“That’s not fair,” Shaniqua cried, about the camera. “You spray-painted the school so long ago! And you never would have gotten caught if you hadn’t turned yourself in.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Well, they don’t exactly see it that way. Although my mom understands. I think. A little.”
My mom had certainly been the one who, coming home from the pageant to find me already in bed, crying as if my heart were breaking (because the truth is, I think it was), had sighed and put her arms around me and told me nothing was ever as bad as it seemed. She’d even said she was proud of me for telling the truth…though she wished I hadn’t chosen to tell it in such a public venue.
And when Liam had come in and wanted to know if he could go live at his friend Chris’s house, because he didn’t think he could bear the stigma of being the brother of Katie Ellison, Quahog hater, my dad was the one who sent him to his room.
Still. Maybe things reallywould be all right. I mean, who needed friends? I had Shaniqua and Jill.
And God knew I didn’t need a boyfriend. I’d had enough to last me a lifetime.
Besides, they don’t let you have boyfriends in the Episcopalian convent. If such a thing even exists.
Fortunately, Peggy hadn’t even been that upset about the quahog thing. When I’d come in to work the brunch shift the morning after the pageant debacle (the guy who normally works had called in “sick,” suffering, no doubt, from too much Eastport Towne Fair the night before, and since I was more desperate for cash than ever, I’d agreed to cover), she’d merely shaken her head at me and said, “Remind me never to sponsor another employee for anything ever again. Now go mop under the steam tables.”
Which was nice of her. For someone who’d just wanted to get rid of Old Man Trouble, I’d sure landed myself in a heap of it anyway.
And, I mean, that’s okay. A liar like me doesn’t deserve friends. A year in social Siberia will teach me a valuable lesson about telling the truth — not just to others, but to myself as well.
And then maybe, after graduation, if I can’t find a convent that will take me, I’ll just head off to college — an all-women’s college, of course — and start over.
So when Jill whizzed past me around two o’clock and said, “Quahog alert,” I was pretty startled. Especially when I looked over and saw Sidney and Dave — with Eric and Morgan behind them — standing at the hostess booth.
“What do you want me to do?” Jill asked worriedly.
“They probably don’t know I’m here,” I said, my heart slamming unsteadily against my rib cage. Because I could not imagine any of them — but most especially Sidney — would want to be seen at the Gull ’n Gulp if they knew I was here, too. “I’ll just go and let them know. They’ll probably leave.”
But when I sidled up to Sidney to ask, “Um, can I help you guys?” she looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“Yes,” she said. “You can get us a table.”
I blinked at her. “Sidney,” I said. “I’m working here today.”
“Funnily enough, I’m not blind,” Sidney said. “I can see that.”
“Well,” I said. “I mean, I just thought…maybe you’d be more comfortable eating somewhere else for a while. Because, you know…I’mhere.”
“That’s why we’re here, Katie,” Dave said. “To show you there’s no hard feelings. Right, Sidney?” He poked Sidney in the back.
Sidney looked annoyed. “Ow,” she said. Then added, “What he said. No hard feelings. I mean, aside from the fact that you ruined the pageant and made a total fool of yourself, you’re still my best friend. And, whatever, because I still won, which is as it should be. What do you think of my tiara?”
I looked at it. “I think you’re only supposed to wear it during the parade, Sidney,” I said.
“What, just because the parade is over, I’m not Quahog Princess anymore? No way. Right, Morgan?” Sidney looked at her second runner-up, who was busy making out with Eric, and didn’t seem to hear her.
“Get a room,” Sidney said, rolling her eyes. Then, taking me by the arm, she leaned over to add, “I called you, like, ten zillion times. I suppose you had your phone off again, as usual. Anyway, I wanted to say, you know…thanks. For not telling them the truth.”
I blinked at her. “Sidney. Idid tell them the truth.”
“Well, not thewhole truth,” Sidney said. “You know, the part about—”
“Right,” I said quickly. “No need to say anything more about it.”
“Well.” Sidney looked uncomfortable. “I just—”
“Really, Sid.” I looked her dead in the eye. “No need.”
“Well. All right. I just wanted to say thanks. So. Changing the subject. Have you heard?” Sidney wanted to know. “About Seth?”
I shook my head. It’s strange, but when I hear his name now, I feel…nothing. Except maybe a twinge of guilt. “No. Well, I mean, I got a message from him on my cell. He wants his jacket back. I assume that means he’s all right.”
“He’s fine. He couldn’t join us this morning because he’s hanging with Jenna Hicks.” She rolled her eyes expressively. “Apparently, the two of them have a lot in common, having the whole depression thing going for them now.”
“Well,” I said, not really very surprised. Mrs. Hicks, I was sure, was thrilled. Her forcing Jenna to take part in the pageant had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. “That’s good. I guess.”
“Yeah,” Sidney said. “I suppose. Jenna looks good without all that nasty hardware in her face. Sort of. Anyway, there’s some kind of manga convention in the city, so they’re going together.”
“Manga?” I raised my eyebrows. “AndSeth?”
“Well, manga probably works for him. You know how he moves his lips when he reads. So, you know. Less words. What aboutyour hottie? Heard from him?”
I felt my cheeks turning red. “Um, you mean Tommy? No. No, I haven’t. I don’t expect to, either. He’s not my hottie.”
“Why not?” Sidney demanded, looking surprised.
“Sidney.” I love her. I really do. But seriously. “I admitted last night in front of him that I spray-paintedTommy Sullivan is a freak on the wall of our middle school. Do you think he’s really going to be that into me now?”
“Oh, whatever,” Sidney said. “You’re hot. And you’re, like, smart. Like he is. You’d make a nice couple. So can we have our table now, or what? Hey.” Her glance flicked past me. Then her eyes bulged. “Are thosetourists sitting there in the corner booth?”
Jill, returning to the hostess stand from showing a couple to their table, looked over her shoulder at the corner booth and answered Sidney’s question for her.
“Oh,” she said. “Those are the McCallisters. From Minnesota. Nice people.”
“What aretourists doing at the Quahog table?” Sidney demanded.
“Oh, that’s not the Quahog table anymore,” Jill explained breezily. “New restaurant policy. We voted. And we all decided that Katie is right, and it’s wrong to give special privileges to any one bunch of people.” She smiled beatifically at Dave. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Dave, the smoother-over, said.
“But…” Sidney blinked a few times. “What arewe supposed to do?”
“Make a reservation next time,” Jill said, handing Sidney a beeper. “It’ll go off when a table is ready. Who’s next?”
Sidney looked down at the oversized beeper in her hand. Then she looked incredulously up at me.
“Is she kidding?” Sidney wanted to know.
“Um,” I said. “No. Sorry. But the turnover’s pretty fast this morning. Give it half an hour. I gotta get back to my tables. See you guys later.”