Ready or Not (15 page)

I turned to face the rest of the cafeteria, my voice having risen to an almost hysterical pitch. But I didn't care.

I just didn't care anymore.

“Is this
really
how you all feel?” I demanded. “That I should drop out? Do you really all agree with KRIS?”

For a second there was silence. No one moved. No one said anything.

No one except Kris, I mean. She tossed her head, and, looking out across the sea of faces, asked, “Well?”

Kris, you could tell, was enjoying herself. She's always liked being the center of attention, but she doesn't have the talent it takes to get roles in any of the school's plays or musicals. Calling someone a slut in front of the entire school is the only way she can think of to get the kind of attention she craves…well, that, and lording it over everyone on the student council.

When no one replied, Kris looked back at me and said, “Well, the masses have spoken. Or, NOT spoken, as the case may be. What are you doing, just standing there? Get out.
Sluts aren't wanted here
.”

“Then I guess
you
'd better find another school to go to, too, shouldn't you, Kris?”

That wasn't me.
I
wasn't the one who'd said that. I
wish
I was the one who'd said that.

But it was someone else. Someone who wasn't me or Catherine, who, by the way, was still standing there, openmouthed, in the lunch line, her dark eyes as wide and horror-filled as my own.

No. The person who'd said that, about Kris finding another school to go to as well? That was none other than my sister Lucy, who'd scooted her chair back from the lunch table where she'd been sitting with her friends. Now she came sauntering toward Kris, a slight smile on her pretty face.

Though what Lucy could possibly have found to smile about, considering the situation, I couldn't imagine.

Neither, apparently, could Kris.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Lucy,” Kris said to my sister in a voice that was considerably less snotty than the one she'd used when talking to me. Also, much higher-pitched. “This doesn't concern you, anyway. Everyone
likes
you, Lucy. This is about your sister.”

“But that's just the problem, Kris,” Lucy said. “Anything that concerns my sister IS about me.”

As she said this, Lucy walked over to me and flung an arm around my neck. I suppose she meant the gesture to be chummy, but the truth is, she was actually strangling me a little, she was holding on so tight.

“And, by the way,” Lucy added, “you're a liar, Kris.”

Kris glanced over her shoulder at her gang, who all looked confusedly back at her as if to say,
We don't know what she's talking about, either.

“Um,” Kris said. “Excuse me, Lucy? I think we were all watching last night when your sister informed the entire world that she just said yes to sex.”

“I didn't mean you were lying about
that
,” Lucy said. “I mean wasn't that you I saw in the school parking lot last night in the back of Random Alvarez's limo?”

Kris stiffened as if Lucy had hit her.

And I guess, in a way, Lucy had.

“I…” Kris looked nervously back toward her gang. But they were blinking back at her, as if to say,
Wait…WHAT did she say? Now THIS is dishy.

Kris turned quickly back to Lucy. “No. I mean, yes…I mean, I
was
in his limo. But we weren't DOING anything. I mean, he just wanted to show me this demo he'd cut. He asked me to watch his demo—”

“And I guess,” Lucy said, “you just said yes.”

“Yes,” Kris said. Then, she started shaking her head, realizing what she'd just said. “I mean, no. I mean—”

Suddenly, it was Kris who was blushing all the way to her hairline.

“That's not what I meant,” Kris said, too fast. “It's not. It was perfectly innocent.” She looked back at her fellow Right Wayers. “Random and I just talked. He really likes me. He's probably going to take me to the Video Music Awards…in New York City….”

But no one believed her. You could tell no one believed her, not even her fellow Right Wayers. Because everyone had seen how she'd been flirting with him. Random, I mean.

“The thing is, Kris,” Lucy said, still keeping her supposedly affectionate chokehold on me, “you have to be careful who you call a slut. Because the truth is, there are a lot more of us than there are of”—she looked pointedly at Kris's gang, and not at Kris—“you guys.”

Kris stammered, “B-but…I didn't mean
you
, Luce. I would never…I mean, no one would ever call YOU a slut.”

