Mean Girls. Louise Rozett
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turn now.
“Come in.”
Madison and Julia floated in, both wearing expressions of great sympathy.
“This must be hard for you.” Madison sat down on Dana’s bed, moving the poster carefully out of the way.
“Why do you think that?”
Julia looked to Madison and then to me. “Becca coming back? You like Max … right?”
“No.”
“Sweetie, I’m sorry but …” Madison ignored me, and laid a hand on her chest, over her heart. “I’m your friend. We are your friends. But we know Max. We know Becca. And … we just don’t want you to have your heart broken by surprise when Max goes back to her.”
“And chances are …” Julia trailed off.
“Maybe he won’t.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt. “And we’re not even, like, together, so if he wants to be with someone that’s not … I mean he’s allowed to do whatever he wants.”
She shrugged. “Look, we’re just trying to look out for you. If you don’t want our help then just say so.”
I didn’t know what to say. But I figured the only way to get them to stop feeling sorry for me was to agree.
I nodded. “You’re probably right. I’ll try not to get too close.”
“Good. Because he really loves her,” Madison said, smiling sadly at me.
Okay, got it.
“You guys going down to the assembly now? It’s soon, isn’t it? I’m meeting Max—” I paused as Julia raised her eyebrows. “I’m meeting Max out front of the auditorium.”
“We’ll walk down with you, sure! Don’t forget your uniform.” Madison couldn’t quite pull it off like Cam without sounding a little mean.
I grabbed my Manderley polo and khaki skirt from the closet, and they stepped outside. To talk about me, I was sure, rather than out of some sense of my privacy.
I was out in a few seconds, and we walked down the stairs silently. I felt relieved when I saw Max.
He nodded a hello to the other girls, and then looked to me. I stepped toward him. He shook his head slightly, looking around, and held open the door for us instead of taking it. I was sure Madison and Julia were exchanging yet another look behind my back.
We walked into the dim auditorium. No one was talking, but everyone watched as we found a place to sit. Soon after we did, the house lights dimmed down to nothing, and Professor Crawley took the podium.
“Welcome back, students. I hope everyone had a good Winter Break. Classes will start up tomorrow as usual, at 8:00 a.m. I want to ask you all to remind yourselves of the rules, and to make sure you ready yourself for school and to shake off the holiday mentality.” He cleared his throat, and carried on with a reminder of what those rules were. I checked off the ones in my head that I’d broken.
Most of them.
The room was filled with the anticipation of what exactly had happened concerning Becca. But we had to wait a full forty-five minutes before all of the administration had spoken and Crawley had taken the microphone again. The room stiffened and went silent.
“There’s been a … progression with the Rebecca Normandy case. I’m sure most of you already know, at least those of you who knew her, but for those of you who do not, Dana Veers is here—once again—to explain. Miss Veers?”
She took the stage, looking even slighter than ever, squinting in the stage lights. “Hi. I think a lot of you bought the T-shirts we’ve been selling outside, and I was glad to find that many of you took our suggestion to buy more than one and to send them to your friends and family members. We want to increase awareness everywhere we can, and the more people who wear her picture the better. Becca Normandy is alive, everyone.”
Cheers immediately broke out. Max was still and silent, as was I. Professor Crawley made a movement toward Dana, but then allowed her to go on when she gave him a scathing look.
“Make it quick,” he said, his voice carrying just enough to get to the microphone.
“As some of you know, Becca updated her Facebook with the following—I am alive, and I will be back to Manderley soon. Love you, Max.” I felt him stiffen next to me. She went on. “I don’t know when she’ll be back, but obviously she will be. Because of this update, her parents have funded advertising in newspapers and magazines nationwide. She has become an icon in news stories practically overnight, and I’m sure it’ll be no time until she’s back. So what I’m saying is, tell your friends and family to keep an eye out for her. All of the money from the T-shirts is going to the cause.”
She stepped down, to applause. Professor Crawley took the podium over again. “Actually, in line with that, there is no way to know if this posting was really by Becca or not. The police are searching, but please, I implore you not to get your hopes—”
But Professor Crawley could hardly be heard. Everyone in the auditorium was talking noisily.
It stayed like that through dinner. I sat at a table with Cam, Blake, Max and some others I barely knew. Most of them were talking about Becca. I was poking at my spaghetti and meatballs, and Max was staring at his meat loaf.
I tried to formulate a million different questions and things to say before landing on, “What do you think?”
We couldn’t be heard over everyone else.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Where would she have been all this time?”
“I don’t know.”
I waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I took a deep breath. “Max, you must be able to guess. You have no idea if this is something she might do?”
He raised his eyebrows. “It’s definitely something she would do.”
“It is?” My heart fell a little. Then guilt squeezed it.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Attention probably. Or something else. I don’t know.”
I took a small bite of my spaghetti. A moment later, I got up the nerve to ask him what I had been thinking. “Max, do you think she might have been pregnant?”
He froze. “I don’t know.”
“Really?”
“No. I have no idea.” His tone had sharpened.
I stared at him for a moment. “I’m not very hungry. And I’m tired. The plane, you know.” I waved my hand, as if to say, Oh, planes, they put me right to sleep. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He said nothing, and let me walk away. I said good-night to everyone else. Blake gave me a kind smile and waved.
I ran into Johnny on the steps.
“Hey,” he said.
“Johnny.” I breezed past him, not stopping until I got to the rotunda. I slumped down in one of the seats with itchy fabric.
“What’s wrong?” Johnny had followed me.
I shook my head. “Do you think Becca might come back?”
“It’s something she’d do.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like the trait of a very lovable person, does it?” The question flew from my lips before I could stop it. “I mean … I mean …”
Johnny sat down across from me. “She wasn’t all simple charm. She had more to her. Yeah, this is something she’d do, but … I don’t know.”