Anna and the French Kiss (30 page)

Straight to voice mail. I look at my ceiling. Is he up there? I can’t tell. Mer’s music is too loud to hear footsteps, so I’ll have to go up. I check my reflection. My eyes are puffy and red, and my hair looks like an owl pellet.

Breathe. One thing at a time.

Wash your face. Brush your hair. Brush your teeth, for good measure.

Breathe again. Open door.Walk upstairs. My stomach churns as I knock on his door. No one answers. I press my ear against the drawing of him in the Napoleon hat, trying to hear inside his room. Nothing. Where is he? Where IS he?

I go back to my floor, and John Lennon’s scratchy voice is still blasting down the hall. My feet slow as I pass her room. I have to apologize, I don’t care what Rashmi says, but Meredith is furious when she opens her door. “Great. It’s you.”

“Mer . . . I’m so sorry.”

She gives a nasty laugh. “Yeah?You looked really sorry with your tongue lodged down his windpipe.”

“I’m sorry.” I feel so helpless. “It just happened.”

Meredith clenches her hands, which are oddly ring-free. She’s not wearing any makeup either. In fact, she’s completely disheveled. I’ve never seen her look anything but polished before. “How could you, Anna? How could you do this to me?”

“I ... I ...”

“You
what
? You knew how I felt about him! I can’t believe you!”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I don’t know what we were thinking—”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not choosing either one of us.”

My heart stops. “What? What do you mean?”

“He chased me down.Told me he wasn’t interested.” Her face reddens. “And then he went to Ellie’s. He’s there right now.”

Everything turns hazy. “He went to Ellie’s?”

“Just like he always does when there’s trouble.” Her voice changes to smug. “Now how does it feel? Not so hot anymore, huh?” And then she slams her door in my face.

Ellie. He’s choosing Ellie.
Again.

I run to the bathroom and yank up the toilet lid. I wait to lose my lunch, but my stomach just churns, so I put the lid back down and sit on it. What’s wrong with me? Why do I always fall for the wrong guy? I didn’t want Étienne to be another Toph, but he is. Only it’s so much worse because I only liked Toph.

And I love Étienne.

I can’t face him again. How could I possibly face him again? I want to go back to Atlanta, I want my mom.The thought shames me. Eighteen-year-olds shouldn’t need their mother. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but suddenly I’m aware of irritated sounds in the hallway. Someone bangs on the door.

“God, are you gonna be in there
all night
?”

Amanda Spitterton-Watts. As if things could get any worse.

I check my reflection. My eyes look like I’ve mistaken cranberry juice for Visine, and my lips are swollen like wasp stings. I turn the faucet marked
froid
and splash cold water on my face. A scratchy paper towel to dry, and then I hide my face with my hand as I escape to my room.

“Hello,
bulimic
,” Amanda says. “I heard you, you know.”

My back bristles. I turn, and her pale eyes widen in innocence over her beaky nose. Nicole is here, too, along with Rashmi’s sister Sanjita, and . . . Isla Martin, the petite, red-haired junior. Isla lags behind. She’s not a part of their crowd, just someone waiting in line for the bathroom.

“She was
totally
puking her dinner. Look at her face. She’s
disgusting
.”

Nicole sniggers. “Anna always looks disgusting.”

My face burns, but I don’t react because that’s what Nicole wants. I can’t, however, ignore her friend. “You didn’t hear anything, Amanda. I’m not bulimic.”

“Did you just hear La Moufette call me a
liar
?”

Sanjita raises a manicured hand. “I did.”

I want to smack Rashmi’s sister, but I turn around. Ignore them. Amanda clears her throat. “What’s this about you and St. Clair?”

I freeze.

“Because while you were
puking
, I heard Rashmi talking to the dyke through her door.”

I spin around. She did NOT just say that.

Her voice is like poisoned candy, sweet but deadly.“Something about the two of you hooking up, and now the
big freaky dyke
is crying her eyes out.”

My jaw drops. I’m speechless.

“It’s not like she ever stood a chance with him anyway,” Nicole says.

“I’m not sure why
Anna
here thinks she stood a chance with him either. Dave was right. You
are
a slut. You weren’t good enough for him, and you’re
definitely
not good enough for St. Clair.” Amanda flicks her hair. “He’s
A-list
.You’re D.”

