Best Friends Through Eternity (14 page)

“What is there to explain? Indian girls aren’t supposed to date at all, are they?”

“No. But Jazz’s parents came to the West for a reason. They must want more opportunity for their kids. Cameron’s coming to the party, too. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is.”

“You’re kidding. Paige, this could so backfire.”

“We have to try something. This way there’s a chance the Aggarwals will get to know him before they find out Jazz is seeing him.”

“Vanessa would sure tell them if she knew it would cause trouble.” Max pauses a moment as though thinking something over. “You know, if Mrs. Norr found out about those girls smoking on school property, they would be suspended, too.”

“She’d call in their parents but not Jazz’s. I like that idea! How would we prove it?”

“Come on. If they’re still out there, maybe we can catch them in the act.” Max and I run back to school. It isn’t snowing now, not even a flake, and the volleyball team still stands around at the far edge of the football field, cigarettes in hand.

“How close do you plan on getting?” I ask Max.

“Pretty close. No zoom on my cell phone. We better run fast after.”

I’m fed up with running already. Finally, we’re close enough for Max to hold out his cell and click! And another just to make sure he has a good clear image.

“What are you doing?” Vanessa yells. “Get that phone off him!” She points and Kierstead, Emma and Morgan run after us.

“Too bad. I’ve already e-mailed it to myself,” Max calls back.

We run directly for the front door, up the stairs and into the office. “Could we speak to Mrs. Norr?” I ask the secretary.

“What is it?” Mrs. Norr calls as she steps out from behind her desk. “Come in,” she adds.

“Isn’t it against the law for anyone to smoke on school property?” Max asks as we enter her office.

“You know it is. We told everyone in assembly earlier this month,” she answers.

We line up side by side in front of her desk. “Well, there are some students who routinely go to the edge of the football field and smoke at break.”

“Did you want to tell me their names?” She looks at us skeptically.

We’re tattling, squealing, snitching, all those things that break the unwritten code of honor. But I know what Vanessa is capable of, and if we can just do something to keep her away from Jasmine for this one day, so she can talk about Cameron with her folks, maybe all of destiny can change. This time in a good way.

M
rs. Norr squints at the tiny screen as Max holds it up toward her.

“You don’t have to believe us or even the cell phone,” Max says. “Just call them all in and smell for yourself.”

Mrs. Norr’s mouth tugs downward. “But I can’t control their smoking altogether. And the smell doesn’t prove they’ve been doing it on school property.”

I don’t understand her stalling. “You can make out the goalpost in that shot. See that white thing behind Vanessa McDonald’s head?”

Mrs. Norr nods, steepling her fingers. “I’m wondering why you two are stepping forward to report these girls.”

“Vanessa was really upset about the black lung we saw at Body Worlds yesterday,” Max says.

“You can ask Mr. Brewster,” I add. “I know her mother smokes, too.”

“Yes, her mother might be Vanessa’s biggest problem.” Mrs. Norr taps her fingers together, still delaying.

“I think if she got in trouble for it, she might just be convinced to quit,” Max says.

“Well, that’s very noble of you both.” Mrs. Norr opens her fingers again and places her palms down on the desk as though finally ready to push off. Only she hesitates. “Is there something else going on that you want to tell me about?”

I look at Max and he looks back at me. The bullying. I sigh. I’m sick and tired of suffering the shoves and insults from that stupid volleyball gang. But we promised Jazz we wouldn’t say anything about Vanessa’s threats so I button my lip. “No, Mrs. Norr,” we both answer.

“Very well. Leave your phone with me for this period, Max. You may go.”

We dash out. It doesn’t take long for the announcement. “Would the following students report to the office immediately: Vanessa McDonald, Kierstead Compo, Morgan Pellam, Laura Gingham, Gwyn Thompson, Emma Simmons, Zoe O’Connell and Rebecca Bennett.” I feel revenge smirk inside me. That’s what you get for posting photos of naked corpses with my best friend’s and her boyfriend’s heads on them.

