Truth about Truman School (11 page)

Hayley's mom called my mom again that morning. She couldn't pick me up for school because Hayley had to get there early to make up her P.E.

Right. Hayley hadn't missed any school lately, so I knew she didn't have any P.E. to make up. Hayley and the others were avoiding me again. Because of that new website that wasn't even mine.

When I got to school, I didn't have the nerve to check the bathroom to see if my friends were in there. If they were, they'd probably ignore me. That's what we do when we push someone out of our group.

Not knowing what else to do, I went straight to my homeroom.

“Lilly!” Mrs. Connor jumped when I walked in. She'd been correcting homework or something at her desk.

“Hi, Mrs. Connor,” I mumbled. I figured she'd go back to whatever she was doing and I'd … take out my math and start on the next day's assignment. Since Mrs. Connor was also my math teacher and all.

But I could feel Mrs. Connor's eyes on me as I opened my math book. “Is everything all right, Lilly?” she asked with concern.

Oh, no. Did
Mrs. Connor
go on that website?

I cleared my throat. “Everything's fine, Mrs. Connor.”

“Good. I've never known you to arrive so early for class.” Mrs. Connor smiled. “I got a little worried.”

I forced myself to smile back, then went back to my assignment.

It was worse when other kids started arriving. I could tell by all the whispering and snickering, and the way people looked at me, then looked away that a lot of people had seen that new website. And they all thought it was true!

What was I going to do?

Cassie was the only one from our group who was in my homeroom. Cassie scurried in about five seconds before the bell rang, slid into her seat across the aisle from me, then turned her whole body away from me.

When the bell rang for first period, Cassie leapt out of her chair and hurried out the door. She went across the hall and waited for Brianna and Morgan to come out of Mr. Wesack's homeroom. Brianna kind of smirked at me, then the three of them strolled down the hall without me.

I'M NOT GAY! I wanted to shout after them. I have a boyfriend! A cool one, too. And everyone knew it, so why—

That was it! All I had to do was remind everyone about me and Reece. We had to be seen walking through the halls together (preferably holding hands). That would fix everything.

After fourth period, I waited outside the cafeteria for Reece. People kept staring at me as they filed past. “Lezbo!” some of them whispered under their breath. Others oinked at me. Just like they used to do in fifth grade. Then I saw Hayley and Brianna. They turned their heads like they didn't even know me. I swallowed hard and tried to act like it didn't matter. But I was having a hard time keeping myself together.

Come on, Reece! I thought, biting my lip. Hurry up! I knew Reece was coming from P.E.; how long did it take to get from the gym to the cafeteria anyway?

Finally, I spotted him in a crowd of boys making their way to the cafeteria. He said something to Josh Schumaker and Josh laughed. I don't think either of them noticed me standing there at first.

I stood on my tiptoes to get their attention. “Reece!” I cried, waving my hand.

He stopped for a second and his smile sort of froze on his face. Josh leaned over and whispered something, to Reece and Reece nodded. Then Reece hurried away and Josh moved toward me.

“Reece, wait!” I called, trying to get over to him, but Josh stood right in my way.

“I—uh—don't think you guys are going out anymore,” Josh informed me.

What?

“Don't look so surprised,” Josh said with a mean grin. “You like girls better anyway.”

“But I don't!” I said. “That website, it's not true!”

Josh just walked away.

Then I noticed Sara Murphy leaning against the opposite wall, hugging her books to her chest. She just stood there,
watching
me. Didn't I have enough problems?

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

But I forgot. She doesn't talk.

I just shook my head and walked away. I spent the rest of the lunch period in our old bathroom.

Hayley asked me if I wrote about what happened for the website. I said no. I just wrote what I had to for language arts and that was it. But Hayley said I had a unique perspective and I should write about it for the website, too. I don't know what she's talking about. I don't have a unique perspective. And none of that stuff really affected me much. I was busy with football.