I cannot even begin to process that information. My voice shakes. “Don’t you ever call Meredith that again.”

“What,
dyke
? Meredith Chevalier is a big. Freaky. DYKE!”

I slam into her so hard that we burst through the bathroom door. Nicole is shouting and Sanjita is laughing and Isla is begging us to stop. People run from their rooms, surrounding us, egging us on. And then someone tears me off of her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Nate says, holding me back. Something drips down my chin. I wipe it and discover it’s blood.

“Anna attacked Amanda!” Sanjita says.

Isla speaks up. “Amanda was goading her—”

“Amanda was defending herself!” Nicole says.

Amanda touches her nose and winces. “I think she broke it. Anna broke my nose.”

Did I do that? Tears sting my cheek. The blood must have been a scratch from one of Amanda’s fingernails.

“We’re all waiting, Mademoiselle Oliphant,” Nate says.

I shake my head as Amanda launches into a tirade of accusations. “Enough!” Nate says. She stops. We’ve never heard him raise his voice before. “Anna, for goodness’ sake, what happened?”

“Amanda called Mer—” I whisper.

He’s angry. “I can’t hear you.”

“Amanda called—” But I cut myself off when I see Meredith’s blond curls hovering above everyone else in the crowd. I can’t say it. Not after everything else I’ve done to her today. I look down at my hands and gulp. “I’m sorry.”

Nate sighs. “All right, people.” He gestures to the crowd in the hall. “Show’s over, back to your rooms. You three.” Nate points at me and Amanda and Nicole. “Stay.”

No one moves.

“Get back to your rooms!”

Sanjita makes a hasty exit down the stairs and everyone else scrambles away. It’s just Nate and the three of us. And Isla. “Isla, go back to your room,” he says.

“But I was here.” Her soft voice grows braver. “I saw it happen.”

“Fine. All four of you, to the head’s office.”

“What about a doctor?” Nicole whines. “She totally broke Amanda’s nose.”

Nate leans over and inspects Amanda. “It’s not broken,” he says at last.

I exhale in relief.

“Are you sure?” Nicole asks. “I totally think she should go to a doctor.”

“Mademoiselle, please refrain from speech until we get to the head’s office.”

Nicole shuts her mouth.

I can’t believe it. I’ve never been sent to the principal’s office! My principal at Clairemont High didn’t even know my name. Amanda limps forward into the elevator, and I trudge behind with increasing dread. The moment Nate turns his back to us, she straightens up, narrows her eyes, and mouths this:
You’re going down. Bitch.

chapter forty

The head gave me detention.

ME. DETENTION.

Amanda was given one weekend, but I have detention after school for the next two weeks. “I’m disappointed in you, Anna,” the head said, massaging the tension from her ballerina neck. “What will your father say?”

My
dad
? Who cares about my dad? What will Mom say? She’ll kill me. She’ll be so angry that she’ll leave me here, imprisoned in France forever. I’ll end up like one of those bums near the River Seine who smell like underarms and cabbage. I’ll have to boil my own shoes for food like Charlie Chaplin in
The Gold Rush
. My life is RUINED.

The detention was divided unfairly because I refused to tell her what Amanda said. Because I hate that word. Like being gay is something to be ashamed of. Like because Mer likes sports, it automatically makes her a lesbian. The insult doesn’t even make sense. If Meredith were gay, why would she be upset about Étienne and me?

I hate Amanda.

When the head asked Isla for the story, she defended me, which is the only reason I don’t have detention for the rest of the year. She also took my cue; she didn’t tell the head what Amanda said about Mer. I thanked her silently with my eyes.

We return to Résidence Lambert, and everyone is hanging around the lobby. Word of our fight has spread, and our classmates are looking for bruises. They shout questions at us, as if this is a press conference for shamed celebrities, but I ignore them and push my way past. Amanda is already holding court, spreading her side of the story.

Whatever. I’m too furious to deal with that crap now.

I pass Dave and Mike in the stairwell. Mike does that dumb thing jerks do where they purposely bump your shoulder with theirs to throw you off balance.

“What the hell is your problem?” I shout.

Dave and Mike exchange surprised, self-satisfied smirks.

