Before school started, the popular kids hung out on the back staircase into the building, provided that the weather was decent. Although there was nothing posted, everyone else knew this area was off-limits unless you were in the upper echelon, in the same way they knew the stoner kids owned the wooded strip at the back of the parking lot where they could smoke weed and pretend no one could see them. Monday morning, I sat next to Bailey and Kyla on the cold cement steps, sipping our Starbucks coffee and talking about our respective weekends. I saw Lauren first; she was walking toward the door from the parking lot, her pace slow.
“Hey, you okay?” Bailey asked, as Lauren drew closer. It was clear Lauren was anything but okay; her eyes were red and swollen. Chili pepper in mascara: one; Lauren Wood: zero.
“I know it’s early in the day, but use your brain. Do I look okay?”
Bailey’s mouth snapped shut; I could hear her teeth click together.
“I heard about you and Justin. I guess the breakup got to you more than you expected, huh?” I said trying to sound suitably sympathetic. Lauren’s mouth pressed together until her lips almost disappeared.
“I haven’t been crying. I had some kind of allergic reaction or something.” Lauren gave a sniff as if to prove her point.
“Of course you did,” Bailey offered. “There can be all kinds of weird pollen and stuff in the fall.”
Lauren’s nostrils flared and she looked around to see how many people were listening. For once she didn’t want to be the center of attention.
“You should get that checked out. Maybe you’ve got shingles,” I suggested.
“Are you saying I’ve got some kind of disease?”
I placed my hand on my heart as if shocked at her attack. “I didn’t mean like a sexually transmitted one or anything. Shingles is like chicken pox. I guess it could also be pink eye.”
“Just drop it, okay?” Lauren said, giving her watery eyes another swipe.
“Do you want some of my latte?” Bailey offered.
“Lattes have milk, Bailey. Think about it.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry for being stupid or sorry for the latte?” Lauren asked with a snarl.
Bailey’s lower lip started to shake and her eyes welled up to match Lauren’s.
“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” a voice behind Lauren said, and we all turned to see who it was.
I hadn’t seen him before, and I certainly would have noticed if I had. He was tall and lanky with dark, curly hair. His lower lip was larger than the top and it gave him this sultry pout. His jeans were faded and looked as if they would be as soft as flannel to the touch—and oh, I wanted to touch.
“Bailey knows I’m just joking,” Lauren said with a toss of her hair, her voice suddenly light and playful.
He looked over at Bailey who was still staring at her shoes. “Quite the sense of humor you got there,” he said to Lauren.
I gave a tiny snort that I instantly tried to turn into a cough.
“Don’t be mean. You should know me by now.” Lauren cocked her hip at an angle. “I’m a tease.”
“That’s what I hear,” said the mystery boy.
Bailey looked up at him with a smile and he gave her a wink. He looked closer at Lauren and then pulled back.
“Looks like you need to lay off the heavy drinking,” he said, motioning to her eyes.
“It’s an allergic reaction to something.”
“Hope it clears up before tryouts next week. Nobody likes an Eliza Doolittle who looks like a crack addict.”
“It’ll clear up. What’s this I hear—you’ll be filming the whole thing?” Lauren asked.
“It’s for an independent study. I’m doing a documentary.”
“Cool,” I said.
He gave a shrug and started to move up the stairs. He looked over at me and then looked down at my chest. The corner of his mouth turned up into a slight smile.
“Nice shirt,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet my eyes.
With him looking at me like that I couldn’t recall what I was wearing. I was too involved in a fantasy where the two of us were wearing far less. I glanced down at my shirt. It was a T-shirt with a print of the 1949 Wizard of Oz movie poster. I looked at Judy Garland’s face and tried to think of something smart to say.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“So which character are you?”
“Dorothy, I guess. Strange girl in a strange place.”
He looked at me carefully, cocking his head from one side to the other. “No, Dorothy doesn’t suit you. I think you might be more complex. I’m thinking lion—bluff and bluster, but a softie inside. See you around Oz, Lion Girl,” he said, moving past us and walking up the stairs. I watched him until he went through the doors.
“Who was that?” I asked, spinning back around.
“Christopher Morgan,” Kyla said. “Lincoln High’s official rebel without a cause.”
“Don’t bother. He never dates anyone here,” Lauren said. “He’s totally focused on his art. Unlike other people around here, he’s a real artist.”
“What makes you think I want to date him?”
“Apart from the fact your tongue was hanging out when you talked to him?” Lauren sniffed. “Anyway, Chris is going to be a serious filmmaker.”
“He’s nice,” Bailey offered.
“You think everyone’s nice,” Lauren grumped, plunking down on the stairs next to Kyla. Lauren looked over at Bailey who had gone back to staring at her shoes and chewing on her lower lip. “Don’t be ticked at me, I’m having a lousy morning. The whole day was craptacular before the thing with my eyes started. I got completely dressed and then I couldn’t find my other shoe so I had to change outfits. Then my new shirt was missing a button. So I had to change all over again. The whole thing was a nightmare. Besides, you know me, I just say stuff.”
“I’m not stupid,” Bailey said.
Lauren rolled her eyes at Kyla. “Of course you’re not stupid.” The first morning bell rang and everyone around us started to move toward the doors. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and try to do something with my face.” Lauren stood and gathered up her things.
“I’ll meet you guys in French,” Kyla said, moving up the stairs. “I have to drop off my brother’s medication with the nurse first.”
Bailey gave a slight wave to Kyla. I stayed in place to watch Lauren walk away. The seat of her jeans was split all down the center seam, and as she moved up the stairs, you could see a wink of her bright pink thong and plenty of white Lauren butt cheek. Bailey’s eyes grew wide.
“Lauren!” Bailey cried out. Lauren turned around and I grabbed Bailey’s arm, giving it a squeeze. She looked over at me, her eyebrows crinkling together in confusion.
“What?” Lauren placed a hand on one hip.
“Nothing. We just wanted to say we’ll save you a place at lunch,” I said.
“Okay, whatever.” Lauren gave her hair another toss and bounced up the stairs, pink and white flashing in the gap in the back of her pants. Bailey waited until she was gone and then looked at me for an explanation.
“She must know it’s there. After all, someone would have to be stupid not to know there was a huge hole in her pants,” I said, keeping my face serious. I could see the wheels turning behind Bailey’s eyes.
This was a calculated risk on my part. Bailey was most likely the nicest person alive. With her long blond hair, blue eyes, and Mary Poppins approach to the world it was possible she would think I was a vile person to let Lauren be embarrassed. She could race after Lauren and stop her from going any farther. She could even let Lauren in on the fact that I had been willing to let her flash the entire school. On the other hand, maybe, just maybe, part of her was sick of Lauren’s crap too. Was it possible that Lauren could drive even Mary Poppins to being a conspirator to my evil deed?
Bailey’s lips quivered and a shy smile snuck out. She glanced at me and then away. She looked back and had a huge smile on her face.
“Come on, we should get to French,” she said, linking arms with me.
“Why, I would be delighted to attend French with you,” I said, giving her a warm smile back. We marched down the hall in tandem. It said a lot about Lauren that she could make a Mary Poppins clone want to do her harm.
“Now tell me more about this Christopher fellow,” I said. “Just how nice is he?”