“Wait.” Angela grabs my arm in a steely grip. “Calm down, C. Jeffrey’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Jeffrey looks like he’s going to swallow his Adam’s apple.
“Where’s Christian?” he croaks.
“I don’t know where Christian is,” Kay purrs as if she couldn’t care less. “Do you?”
I tear my gaze away from the new slutty version of Kay. Christian has stopped eating and is gathering up his stuff onto his tray. He stands up and walks over to the tray drop-off, turns and points a look of general disdain in Kay’s direction, then heads for the door.
Good for him, I think as he yanks the door open. It bangs shut behind him. I watch him through the window as he strides down the hall toward the main exit, his fury streaming out behind him as clearly as a trail of smoke in the air. Then he’s gone.
“Now’s your chance,” whispers Angela. “Go after him.”
I could say something to him. But what?
“He wants to be alone right now,” I say to Angela. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Coward,” she says.
I glare at her. “Don’t,” I say, suddenly so furious that it’s tough to get the words past my clenched teeth. “Call. Me. A coward.”
I shake Angela off and stalk across the cafeteria to Kay. I tap her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I say. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Kay glances up, something calculating in her eyes. She smiles.
“Do you have a problem, Pippi?”
Pippi. As in Longstocking. Laughter circulates around the lunchroom. But Mom was right. It doesn’t faze me. I’ve heard it before.
“Wow. Original. Now get off my brother, please.”
Someone grabs my arm and squeezes very gently. I glance over to see Wendy standing next to me.
“This isn’t you, Kay,” Wendy says.
Which is true. As much as I want to believe Kay is evil incarnate, as much as part of me wants to see this little display as her true colors peeking through, Kay is not that girl. This is such an obvious, pathetic front. It has that wounded animal quality of lashing out. Seeing that so clearly lessens my desire to punch her lights out.
“I know you’re upset, Kay, but—” I begin.
“You don’t know anything.” She loosens her octopus grip on Jeffrey and glowers at me with infuriated chocolate eyes. Jeffrey’s eyes say something different altogether: Don’t. You’re embarrassing me. Go away.
“Christian’s gone,” I continue. “He left. So what’s the point in drooling all over someone else’s boyfriend? You trying to ruin our appetites or what?”
If Kay looks embarrassed or uncertain, it’s only for a millisecond. She turns to Jeffrey.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks in a sugary tone.
He looks at Kay with her dangerous black-ringed eyes and then his gaze darts to Kimber, who was standing in the pizza line when this all went down. She reminds me of a Keebler elf, her white-blond hair braided and wrapped around her head like the girl on the Swiss Miss hot chocolate. But she looks royally ticked off. Her face is pale, two hot splashes of red on her cheeks, her eyes throwing sparks.
Maybe I’m not going to be the one beating up Kay after all.
“Yeah,” says Jeffrey, his mouth turning up in the hint of a smile. “Kimber Lane. She’s my girlfriend.”
The look that passes between Jeffrey and Kimber right then feels like it requires a swell of cheesy music in the background. Aw, I think. Baby brother’s in love. I also find this kind of gross.
“All right, then,” says Kay with forced lightness. She stands up and straightens her skirt, then lifts her head and gives this forced laugh like it was all a game, and it was amusing, but now she’s bored.
“See you later,” she says to Jeffrey, and then she saunters off, orbited by her little posse the minute she’s away from us. They leave the cafeteria, and then there’s an explosion of noise as the other students all start talking at once.
Wendy lets go of my arm.
“Hey,” I say, turning to her. “I’m sorry about all that stupid stuff I said before.”
“Me too.”
“Do you want to hang out after school?”
She smiles.
“Sure,” she says. “I’d love to.”
Wendy and I hole up in my room and do our homework together, bent over our books without talking much, only looking up occasionally to smile or ask a question. I, of course, am not thinking about my aerodynamics class and the three theories of physics that are supposed to explain lift. The class is all numbers and angles, nothing that resembles what it would be like to fly in real life, but ironically I’m good at it.
I can’t stop thinking about Christian. He was a no-show in British History.
“So, I heard you’re going to prom with Jason Lovett,” I say to Wendy, closing my book. I can’t stand being trapped inside my own head a moment longer. “Is that a big woo-hoo or what?”
“Yeah,” she says with a happy smile.
“What are you going to wear?”
She bites her lip. There is clearly a snag in the wardrobe department.
“You don’t have a dress yet?” I ask.
“I have something,” she says, trying to sound cheerful. “I wear it to church, but I think I can fancy it up a bit.”
“Oh no. No church dress.” I jump up and run to the back of my closet, where I grab two formal gowns that I wore for dances in California, then march back to Wendy. I hold the dresses out to either side of me. “Just pick the one you like.”
Wendy suddenly has trouble meeting my eyes.
“But what about you?” she stammers.
“I’m not going.”
“I can’t believe somebody hasn’t asked you yet.”
I shrug.
“Well, why don’t you ask someone? I mean, what good is women’s lib if we can’t use it to ask guys to dances? I asked Jason.”
“There’s no one I want to go with.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“I’m going to let that one slide.”
“Anyway, Jason Lovett’s going to be your Prince Charming on prom night, and you’re totally going to need a Cinderella dress. So pick one.”
She’s already eyeing the pale pink gown in my left hand with hungry eyes.
“I think it would rock on you,” I say, waving it at her.