Chapter 3

"I keep telling you," Liz said. "You should call him. You should say you're sorry and ask him if you guys can talk."

"Can we, like, not talk about this anymore?" Danielle said.

"Danielle, school starts tomorrow. We're going to be juniors. You'll have to see him, whether you want to or not." Danielle had been trying not to think about that either.

The remaining weeks of summer had been different than she'd predicted when her sophomore year ended. She'd thought she'd get a job, maybe, or take some classes; she thought she'd hang out with friends. That last part had certainly been true, and she could be nothing but grateful for the support Liz had shown her; she had even managed to get through to Liana French, one of Shelly's clique, and been informed by the Frenches' housekeeper that Miss Liana had received her message and would call upon her once the school year began. But she'd also expected to be spending time with David—laughing, talking, joking; watching TV, going to the movies, going to the mall, playing video games; leaving silly notes for each other on Facebook, sharing pictures of cute kittens or the latest YouTube folly. Kissing him. Making out with him. Sleeping in his arms. Making love with him, even. Instead all she'd had of him was their traditional fumbling and then a perfunctory first time which had been ruined by an immediate break-up. At least she wasn't pregnant.

"Maybe I'll see him," said Danielle, "but that doesn't mean I want to talk to him."

"Yes you do, " said Liz. "You do, and you know it."

Danielle didn't answer that. Nor did she mention the times when she would jerk out of a sound sleep, cold sweat on her brow, tears in her eyes, the remains of some bloodstained dream in her head. The most recent time, she'd seen him flayed apart by shards of glass; the time before that, he had dissolved into a pool of blood and skin. Always his eyes remained, stricken, with a look of infinite sadness.

"But he hasn't talked to me," Danielle said. "I haven't heard a darn thing from him since the last time we spoke."

"You did say you never wanted anything more to do with him, " Liz said, "maybe he took you seriously." Even through the phone's tinny buzz, Danielle could hear the reproach.

"Yeah, well..." Danielle insisted. "He should still be trying. He should still care."

She heard the sigh. "Whatever. Do you wanna drive, or shall I?"

That was the other big thing: both she and Liz had their licenses now, and parking permits newly furnished by the school. David, born in January, wouldn't get to test for months. Suddenly she remembered all the plans they'd made about what they'd do together when they could finally be alone in a car. Davey had wanted to try doing it in the back seat, and Danielle—assuming she liked sex, of course—hadn't seen anything wrong with experimenting. Evidently, this was not to be.

"Hello? Dani? You still there?"

"I don't care," she said. "Umm ... Do you wanna?"

There was a silence. Then Liz said, "You were thinking about him, weren't you."

"Look, just stop it, okay?" said Danielle, getting angry now. "So we broke up. I'm allowed a little reaction, aren't I?"

"You're allowed a lot more than a little reaction, Danielle, but you aren't showing much of one. I've never seen you cry, or heard you be angry, or, or anything. Instead I just see this look of steel on your face, like you aren't going to let him defeat you ... Come to think of it, maybe I should drive. I'm not sure I want to be driven with someone wearing an expression like yours."

"Fine, whatever," said Danielle. "Can you come like fifteen minutes early? I wanna see if I can change my class schedules so I'm not in all the same classes as him."

After a silence, Liz heaved another sigh. "Okay. I can do that."

"See you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow, Danielle."

The next morning, she took a long shower, and then spent almost fifteen minutes trying to figure out what to wear. Eventually she settled on the tank top David had always liked, the one with the gather on the front to draw attention to her chest, and the jeans which he said made her bottom look good. Her hair she brushed out to perfection until it flowed like a river of gold. The whole thing was marred by the realization that her period should be coming in soon and that she had better stick a pad in just to be safe. But that was life; at least she wasn't pregnant from that little debacle in the field.

On her way out, she gave herself one last glance in the mirror ... And wondered who she was kidding. The only person she was guaranteed to attract the attention of was David himself—and that was completely not the point; the whole point was to make herself look attractive to the other boys ... Wasn't it? What did other boys like, anyway? She suddenly wished she'd thought to ask Martin.

