The Implosion of Aggie Winchester (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

THURSDAY, APRIL 16 / 8:55 A.M.

Thursday, I caught a glimpse
of my mom in the halls at school and immediately headed the other way. That morning, my dad had tried to get her to stay home until next week, but she’d refused. “Work calls,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, “and I’m answering.”

Dad was right to worry: she was too pale, too thin. Irritation needled me. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just stay home for the whole week. But leave it to my mom to think her health should take a backseat to St. Davis High.

On my way to fencing, a freshman wearing a cheerleading uniform skirted past me. “Vote for Marissa Mendez!” she cried, handing out VOTE FOR MARISSA flyers. Her voice had a high, panicked pitch to it.

Ever since court had been announced on Monday, the nominees had been campaigning nonstop. Save one: Sylvia.

I opened my phone and checked for missed texts. None. After our lunch on Monday with Beth, I’d hardly heard from her, even though I’d called and texted a bunch. Anxiety clawed at my gut. If Sylvia really wanted to be queen, then she needed to start campaigning now. It was already Thursday.

But it wasn’t just the lack of prom campaigning that was eating at me, since I couldn’t give two craps if Sylvia was queen to Ryan’s king. Instead, it was more that Beth had been at school for a matter of days but already it felt like she was inching in on my territory with Sylvia. I guessed I could understand that Sylvia and Beth had probably bonded over the fact that Beth had been pregnant once, too. But they didn’t have to cut me out of the picture in order to attach at the hip. Besides which, I was annoyed that Sylvia would even consider attaching at the hip with anyone but me. Sylvia and I had been friends for years. She’d only just met Beth.

Beth’s shine will wear off
, I told myself. And besides, I could probably chalk a lot of this up to Sylvia’s phone, which was notorious for fritzing out.

Still, I decided to swing by her locker to see if I could catch her. I ambled past but she wasn’t there. I pulled out my phone again and punched the keys.
Lunch 2day?

I snapped it shut and hoped it would vibrate with an answer soon. I was getting tired of eating lunch in my car alone when Sylvia wasn’t around.

In fencing, Jess covered her mouth and tried not to lose it while I attempted a “pass forward.” I crossed and uncrossed my feet, trying to jab her with the tip of my foil.

“Good effort, Winchester,” Ms. Rhone called out. Part of me was annoyed that I looked like a dancing elephant, but then again, the entire class looked like a
herd
of dancing elephants. It was kinda funny when you thought about it. Behind my fencing mask, I grinned.

I wiped the smile off my face and lifted off my mask when Sylvia walked into class—late. She didn’t look over at me.

Ms. Rhone marched up to her. “I understand you have a pass for participating,” she said, “but you’re still expected to show up. You’ve missed two and a half days.”

Sylvia’s dark-rimmed eyes traveled slowly from Ms. Rhone’s feet all the way to her face. “Yeah, so?” she asked.

“Watch your tone,” Ms. Rhone snapped, “or I’ll send you down to the principal’s office so fast your feet will hurt.”

“Go easy on the prom nominees, Ms. Rhone!”

I turned around to see who’d said that. It was Tommy Oakwell—I was pretty sure he was on the academic decathlon team. He gave the thumbs-up to Sylvia, who actually smiled back.
I’m voting for you,
he mouthed. His fencing partner, whose name I didn’t know, nodded in agreement. I tried not to fall over.

“Over in the corner for the rest of the hour,” Ms. Rhone said to Sylvia, ignoring Tommy. “If you brought any homework, I suggest you get it out.”

As she made her way to the edge of the gym, Sylvia looked up and found me among the class members.

What is up?
I mouthed to her.

She shook her head, then looked away.

I was about to march forward and find out what was going on when I felt a bony hand on my arm. “Let it be for right now,” Jess said.

I swung around. “What?”

Jess pulled her fencing mask off and shook out her cornsilk blond bob. “I said let it be. She’s pissed, the teacher’s pissed, now you’re getting pissed. So just chill, pretend to fence, and when class is over you can go talk to Sylvia. Tommy Oakwell is about all the mouthing off Ms. Rhone can handle right now, and if you butt in right now, there’s a chance Ms. Rhone will send Sylvia to your mom’s office. She’s about a half a breath from doing it as it is. You’ll push her over the edge.”

I wanted to be mad at Jess for bossing me around like this, but she was right. “Fine,” I said, pulling my mask back down. “Whatever.”

Jess and I took a few crisscrossed steps toward one another before she dropped her sword at her side. “You want to have lunch today?” she asked me.

I was glad the fencing masks hid our faces because it meant Jess couldn’t see the bewildered expression on my face. “I’m not sure. I usually eat lunch with Sylvia,” I said.