Only they haven’t done that this lifetime through.

I pass Emma and Zoe in the hall as I head for gym class. They look at each other, then glare at me. Zoe taps her nose as she raises an eyebrow.

Oh, big threat!
As fast as their parents are called and letters
are written, they’re going to have to leave the school premises. If they want to meet us at the overpass to beat us up, at the very least they will be seriously inconvenienced. Maybe their parents will ground them. Or maybe they will be leery of getting into any more trouble and risking expulsion.

In any case, gym class is never quite as relaxed as today. No one slams me into a locker or knocks me with any equipment. We play volleyball without the pros, and I actually get a serve across. No one double blocks or spikes it back. No one squabbles with each other over missing the shots or serves or calling for the ball. My side wins by a few points, but it doesn’t even matter. Everyone seems to have fun, and no one snaps a wet towel at me in the changing room.

In French class, the drills go quicker, and Madame Potvin gives out e-mail addresses for possible pen pals for us. She also talks about the exchange trip she’s arranging for spring break.

If only there was some way I could avoid that train Monday afternoon, I would see Paris. I smile, imagining the Eiffel Tower. But the deal was a week to return so that I could stand up for Jazz this time, and I have to keep my side of the bargain. Still, hasn’t so much else changed because I acted on some of my better impulses? If only I hadn’t spent my lifetime behind that shell I’d created. Who knows how much better everything would have gone?

On the way to the library at the end of the day, I make the mistake of stopping at my locker. Someone has smeared something red and meaty across it. Spaghetti sauce?

“I’ve got it! No worries,” Max calls as he runs my way. He carries a spray bottle in one hand and a plastic bag and rag in another. “I had way more on my locker. Whoever cooked it likes their meat rare.” He immediately begins wiping the red stuff into the bag.

“Thanks, Max. I’m so glad I’m not alone in this.”

He stops mid-wipe, suddenly looking a little green.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I just wiped off an eyeball.”

“Oh my gawd. What is this really?” I step in closer.

Max’s neck stretches out and his shoulders lift, like he’s ready to hurl.

I step back.

“My guess is roadkill, squirrel probably.” He looks away for a minute, taking a couple of breaths. Then he quickly finishes.

“You don’t think we should report any of this?” I ask.

“What more can Mrs. Norr do today? They’re already suspended. Not even supposed to be on school property.”

I shake my head. Those girls found plastinated body parts gross, so smearing squirrel on our lockers shows real dedication on their part. “Do you want to try to catch up to Jazz and Cameron?” I ask Max. “Warn them? Maybe they should go home early. On the bus, preferably.”

“Sure.” He gives the locker a couple more swipes as I throw on my coat for the trek to find Jazz and Cameron.

“Hurry,” I tell Max as I move ahead of him through the
hall and out the back of the school. I try to run, lifting my feet high over the duvet of snow spread across the field. It’s exhausting. On the sidewalk it becomes easier, although by this time I’m out of breath. “Down this block, this is the way they always go.” I point and we turn.

At the end of the street, I think I see them. At least, it’s two people huddled together, walking. “Jasmine! Cameron!”

They turn and she waves.

“Hold up a minute!” I call. I sigh as we head closer. Whatever happens, at least there will be four of us together. Then I have a second thought. Last time, both Jazz and I got hit by the train. What if all four of us are killed this pass? “Max, I don’t feel like rushing home right now. If we hang out at the mall awhile, one of my parents could drive us.”

“Let’s see how Jazz reacts when you tell her about the roadkill,” he answers.

“What’s Max talking about?” Jazz asks as we draw closer.

“How was your locker today?”

“Fine. Vanessa and her gang were sent home, remember?”

“Still, one of them managed to splatter squirrel on our lockers.”

“Gross!” Jazz says.

“That can’t be Vanessa. She faints at the sight of blood,” Cameron says.