I stomp into my room. Everyone hates me. Étienne ditched me for his girlfriend. AGAIN. Meredith hates me, and Rashmi and Josh certainly aren’t pleased. Dave and Mike hate me. And Amanda and her friends, and now everyone else downstairs, too. If only I’d taken Rashmi’s advice. If only I’d stayed in my room, Mer wouldn’t have yelled at me. I wouldn’t know Étienne chose Ellie. I wouldn’t have attacked Amanda. And I wouldn’t have detention for the next two weeks.

WHY IS ÉTIENNE CHOOSING ELLIE? WHY?

Étienne. Who has perfect lips and perfect kisses. Who tastes like honey. Who will never, ever, EVER give up his stupid girlfriend! I’m startled by a knock on my door. I’m worked into such a frenzy that I didn’t hear the footsteps.

“Anna? Anna are you in there?”

My heart seizes. The voice is English.

“Are you all right? Amanda’s downstairs, talking complete bollocks. She says you hit her?” He knocks again, louder. “Please, Anna. We need to talk.”

I throw open the door. “
Talk?
Oh, you’d like to talk now?”

Étienne stares at me in shock.The whites of my eyes are still red, I have a two-inch scratch down my cheek, and my body is poised for attack.
“Anna?”

“What, you didn’t think I’d find out you went to Ellie’s?”

He’s thrown. “Wh-what?”

“Well?” I cross my arms. “Did you?”

He didn’t expect me to know this. “Yes, but . . . but—”

“But
what
? You must think I’m a complete idiot, right? That I’m just some doormat who’ll wait for you on the sidelines forever? That you can keep running back to her every time things get difficult, and I’ll just
be okay
with it?”

“It’s not like that!”

“It’s ALWAYS like that!”

Étienne opens his mouth but then snaps it shut. His expression flips between hurt and fury a thousand times. And then it hardens. And then he storms away.

“I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO TALK!” I say.

I slam my door.

chapter forty-one

Let’s see. Yesterday, I: (1) made out with my best friend, even though I swore to myself I never would, (2) betrayed another friend by that same make-out session, (3) brawled with a girl who was already out to get me, (4) earned two weeks of detention, and (5) verbally attacked my best friend until he ran away.

Correction. Until he ran away
again
.

If there were a contest to see who could do more damage to herself in a single day, I’m pretty confident I would win. My mother spat fire when she found out about my fight with Amanda, and now I’m grounded for the entire summer. I can’t even face my friends. I’m ashamed of what I’ve done to Meredith, and Rashmi and Josh have clearly taken her side, and St. Clair . . . he won’t even look at me.

St. Clair. Once again, he’s no longer Étienne,
my
Étienne.

That hurts worse than anything.

The whole morning is hideous. I skip breakfast and slip into English at the last possible second. My friends don’t acknowledge my existence, but everyone else whispers and stares. I guess they’re taking Amanda’s side. I just hope they don’t know about the St. Clair situation, which is unlikely considering how loudly I shouted at him in the hallway last night. I spend the class sneaking peeks at him. He’s so exhausted that he can barely keep his eyes open, and I don’t think he’s showered.

But he’s still beautiful. I hate that. And I hate myself for desperately wanting him to look at me, and I hate it even more when Amanda catches me staring, because then she smirks in a way that says,
See? I
told
you he was out of your league.

And Mer. She doesn’t have to turn her body away from me in her seat like St. Clair—although she does, they both do—because her waves of hostility crash into me, again and again, all period long. Calculus is an extension of this misery. When Professeur Babineaux hands back our homework, St. Clair passes the stack of papers behind his head without looking at me. “Thanks,” I mumble. He freezes, just for a moment, before settling back into a rigid state of ignorance to my being.

I don’t try talking to him again.

French is predictably bad. Dave sits as far from me as possible, but the way he ignores me is strange and purposeful. Some of the freshmen pester me about it, but I don’t know what Dave’s problem is, and thinking about him only makes me feel gross inside. I tell the annoying classmates to shove it, and Madame Guillotine gets mad at me. Not because I told them to shove it, but because
I didn’t say it in French
. What is wrong with this school?

At lunch, I’m back in the bathroom stall, just like my first day.

I don’t have an appetite anyway.

In physics, I’m grateful we don’t have a lab, because I can’t bear the thought of St. Clair finding a new partner. Professeur Wakefield drones on about black holes, and halfway through his lecture, Amanda gives an exaggerated stretch and drops a folded piece of paper behind her head. It lands at my feet. I read it underneath my desk.