Bleeding Hearts
Page 24
Lucy was in the hall on the other side of the glass, grinning wildly and bouncing on her toes like a little kid.
I grinned back.
The stern lectures, disapproving head shakes, and threats of spoiled school records were way more brutal than detention could ever be. And they were nothing compared to what my pacifist aunt and uncle would do when I got home. They didn’t believe in violence, ever, for any reason. But then, they’d never met Peter. I had a feeling that fact wouldn’t be worth much to them.
I managed, barely, to talk myself out of anger management classes and Peter into a tolerance seminar. I planned to use that later to diffuse any mention of being grounded. Not that I could go out after dark anyway. I mean, look at last night. We’d finally been allowed out and then Lucy and her friends got weird.
Also, the principal was impressed with my obviously beloved copy of Jane Eyre and my straight As. No one tells you that if you get really good grades, adults are sometimes willing to overlook a little badly placed attitude.
“Are we clear, Ms. Llewellyn?” The principal drummed his fingers on his desk. I wanted to tell him his tie clashed horribly with his shirt. Instead, I just nodded.
“Yes, Mr. Ainsley.”
“I don’t want to see you in here again.”
“Yes, Mr. Ainsley.”
“You’re a bright girl, Christabel. I know moving to a new school in your last year can’t be easy, but I’d hate for you to sabotage your future.”
Oh God, the “future” speech. “Yes, Mr. Ainsley.”
I think I said that about six more times before he finally let me go. Lucy was waiting for me at my locker. “That was so cool,” she gushed.
I tossed my extra binders into my locker. “That guy just really bugs me.”
“Last year he gave Nathan a black eye.” Lucy scowled. “But Nathan’s all ‘ignore them’ or ‘kill them with kindness.’ ” She huffed out an impatient breath. “That just takes way too long.”
“Dude,” an eighth grader interrupted us, eyes wide. “Is it true you busted Peter’s legs?”
“No.”
Lucy grinned. “But it’ll hurt for him to pee for the rest of the day.”
“Cool,” he returned. “He once held my head in the toilet.” He looked at me adoringly, as if he had cartoon hearts for eyeballs. Awkward. I stared back.
“Go away,” I finally had to tell him. He fled.
“He’s totally crushing on you now.” Lucy chuckled.
“Lucky me.”
“And you’re, like, the school hero.” She was entirely too happy about it.
“Hero with detention.” I shut my locker door. “Starting tonight.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, there’s some parent-teacher thing for the ninth grade. I have to help set up chairs or something.” I wrinkled my nose. “Think your mom will freak?”
“About detention, no. About using physical violence to solve your problems? Definitely,” she confirmed. “Oh, and there’ll be a poster of Gandhi on the back of your door by tomorrow. The man, not the dog.”
I blinked. “Um, why?”
“It’s Mom’s very unsubtle reminder that nonviolence can change the world, blah, blah, blah. You’re supposed to imagine Gandhi looking at you the next time you lose your temper.”
“Creepy.”
“Yeah. I’ve had my poster since second grade. I used to have nightmares that he was so hungry he’d try to eat my head like an apple,” she said, shuddering. “But you can talk her down some if you mention Nathan. She loves him.”
“Cool.”
She paused. “Oh, but I’m going to Solange’s tonight.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t following the abrupt topic change.
“So it’ll be dark when you finally get out of here. These parent-teacher things don’t usually start until seven thirty.”
I rolled my eyes. “This curfew thing is stupid, Lucy. I’m from the city. You know, where there’s actual crime and stuff?”
“I know.” She bit her lip for a moment and then brightened. “You can take my car home. Mom’s working today, so I’ll just go over there after school and get a lift home with her. Dad’s got the snowplow on the truck already, so no one’s allowed to drive it. But I can take Mom’s car to the Drakes’.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She handed me her keys. “Are you kidding? I’ve been wanting to kick Peter since I was thirteen.”
“About last night,” I said. “What were you guys on?”
“Nothing!”
I knew she was hiding something. I could just tell. I’d had enough experience sorting through my mom’s lies. “Lucy.”
“I gotta go!” she practically yelled before turning on her heel and running down the hall. I sighed and went to math class. Peter wasn’t at his desk. I should probably have felt bad about that.
Oh well.
As it turns out, detention is boring.
I helped the janitor set out rows and rows of chairs, fetched plastic cups, and made punch, and when they’d exhausted the normal errands, I had to clean the whiteboards in all the classrooms. Even detention was wholesome in this backwoods town. On the plus side, by the time the parents started to arrive, I was allowed to go home.
The parking lot was filled with cars and parents in sensible shoes and sweaty, nervous-looking students. The sky was dark, with a thin line of lilac in the west. The mountains were already black, but I still felt them there, tall and stately. Most of Main Street was closed up except for the cafes and a bookstore. I would have stopped if I wasn’t in enough trouble already. I rolled down the windows and the cool evening air was full of smoke and pine needles and apple trees. I loved October.
