faculty are top-notch, you’ll learn that soon enough. Jack is the brightest student I’ve seen in years – he got a perfect score on his SATs”
I smirk on the inside, but smile on the outside. “So that means he’ll probably go to a really good college, right?”
“Oh, the best. He just started applying to Yale today, as a matter of fact.”
Today? That’s an odd coincidence. When I overheard Jack and Evans, Jack seemed to hate the idea of applying to an ivy just a few weeks ago. So what changed? I narrow my eyes, but keep smiling.
“Wooow. Yale is an ivy league, right? That’s pretty impressive.”
“He’ll apply to Princeton, too, or so he said. It would be a huge waste if someone like him stayed here.”