But Hayley said I should at least write about how me and Lilly broke up. So okay, Lilly and I broke up. And yeah,
I
broke up with
her
. I don't really have anything else to say about it than that. Can you blame me for breaking up with her? People were saying she was gay! Would you want to go out with a girl who was gay?

All that other stuff, though, that stuff with the computer? I don't know anything about that. I only went on that Truth about Truman website a couple times. There wasn't much about football on it, so I didn't think it was very interesting.

In language arts last year, Mrs. Jonstone said there's nothing more powerful than the written word. I never really believed it then, but I was starting to believe it now. People were looking at Lilly Clarke a lot differently now. All because of a few things they saw about her online. This was working out way better than I ever thought it would.

I was never so relieved to hear the bell ring at the end of the day as I was that day.

Hayley, Brianna and I were supposed to go over to Brianna's house after school to work on our cheers, but considering Hayley and Brianna hadn't said a word to me all day, it was probably safe to assume we weren't practicing today. Or, that
I
wasn't practicing with them.

So how was I supposed to get home if I didn't get a ride from Brianna's mom? Since my mom worked, I always got a ride from Hayley or Brianna's mom. I couldn't very well call my mom at work and tell her I didn't have a ride today. She'd want to know why and I couldn't tell her why. So what was I supposed to do? Walk?

I'd never walked home from school before, but it wasn't far. Zebby and Amr walked to and from school all the time. But then again, people like them always walked (or rode their bikes) everywhere they went. People in my crowd got rides.

I felt weird walking home. Like everyone was looking at me and wondering why I was walking. Or why I was walking by myself.
Don't you have any friends?
they probably wondered. I don't remember the last time I went anywhere by myself.

Some kids in the back seat of a blue car rolled down their window and yelled, “Hey, Lezzie!” as they drove past me.

I didn't even know them.

I tried to avoid looking at any other cars that went by after that. But at the same time, I sort of watched out of the corner of my eye for Brianna's mom's car. I wondered what Brianna's mom would do if she saw me walking? Would she stop to offer me a ride? Or would Brianna and everyone have already warned her not to?

But I never saw their car the whole way home. Brianna didn't live in my neighborhood.

When I got home, I went straight to the computer. Wow! I had thirty-seven emails, which had to be some sort of record. Most of them came from stupid addresses like [email protected], or [email protected] so there was no way to know who any of these people were.

I clicked on the first one.
YOU'RE SUCH A POSER!!!!
it said in huge letters. That was it.

I deleted it.

The next one said:
Dear Lilly, You're so disgusting. You walk around like you're better than everyone. And then we all find out you're a homo!

But I'm not, I thought, blinking back tears. Why does everyone believe that stupid website?

My hands shook as I scrolled through the list of emails. Were all these emails like those first two? I scanned the list of email addresses, searching for names or addresses of people I knew. But the only one in there that was even close to something I recognized was [email protected].

That couldn't really be Emily Tate's email address, and Emily certainly wasn't a friend of mine, so I don't know why I clicked on the email. But I did.
Dear Lilly, I want you so bad—

Ew! I stopped reading there. I clicked delete about ten times.

“Psst!” Reece Weber hissed during math.

I didn't think he was talking to me, so I ignored him. We were supposed to be taking a test.

I felt a pencil jab me in the neck. “Hey, Loser!” Reece whispered.

I continued to ignore him, but then OW! It felt like the pencil had gone all the way through my skin and into my bone.

“Hey,” Reece whispered again as I massaged my throbbing neck. “I'm talking to you.”

I whirled around. “Knock it off!” I whispered back.

“Then move over,” Reece said, trying to see around me. “I can't see your answers.”

“You're not supposed to see my answers,” I muttered under my breath.

By now the kids on either side of us were watching us. But Mr. Wesack was too busy on his computer to pay any attention to what was going on.