I grinned back.
The stern lectures, disapproving head shakes, and threats of spoiled school records were way more brutal than detention could ever be. And they were nothing compared to what my pacifist aunt and uncle would do when I got home. They didn’t believe in violence, ever, for any reason. But then, they’d never met Peter. I had a feeling that fact wouldn’t be worth much to them.
I managed, barely, to talk myself out of anger management classes and Peter into a tolerance seminar. I planned to use that later to diffuse any mention of being grounded. Not that I could go out after dark anyway. I mean, look at last night. We’d finally been allowed out and then Lucy and her friends got weird.
Also, the principal was impressed with my obviously beloved copy of Jane Eyre and my straight As. No one tells you that if you get really good grades, adults are sometimes willing to overlook a little badly placed attitude.
“Are we clear, Ms. Llewellyn?” The principal drummed his fingers on his desk. I wanted to tell him his tie clashed horribly with his shirt. Instead, I just nodded.
“Yes, Mr. Ainsley.”
“I don’t want to see you in here again.”
“Yes, Mr. Ainsley.”
“You’re a bright girl, Christabel. I know moving to a new school in your last year can’t be easy, but I’d hate for you to sabotage your future.”
Oh God, the “future” speech. “Yes, Mr. Ainsley.”
I think I said that about six more times before he finally let me go. Lucy was waiting for me at my locker. “That was so cool,” she gushed.
I tossed my extra binders into my locker. “That guy just really bugs me.”
“Last year he gave Nathan a black eye.” Lucy scowled. “But Nathan’s all ‘ignore them’ or ‘kill them with kindness.’ ” She huffed out an impatient breath. “That just takes way too long.”
“Dude,” an eighth grader interrupted us, eyes wide. “Is it true you busted Peter’s legs?”
“No.”
Lucy grinned. “But it’ll hurt for him to pee for the rest of the day.”
“Cool,” he returned. “He once held my head in the toilet.” He looked at me adoringly, as if he had cartoon hearts for eyeballs. Awkward. I stared back.
“Go away,” I finally had to tell him. He fled.
“He’s totally crushing on you now.” Lucy chuckled.
“Lucky me.”
“And you’re, like, the school hero.” She was entirely too happy about it.
“Hero with detention.” I shut my locker door. “Starting tonight.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, there’s some parent-teacher thing for the ninth grade. I have to help set up chairs or something.” I wrinkled my nose. “Think your mom will freak?”
“About detention, no. About using physical violence to solve your problems? Definitely,” she confirmed. “Oh, and there’ll be a poster of Gandhi on the back of your door by tomorrow. The man, not the dog.”
I blinked. “Um, why?”
“It’s Mom’s very unsubtle reminder that nonviolence can change the world, blah, blah, blah. You’re supposed to imagine Gandhi looking at you the next time you lose your temper.”
“Creepy.”
“Yeah. I’ve had my poster since second grade. I used to have nightmares that he was so hungry he’d try to eat my head like an apple,” she said, shuddering. “But you can talk her down some if you mention Nathan. She loves him.”
“Cool.”
She paused. “Oh, but I’m going to Solange’s tonight.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t following the abrupt topic change.
“So it’ll be dark when you finally get out of here. These parent-teacher things don’t usually start until seven thirty.”
I rolled my eyes. “This curfew thing is stupid, Lucy. I’m from the city. You know, where there’s actual crime and stuff?”
“I know.” She bit her lip for a moment and then brightened. “You can take my car home. Mom’s working today, so I’ll just go over there after school and get a lift home with her. Dad’s got the snowplow on the truck already, so no one’s allowed to drive it. But I can take Mom’s car to the Drakes’.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She handed me her keys. “Are you kidding? I’ve been wanting to kick Peter since I was thirteen.”
“About last night,” I said. “What were you guys on?”
“Nothing!”
I knew she was hiding something. I could just tell. I’d had enough experience sorting through my mom’s lies. “Lucy.”
“I gotta go!” she practically yelled before turning on her heel and running down the hall. I sighed and went to math class. Peter wasn’t at his desk. I should probably have felt bad about that.
Oh well.
As it turns out, detention is boring.
I helped the janitor set out rows and rows of chairs, fetched plastic cups, and made punch, and when they’d exhausted the normal errands, I had to clean the whiteboards in all the classrooms. Even detention was wholesome in this backwoods town. On the plus side, by the time the parents started to arrive, I was allowed to go home.
The parking lot was filled with cars and parents in sensible shoes and sweaty, nervous-looking students. The sky was dark, with a thin line of lilac in the west. The mountains were already black, but I still felt them there, tall and stately. Most of Main Street was closed up except for the cafes and a bookstore. I would have stopped if I wasn’t in enough trouble already. I rolled down the windows and the cool evening air was full of smoke and pine needles and apple trees. I loved October.