Changing classes was harder than she'd expected: there was a line queueing up outside the registrar's office, some of them looking as though they'd been there for quite a while already. Liz gave the whole thing one look before clapping her on the shoulder—"See you in class, then"—a response Danielle found somewhat irritating, if completely understandable. Would she want to wait for this if she didn't have to? Liz had been a wonderful friend over the last few weeks, but Danielle guessed they'd found the limits of that friendship.

The faces of the other people in line were an interesting study: the older they were, the wearier they seemed, as though the seniors couldn't wait to get out of here. None of them had the open faces she associated with freshmen; presumably, none of those were smart enough to know you could petition to change classes, since it was their first day and (after all) they were freshmen. And amongst the many strangers she glimpsed several people she recognized: Mohinder Ramakandra, who was dating Jenny Slater; Ramona Brown, long-time girlfriend to track superstar Alex Field. And there was Seamus O'Reilly, who had been with Wendy Stern for as long as she could remember. Their grim expressions set a jolt through her: if any of them had broken up, how would she know?—she'd been out of touch for most of the summer. Were they here for the same reason she was? Was this the line where the debris of the summer's broken relationships relationships was finally swept out of sight?

It took nearly an hour to advance through the line and get her classes sorted out (Danielle wondered why it was taking so long until she actually got inside the office, where she saw Mrs. Jenkins and two secretaries working full steam to process everyone), and she was late to her first class, English, by a good half-hour. Even more than that, she couldn't rearrange her schedule entirely; AP Environmental Science was only being offered during one period this quarter, so she must either abandon it or face David in it every day. She sat there chewing her lip for a full minute, while the secretary tapped a pen against the table in irritation, before finally deciding that she would have to deal with it. Five minutes later she had to walk up to Mr. Emory and give him her pink excuse slip before the eyes of everyone in the room, before finding the only empty seat in the room (it was right in the middle) and sitting down.

There were people she hadn't seen since the end of last year—Aisha Wilson, Maggie Chung, Roger Brown, Manuel Gonzaga, Lettie Halder, and more, and more—who would accost her in the halls, ask her how her summer had been. That was bad enough to start with, but inevitably their next question would be about David. Maybe she should've expected it; after all, weren't they peas in a pod, two of a kind? But right then and there, it hurt. It hurt a lot. By the end of second period she had taken to just blurting out that he was okay, and then excusing herself. What hurt most was that nobody seemed to notice.

By break time she understood why the seniors had that look on their face. Liz, who (thank God!) was in the class with her, took one look at her face and then led her away. They ended up under a tree on the edge of the main quad; because Carmen, Heidi and Vanessa showed up shortly thereafter, Danielle assumed it must be their regular meeting place. "Gawd, Danielle, you look, like, rilly beat up," said Vanessa.

"You're telling me," said Danielle.

"Are you, like, seeing him in all your classes, or something?" said Vanessa.

"We got here early so she could get her classes switched around," Liz told her. "How'd it go?"

"It worked," said Danielle, "mostly." She explained about AP Enviro Sci, which she had wanted to take ever since she'd heard the class existed. "We were both excited—and even more excited when we both got in. Now..."

"I'm sure you'll cope," said Carmen. "It's right before lunch, isn't it? At least you can escape after that."

"I know," said Danielle. "I just ... I don't know what it'll be like to see him now."

"What was it like when you broke up with your other boyfriends?" Heidi asked.

Danielle gave her a cold look.

" ... What?" said Heidi. Danielle thought she had never met anyone quite as oblivious.

"She's never dated anyone else, stupid," said Carmen. And besides, Danielle thought, this was ... a little more than dating.

But when the time came, there was nothing to worry about. She was a wreck all throughout French 3, dreading the upcoming fifth-period class ... But when she got there, David was nowhere to be seen, and his name was not called. Or rather, it kind of was: the teacher, a rather disreputable-looking woman who went by the unlikely name of Moonsnow (not even Mrs. Moonsnow, just Moonsnow) started to say, "David Gla— Oh, that's right, he dropped the class, didn't he." When? Danielle hadn't seen him this morning. She felt a wash of relief. And a little pang of guilt that he had had to bow out of this class. She knew he'd wanted to be here.

