Class Favorite (28 page)

“Wait, you heard who sent me those flowers while you were in the office? You knew about them before I did—before Arlene did.” I couldn't believe it. “It was you who spread the word about them, wasn't it?”

Kirstie couldn't even look me in the eyes. I barely heard her peep, “Yes.”

“God, I can't believe it,” I said, because it was a lot to take in. “You did
everything
. I can't . . . and you did that thing to my locker, what—so I'd rush to you? So you could rescue me or something?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. I knew that Arlene didn't like me off the bat, and if I just got her out of the picture, then we could be friends. And we were. Weren't we?” she asked hopefully.

“Kirstie, this is really messed up,” I said. “I can't believe you'd do something like that to someone you supposedly care about. It's so wrong.”

“I know! And I'm so sorry! I'm such a jerk. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I hope you can. You're a really sweet girl, Sara. Way better than some Haden Prescott phony.” She smiled.

I shook my head. Suddenly the whole Class Favorite thing seemed so silly and trite. What had I been doing, making lists and trying to get friends who had never given me the time of day before? I'd had a great friend in Arlene who'd always been there for me, and I'd dumped her for Kirstie, the sole person who was responsible for my unhappiness the past couple of months. And Kirstie did it all on purpose, for selfish reasons. “I don't know, Kirstie. I need some time to process this.”

She nodded.

“You're joking, right? Because this is the most uncool thing I've ever heard.” We turned to see Kayla and Rosemary standing in the doorway by the living room. It was Rosemary who had spoken, which surprised me. Rosemary had never gotten mad in front of anyone before, and she'd certainly never spoken to someone so harshly before. The party turned its attention to our group, everyone staring. I could hear the whispers and see the eyes locked on Kirstie, and even in my anger and confusion, I felt a little sorry for her. I knew how she felt right then, being in the center of a screwup. Except she had done it to herself, which, actually, probably felt worse.

“Y'all, it's okay,” I said to the girls, who looked like they were ready for blood. Kayla, I could see, was getting a bit aggressive. But Rosemary? I didn't know it was in her.

“Dang, girl,” Kayla said to Kirstie. “That's low.”

“Real low,” Rosemary said, her arms folded across her chest.

“I'm a jerk, okay?” Kirstie said, her voice cracking. “I'm a stupid little jerk. And I didn't mean for the locker thing to be so bad, but once I got started, I just couldn't stop. Ever since that day, and especially since you blew up The Ball”—she looked to me—“I've felt extra awful.”

“Is that why you gave me this shirt? And brought me that other one back from Aspen? Didn't you learn your lesson the first time?”

“I know! I said I feel horrible.”

“Feeling and doing are two different things,” Kayla said. “And you even ratted her out about the flowers? Sara was your only friend when no one else was.”

“Exactly,” Rosemary said.

“Y'all, seriously, wait,” I said. It seemed like everyone was watching us, and I hated that. I didn't want anyone to go through the humiliation I'd endured during the locker incident—even the person who did it to me. “Leave her alone. She's apologized. Now it's between us.”

“You sure?” Jason asked. He looked at me like he was concerned for me, not like he wanted me to give Kirstie hell.

I nodded and said, “I'm sure.”

And then, he surprised me. He looked to Kirstie and asked her, “You okay?”

She blinked and said, “Yeah. Yes, I'm fine. Thanks.” Tears began to roll down her face, which she quickly brushed away.

“Whenever I feel down,” Jason said seriously, “all I have to do is think of the stampede that started with the sound of The Ball exploding.” He winked at me. “Always puts a smile to my face.”

I knew he was just trying to smooth things over, and it did help a bit, but I still couldn't believe that it had been Kirstie who had done those horrible things to me in the past couple of months. All the doubts Arlene had had about her were right.

The attention seemed to move away from us, and I saw more tears roll down Kirstie's cheeks. She called Jason's name and motioned him toward her. I couldn't hear them, but he took her into the room just off the entry hall. When he came out, he let out a deep sigh.

“She's calling her mom.” I nodded. “I think she wants to stay in there until her ride gets here.”

“That's fine,” I said. “I can't really handle talking to her now. You know?”

“I know,” he said. “You're a really good friend, Sara. You didn't deserve all that stuff that happened to you.”

“Thanks,” I said.

We hung out in the living room with the others as the party wound down. I should have been happy—Jason, his party, the support of Rosemary and Kayla that made me feel like an accepted member of their group. But I wasn't happy, and it wasn't just because of Kirstie. I had been betrayed, but in
many ways I felt that I had let myself be betrayed. Not believing Arlene had been my biggest mistake, and nothing would be right until I tried to fix that.

The only problem was, I had a feeling it was too late for us.

22

Do you have a forgiving nature?

You let your friend borrow your brand-new, very favorite white skirt. She returns it with a huge spaghetti stain on it that no amount of dry cleaning can remove. She apologizes again and again, and you:

a) tell her it's okay, but vow never to let her borrow anything of yours ever again.

b) tell her you can never trust her again—she knew how much that skirt meant to you.

c) tell her you know it was an accident, and forgive her completely.

 

“Hey, Thurman. You okay?” Shiner was sitting outside on the bottom porch step. He had offered me a ride home just as I was about to call my mom, and I accepted. Jason had hugged me good night, asked again if I was okay, and promised to call me.

