Liars and Losers Like Us(14)
“Sooo,” my voice shakes. “I know I don’t really know you that well or anything but I just wanted to say sorry about the whole Prom thing. I’m not—I mean, well, it’s not like I … I didn’t nominate you or anything but I still feel like I should say something.”
“Don’t bother. It looks like you’re all set.” She nods at my PROM GUIDE paper. “You’re on Prom Court now and you can do it with dignity. Tell all your friends and go home and tell your mom and dad the news.” Her eyes get that shiny glossed over look as she clenches a wad of tissues in her fist.
“I’m not happy it happened like this and I’m not even—”
“Sure you’re not.” She exhales a short breathy laugh and swipes the tissue under her eyes. “Because no one would ever want to be Prom Queen, right? Yeah sure, it’s nothing to be happy about. But really, you try to enjoy yourself. Just remember all the people you think you’re not stepping on along the way.”
“That’s not true, I’m not even like that.”
“Oh please, I’ve known you since elementary school. You’ve never talked to me. But you’ve laughed. Everybody does.” As if a dam breaks, tears rush down her face. “You were sitting right next to me when someone left a dead mouse in my desk in sixth grade. The smell—” Her face crumples like tissue paper as she mops the tears into her wadded Kleenex. “The smell of it—for two whole days until I found it in the back corner in a sandwich bag. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about it. I remember like it was last week. You’re the one who told me to check my desk, remember? There’s no way you don’t.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t. I—I …” I don’t even want to finish because the look on her face takes me back to the way she looked when she pulled it out of her desk that day. Horrified, degraded, the tears, the face-slapping humiliation. I do remember. Our corner of the class was starting to get a weird stink. Kids were whispering and laughing at lunch and recess about someone putting something in her desk. “I didn’t do that. I don’t know who did either, I just heard about it—that’s why I told you to look. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I wasn’t even sure if it was true.” My heart’s racing and the look on her face is killing me and I just want to leave. Maisey Morgan isn’t going to make me cry. “I wasn’t in on it and I really was trying to help.”
“Whatever. I’d hardly call that helping. I’m sure you were laughing with everyone else. Just like you’ve laughed a million times at a million jokes about me. You think you’re better than me with your perfect life. You get to walk down the hallway without wondering if someone’s going to throw something, trip you, or squeak and sing when you’re with friends or walking down the hall with your little sister who only just realized you were a loser once she got into high school with you.”
“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Just shut up. It doesn’t matter anymore anyways. It’s all done, it’s over. I. Don’t. Care. I’m more over it than you’d even believe.”
My throat clenches tighter but somehow I push more words out. “Like I said, I’m sorry for anything I’ve ever said or done to make you feel like I thought I was better than you. That’s crazy, but don’t think my life is perfect either. I don’t have a perfect life and everything isn’t as easy for me as you think.”
“Save the act of contrition, Bree Hughes,” she says with such bite I can practically see the cold air coming from her mouth. Her smirk is so condescending that it resembles one I’ve seen many times on Jane Hulmes’s face. “This isn’t a confessional booth. You don’t get to say sorry and everything goes away. You and the rest of this school are the least of my problems, anyway. I told you, it’s done. Have fun on Prom Court and enjoy hanging out with all those *s, seems like you’ll fit in just fine.”
She plucks her glasses from the sink, wipes her eyes with her sleeve, swoops up her books, and leaves me in her dust.
I can’t believe that the first time I’ve ever really talked to Maisey just ended with her telling me off. Who would’ve thought she had it in her? Although a part of me is flattered for her thinking I’m perfect and leading some charmed, popular, happy family life, I mostly feel like an ass. I don’t even know how I’d fix something like this. At least I said I was sorry. Maybe I can try to say something else to her another time. But definitely not right now. Right now, I have to get to class to turn in my assignment. Most importantly, I can’t wait to tell the only person I’m hoping will care right now about my good news. Sean Mills.
SEVEN
Gripping my phone, I run through all the reasons why I should call Sean. Of course my seat was taken when I walked into Language Arts. Kallie didn’t save it like she usually does so I had to sit in the front row, first seat in. Right in front of Maisey who was probably piercing me with sharper daggers than Kallie was. Being in front, I was also forced to leave class first when the bell rang. I didn’t even have the nerve to turn around and wait for Sean. I was too worried that Maisey would have more stuff to say to me.
I jump onto my bed and relax into the pillows propped against the headboard. After tapping Sean’s number into my phone, my finger hovers over the call button.