Chapter 43

Tuesday morningas I approach my locker, my heart sinks at the sight a pale blue party banner draped across my locker door announcing to the world, “It’s a boy!”
I tear it down gracelessly, wad it up, and take it over to throw into the trash can. I don’t know if Carter put it there or someone else did, but I can feel eyes on me again. I’m pretty slim to begin with, but I notice myself sucking in my stomach as I turn with my books to leave the locker, all too aware of the searching gazes of people looking for a baby bump like I’m an A-list celeb and they’re reporting for a sleazy gossip rag.
Forget that I haven’t even known Carter long enough to be so pregnant I would be showing, but people don’t think. They hear something semi-believable and run with it. The facts don’t even matter.
On top of Carter’s bullshit, I’m PMSing. I should have stayed home in bed and called myself in sick. There’s a quiz in Spanish today though, and making them up is a hassle, so I guess I just have to deal with this nonsense.
I ignore my way through the first part of the day, only paying attention to my surroundings when I get to history. Carter isn’t late today, he’s already in class when I show up. Jenna is still seated behind him, but she’s not flirting with him today. Looking a bit irritable, she plays on her cell phone while we wait for the bell. Carter does nothing to solicit her attention. Instead, he sits there and sketches.
I expected history class to be awful, so the calm lack of eventfulness is a godsend.
About halfway through history, someone from student council knocks on the door. Mr. Hassenfeld goes to the door and opens it and she peers in, a bright smile on her face. “I need Zoey Ellis in the guidance counselor’s office.”
I blink in confusion. Mr. Hassenfeld looks back at me, also unprepared. “Zoey, you’re needed in the office.”
I hate being the center of attention so much, but everyone looks at me as I gather my things and slide out of my desk. When I’m walking past, a girl leaning forward whispers to the girl in front of her, “I bet it’s about the baby.”
At this point, I can only sigh. I’m getting so tired of all this. Maybe I need that time machine to go back to when Jake felt me up. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, then he would still be playing ball and I wouldn’t have had a target plastered on my back in the first place. Carter Mahoney never would have noticed me. No one would talk about me or judge me, because no one would know who I am.
Certainly, there would be no rumors. I’m not scandalous enough to do anything to provoke rumors, only the guys who terrorize me are.
Maybe I should stop washing my hair and start wearing baggy clothes to school. If no one wants to fuck me, no one will be interested in dragging my ass through the mud or ruining my reputation. Maybe fighting them off is just too much work, too unpleasant. Maybe I should just accept my role as their disposable plaything and let boys who don’t give a damn about me do whatever they want.
On second thought, no. Fuck that. Let them talk. Let them try to ruin my life. I can take it.
God willing, I won’t be stuck in this miserable town for much longer anyway. A year from now, I’ll be experiencing my first autumn in Pennsylvania. The weather will be so chilly I’ll need to wear a warm sweater. The leaves on all the trees will be the most beautiful shades of red, yellow, and orange. I wonder what the changing season will smell like?
Peace fills me at the thought. I need to keep that vision safe in my mind when this place starts to overwhelm me and get me down. None of this matters in the great scheme of things. I won’t be here much longer. Freedom is only a few months away, I just have to keep my eye on the prize.
I feel calmer and more centered when I show up at the guidance counselor’s office and knock on the door. Ms. Cunningham glances up, flashes me a smile, and waves toward the chair in front of her desk.
“Hi, Zoey. Come on in, have a seat.”
I step inside and close the door behind me, then walk over and drop into the chair. I’m tongue-tied, unsure what to say or ask. Before I can figure it out, she grabs a blue piece of clothing wrapped in plastic and puts it on the desk in front of me.
“This is for you.”
I put my books on my lap and grab the package. “What is this?”
“A Longhorn windbreaker,” she announces cheerfully. “We’re gifting all the honor roll students with one. A little reward for your outstanding achievement.”
Relief moves through me and I sit back in my chair, putting the wrapped windbreaker on top of my books. This is just about honor roll, not the stupid pregnancy rumor. “Thank you,” I tell her, even though I don’t have much use for a Longhorn windbreaker.
She smiles and nods. “While I have you here, I’d also like to go over your college plans with you. I have some updates since we talked at the start of the school year.” Rolling her chair back, she reaches into a file cabinet and pulls out my folder, then she wheels back to the desk. “I know we went over what you would need to do in order to get a full-ride scholarship at your first choice college.”
“Yes.” I nod my head once. “I’ve been doing all that. My history grade slipped a little, but Mr. Hassenfeld gave me extra credit, so I was able to pull it back up.”