“Yeah, I'm okay.”

“My brother's on his way. He should be here any second.”

“Cool,” I said, sitting beside him on the step. I thought of the day I had sat with him out in the field after I found my locker. I realized more and more what it meant to have the support of real friends—including Shiner. I was glad we'd moved on from the mean comments, or from pointedly ignoring each other. “Hey, how did you know it was Kirstie?”

“You know the day it happened, the same day I got kicked out of Ms. Weaver's class? I roamed the halls for a while, deciding if I was actually going to go to Principal Moran's office. I saw Kirstie in the halls, carrying a box and a bunch of wrappers to the bathroom. They were in a plastic bag, but I could see through it. To be honest, I wasn't a hundred percent sure until she started confessing everything.”

“I still can't believe it,” I said.

“Listen, Thurman,” Shiner began, keeping his eyes down on the ground. “I was thinking. It was so stupid what happened between us last year at that dumb dance. I'm sorry for all the rude things I've said to you since then.” He glanced at me and said, “Even the ones you don't know about.”

“I probably deserved some of them,” I confessed. Shiner had proven himself to be a totally awesome human being. When Arlene hadn't been there—or rather, when I had banished her from my life—it had been Shiner who was there for me, helping me pick myself up when I got knocked down, like when I blew up The Ball, or even right then—taking me
home when I felt I'd been totally crushed by Kirstie's admission of guilt.

“You're all right, Thurman. You know that?”

“Yep. I know. Hey,” I said. “Do you think your brother could take me somewhere instead of home? It's still on the way.”

He shrugged. “Sure. He's got nothing better to do.”

His brother pulled up in his dull, beat-up El Camino, complete with fear this emblazoned across the back window.

I sat squeezed between Shiner and his brother, Jackson. We were all quiet during the short drive; the only talking we did was my giving Jackson directions. I thought about the events of the night, and wondered what life would be like on Monday.

When Jackson parked his car in front of the Medinas' house, Shiner opened the door and we both got out.

“Want us to wait? How're you going to get home?”

Looking at the house, I said, “Either I'll get a ride with Arlene, or I'll be calling my mom in about two minutes.” I tried to smile, but inside, I was nervous about seeing Arlene. “Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. And thanks, Shiner. For everything.”

A smile lingered on his thin lips. “Anytime,” he said.

 

Arlene stood hiding behind the Medinas' front door like she was afraid I might attack at any moment, but when she spoke, her voice was kind, if questioning. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh . . . ,” I began. I realized I didn't know what to say. Well, I knew what to say—
I'm sorry for being such an jerk!
—but I didn't know how to say it with the deep, heartfelt gratitude I felt for her.

She looked over my shoulder. “Who's that lurking out there?”

I turned to see the El Camino still idling at the curb. “Oh, that's Shiner. He and his brother gave me a ride.” It wasn't until I waved at them that the car clicked into gear and slowly drove away.

“Shiner?” Arlene said, eyeing me curiously. “Must have been some party.”

“You don't know the half of it. The
fourth
of it,” I said. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Arlene toed the edge of the door with her foot. “I guess. But be quiet. The twins are asleep.”

Inside, Arlene plopped down on the plaid couch and folded her legs up under her. On the television, a blurry image of Mariah Carey either singing or yelling was frozen on the screen. I knew instantly it was
Glitter
, a Golden Raspberry we had both wanted to see. When Arlene saw me looking at the screen, she snatched the remote and clicked the TV off. She sighed heavily, and I knew she was gearing up to really give it to me. I sat in Mr. Medina's Barcalounger and waited.

“We were supposed to be best friends,” she began, her voice tight. “You've ruined everything. Why did you have to be such brat, huh?” Her voice was rising, but she didn't seem
to care. “I tried to tell you before, but you didn't seem to care about the truth, but I'll tell you again:
I didn't know about those stupid flowers your mom sent
. And I wasn't the one who plastered your locker. And tonight sucked, for your information, so I hope your party was worth it.” She lowered her voice and said through gritted teeth, “I don't even know why I did this for you. I guess I'm just so stupid that I don't even know how not to be your friend.” Tears welled up in Arlene's eyes, and it was the first time I'd seen her cry since her grandma died years ago.

“Arlene, I'm so sorry,” I pleaded. “You have no idea what's been going on.”

“You were awful to me,” she cried, her eyes begging for understanding. “I didn't realize until you weren't around how much I talk to you and how much we're always together. When you stopped talking to me, I felt like . . . I don't know . . .” Her eyes looked up at the ceiling, searching for the right words. “. . . a losing Lotto ticket—worthless and tossed away.” She sniffled, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I felt like the biggest loser,” she cried.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I rushed over to the couch and sat down beside her. “Please,
please
don't cry,” I begged, my eyes stinging with tears and my nose becoming snotty. “I'm awful, and you're
not
a loser. The thing is, I know how you felt. But at least you had Ellen and your other softball friends. I've
felt totally left out of your life since you started playing softball. And then I just got jealous, I guess. I was jealous that you had made so many new friends and I didn't. I guess that's one of the reasons why I was so quick to be friends with Kirstie. I wanted to show you that I didn't need you.” She looked hurt when I said that. “But then I realized that I do need you. You're my best friend.”