Chapter 9

We refined our protocol a bit after that. I bought an app that, with one button, would send my GPS coordinates by text message to Mom, Dad, Stacy, and Dr. Brown. Stacy’s class schedule was rearranged so that she had the same lunch period as me - a perk that, the principal kept telling us, they would not have offered under less extreme circumstances. Dr. Sato had all sorts of questions about how the marijuana had affected the experience for me. He was writing a paper about me, I learned.

A few days later, it was obvious that my secret was out. After an assembly, a couple queen bee bitches were looking at me and talking to each other conspiratorially. I heard one of them whisper-but-not-really, “That’s the Vanilla Slut” while pointing at me. The name not only stuck, but it traveled. Two days later, Mom had to pick Lucas up from school early: he had been suspended for fighting. This time his face was unblemished, but his knuckles were swollen and scraped. He had heard my new nickname and took exception with it. It scared me to imagine what he had done to the other boy, who I later found out was Todd. I don’t think Lucas had ever been in a fight in his life before this year.

A small group of us ate lunch every day outside the auditorium, far away from the cafeteria and the beaten path. Stacy, our new friend Trace, our old friend Chloe, and I all brought our lunches from home each day. Trace had a car - he had been held back a year in gradeschool, so he was old for a sophomore - so he sometimes brought back treats from the convenience store.