Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.
And I looked up at Gwen, and burst into tears.
Top ten reasons I hate my schooclass="underline"
10. The people who go to it totally judge you by what you wear. If, for instance, you like to wear black, you are called a freak—to your face—by nearly everyone who passes you in the hallway.
9. If you happen to have dyed your hair black, you are not only called a freak, but a goth or punk freak as well. Some people also might ask you where you parked your broom, assuming you are a practitioner of Wicca, not, of course, realizing that Wicca is an ancient religion pre-dating Christianity that is based on the appreciation of nature and the celebration of life forces and has little if anything to do with brooms, which are only used as ceremonial tools in a few Wiccan rituals.
Not that I have ever studied Wicca. Much.
8. All anybody ever talks about is who won on American Idol or which school athletic team is going to which final. No one ever talks about art or ideas, just TV and sports. This seems exactly the opposite of what school is supposed to be about, which is opening the mind to new things and embracing knowledge (NOT of the latest Juicy Couture designs).
7. People totally litter. Like, they just throw their gum wrappers wherever. It’s sick.
6. If, for instance, you happen to mention that you like a certain kind of music that isn’t Limp Bizkit or Eminem, you are routinely shunned and called a ska-lovin’ skank.
5. One word: P.E.
Or is that two words? Well, whatever. It sucks. I hear in some school districts, they’ve started having cool things like self-defense classes and Outward Bound–type adventures in lieu of endless games of dodgeball.
I so wish I could go to a school like that.
4. Everyone thinks they have to know everyone else’s business. Gossip is practically a religion at Adams Prep. All you ever hear in the hallways is, “And then she said…and then he said…and then she said….” It’s mind-boggling.
3. Even though everyone is so sanctimonious and holier than thou, it seems like the raunchier a reputation you have, the more popular you are. Like the football player who got drunk at that one party and Did It with a girl who turned out to be in Special Ed. He got voted Prom King that year. Yeah. Real nice role model.
2. The main hallways are filled with case after case of sports trophies, with only one case devoted to students who have won art awards, and that case is in the basement by the art room where no one goes but other people taking art.
And the number-one reason I hate my schooclass="underline"
1. My parents wouldn’t let me stay home from it the day after I announced on MTV that I’ve said yes to sex.
13
Theresa had to drive us to school the next day, because there were so many reporters outside the house, my parents wouldn’t let us take the bus.
Which was probably just as well, since, judging by the kinds of questions the reporters were shouting (“Sam! Were you and David ever intimate in the Lincoln Bedroom?”), the kids on the bus weren’t exactly going to be super understanding of the situation, if you know what I mean.
Theresa, of course, was blaming herself.
“I should have known,” she kept saying. “All those times he came over, and you told me you were studying. Studying. HA!”
“Theresa,” I said. “David and I really were studying all those times he came over.”
But it was like she wasn’t even listening.
“What kind of example are you setting for your baby sister?” Theresa wanted to know. “What kind?”
“For God’s sake,” Rebecca said disgustedly. “I’ve got an IQ of one seventy. I know all about sex. Besides, it’s not like I’ve never seen Showtime After Dark.”
“Santa María!” Theresa said, to this.
“Whatever,” Rebecca said. “It comes on right after National Geographic Explorer.”
“I don’t want to hear any more about it,” Theresa said darkly, as we pulled up in front of the school and saw Kris Parks there, holding court by the Adams Prep Minutemen sign. “You girls meet me here when school is out. And no skipping class to have sex!”
“For God’s sake, Theresa,” I said. “I’m not a nympho.”
“Just making sure,” Theresa said. Then she drove away.
As long as it isn’t raining, people usually hang around outside on the steps of Adams Prep before the first bell, talking about whatever was on TV the night before, or who’s wearing what. Generally, if you aren’t meeting someone on the steps leading to the school, you have to shove your way through the crowd to get up them.
Not today, though. Today, the crowd parted as if by magic to let Lucy and me through. As we trudged up them, clutching our books to our chests, conversations ceased, and voices fell silent, as everyone stared….
Stared at the freak and her sister.
“This,” I whispered to Lucy, as we made our way inside school, “totally sucks.”
“What are you talking about?” she wanted to know. I saw her looking around the hall and knew she wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to what was happening around us. She was just looking for Harold.
“This,” I said. “Everybody thinks David and I Did It.”
“Well,” Lucy said, “aren’t you going to anyway?”
“Not necessarily,” I said, through gritted teeth.
Finally, Lucy glanced my way. “Really? I thought you’d decided to.”
“I haven’t decided anything,” I said vehemently. “Everybody ELSE seems to have decided for me.”
“Well,” Lucy said, suddenly seeming to spy someone in the crowd she needed to speak to. “Good luck with that. See you.”
Then she bolted…straight toward Harold, who was just coming out of the computer lab, his head buried in a copy of a book called Algorithms for Automatic Dynamic Memory Management.
The last book Lucy had left lying around in the bathroom had been called She Went All the Way. It was kind of hard to believe these two were a match made in heaven.
Sighing, I went to my locker and fumbled with the combo, aware of how all around me, the usual cacophony (SAT word meaning “a combination of discordant sounds”) of the hallway had hushed as people dropped their voices to talk about me as they walked by. Eyes narrowed to heavily mascaraed slits as cliques of girls moved past me, and folders were raised over people’s mouths as they whispered about me to one another. I could feel a million gazes boring into my back as I twisted the dial on my combination lock.
Why hadn’t I faked sick today? How could I have forgotten that, fond as the American public might be of me on account of saving the president and dating his son, my fellow students at Adams Prep have never liked me all that much….
And now they have a brand-new reason to despise me.
And could I blame them? I mean, what had I done last night, really, except make their school look like a joke by announcing on TV that I’m no different than any of the public school kids they spend so much time looking down on?
God, it’s no wonder none of them was speaking to me…that they were all whispering about me instead….
“So. Were you ever going to tell me?”
I jumped, startled by the soft voice, and whipped my head around to find myself staring into the soft brown eyes of Catherine.
“Catherine,” I said. “Oh my God. Hi.”
“Well?” Catherine’s eyebrows were raised. “WERE you?”
“Was I what?”
“Ever going to tell me,” she said. “About you and David. YOU know.”
I felt my cheeks heating up redder than ever.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “Honest, Catherine. That whole thing last night—David and I have never—I mean, it was all a big misunderstanding.”