floor so I can show how sorry I am. My hair is touching the floor, Brenda.”
“What if someone comes in here?”
“Then no doubt they will call us weirdos for the rest of the year. I’m taking a lot of risks here.”
“What do you want?”
“Come out of the stall so we can talk.”
Brenda gave me another long look and then unlocked the stall door. Thank God. I stood, brushing off my pants. I went over to the sink and washed my hands. Brenda leaned against the towel dispenser, a long trail of toilet tissue clutched in one hand. She gave a hiccupping sigh, and as she exhaled, a giant snot bubble grew at the end of her nose. It just sat there like a soap bubble perched at the end of her nostril. She didn’t seem to notice it was there. It was the saddest thing I could imagine. I took the tissue out of her hand and blotted her nose and then tossed it in the trash.
“It was wrong of me to blow you off today. I never meant to make you feel bad.”
“They like you. I could tell. They’re the most popular girls in our school.”
“I figured. They got the look, you know?”
“Yeah.” Brenda went back into the stall and grabbed another wad of tissue, giving her nose a huge blow. She washed her face in the sink and I handed her some paper towels. She tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Wait a minute,” I said fishing around in my bag. I pulled out some MAC lip gloss and handed it over. She looked at it as if she had never seen such an item before.
“Put some on.”
“My mouth?” She peered at the end of the wand with distrust.
“I don’t have rabies or anything. Trust me, it’ll look nice.”
She put a quick smear on and handed it back. We both looked at her in the mirror. She looked better; the shiny pink lip gloss gave her some color. Of course she was bound to look better without the snot bubble; everything else from there was a bonus.
“Thanks. I guess we’re back to being buddies, huh?”
I chewed my lip and tried to figure out how to explain things.
Brenda looked down. “Forget it. This is stupid.” She pushed open the bathroom door and left.
I considered going after her, but then I remembered. This was war. There are always risks of civilian casualities.
Chapter Eleven
I’d checked off establish popularity on my to-do list. Now it was time to move to stage two: active destruction.
I had done as much research as possible on Justin, Lauren’s boyfriend. I studied his Facebook page as if it held the secret to immortality. I had a piece of paper where I scribbled down every number I thought could be important to him and different combinations of those numbers: Lauren’s birthday, their anniversary, his football jersey number, the number of his favorite player on the Detroit Lions, his best track time, and his top score on Grand Theft Auto. I waited until math class was under way with a riveting lecture on the importance of polynomial algebraic functions, and then I raised my hand to request the hall pass.
The halls were empty. I stood outside Justin’s locker and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. Lincoln High lets you reset your locker combination to anything you like as long as you give the number to the janitor. I was counting on the idea that Justinwould pick something he could easily remember. He struck me as the kind of guy who doesn’t have a lot of spare storage space in his brain. I tried Lauren’s birthday first, nothing. Then their anniversary, nothing. I tapped my foot, thinking what my best chance would be. I’d only known the guy a couple of days. There were zillions of combinations of numbers he could’ve picked. I worried it would take all year to try them all, and my math teacher would have someone come looking for me long before then. I dialed in his birthday, hoping Justin was a keep-it-simple kind of guy. I spun the lock around, then said a small prayer, and pulled down. Nothing. Shit. In frustration, I yanked harder and then it clicked, popping open. It sounded
“What if someone comes in here?”
“Then no doubt they will call us weirdos for the rest of the year. I’m taking a lot of risks here.”
“What do you want?”
“Come out of the stall so we can talk.”
Brenda gave me another long look and then unlocked the stall door. Thank God. I stood, brushing off my pants. I went over to the sink and washed my hands. Brenda leaned against the towel dispenser, a long trail of toilet tissue clutched in one hand. She gave a hiccupping sigh, and as she exhaled, a giant snot bubble grew at the end of her nose. It just sat there like a soap bubble perched at the end of her nostril. She didn’t seem to notice it was there. It was the saddest thing I could imagine. I took the tissue out of her hand and blotted her nose and then tossed it in the trash.
“It was wrong of me to blow you off today. I never meant to make you feel bad.”
“They like you. I could tell. They’re the most popular girls in our school.”
“I figured. They got the look, you know?”
“Yeah.” Brenda went back into the stall and grabbed another wad of tissue, giving her nose a huge blow. She washed her face in the sink and I handed her some paper towels. She tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Wait a minute,” I said fishing around in my bag. I pulled out some MAC lip gloss and handed it over. She looked at it as if she had never seen such an item before.
“Put some on.”
“My mouth?” She peered at the end of the wand with distrust.
“I don’t have rabies or anything. Trust me, it’ll look nice.”
She put a quick smear on and handed it back. We both looked at her in the mirror. She looked better; the shiny pink lip gloss gave her some color. Of course she was bound to look better without the snot bubble; everything else from there was a bonus.
“Thanks. I guess we’re back to being buddies, huh?”
I chewed my lip and tried to figure out how to explain things.
Brenda looked down. “Forget it. This is stupid.” She pushed open the bathroom door and left.
I considered going after her, but then I remembered. This was war. There are always risks of civilian casualities.
Chapter Eleven
I’d checked off establish popularity on my to-do list. Now it was time to move to stage two: active destruction.
I had done as much research as possible on Justin, Lauren’s boyfriend. I studied his Facebook page as if it held the secret to immortality. I had a piece of paper where I scribbled down every number I thought could be important to him and different combinations of those numbers: Lauren’s birthday, their anniversary, his football jersey number, the number of his favorite player on the Detroit Lions, his best track time, and his top score on Grand Theft Auto. I waited until math class was under way with a riveting lecture on the importance of polynomial algebraic functions, and then I raised my hand to request the hall pass.
The halls were empty. I stood outside Justin’s locker and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. Lincoln High lets you reset your locker combination to anything you like as long as you give the number to the janitor. I was counting on the idea that Justinwould pick something he could easily remember. He struck me as the kind of guy who doesn’t have a lot of spare storage space in his brain. I tried Lauren’s birthday first, nothing. Then their anniversary, nothing. I tapped my foot, thinking what my best chance would be. I’d only known the guy a couple of days. There were zillions of combinations of numbers he could’ve picked. I worried it would take all year to try them all, and my math teacher would have someone come looking for me long before then. I dialed in his birthday, hoping Justin was a keep-it-simple kind of guy. I spun the lock around, then said a small prayer, and pulled down. Nothing. Shit. In frustration, I yanked harder and then it clicked, popping open. It sounded
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