“That’s why I’m asking,” Jess said, pointing her sword at the door. “Sylvia just left.”

I whipped around and stared at the place where Sylvia had been. Jess was right: she was gone. Ms. Rhone was across the gym helping one of the girls get her elbow position right on the lunge. She hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m allergic to wheat, so I have to pack my own lunch,” Jess said. “I usually eat it in the cafeteria, but if you don’t want to be seen with me, we can eat in your car.”

“What?” I asked, trying to figure out where Sylvia could have gone off to and also trying to process the fact that Jess was telling me about her allergies. Also, how did she know I ate lunch in my car when Sylvia wasn’t around?

“I’m just giving us options,” Jess said.

“Okay, okay,” I said. I looked back at the door, still dumbfounded that Sylvia had just walked out. I would get a hold of her tonight—even if it meant I had to stalk her at her house. “I’ll meet you at my car in the student parking lot.”

“Cool,” Jess said, and then raised her sword again. “In that case,
en garde
.”

Chapter Fifteen

THURSDAY, APRIL 16 / 12:12 P.M.

Jess met me
at my car as we’d planned, a brown lunch sack in her good hand. I reached over and unlocked the passenger side door for her, and she slid in.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I replied.

I switched on the CD player so we’d have some background noise, figuring it would come in handy if we ran out of things to talk about. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked.

Jess fished a small container filled with carrots and hummus out of her lunch bag and focused her sharp blue eyes on the dashboard. Looking at her profile this way, I realized suddenly that Jess was pretty. Or if not pretty, then at least really cute. She had a small nose with a pale dusting of freckles that went with her heart-shaped face. Her frame was petite, her blond hair trimmed and styled. If it weren’t for the fact that she had a claw for one hand, I guessed she probably would have been one of the most popular girls in school.

“Really anything,” Jess said. “My parents love the eighties, my little sister can’t get enough of that boy band Peligroso. Our housekeeper is Russian and plays Communist dirges. You throw it at me, I can probably sing it.”

The laugh that bubbled out of my throat surprised me. Jess smiled and dipped a carrot into hummus. I punched number four on the CD player. It was an all-girl indie rock band from St. Paul.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a package of storebought cupcakes. Jess eyed them. “Is that seriously what you’re having for lunch?”

“Yeah,” I said, unwrapping one. “I picked them up at the gas station this morning. That okay with you?”

“Sure,” Jess said, lifting her small shoulders in a shrug. “They’re just pretty much the worst things for you ever.”

“Yeah, well, Sylvia likes them,” I muttered. I hadn’t meant to bring up her name, but there it was. Lots of days we shared a package of cupcakes and a bag of chips for lunch. If we weren’t going off to McDonald’s, that is. My mom said I should get used to the idea of eating healthier since my metabolism would one day slow down and I wouldn’t be able to eat any of the stuff I loved without gaining fifty pounds. Sylvia would say that the only time to worry about something was when it was staring you in the face. And then she’d reach for another cupcake.

“That’s pretty cool about Sylvia and the prom court,” Jess said. “I just hope she doesn’t screw it up.”

I swallowed a thick chunk of frosting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jess unsealed a bag of what looked like banana chips. She popped one into her mouth. “I’m just saying, I don’t think she’s spending all that time with that new girl, Beth Daniels, because Beth is helping her with her homework.”

The last chunk of cupcake went down like a rock. “What do you mean, time with Beth? How do you know?”

Jess shifted in the front seat so she could look at me directly. “I have seventh hour with Sylvia. She’s skipped class with Beth twice now. I’ve seen them walk out to the parking lot together. I don’t know where they go, but they’re definitely together. I noticed she hasn’t really been in fencing class, either.”

I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a pregnancy thing.”

“See, that’s just it,” Jess said offhandedly. “If it’s a pregnancy thing, why isn’t she hanging out with you? Aren’t you guys best friends?”

“Of course we’re best friends,” I fired back. “Just because she hangs out with someone else for a little while doesn’t mean we’re not best friends.”

“Except Beth pretty much hates you,” Jess said, chewing on another banana chip.

“For fuck’s sake, how do you
know
all this?” I asked, my blood surging. “First you figure out Sylvia’s pregnant before everyone else. Now you know how a girl who’s been at school for a matter of
days
feels about me.”

Jess stared out the windshield. “When all people see about you is your deformity, they sort of expect that’s all you see as well. I got really good at learning how to be invisible, kind of. I can pretty much be in a classroom or a hallway and watch and listen without anyone noticing.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that ‘oh, I have a deformity, I’m invisible’ crap. I don’t believe it for a second.”

