Outcast (18 page)

“So is everything okay between us?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

Again—not all that convincing.

Revenge. It was all I thought about. I asked Cassie about her plans in class; I was so anxious to get back at Trina.

“Friday night,” Cassie whispered. “Ten o’clock.”

“What happens Friday night?” I kept a watchful eye on Mr. Wagner.

“The first phase of the payback.”

“I don’t understand.” My pen drew over the same line until the ink bled through to the other side.

“That’s when we strike.”

I felt like I entered in the middle of a movie, missing the whole set up. “But what are we doing?”

“You’ll see. I’ll pick you up at your house at ten. Make sure you wear black.”

Mr. Wagner patrolled the classroom like a prison guard, and we pretended to be engrossed in our project.

“I have a ten-thirty curfew,” I whispered. In retrospect, it would have been easier to wear a shirt that read,
I am the biggest loser in the history of the world
. “My mom is way overprotective. It’s really annoying.” I covered as best as I could.  

“So you’ll skip out.”

“Right.” I had absolutely no clue how to do that.

“How?” I asked.

Cassie rolled her eyes. It was up to me to figure it out.

“Just meet me on the corner.”

“Girls,” came the warning voice of Mr. Wagner.

Meet her on the corner. That was easier said than done.

Revenge seemed to be the only solution to end the torment with Trina & Company. It was all I thought of on the way to seventh period gym class. I plotted and schemed throughout the whole day, desperately wanting to repay Trina for her piece of artwork on my school clothes. We had track, even in the scorching
Arizona
heat. I felt prepared since I ran all the time.

Trina and Liana slithered over, whispering to each other. They glanced at me, then snickered.

Their laughter fueled me. I refused to let them use me as a doormat anymore.

Coach Childers was our P.E. teacher. She was the one instructor I knew of at Saint Sebastian High who wasn’t Catholic. She showed no pretensions and made no attempt to persuade us to embrace her religion. As a matter of fact, I didn’t know what her religion was. She never discussed it.

“You know that woman is Protestant.” My mother hissed the last word like it was foul.

“So.”

“She’s teaching at a Catholic school. That doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

“She’s not even married. She must be close to forty. Something’s not right there.”

She felt it was a travesty on the part of the school to allow a non-Catholic to teach Catholic high school students. She ranted about the injustice, the unfairness of it all. My mother always attempted to gain support for her position. In her mind, she’d leverage the nuns, priests, and Catholic teachers against Coach Childers. It didn’t matter what any of their habits or teaching practices were. It didn’t make a difference if they even knew their subject matter. They were Catholic. That was the defining principle my mother clung to.

Coach gathered us together near the bleachers where we stretched. When she felt we were limber enough, Coach had us make a timed run twice around the track. The warm-up elevated my adrenaline as well as my heart rate. Trina’s smug face energized me even more.

Coach gave us the cue, and we started our run. I began steady and strong, determined to finish first. Trina and Liana dashed from the line at an escalated pace. They would burn out quickly and fall to the back. I watched Trina, the way her hands flailed at her sides like two fish out of water. The wound tendrils of blonde hair lashed in the air like Medusa’s head of snakes. Her legs were linguini noodles, bending in heated water. I picked up my pace and moved behind her. Trina was the source of all the hatred toward Grace and me. It was time for a payback.

I sidled next to her at the head of the swarm. I maintained a steady pace beside her. Liana had fallen back; Trina had no one to protect her now. I had to move fast before the opportunity escaped me.

As Trina and I turned the farthest corner from where Coach stood, and I felt confident no one would see, I sideswiped her. She faltered, and I took out her ankle. Her feet tossed out from under her, and she tripped and fell at the sidelines. A surge of triumph coursed through me. I wanted desperately to hurl insults and threats at her, but knew I needed to cover myself at the finish line. Of course, I would feign an apology, plead it was all an accident. And Coach would believe me. After all, I was an honor student with no prior record. That was the beauty of it all. Cassie was right: Revenge felt pretty good.

“What the hell, loser?” Trina seethed in the locker room.

Liana was conveniently at her side. Her words were like a shove against my gym locker.

“Sorry.” Sarcasm found its way into my voice. “It was an accident, I swear.” I don’t know where my nerve came from.

“
Chad
must be totally blind to not see you for what you really are. A loser. And no matter what you do, who you’re seen with, or how you change your appearance, you will always be a loser. And I’m going to make sure the whole school knows it.”

Both Trina and Liana stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for me to respond. All I offered them was silence. I didn’t know what to say, but I was definitely going to tell Cassie all about it.

Friday night. Time to collect on an unpaid debt, so I knocked on Becca’s door. She reluctantly let me in.

“I need your help.”

“What is it?” She seemed annoyed by my presence.

“Remember how I helped you out in
Florida
?”

Her eyes searched the air as if she was scrolling back over all the events of our vacation, looking for that Good-Samaritan moment.

“The night with Bay,” I jogged her memory.

“Oh. That.” She rolled her eyes, disgusted.

“I need you to do the same for me.”

Curiosity infused her voice. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

“It’s not a boy.”

“A girl then?” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“A friend and I have something to do.”

“Who’s the friend? Grace?”

“What’s with all the questions? I didn’t quiz you like this when you went out. Just forget it.” I turned to leave.

