The Queen Bee of Bridgeton (12 page)

My mother hadn't even taken off her nursing shoes.  She was catching a few minutes of well-needed rest before she woke up at the crack of dawn to go to her other job.

I went into the bedroom Sasha and I shared and found she too had collapsed from exhaustion.  My sister, still fully dressed, had fallen asleep in a Spanish book.  Spanish was the only class we had together.  I took Advanced Placement Spanish Literature because I spoke it fluently.  I did pretty well in the class, too; sometimes even better than Sasha.

I couldn't believe my sister did homework on Saturday nights.  We didn't even have any assignments due in the near future.  Or, at least, I didn't remember getting a Post It about one.  And the book she had wasn't even from our class.  Hmm…strange, I thought.  I went over to my bed and found a Post It on my pillow saying, "If I'm asleep, wake me up. We need to talk about Will."

Oh God, Will! I had to call him before he freaked out with worry and called the police.  I borrowed Sasha's cell phone since our home phone had been cut off again and I went into my mother's bedroom.

Will and I talked well into the morning.  After a few hours I knew just about everything about him. While he told me all about his mother the classical pianist, his father the college professor and his life in Chicago I was still too ashamed to tell him where I came from.

"Will, can I ask you a personal question?"

"You can ask me anything you want."

"When did you start seeing a psychiatrist?"

There was silence on the phone for a moment. "Are you sure you want to know?"

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me through the phone so I said, "I'm sure."

He was silent again for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally he took a deep breath and said, "After my suicide attempt."

I gasped. The thought that he could be dead right now brought a rush of pain to my heart. What if we had never met? My throat tightened and warm tears dribbled down my cheeks as I tried to hold in my emotion.

"Sony?
Are you crying?"

"No."

Will could
tell from the quiver in my voice that I was lying. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Don't apologize." I sniffled. "I just…I can't imagine what you've been through."

"I'm much better now. It's been almost a year since I took the pills. Please don't worry about me."

"Are you sure you're better?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why?"

"Well, it's just that I've noticed some strange -"

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."
He interrupted me. "As hard as I try, I just can't avoid certain little rituals. If I don't eat my food in threes, for example, I literally get sick and vomit. The ticks get pretty embarrassing sometimes, but most people just assume I'm a run of the mill superstitious athlete. I'm actually much better than I used to be before I started seeing a therapist. My doctor says I'm still getting even better every day too. And since I've met you, the ticks have subsided even more."

"Really?"

"Yep, when I saw you dance in the Nutcracker last December it -"

"Wait. You saw me in the Nutcracker?"

"Yeah.
I even sent you flowers.
White orchids."

I remembered getting the flowers. They didn't have a card so I just assumed they were from Sasha or Ms. Alexander.

"Anyway, when I sat through that performance, it was the first time in three months I went two straight hours without going to my car and tapping the door three times to make sure it was locked. You were so mesmerizing, I didn't…I couldn't leave the show. Now I can go six hours straight without the door tapping ritual. I'm finally getting a decent amount of sleep."

"Wow." I really couldn't think of anything else to say. For so long Will had hidden his wounded soul behind a false wall of strength and confidence. But he had let me in. I felt like I was the only in the world who had seen his vulnerability.

"You're like my angel," he said after a moment. "And if you don't mind, I think I just might fall in love with you."

I don't even really remember falling asleep the night I talked on the phone with Will. But I do remember Sasha shaking me awake early the next morning.

"Leave me alone. What do you want?" I grumbled.

"You have to break up with Will," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I blinked my eyes open and stared at her. Had she lost her mind? "What are you talking about? Why?"

"You just do, okay? There's a lot you don't know about him. He's not good for you."

"Sasha, two weeks ago you nearly forced me to go out on a date with him. Now you want me to break up with him? What's gotten into you?" I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

Sasha chewed her bottom lip as if searching for what to say next. "Everyone saw you at the party last night."