Jess put her claw hand in my face. “
This
is what people see.” I pushed it out of the way. Jess didn’t even blink. “And I
am
invisible a lot of the time. But if you have to know, I figured out Sylvia was pregnant when my mom and I were buying a gift for my cousin at Baby Warehouse. I saw Sylvia there with her mom.”

“So? How did you know Sylvia and her mom weren’t picking out a gift too?”

“Technically, I didn’t. But when I saw Sylvia with the note in gym class, plus the fact that her skin is all glowy and she’s rounded out, I put it together. It’s not rocket science.”

“Except now you’re spying on Sylvia and Beth. And me. Why?”

Jess folded up what was left of her banana chips and put them in her lunch sack. “I have business class with Mrs. Wagner and about a thousand of her stupid cheerleaders. All they talk about is the prom. Some of them are worried that Sylvia might actually get the crown. I’m tuned in because I want to see how all this goes down.”

I sat back. “Get the crown? How’s that possible if Sylvia was only nominated as a joke?”

“Yeah, but think about Tommy Oakwell. Or other kids who have more in common with people like Sylvia than Tiffany Holland. What if they all vote for Sylvia?”

I stared out the window. I’d never thought about it that way before. “Mrs. Wagner used this funny word the other day,” Jess continued. “
Groundswell
. I looked it up and it means ‘a surge of support.’ She said a groundswell could actually turn the election.”

I turned down the CD player so I could focus on Jess’s words. “Are you serious? She thinks Sylvia has a chance?”

Jess nodded. “But here’s the thing. She says she’ll never let Sylvia win. She says a pregnancy should disqualify her. And in case you didn’t know, Mrs. Wagner counts the ballots.”

That day after school, I was getting ready to head over to Sylvia’s house when Fitz jogged up to me in the parking lot.

“Hey, Aggie,” he said. “You got a sec?”

I pushed down the surge of happiness I felt at the sight of him.
He has a girlfriend
, I reminded myself.
And Neil might want to get back together
. “What?” I asked.

“I just, you know, wanted to catch up,” Fitz said. “Wanted to make sure we were cool or whatever.”

I kicked the heel of my boot against the ground. “Why wouldn’t we be cool?”

Fitz looked toward the end of the lot where cars were streaming onto the main road. “Just, you know, the Becky Quinn thing. Allie has a big mouth.”

So do you. And I bet you used it on Becky.
I plastered an expression of boredom on my face. “So? What do I care about any of that?”

“I didn’t say you did. I just, you know, invited her over when I thought you were still stuck on Neil Bromes.”

“I’m
not
stuck on Neil Bromes,” I said, wanting to believe it.

“Yeah. I hope not, after Jefferson’s party. Real gentleman, that one.”

I squinted at him. “Why are we talking about this?”

Fitz stepped closer. The afternoon sunshine radiated off his skin. “Because even though you wear all that makeup, you’re pretty easy to read.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fitz smiled. I stared at the way his lips moved. “You pretend to hate the Bass Masters, but I think you secretly like it.”

“I not-so-secretly think you’re full of crap,” I said.

“You pretend to be annoyed by me, but I think deep down you like me.”

I felt naked. Like all of a sudden I was standing on top of a mountain in nothing but my bra and underwear.

“Let’s go out sometime,” Fitz said. “At the very least let’s go to prom. You and me.”

“Prom is stupid,” I said. Nothing about my voice was convincing.

Fitz leaned in closer. “See. You’re doing it again. I think you
pretend
to think prom is stupid, but somewhere underneath all those black clothes, you’d love to go.”

The words of Neil’s e-mail came rushing back to me.
I want to see you and work this out
. It had been four days, but I hadn’t e-mailed him back yet. I should have. Because what if
Neil
wanted to go to prom with me? I couldn’t just go jumping into being with Fitz before I’d found out what Neil had to say about our relationship. Could I?

“I—I don’t know,” I stumbled.

Fitz’s blue eyes darkened. “I was never dating Becky if that’s what your hang-up is.”

“I don’t care about Becky,” I said. “I thought we’d established that.”

“So, then, is it Neil?”

“No.”

Fitz studied my face. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t believe you.”

I tilted my chin. “I don’t care what you believe.” I said it even though my brain was screaming at me to shut up. I was being a total bitch. Fitz asked me to the prom, and here I was, saying no so I could figure out where things stood with Neil—God knows why.

Fitz laughed, but there was no warmth to it. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll see you around.” He turned and started across the parking lot. I thought about calling after him, just so we wouldn’t end the conversation on such a sour note, until I remembered I was on a mission to find Sylvia. I shoved thoughts about Fitz to the back of my brain. I’d worry about him later. Right then, I had to hunt down my best friend.