Everybody Knows

Jack, October

After first period Monday morning, I search the hallways for Peyton. She had a meeting with the Principal and coaches before school, and I want to find out how it went. I head over to her locker between classes, but she's not there. I'm about to go find Marshall, when I stop dead in my tracks. Somebody vandalized her locker door—"Whore," "Skank," "Cooze," "Slut" are written in blue and white window paint, the kind kids use to decorate their cars for games. I just stand there looking at it, rage roiling like bile in my gut.

Marshall walks up and stops beside me, assessing the situation. He reaches a finger out to touch the space between the locker door and the wall. At the bottom edge, there's some kind of clear, slimy liquid oozing from inside.

"Do you think she's seen it?" I ask him. "Is she here?"

He nods. "I saw her early this morning at our meeting."

"I wonder where she is."

"She has biology first period. Then Pre-Cal with Coach Baird. That's where she'd be headed."

How the hell does he know so much about her schedule?

I leave Marshall standing there messing with her locker combination—he probably knows that too—and take off toward the math hall.

I wait outside Baird's class, but she never shows. I send her a quick text.

Me: Where are you?

All through government, I keep checking my phone.

Nothing.

After class, I go straight to her locker. Somebody—probably Marshall—wiped away all the profanity, and there's no more slime oozing out.

Me: Did you clean her locker?

Marshall: 👍🏽

A thumbs up emoji? Seriously? Of course he'd text in emojis. Annoyed, I shoot him another text.

Me: On the inside too?

Marshall: Yeah. Egg whites, I think. Got her stuff laid out to dry in dark room.

What? I remind myself to ask him about this later.

Next class is floral design, and I'm kind of dreading it if I'm being honest. Bree will be there. And it's not like I'm avoiding her or anything, but I kind of just don't know how to be around her now. I mean, should I act like her boyfriend? Is that something she'd expect? I wish there was some kind of manual on this shit.

The problem is, I don't want to be her boyfriend. She's great and all, real pretty and smart. But she wasn't the one I had in mind. At the same time, it doesn't feel right to break it off either. So, I'm just stuck.

When I walk into class, she's bent over her notebook writing again. I peer over her shoulder before I take a seat. When she feels me next to her, she closes the notebook on her finger, saving her place. She doesn't say anything but squeezes my hand. Then she puts her head down on the desk. I lean into her with my hand on her shoulder. "Bree? You okay?"

She gives her head a little shake. Then she gets up, grabs the pickle pass, and darts out into the hall.

Should I follow her?

No. No it seems like she needs to be alone.

What the hell?

I glance over at her empty seat. Her notebook has fallen open to the poem she'd been writing.

It's like

When

Someone stabs you

In the chest

Leaves horrible scars

Then tells you

How ugly those scars are

And uses that ugliness

As a reason

Not to love you

Holy shit.

Seems like she's dealing with things I know nothing about. This is more than just Cash. Maybe it's family drama. I know she doesn't like talking about that any more than I do. If she wants to confide in me, she will.

When she gets back, she's quiet. Seems tired. She doesn't even ask about the thing with Peyton's locker. She had to have seen it—it's in a very central location. She's usually sort of a gossip. After class, we walk to lunch together. I try making small talk, but she's kind of spaced out. She just sits all through lunch just gazing out the window while I talk to the guys about the upcoming game.

"Did y'all hear that Peyton got suspended from the team?" Lamar asks.

I scan the faces sitting there. Darius shrugs, then he turns to Micah. "Ask Lucas what he heard about Peyton."

Micah shouts down to Lucas who's sitting a few guys away. If you need to know anything at this school, Lucas is the man. The origins of his omniscience have yet to be determined.

"Suspended," he calls back. "Pending further investigations."

Bree looks over at me. I guess this got her attention. "What did she do?"

Man, she's more out of it than I thought. "There was an article. Editorial. In the paper. Said some pretty nasty lies about her."

She nods. "That's awful," is all she says.

Okay, there is definitely something wrong with this girl. She would normally tear into a juicy bit of gossip like this. And she'd show very little sympathy while doing so.

After lunch I catch up with Marshall. "You hear from her yet?"

He shakes his head.

"How'd you get inside her locker?"

"I opened it."

"You know her combo?"

He just shakes his head again. "Her stuff was covered in egg whites—they must have pumped them in through the vent. Can't quite figure out their method. It wouldn't have been easy to arrange."

I think that's the most he's ever said at once to me in our entire history together.

I just stare at him.

"So, anyway, her books and notes were covered in it. I took them to the dark room and tried my best to wipe them down. They should be dry by tomorrow."

Who is this guy? Batman?

*****

So Peyton hasn't been back to school, and it's already Wednesday. During Floral arranging, I ask to use the pickle pass and head down to the cafeteria to find Emma who's in A lunch.

I grab her before she has a chance to go back to her table with the JV football and cheer squads.

"Is Peyton okay?"

Her eyebrows stitch together. "You're holding a giant pickle."

I glance down at my hand. "Yes. Yes I am. So, why's Peyton not at school?"

She glances over at the table and back at me. "She's just...sick. But she's okay."

"Sick?"

She sighs. "Yeah, it's been a tough year. This was kind of the last thing she needed. Anyway, I don't think she can face school right now. I mean everybody knows."

"I get it."

She grabs my arm. "But don't tell anyone I said that!"

"You're good. I won't. But can you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Can you text me before she comes back? I'd like to be there for her when she does."

Emma smiles sadly and then throws her arms around my neck, hugging me close. She nods into my shoulder. Then she jumps back and gasps. "Oh, God! Don't tell Bree I hugged you either."

"I gotchu, Emma." I enter my number into her contacts and hand her phone back. "Keep me posted."

Her eyes widen when they dart to a spot behind my head.

I turn around, and Bree is standing there, staring at us.