I scooted my desk forward as far as I could without bumping into Cassie Wheeler's desk in front of me. Then I hunched over my test and tried to concentrate on the problem I'd been working on:

X + 12 1/3 = 25. Solve for X.

How was I supposed to solve for X when I kept feeling a pencil jabbing into me? It was like a little woodpecker pecking away at me. First my neck. Then my right shoulder blade. Then my left shoulder blade. Then the neck again. Then my middle. Peck! Peck! Peck!

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. “KNOCK IT OFF!” I yelled, spinning around in my chair. I yanked the pencil out of Reece's hand, snapped it in two, then slammed the pieces into his chest.

I have to tell you, I've never done anything like that before.

Reece's eyes grew wide with shock. I was pretty shocked myself.

“What's going on back there?” Mr. Wesack asked. Sure,
now
he pays attention.

Reece managed to find his voice before I did. “Trevor just went psycho on me,” he said all innocent. “He grabbed the pencil out of my hand and broke it and threw it at me.”

“That's because he's been poking me with it all period!” I defended myself. “He was trying to get me to move so he could copy off me.”

“I was not,” Reece argued. “Why would I copy off of him? He's a moron!”

Moron? I wasn't a straight-A student, but I was a lot smarter than Reece.

Mr. Wesack got up from his desk and moved toward us. The little vein above his right ear pulsed.

“Hey!” I cried when Mr. Wesack yanked the test out from under my hand. He took Reece's test, too. Then he put both tests together and tore them down the middle. We were both getting zeros.

It wasn't fair! I'd studied for this test and everything. And I hadn't even done anything wrong. I was just trying to take the test.

Mr. Wesack pulled two green passes out of his front pocket and used my desk to fill them out.

“You two can go and visit with Mrs. Horton for the rest of the period.” Mr. Wesack handed me the first pass.

He wasn't just taking our tests, he was making us go see Mrs. H., too? All because I broke Reece's pencil?

“We don't tolerate fighting or cheating here at Truman,” Mr. Wesack said.

I
wasn't fighting OR cheating. But it didn't matter. I took the pass, grabbed my stuff and hurried out the door.

“Hey, Loser! Wait up!” Reece called as he tried to catch up to me. I started walking faster.

I got to Mrs. Horton's office about a second and a half before Reece did, but Mrs. Horton still called Reece into her office before she called me in. Figures, I thought, slumping onto the hard wood bench outside her office. Jocks always got special treatment around here.

Reece was in there about ten minutes before the door opened again. “Thanks, Mrs. Horton,” he said with a big grin.

Thanks, Mrs. Horton?

“You can come in now, Trevor,” Mrs. Horton said.

I stood up, but waited for Reece to move past me before I went in there. As I expected, he rammed his shoulder into mine when he passed. “Oh, sorry,” he said all wide-eyed and innocent.

I went into Mrs. Horton's office and nudged the door closed with my foot.

“Sit down, Trevor,” Mrs. Horton said in a tired voice.

I sat.

“I understand you and Reece had a little problem in Mr. Wesack's class?” she asked.

“Actually, I think Reece was the one with the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was just trying to take my test, but he kept poking me with his pencil.”

Mrs. Horton cocked her head. “Reece poked you with his pencil?” I could tell she didn't believe me. “Why would he do that?”

Why is the sky blue?

“I mean, what were you doing to provoke him?” Mrs. Horton clarified.

Here we go again. “Taking my test!” I said. Hadn't I just said that?

“Don't raise your voice, Trevor.”

I wasn't raising my voice. But I repeated what I said in a softer voice just to make Mrs. Horton happy. “I was just taking my test.”

“That's not what Reece said.”

Of course it wasn't. Who cared what Reece said? It wasn't the truth.

I wanted to reach across Mrs. Horton's wide desk, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her. How come anytime I had trouble with some other kid, it was always, “Well, what are
you
doing to provoke it, Trevor?”

Did anyone ever ask Lilly Clarke what
she
did to provoke everyone?