"So? Isn't that what you wanted? Didn't you want me to improve my social status?"

"Everyone thinks you slept with him," she said, ignoring my questions. "You were alone in a room with him for almost an hour. I don't want people thinking my sister is a slut."

I was completely confused. "Two weeks ago," I began slowly as if speaking to a three-year-old, "you gave me a handful of condoms just for that purpose. Do you not remember this?"

"Yeah, well things are different now."

"What things?" I asked. She didn't respond. "Well, we didn't have sex if that is what you are concerned about. I don't care what everyone thinks."

"Do you know about Cherry Picker?" she asked still standing over me.

"Yes, he told me everything. And I don't care. He's not like that anymore."

"Of course he is. You think he changed in just two weeks? He's just using you for points."

I shook my head and sighed. I was too tired to argue with her. "I'm going back to sleep." I scooted back down under the covers and put the pillow over my head.

A few minutes later, she ripped the pillow away and said, "Do you know he's crazy? He goes to a psychiatrist."

"Yes, I know he goes to a psychiatrist. And he's not crazy."

"Well then why does he go to a psychiatrist?"

I paused. I couldn't tell her about Will's family or his suicide attempt. I didn't want to betray his trust. I sat up again and decided to try and figure out what was really motivating Sasha's sudden change of attitude. "Sasha, what's really going on?"

She sat down on the bed. "It's Ashley, Brittany, and Lauren
DeHaven
. You've really pissed them off by dating Will."

"Are they the Bitch Brigade?"

She nodded sheepishly.

I shrugged. "So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? You have no idea what these bitches are capable of."

"Who cares?"

"I do. I care, Sonya. I've worked too hard for my reputation just to have it ruined because you're suddenly in love with a sex-crazed psycho."

"Don't call him that," I said through clenched teeth.

Sasha put her head in her hands. "Sis, I'm begging you. Just end it before something bad happens."

I sighed. "I can't. He needs me."

She looked up. "What about me? What about what
I
need?" Sasha hopped off the bed and stormed out the bedroom. I followed and caught her right before she opened the front door.

"Sasha, wait." She turned to look at me. I didn't quite know what to say. I didn't want her to leave angry at me, but she obviously wasn't in the mood for communication. I decided to change the subject. "Colbert wanted me to tell you something."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "What did
she
want?"

"Uh, let's see," I said, walking to the fridge while trying to recall as much of the message as I could. "She said it didn't mean anything, and she's not in love with him, and she's sorry.  What does that mean?"  I thought about the words for the first time.  It kind of sounded like Colbert had slept with Sasha's boyfriend or something.  "Did Colbert sleep with Desmond?"  I asked. "Is that why you're so upset about Will and me?"

Sasha burst out laughing.

"Of course not.
 
Desi
would never cheat on me," she said when her laughter subsided.  "Colbert is a very…disturbed girl," Sasha began seriously.  "She's been making some bad decisions and I've been trying to warn her and she's not taking my advice.  Sound familiar?" She raised an eyebrow to indicate she was referring to me. 

That was odd.  I never thought of Colbert as disturbed.  I always thought she and Sasha were a lot alike.

***

I realized I needed to find out more about the Bitch Brigade. They were becoming too much of an intrusion on my life. I just knew that somehow they were going to try to break up Will and me. Sasha seemed too afraid to tell me anymore about them. But my conversation with her reminded me of someone else who might be able to give me some answers.

"I gave Sasha your message," I said to Colbert outside her locker Monday morning. Besides me, Colbert was the closest person to Sasha. I was sure she would know at least as much as Sasha if not more.

"You did? What did she say?" Colbert shut her locker and stared at me with wide curious eyes.

"Nothing much really.
Just -"

"Is she still mad at me?"

I shrugged. "No idea."

"Great, Sonya. You're a great help." She rolled her eyes.

"Sorry. I'll help you, I promise. But I need a little favor in return."

"What."

"Tell me about the Bitch Brigade."