She nods her head. “Yes, and that’s wonderful. You’re still very comfortably in the top ten percent of your graduating class. In fact, your GPA is the 4th highest. Now, here’s the problem,” she says, slapping a palm down on the open folder and meeting my gaze.
“Problem?”
“Unfortunately, the school you want to attend had to make some budget cuts this year. They still want to make it easier for the best and the brightest to study there so they’re still offering scholarships to high school students in the top ten percent of their graduating class… unfortunately, that will no longer be a full ride, but a half ride. Only valedictorians and salutatorians will be offered full rides this year. That means you’re two spots below a full-ride. I know we discussed that financial aid was pretty important in order for you to be able to attend there, and with your family’s income, you would also be able to get a Pell grant, so all is not lost.”
She keeps talking, but I can’t focus on what she’s saying. All is lost. Half the tuition rate alone would be 18 grand a year, and that’s not even factoring in the cost of housing and living expenses. A Pell grant wouldn’t make up the other half of the lost scholarship. It would put a dent in it, but not a big one.
Shaking myself out of it, I ask her, “Okay, so what do I have to do to catch up?”
“Well, there’s no catching up to the valedictorian. Charlie’s GPA is—you’re not taking enough of the right classes to compete with him, and even if we could get special permissions to transfer you into the classes you’d need, you still can’t catch up. He has been taking AP courses too long. With only senior year left, it’s simply not possible to catch up.”
“But I only have to make salutatorian, not valedictorian,” I point out. “I’m ranked 4th in my class and I have to move up to 2nd. That’s not an impossible climb. Tell me how to get there and I’ll do it.”
Grimacing in a way that fills me with dread, she says, “Currently, Carter Mahoney is ranked 2nd highest in your graduating class. If his grades remain on course, he will make salutatorian.” Flipping a paper over, she tells me, “I believe with dedication you can move up to third, but if I’m bein’ honest with you, sweetheart, I don’t think you can bump Carter out of second. Don’t tell anybody I said so, but that boy is obnoxiously smart. I know he doesn’t try as hard as you do, but if not for Charlie, he would have valedictorian in the bag.”
That doesn’t even make sense. Yes, Carter is extremely intelligent, especially in a wily kind of way, but he hasn’t even read Catcher in the Rye. Was he playing up his disinterest in schoolwork? With his friends I might be able to make the jump that he doesn’t want to come off like a nerd, but with me? I’m a nerd. I would never think of him as being less cool for doing his best in school. I would admire that, so it doesn’t make sense to lie to me about it.
A suspicion clicks into place and I look up at Ms. Cunningham. “Who is third?”
“Hm? Oh.” She drags her finger down a printout and reads the name of the student between me and Carter. “Sara Knowles.”
I start laughing. It’s a crazy, maniacal, I’m-cracking kind of laugh, and the guidance counselor begins to look concerned.
Sara Knowles. Carter’s rally girl. Accomplished not only at making cute chocolate covered strawberries, but assembling baskets, and probably doing Carter’s schoolwork when he doesn’t feel like doing it.
Of fucking course Carter would land the smartest rally girl in the history of fucking rally girls to do his bitchwork.
Nothing is fair. Everything is shit. Carter Mahoney is the worst. I’m laughing so hard a tear creeps out of the corner of my eye, and the moisture triggers a stinging behind my eyes like I might actually cry. That kills my maniacal humor and I settle down, trying to focus and grasp at the remaining straws.
“Sorry. Okay, so, you said I should be able to catch up to Sara. That means we’re not that far apart.”
She nods her head. “That’s right. It would add a lot of stress on ya, though, and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate already. Even if you don’t catch up to Carter, all is not lost. If you’re open to Prairie View, you can attend there tuition free. You won’t be able to commute that far, of course, but if you go to this one,” she says, sliding a pamphlet across the desk and tapping it, “This one is in Dallas, so it’s close enough that you could commute, that way you wouldn’t have to pay for campus housing.”
I stop listening. Staying in Texas for college is the absolute last resort. I’m not going to give up on my first choice school. Ms. Cunningham thinks I need to jump two spots, but I know I only really have to jump one. Only Sara.
If I can catch up to her, I might be able to catch up to Carter, because Sara is probably why Carter is salutatorian in the first place. If it comes down to it, I might be able to play dirty and distract Carter from his schoolwork. She does some of his work, but surely not all of it. If I can get his authentic grades to suffer a little bit, even Sara’s help won’t keep him in second.
I don’t like playing Carter’s manipulative games, but he doesn’t need this as much as I do. He’s already in at Columbia because of his football talent. If he isn’t salutatorian, it won’t make a difference. Meanwhile, my future depends upon it.