If I'm Being Honest(16)
I need more than that. I need something that’ll catch his attention while making myself look good and helping others. I come up with and cross out a dozen possibilities.
It’s not until I remember Andrew’s exact words in class that I begin to have an idea. Andrew mentioned Kate smashing the lute over her tutor’s head. If Kate wanted to redeem herself, she would apologize. But apologies don’t repair real damage, and as I’ve learned through recent personal experience, it’s hard to make them genuine enough to work. Kate would have to bandage the tutor’s wounds and replace his broken lute before anyone really thought she’d changed.
That’s it.
Apologies alone won’t be enough. But I won’t only apologize. I’ll make amends with people I might have wronged. Whatever I did to hurt them, I’ll undo. It’s perfect. Performing grand gestures has a much higher visibility factor than mere compliments and politeness. It won’t take long for word to reach Andrew about what I’m doing, and then he’ll know I’ve changed, just like Katherine.
As much as I’d rather not, I’ll have to start with Paige. Even if I don’t particularly like her, Andrew won’t believe I’ve changed until I’ve made it up to her. The problem is, I haven’t the faintest idea what I could do for her.
* * *
I spend the next week following Paige everywhere, hoping for clues. I lurk on her hallway conversations, flip through last year’s yearbook to find out what extracurriculars she’s in, and stalk her movements during lunch. While my friends sit on the patio at our usual table, I tell them I’m working in the library and instead watch Paige and her friends in the dining hall. Nobody’s the wiser.
But I find nothing. Paige never complains about a class she’s failing or a project she needs help with, which means I can’t help her academically. I thought I might join one of her clubs and thereby help its stature, but amazingly for a Beaumont student, she isn’t involved in a single school activity. And despite her relative lack of popularity, she spends every lunch with a decently sized group of friends who appear to adore her.
I got momentarily excited last night when I realized I’d read her personal statement. I wracked my brain for everything I could remember—which wasn’t much. Admittedly, I didn’t really care when I read it. But I knew she wrote about feeling like she couldn’t be herself because she had other people to worry about. There were parts about bullying, about how difficult it is to watch without being able to help. Nothing specific, though. Nothing I can use.
She doesn’t have a boyfriend. I know that. Setting her up with someone would definitely be doable, but I haven’t overheard her talking about anyone she’s interested in. There’s always Jeff. At Skaˉra she was obviously into him, and considering how she had been sobbing when she stumbled into Andrew and me, I know whatever happened between them didn’t work out the way Paige had hoped.
But he’s Jeff.
In English I wait for the bell to ring, gazing out the window to the parking lot. Sure enough, the windows of Jeff’s Mercedes are fogged up with an unmistakable pot-smoke haze. I can make out his aggressively pink polo—with the collar popped, of course—through the cloud.
Even if Paige likes Jeff, I don’t think setting anyone up with him could ever qualify as a good deed.
I sigh and turn my attention back to Kowalski, who’s giving some impassioned lecture about the ways Bianca and Katherine serve as foils for each other, highlighting each other’s differences. Yawn.
In following Paige, I have noticed one thing. She and her friends are not completely honest when asked their opinion. Between their heated discussions of TV shows I’ve never heard of and whatever RPGs are, they’ll ask each other for advice. Does this hat make my hair look bad? No one saw my underwear when my skirt flew up, right? Do you think Jason Reid will ever like me back? These questions have obvious right answers: yes, no, and definitely not. But each time, Paige and her friends parrot whatever it is the asker wants to hear.
I didn’t understand it at first. Wouldn’t a person be a better friend if they told the truth? I’d want my friends to tell me if I had a hideous hat on or if I was wasting my time on an unrealistic crush. Or if I had, say, a blindingly bad cold sore. I’ve always thought of honesty as helpful even if it’s hurtful.
But reading The Taming of the Shrew, I’m beginning to doubt that. Katherine’s honesty helps no one and leaves them hating her. Her honesty is everyone’s main complaint with her. Katherine’s honest to a fault—like when she tells Petruchio he’s an ass within the first couple lines of meeting him. Even if “ass” for Shakespeare means donkey, it’s still a pretty savage insult. It happens again and again. Katherine doesn’t hide a single negative thought or opinion, which is why people come away convinced of her reputation as a shrew.
If I’m going to be less like Katherine, I’ll have to work on reining in my honest opinions some.
The bell finally rings, and I take my time collecting my things, waiting for Paige to leave. She shoves her copy of The Taming of the Shrew in her bag, pulls on a weird purple beanie with cat ears sewn on top, and walks to the door.
I’m about to follow her when Andrew cuts me off.
“Cool hat,” Andrew says, passing by her.
Paige holds the door for him. “Thanks,” she replies.