“Let's get something straight, Kris,” Lucy said. “If you're gonna call my sister a slut, then you'd better be prepared to call me one, too. Because if Sam's a slut, Kris? Then…so…am…I.”

There was a collective intake of breath at this, as if everyone in the cafeteria suddenly gasped at the same time. My eyes, meanwhile, had filled with tears all over again. I couldn't believe it. Lucy was putting her reputation on the line for me. ME.

It was the nicest thing she'd ever done for me. It was the nicest thing
anyone
had ever done for me.

Until somewhere in the cafeteria, a chair was knocked over. Then a booming male voice called out, “So am I.”

And, to my total astonishment, Harold Minsky strode up to us, his shoulders thrown back beneath his Hawaiian shirt.

Lucy's expression melted into one of utter devotion—tinged with astonishment—as she gazed up at her tutor, standing so tall and geeky beside her.

“If they're sluts,” Harold said defiantly, pointing at Lucy and me, “then
I'm
a slut, too.”

“Oh,
Harold
,” Lucy said, in a voice I had never heard her use before—certainly never with Jack.

Harold's face was turning as red as the flowers on his shirt. But he didn't back down.

“Slut solidarity,” he said with a nod to us.

Which was when Catherine suddenly stepped out of the lunch line, and, coming up behind Lucy, Harold, and me, went,
“ME, TOO,”
in the loudest voice I'd ever heard her use.

Oh my God! I craned my neck to try to see Catherine's face, but it was hard, considering Lucy's stranglehold on me. What was going on here?

“Cath,” I whispered, “you aren't a slut. Stay out of this.”

But Catherine just said, loudly enough for everyone in the cafeteria to hear, “If Sam and Lucy Madison are sluts, then so am I.”

People buzzed at this.
Catherine
, a slut? Her parents didn't even allow her to wear
pants
to school.

Kris knew she was in trouble now. I could tell by the way her gaze was darting from us and back to all the people in the rest of the caf, who were still watching, as transfixed as if Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul were going at it right in front of them.

“Um,” Kris said. “Listen. I—”

But her voice was drowned out as all over the cafeteria, chair legs scraped the floor. Suddenly, the students of John Adams Preparatory Academy were all standing up…

And declaring themselves sluts.

“I'm a slut, too,” cried Mackenzie Craig, bespectacled president of the Chess Club…who had never even been out on a date.

“
I'm
a slut,” shouted Tom Edelbaum, who'd played the lead in the Drama Club's version of
Godspell.

“I'm the biggest slut of all,” said Jeff Rothberg, Debra Mullins's boyfriend, his fists balled at his sides, as if he were willing to fight anybody who'd dare dispute his slutty status.

“
We're all sluts
,” the entire Adams Prep track team jumped up gleefully to announce.

Soon every single person in the cafeteria—with the exception of Kris and her fellow members of Right Way—was on his or her feet, declaring, “
I'm a slut!
”

It was a beautiful thing.

By the time Principal Jamieson got down there, we were all chanting it:
“I'm a slut. I'm a slut. I'm a slut. I'm a slut.
”

It took the football coach to get everyone to quiet down. Principal Jamieson had to get him to blow on his athletic whistle—the one he'd taken the ball out of—long and hard, since no one had responded to the principal's shouted requests that we
Please settle down. Please, people, just settle down!

No one could keep chanting through the piercing shriek of Coach Long's whistle, though. We had to clap our hands over our ears, it was so loud.

All too soon, slut solidarity was over.

“What,” Principal Jamieson asked, when the chanting had stopped, and everyone had turned back to their food, almost as if nothing had happened, “is going on here?”

“She called my sister a slut,” Lucy said, pointing at Kris.

“I…I didn't!” Kris's blue eyes were wide. “I mean, I did, but…I mean, she deserves it! After what she did last night—”

“She calls
me
a slut every chance she gets,” Debra Mullins volunteered from the back of the room. “And
I
didn't do anything last night.”