She had planned to meet Liz and the others back at the quad for lunch, but as she was approaching her locker a shout rang out—"There you are!"—and she found herself accosted. It was Amy Plisken, who was the lowest on Shelly Baumgarter's totem pole after Danielle herself. "Where the heck have you been? We've been looking all over for you."

"Wh ... What?" said Danielle.

"Yeah, totally!" Amy said. "We couldn't find you. Where the heck have you been?"

"I ... Just..." It suddenly occurred to her that Shelly might not like hearing that Danielle had made some other friends. Especially if they'd been looking for her. I didn't tell anybody, but they must've heard somehow. And when I didn't show up ... Wow, they went and tried to find me? She hadn't known they cared that much.

"Well, we've found you," said Amy. "Come on." And without another word she dragged Danielle back over to the corner of the Student Center, where Shelly always held court.

"Oh, Dee," said Shelly. Her hair was a dazzling red and by far her strongest feature—after, at least, her perfect boobs. They were full and well-shaped, with a lot of cleavage, and Shelly always wore push-up bras and low-cut tops to show them off. She was putting on weight, Danielle could see, but nobody would dare challenge her on it. Besides, she was carrying it well; it filled out her bottom and her breasts (which hardly needed the help, Danielle thought resentfully) and, combined with the artfully-applied makeup and perfect bangle earrings, made her seem older than she was, and glamorous. She gave Danielle a cursory once-over as she arrived. "Good, you're here. We need an opinion."

"An ... Opinion?" said Danielle.

"Yes, we need you to break a tie. Chloe wants to date Angelo Navarre—you know, the one who cheated on Jessie Stimson last year? Liana and I think it would be a bad idea, but Amy and Missy say there might be hope. We need you to weigh in." Behind her, Chloe Reubens was practically jumping with anxiety.

"I ... You need..." said Danielle, who was not being received the way she'd anticipated. " ... But what about Davey?"

"What about Davey," said Shelly, with a cross look. She could be remarkably generous when she wanted, but today her dominance was at stake, and it was all cold business eyes and impatience. "We've wasted enough time waiting for you; Chloe promised she'd answer him by now. We've more important issues at hand then your little boyfriend problems."

She felt her eyes burning.

"Danielle," said Shelly, her voice like a whip-crack. "Pull yourself together. You're a good-looking girl when you take care of yourself, but we don't need friends who'll just go straight to pieces because someone hurts their feelings."

"Actually, speaking of David," said Missy Renquist, before Danielle could respond (before Danielle could even begin to think about responding). She had a clear, transcendent beauty, like living ice; her smiles never touched her eyes. "I have to submit a motion too. He asked me out after third period."

Danielle stared at her, hearing blood rush in her ears. For a moment the world swayed perilously.

Shelly gave Missy a cold, direct look. "Poaching another girl's boyfriend is against the rules, Missy. As is letting yourself be poached. You should know that."

"He said it wouldn't be a problem," said Missy. "He said he and Danielle were over." Her eyes cut to Danielle.

"Well, if it's over..." said Shelly. She turned to face Danielle. "As you know, you have the right to lodge a formal protest. If you think it's too soon— When did this happen, anyway?"

"Just ... Just after July 4th," said Danielle.

"Oh," said Shelly. "Well, that's too bad. You were together for a while, weren't you?"

"That's outside the time frame of the formal protest," said Liana, who had always been a stickler for rules. "You told us that you can only lodge a protest if the rebound happens within a month. It's been more six weeks."

"Very good point," said Shelly, "I guess you're out of luck, Dee. Does anyone else have any more objections?"

Nobody did, though Amy Schulz did give her an apologetic look.

"All right then," said Shelly. "Missy, you're free to do whatever seems best to you. Maybe you can help shed some light on why he's still a virgin despite his long association with Dee."

