Liars and Losers Like Us(33)

Jane’s voice is almost pleading. “But there’s nothing I can do. It’s not my fault he’s trying to apologize.”

The other voice says, “Yeah, but he’s your—”

“Shut up,” Jane hisses. “Please. I’m not talking to him and I have nothing to do with any of it. I just need it to go away. He’s not part of my life anymore. At all. Ever.”

And a familiar voice with the same bite, “Please. You’re just worried about people finding out.”

Jane lowers her voice, “You’re not the only one it happened to, you know.”

Maisey Morgan looks past Jane’s shoulder and meets my eye. Jane spins around following her gaze.

“What the hell?” Jane’s face reads red hot horror as her fingers flare in and out of her palms.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Kallie shoves Jane in the shoulder. “You better not even be talking about my boyfriend.”

I grab Kallie’s wrist, squaring off in front of Jane. “You need to leave Maisey alone, she didn’t do anything.”

Maisey stares at Jane, tears in her eyes. “For the record, Janie, I never thought I was the only one, and that’s the worst part of all.” Maisey runs down the hall toward the main doors. She does a trip slash half stumble but keeps on going.

Jane steps forward. “Maisey!” She stops, takes a deep breath, and faces us. Her mouth is pulled into a tight line and her eyes look ready to release a serious stream of tears. She huffs. “Whatever. What a loser. That rat doesn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

Kallie tugs her wrist out of my grip and steps back up to Jane. “You’ve got some serious issues, Hulmes. You’ve been picking on Maisey since elementary school, grow up. Everyone’s tired of your shit. You need to stay out of our way, cause if you haven’t figured it out yet, no one actually likes you, they’re pretending. Just like you, with all your fake gold tiaras and pageant shit.”

“Screw you,” Jane says as she tries to walk past, but Kallie sticks out her boot.

“Easy there, Grand Supreme. Listen to me. If your name comes up in anymore rumors or if you try starting shit that has to do with me, Todd, Bree, or anyone—”

A librarian peeks her head out the door, “Ladies, keep it down, please.”

“Oh, get over yourself.” Jane shoves past Kallie, whipping me with her thick braid.

“Did she just bitch slap you with her hair?”

“Just let it go. I’m over it,” I say, actually relieved she’s gone.

“Same. I think we made our point.”

Jane runs down the hall and out the door, her braid swinging from side to side.

Kallie locks her arm through my elbow. “Let’s forget about this and get donuts. And most definitely discuss the real issue from that Prom theme meeting. Sean Mills was staring at you like it was a life drawing class.”

We exchange the after school drama for glazed donuts, Sean talk, Prom dress image viewing, and absolutely no more mentions of Todd.

****

At dinner I give my mom an abbreviated recap of my day and the meeting. I tell her how ridiculous Jane was but that Kallie and I seem to be cool again.

“That’s great, what a relief.” She sighs and leans over her grilled chicken. “Soooo … speaking of ‘being cool again’, do you owe your dad a phone call?”

“Why? It’s not like we’re in a fight.”

“Hon, your dad says you’ve been distant since the divorce was finalized and he said you haven’t returned his calls and he hasn’t talked to you in weeks.”

“Not on purpose. And funny you should mention it, I was thinking of calling him this month. Maybe even this week.”

“Don’t be cute. I’m sure you know, but the divorce wasn’t all his fault,” she says.

It’s been like half a year since the divorce was final and she’s talking to me about it now? “Yeah mom, I know. I’m sure there’s a reason why Dad didn’t feel like hanging around here all the time. Maybe all the yelling got on his nerves. Trust me, I get it.”

She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something but takes a drink of water instead.

“Like I said, I’m going to call him. Why’s he calling you about me anyway? I didn’t even know you guys still talk.”

“Of course we still talk,” she says. “He loves and cares about you like I do. He worries too. He wants to know what you’re up to, how you’re doing. And hey, if you’re not calling him,” she narrows her eyes, “then he’s going to have to call somebody to get that info.”

“Point taken. I’ll call him. Promise.”

She looks relieved and goes back to her chicken. As I choke down a mouthful of bland broccoli, I make a mental note to call Dad by Friday after school. Before my date with Sean.





FOURTEEN


Late Thursday morning I’m called from Biology to the office again. Second time in the past month. My heart and stomach do all their signature moves. Jumping, flipping, racing, and all to a horrible tune of “what-if this or what-if that?” Maybe Maisey wants back in Prom Court. Or maybe Mom called Ms. Selinski about me not calling Dad. Convinced Mom ratted me out on my lingering divorce issues, I take longer, faster strides down the hall. Who does she think she is, anyway? Either she’s sweeping shit under the rug or making mountains out of it. I veer to the wall, lean against it and pull my phone out of my bag to text her.