“Isn't it a violation of the John Adams Preparatory Academy's student conduct code to make pejorative remarks concerning someone's sexual orientation and/or alleged activities, Principal Jamieson?” Harold Minsky asked.

Principal Jamieson looked at Kris and her little group. “Indeed,” he said sternly. “It is.”

“Dr. Jamieson,” Kris said faintly, “this was all just a big misunderstanding. I can explain—”

“I look forward to hearing your explanation,” Principal Jamieson said. “In my office. Right now.”

Looking chagrined (SAT word meaning “feeling uneasy or shamefaced”), Kris followed Principal Jamieson from the cafeteria.

I noticed that her little group of followers stayed behind, almost looking as if they were trying to appear not to know her.

So much for the part on Kris's college admissions apps about her leadership abilities.

Watching her leave, I felt like crying. Not because Kris Parks had been so mean to me, trying to humiliate me in front of the entire school—like I hadn't adequately proved I was capable of doing that all on my own, without anybody else's help.

No, I felt like crying because I realized how lucky I am. I mean, to have a sister like Lucy, and a friend like Catherine…not to mention so many people I hadn't even
known
were my friends, like Harold Minsky. I stood there beside them, my eyes filled with tears, going, “You guys. You guys, that was just so…so
sweet
of you. I mean, to say that you're sluts…just for me.”

“Aw,” Catherine said, patting my hand. “I'd call myself a slut for you any time, Sam. You know that.”

Lucy and Harold weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to my heartfelt thank you, however. Instead, Lucy had taken Harold's arm, and was going, “Thanks for saying you were a slut for me, Harold.”

Harold's face turned even
redder
than the flowers on his shirt as he replied, “Well, you know. I just can't stand idly by while a social injustice is being committed. I didn't know before that you…well, that you were such an insurgent.” (SAT word meaning “rising in opposition to civil or political authority, or against an established government.”) “I always thought you were a bit of a…well, a follower. I guess I really underestimated you.”

“Oh, I'm a TOTAL insurgent,” Lucy said, giving his arm a squeeze. “I never get sick at the sight of blood.”

Oh, well. Close enough, anyway.

“Listen, Harold,” Lucy went on, “I know you couldn't make it last weekend, but do you want to go to the movies with me this weekend?”

“Lucy,” Harold said, his voice sounding higher-pitched than usual—either because he was embarrassed, or because Lucy was kind of rubbing her boob against his arm…although I can't say for sure she was doing it on purpose. “I really don't think…I mean, I think we should try to keep our relationship on a, um, professional level.”

Lucy dropped his arm as if it had suddenly caught on fire.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly sounding as if
she
might start crying. “I see. Okay.”

“It's just,” Harold said, sounding uncomfortable, “you know. Your parents. They hired me to tutor you. I don't think it would be right, you know, for us to see each other socially.”

Lucy appeared crushed. Until Harold added, “At least, not until after you've retaken the test.”

Lucy glanced up at him, looking as if she hardly dared to believe what she was hearing. “You mean…you mean
after
I retake the SATs, you'll go out with me?”

“If you want,” Harold said, in a tone which indicated that he couldn't imagine that, in a million years, she'd still want to. Go out with him, I mean.

Which just proved that Harold? He didn't know my sister Lucy all that well yet.

But I had a feeling, judging from the way Lucy's eyes were shining as she grabbed hold of his arm again, that he was going to get to know her
really
well.

“Harold,” Lucy said, taking his arm again, “I can promise you two things.”

Harold stared down at her, like a man in a dream. Then a grin broke out across the face that was as bright as sunrise over the Potomac (not that I've ever seen this, because who gets up that early?) and he said, “One: I'll always look this good.”

Lucy grinned right back up at him. “Two: I'll never give up on you. Ever.”

Wait a minute. That sounded kind of familiar….
Hellboy.
They were quoting from
Hellboy
.

This, I could see, was a relationship that was going to last a long, long time.