All Adults Here(70)

“Okay,” Porter said. She looked down and realized that she was digging her fingernails into her own palm.





Chapter 31





Cecelia Winds Up



It was the last period of the day, which, on Fridays, meant math. The junior high had tracked math classes, just like her school in Brooklyn had, which meant that the kids who were good at numbers were in one class and the kids who couldn’t add their way out of a paper bag were in another. Cecelia and August sat next to each other in the very last row, where they absorbed little to no lasting knowledge, which they both felt fine about. There were people who truly needed higher math, in order to become adults who did great things of a particular type: scientists, astronauts, professors who would someday be played by a sallow-skinned British actor in a movie adaptation of their lives. Cecelia and August were not those people.

Sidney Fogelman sat one row closer to the blackboard, separated from her cronies by aptitude, and spent the entire forty-five-minute class period putting her hair into a high ponytail and taking it out again.

August slid his notebook toward the edge of his desk, and wrote: I think Sidney counts by imagining My Little Ponies jumping over a rainbow.

Cecelia laughed and wrote in her notebook: I don’t think there are even numbers on her phone, just emojis.

Their math teacher, Mr. Davidson, was twenty-two. That seemed like math worth paying attention to—they had asked on the first day. A male teacher was always cause for a low-level celebration, or at least an interested oh from a parent, but neither of Cecelia’s parents had asked about her teachers, not specifically, not by subject, not actually thinking about the fact that she was interacting with all these adults every day and they had no idea who they were. Katherine would have loved Mr. Davidson. He was tall and thin, with a mustache that clearly existed just to demonstrate that it could. He wore pants the color of New England clam chowder, and New Balance sneakers.

There was an elaborate algebraic equation on the board, lines and squiggles that Cecelia could hardly make sense of. In most ways, she was a good student, and it seemed fine that in this one way, she was merely passable. As long as she passed. She raised her hand.

“Yes, Cecelia?” Mr. Davidson said.

“I’m sorry, could you explain that again? I got lost at the x/y.”

“Does anyone want to come up to the board and take a crack? Explain as you go?” He waved the chalk around the room.

“I’ll do it,” Sidney said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail, the way a fighter might take off her earrings before a sidewalk brawl. She turned around and gave Cecelia and August a nasty look. “You guys are fucking morons.”

She sauntered up in between the desks and accepted the chalk from Mr. Davidson with more than a smidge of lasciviousness, as if he had selected her, and not the other way around. She squeaked out some figures, handed back the chalk, and then dusted off her hands while Mr. Davidson checked her work.

“Great, yes. Now, can you explain how you got there?”

Sidney rolled her eyes. “It’s easy. You just have to factor for x, and then multiply everything that’s left.”

“Yes, sort of,” Mr. Davidson said. Sidney seemed satisfied and walked back to her seat. She nestled herself back in and worked on her ponytail until the bell rang. When they all stood up, shoving their things back into their bags, Sidney spun around on her heels and stared at August.

“You think you’re pretty slick, don’t you?” She was smiling, which would have been worrisome on its own.

“Well, I’m no math genius like you . . . oh, but wait, you’re in the dumb class with us! Never mind!” August slapped his forehead. “My mistake.”

“I have a friend who goes to Sunshine Village, did you know that?” Sidney crossed her arms over her chest. “She told me some crazy shit. Robin.”

“That’s his middle name,” Cecelia said, the words coming out fast. “My middle name is Vivienne, and sometimes people call me that. Especially the French side of my family.”

August was breathing hard. Cecelia reached down and held his hand.

“Wait, so if you dress up like a girl and call yourself a girl’s name and”—here Sidney pivoted her body to face Cecelia directly—“and you hold hands with girls, does that mean, oh my god, are you gay too? Like your grandmother? Your family is so crazy, I swear.” Sidney leaned back and let out a great big whinny of a laugh. She pulled her phone out of her bag. “I cannot wait to tell everyone.”

“Wait,” Cecelia said. She let go of August’s hand.

“Cecelia, it’s okay,” August said.

“Don’t!” Cecelia said. “That’s not fair! It’s none of your business, none of it!” She wanted to scream but gritted her teeth instead. She was not going to let it happen again. She wasn’t going to tell secrets, but she also wasn’t going to lie down and let another steamroller flatten her into the ground. It wasn’t about truth, it was about protection. That’s what she was trying to do for Katherine, and that’s what she was going to do for Robin too.

Sidney rolled her eyes. “I’m in the business of entertaining myself, and this is better than an episode of Vanderpump Rules.”

Cecelia looked at August, who had turned the color of unbuttered Wonder bread. “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “I have to.”