"Oh, he's not anymore," said Amy suddenly. "Didn't you hear?"

Shelly turned to face her. She was the only one seated. "Hear what?"

"I heard it from Oscar Wentz, who said he had it from Scott O'Connor." Scott was one of David's oldest friends. "He says David's not a virgin anymore."

"Really?" said Shelly, sounding anything other than formal for the first time all day. "But who would he have gotten together with? If he was cheating, we would've heard."

"There was a series of shrugs or other gestures from her followers. Then, almost as if they were a single person, five pairs of eyes turned to Danielle.

Danielle tried to pretend her eyes weren't still watering. Did they have to dissect it now?

"What I want to know is," said Shelly, "how this relates to the break-up. Boys dump girls normally because of a lack of sex, not for getting it."

"What I want to know is what sort of shoes I'll have to fill," Missy said. "I mean, he hung on to that girl for years, he must've had some reason. And it might have colored his perceptions of the deed as well. Tell me, Danielle did he seem to enjoy doing it with you? Was there anything he particularly liked?"

"Maybe he dumped her because she was a really bad lay," said Chloe with a sharp little titter.

It was too much. Danielle turned and ran. Shouts pursued her, and she ran into someone, blinded by tears, but she didn't care. She took her refuge in the girls' bathroom, and if anyone heard her sob, they would just have to deal with it. She huddled in the cold, stale room, burying her face in her hands, trying not to make a noise, listening to the chatter of other girls and the flush of toilets, wishing she was like them, that her biggest problems could be so easy to dispose of.

"Danielle." Liana's cold voice rang through the room. "Shelly wants you to come out." But Danielle didn't answer, and after a minute Liana left again. Danielle knew she would probably never hear from any of those girls again.

She didn't want to face Liz right now, nor any of the others; Liz was a good friend but not a kind one, and the others were just too stupid to be borne right now. She stayed in the bathroom until the bell rang again. Three times someone rattled on the stall and complained about people taking forever on the toilet. Danielle didn't care. She hoped their bladders would burst and they would die.

By the time the final bell rang, she was ready for summer again; she felt as though she had aged a million years since she'd first set foot on campus. She wanted to go home and just fling herself in bed; her bed, she had always believed, was a magic bed, a place of safety where nobody could ever hear her or see her or bother her ... Or hear her cry. Only, she was not a child anymore. She was sixteen, nearly an adult, and there were books to put covers on, syllabii to review, even some short homework assignments to complete.

All in all, it was not shaping up to be a great year.

She spread her things out in front of her, prepared to get to work, but—it seemed it was always this way nowadays—in a moment she was gone again, dwelling endlessly on what she'd heard over the lunch break. That David would tell his friends he'd finally done it—especially Scott O'Connor, his best guy friend—did not particularly surprise her; it worried her that everyone must know by now. She wondered if his popularity was going to soar. She wondered if hers would dwindle. Then again, she'd basically guaranteed that herself, by defying Shelly Baumgarter. She didn't know how Shelly's revenge would come, but she had no doubt it would; there would be a reckoning, and the price she would pay would be far out of proportion, it always was. She wondered if she would ever be asked out again before college started.

And David ... Asking out Missy Renquist? Her Davey? He'd never expressed anything like interest in her before—not even ill-thought-out comments like the one he'd made about Shelly. To her knowledge, she wasn't his type at all; would they even get along? At least Missy had more of a figure. While David had never expressed dissatisfaction at Danielle's slimness, his comments about Shelly's bust (and Amy's) (and Renata Hindenmouth's) suggested a more voluptuous girl would be his preference. Carefully she went over the conversation in her mind (as much of it as she could recall), trying to reconstruct the circumstances, trying to figure out what was going on. Had she heard wrong? Was Missy lying to her, just to mess with her head? But why would she do that? Well, in revenge, possibly, for having held things up at break. Shelly brooked no insubordination within her ranks; if she wanted something done, it would get done, and anyone who hindered her would pay the price. It was within reason that it had all been a lie. Especially since dating Missy would bring him into contact with Danielle.