“No, no, no.” She stopped me with her protestations. “I’ll cover for you. Just tell me one thing.”

“What?” I stood cross-armed and annoyed.

“You’re not doing stuff, like drugs or sex, are you?”

“No.”

She nodded. “When do you need my help?”

“Tonight. Ten o’clock.”

“Okay, but how do you plan to get out of here without Mom finding out? You know she stays up and watches Jay Leno.”

“The window.”

“Yeah all right. Just be careful.” She studied me. “And in case it is a boy, make sure he uses a condom.”

I was grossed out as I headed back to my room.

Slipping out was much easier than I thought. It was the getting-back-in part that had me a little concerned. From the outside, the window was higher than it initially seemed.

Cassie waited at the corner in a black 2011 911 Carrera. I expected to see her on foot, not in a car, much less a Porsche. I slid onto the graphite gray leather interior. It had a six-speed, manual transmission, a phenomenal stereo system, and an electric sunroof. I felt inferior to its rich design.

She didn’t even have her temporary permit. According to Cassie, her parents didn’t care that she drove without a license as long as she never got a speeding ticket or into a car accident. I wondered if she stole the keys and took the vehicle without them knowing about it. No matter how rich her parents might be, I doubted they would allow her to drive illegally.

“So where are we going?”

“Patience.”

I scanned the innards of the car. “Your parents must make a lot of money to own a car like this.”

“Money is overrated.” Cassie shifted gears.

“Then why are you driving a Porsche?”

“Because I can,” she smiled.

We pulled into the
Pinnacle
Peak
neighborhood. I wondered if we were going to her house. I bet it was just as rich as the car.

Cassie stopped in front of a series of mailboxes, obviously belonging to the members of the subdivision.

“Are we going to your house?”

“No, Trina’s. It’s a shame her parents didn’t fork out the money to live in a gated community.”

She popped the trunk and stepped out of the vehicle. “Come on.” I followed her. She removed a Miu Miu shoe box from the truck and quietly closed it.

“What’s that for?”

“You ask too many questions.”

With her mystery box in hand, we both stalked the residential streets in our matching black clothing. Hers looked like Donna Karan. Mine—Target.

We came to a halt in a darkened section of the street, across from a tri-level home with immaculate landscaping and a three-car garage.

“This is it.” Cassie whispered.

“How’d you know where she lives?”

“Money may be overrated, but it comes in handy when you need it.” It was the only explanation she offered and the only one I needed. I still wasn’t sure what we were doing there.

Cassie, still holding the box, dashed through the yard. She motioned for me to follow, and my stomach twisted into fusilli.

We stopped outside a lit bedroom window that was level to the ground. Sheer ashen curtains hung closed on the glass. Cassie stood on one side of it, while I stood on the other. She mouthed to me,
Trina’s
, while pointing to the window. Then she moved her index finger to her lips.

“Isn’t this trespassing?” I whispered almost inaudibly.

She rolled her eyes, then opened the box. I nearly shrieked when I saw the dead rat inside. It had matted gray fur and a tail that fell from its body like a string. She lifted a pair of gloves from her pocket and put them on. When she took the rat out, she did it by pulling on a cord that was fastened around its neck like a noose.

“Pretty cool, huh?” She dangled it in front of me.

“It’s gross.”

“I know,” she smirked.

She handed me a note, which was written in pieced-together magazine letters. It simply said,
Trina, R.I.P
. I knew it was a prank, but it seemed so wrong.

Cassie stabbed a thumbtack into the stucco, securing the note and the noose to the house. The rat swung in silhouette against the window.

“How do you know she’ll even see it?”

“Trust me, she’ll see it.” Cassie stood up. “Now let’s go get something to eat.” We dashed across the neighbor’s lawn back to the vehicle like we were never there.

“We’re not actually planning to do that to…” I motioned in the direction of Trina’s house.

“Of course not. But she doesn’t know that. Hopefully, she’ll be scared shitless once she sees it.”

“How do you even know that’s Trina’s room?”

“They use the same maid service we do. I guess we tip better.”

It was my first act of revenge. I should have felt satisfaction, but instead I was uneasy. Sneaking out of the house, riding in an alleged stolen car, leaving the ominous message at Trina’s window. I was supposed to relish the retaliation, but I didn’t. The P.E. stunt seemed more my type. But maybe it would just take time.

It was midnight by the time we finished eating at Village Inn. After the whole scenario with the rat, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I merely drank a cup of coffee. Cassie inhaled a garden salad, a bowl of soup, half of a turkey sandwich, and a piece of French silk pie. It was as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. She completed her meal by toking on a cigarette outside the restaurant.

When Cassie dropped me off at home, the house was dark. I was afraid my mother had found out and was waiting in the La-Z-Boy for me.

I uncovered the hidden key from behind the yard gnome and went in the front door. I crept into the house. Instead of meeting my mother, I ran into my father.

He held a glass of water. His hair was still mussed from a night of sleep. He assessed my clothes.

“What were you doing out of the house?” He looked around as if to check that it was still night time and not actually the middle of the day.

I had to think quickly. All I came up with was, “Running.”

I walked past him so he couldn’t watch the lies register on my face.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

My dad wasn’t like my mother. He didn’t badger me until I fed him answers that satisfied all the questions that coursed through his mind. He knew I was lying, but at least he didn’t harass me like she did.