“Doesn’t matter which one of them did it. I think we should stick together. Safety in numbers,” I suggest.

“I’m not afraid of Vanessa,” Cameron answers.

“You probably don’t need to be,” I say. “But what about Jazz?”

“Why don’t we go to the mall with you?” Max asks. “You may want to pick out an engagement present, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Cameron asks as we start walking in that direction. Max and I squeeze in together beside Cameron and Jazz.

Jazz answers, her face pink. “Paige got you and Max invited to my cousin’s engagement party on Saturday.”

“Great. I get to see you,” Cameron says.

Last time through the weekend, I had to cover for them when they went to a movie.

“Yeah, well, you can’t touch me or act like a boyfriend in any way,” Jazz warns. “Don’t worry about buying a present, though. Indians only give money.”

“A card, then,” I suggest. “We want Cameron to make a good impression.”

We cross the parking lot to the mall now. “Plus, I could use something to wear. You can help me buy something that’s … appropriate.”

Cameron holds open the first door for us, and instantly warm air rushes around us. We stamp our feet on the rubber mat. Max gets the second door. “Let’s grab a hot chocolate first,” Max suggests, and we head for the food court. The
mall is pretty empty at this hour. A girl steps forward to try to get us to sample her special Dead Sea salt scrub, but we dart around her.

“You don’t have to buy anything to wear,” Jazz tells me. “I’ll lend you a sari.”

“Okay, I’d like that.” Probably the closest I’ll ever get to travel to the East.

The smell of coffee and vanilla leads us to the doughnut shop. At a table nearby, I notice someone hunched over an empty cup and crumpled napkin. I nudge Max, but Cameron has already spotted her. She doesn’t look scary here all alone. She looks washed-out and sad.

Cameron turns to Jazz. “She hangs out here whenever she has a fight with her mom. Do you mind? I have to go check on her.”

We watch as Cameron walks over to her. I see how Vanessa wipes at tears and mucus as she sobs. Pathetic. Not a look to get a guy back. I can’t really hear what they say to each other.

Cameron shrugs his shoulders and takes out his wallet. He leaves a few bills on the table for Vanessa, then returns to us.

“Is she okay?” Jasmine asks.

“She’s kicked out of the house again. Her mother’s mad about her smoking suspension.”

“Oh gawd. Why doesn’t she sleep over at a friend’s?” I ask. “It’s cold out. She can’t stay at the mall forever.”

“Most of them are grounded, too. And I know my parents are fed up with her crashing in our basement.”

I stare after Vanessa. Her head is buried in her hands, and her hair sticks out like feathers. She’s lost her boyfriend, who was maybe her best friend, too. No place to stay in February. I shake my head.

“Let’s go get the card,” Jazz suggests. “I can’t sit here with her across from me, looking like that.”

“All right. Where to?” Cameron asks. He sounds as dragged down as I feel.

“Over there.” I point to a gift shop. We walk into it and start browsing. The clerk has to show us where the engagement cards are since there are only four to choose from: A cutesy red heart card that says, “U’ve got hitched”; another with a pair of gold bands that reads, “To the best couple ever”; and another with a big diamond on a girl’s hand: “You’ve found your Mr. Right.”

The final card, “You have found your soul mate,” I pick for myself.

“Oh man, they’re five bucks! I gave all my money to Van just now,” Cameron says. “Can I just sign yours, Jazz?”

“No, we can’t be linked!” Jazz says. “Pitch in with Max. Here, I’ll lend you ten.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got money,” Max says.

“I’ve still got some change,” Cameron says.

“Whatever. Make it an uneven amount, like eleven,” Jazz suggests. “The extra dollar is considered lucky.”

“Good, we can stop shopping,” Max says. “I’ll design a better card at home.”

As I reach in my backpack to pay for the one I chose, we hear a commotion from the food court. A voice is swearing. A raspy female voice.

In another minute, we see two security guards dragging Vanessa to the door. She isn’t putting up that much of a struggle—just cursing loudly.