She Drives Me Crazy(30)
Irene and I give each other a wide berth after that. We hardly acknowledge each other and she stops coming to my practices, prompting the Cleveland triplets to grill me about our “trouble in paradise.”
The week leading into Thanksgiving break arrives with a flurry of tests and project deadlines. Rain lashes down, darkening the sky outside our school windows, and the ancient tree behind the library is stripped of its vibrant red leaves. It’s our first glimpse of winter branches, bare and clawlike.
The Thursday before break starts, we’re in Scuttlebaum’s class, whiling away the minutes as the rain pelts against the window. Danielle is sketching new basketball plays on the corner of her notebook. Gino’s on the opposite side of the room, flicking paper footballs every time Scuttlebaum turns her back. Irene is sitting with her head in her hand, picking at her nail polish and staunchly avoiding my eyes.
Scuttlebaum is prattling on about her favorite show, The Masked Singer, when she abruptly switches gears and grabs a stack of papers off her desk. “I’ve got your homework graded,” she announces. “Scottie, here.”
Scuttlebaum never says Please pass these out. She just gestures vaguely and says Here.
I take the stack of papers obligingly and start to pass them around the room. That’s when I notice Charlotte Pascal trading a note with her friend Symphony Davis. They’re scrawling furiously back and forth.
Just when I’m about to deliver the last pieces of homework, there’s a ruckus as Scuttlebaum confiscates Charlotte and Symphony’s note.
“Sending notes, Ms. Pascal?” She stands imperiously at the front of the room. “Hmph. Let’s see what’s so interesting that it couldn’t wait until class ends…”
She narrows her beady eyes and wheezes into reading. I stop where I stand, the last two homework pieces in my hand.
“If she thinks she’ll even set foot on my property, she’s delusional,” Scuttlebaum starts, her voice grating. My classmates shift in their seats; everyone can tell this is gonna be good.
Scuttlebaum changes her voice to indicate Symphony’s reply. “But you said everyone’s invited to this party.”
“Not a predatory bitch like her.”
Everyone gasps, wide-eyed with glee. There’s a rumble of Oooooh around the room.
“Why would you say something so crass?” Scuttlebaum scolds Charlotte, but she continues reading.
“Girl, jeeze, L-O-L what did she even do to you?”
My instinct about the “bitch” they’re talking about grows clearer. I can’t help but notice Irene’s face darkening on the opposite side of the room.
“Ugh, I don’t even wanna talk about it. We were at that party last year and she started—”
There’s a collective anticipation in the room; it seems like everyone has figured out who Charlotte’s note is about. Something we’ve all been wondering for months is about to be revealed—and the look on Irene’s face is one of terror.
Scuttlebaum opens her mouth again, and my heart drills in my chest, and then—
In a flash, someone snatches the paper out of Scuttlebaum’s hand.
And that someone is me.
Before anyone can register what happened, I spit my gum into the note and crumple it up in my hand. I lob it into the trash can with a crisp, clean shot. The room goes so quiet I can hear someone cracking their knuckles nervously.
Scuttlebaum’s eyes are popping. I feel like I’m staring down a basilisk. I do the only thing I can think of: shrug and back away from her, acting like I’ve just done the most innocent thing on earth.
“Good timing,” I say casually. “That gum just lost its flavor.”
There’s an outbreak of gasping and giggling. I collapse into my seat, with Scuttlebaum glaring at me like a tomato-faced demon.
“Detention, Ms. Zajac,” she snarls. “How about tomorrow, just to delay your break from starting?”
I don’t care about the punishment, even though Danielle will be on my ass about missing practice. Everyone is staring at me, and I know my face is flaming red, but the only person I manage to connect with is Irene.
She stares across the room at me with the most curious expression on her face. I hold her eyes for a moment, then look down at my homework, perfectly graded with an A+ on top.
* * *
By the time I finish practice that day, the entire senior class seems to have heard about my wildly stupid gesture. A record number of people show up to watch the end of our practice, and I can’t figure out why until I see that Irene is back in their ranks. Danielle, who has barely spoken to me since practice started, looks resentfully delighted.
Irene approaches when I’m yanking off my ankle braces. I can feel every eye in the gym on us. I don’t look up until the last second.
Her dark hair is in its usual high ponytail, her tank top soaked with sweat, her biceps swelling the slightest bit.
“They think we’re going to have some dramatic reconciliation,” she tells me.
“Gross.”
We hover on the spot. Then Irene says, “Let me walk you to your car.”
We leave our nosy classmates behind and make our way out to the parking lot. We busy ourselves with zipping up our jackets and chugging our water bottles. It’s not until we’re standing by my car that Irene speaks.