Amigas and School Scandals (8 page)

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Authors: Diana Rodriguez Wallach

BOOK: Amigas and School Scandals
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Chapter 11
W
hen I got home from ballet, Lilly was in the shower. September is a rather warm month in Philadelphia, and if I were this sweaty after an indoor, air-conditioned dance class, I could only imagine what a few hours of aggressive tennis could do.
I turned on the glistening faucet in my sunken tub and lit some candles. Just another raging Friday night comprised of a warm bath and a rental movie. I was exhausted, and I knew I'd see Emily and Madison tomorrow at Suburban Square for our weekend shopping ritual. That was enough for me.
I collapsed into my ocean-scented bubbles and closed my eyes. No sooner did my muscles loosen than a knock pounded on the door. Before I could answer, the door opened.
“Hey!” I yelped, covering myself with a layer of soapy foam.
“Sorry, sorry!” Lilly shrieked, her hand blocking her eyes. “I know you hate it when people come into the bathroom.”
“Uh, maybe because I'm naked!”
“Whatever. I'm not looking,” she replied, her eyes scrunched tight.
Lilly's family didn't believe in personal boundaries. They'd use the toilet while you cleaned yourself in the shower. It was a disgusting habit that I never got used to in Puerto Rico. And they all thought my reaction was hysterical.
“Couldn't this wait until, I don't know, maybe I had some clothes on?” I scolded, plucking a fluffy white washcloth from the side of the tub to cover my nonexistent chest. It was sad that I didn't need more fabric than a washcloth to cover my A cups.
“Sorry, it's just that I'm leaving soon, and I wanted to see if you'd like to come.”
Lilly's eyes were closed, her head was tilted away from me, and her palms were covering her face. At least she was attempting to respect my modesty.
“Well, where are you going?”
“Betsy invited me to this football bonfire. She said half the school would be there. It's, like, a pep rally or something.”
“I know about the bonfire, Lilly,” I said, shaking my head. It was annoying that my cousin continuously thought she knew more about Spring Mills than I did.
“So, are you going?” Lilly asked, popping her eyes open before remembering I was naked in the tub. “Sorry, sorry.”
She tightly clenched her eyes again.
“No, I'm not going. I never go,” I mumbled.
“Why? It sounds like fun.”
“Because it's just a bunch of jocks.”
“No, it's not. Betsy's friends will be there. Plus, you'll know people from your classes. Come on, it's a
fiesta
.”
I stared at my feet. I could see fresh blisters already forming. My back was sore, and my shoulders were throbbing. But the thought of attending the Football Bonfire was a bit intriguing. Madison, Emily, and I had always felt uninvited to sports events. We thought we'd be intruding upon someone else's ritual, like if the football players suddenly dropped in on a ballet performance. We wouldn't exactly welcome their attendance. Actually, it would be pretty annoying.
“I'll think about it. Who are you going with?” I asked.
“Great, I knew you'd come! Chad's picking us up in twenty minutes. Hurry up and get dressed.”
Lilly rushed out of the bathroom without waiting for a reply, which was probably smart, because I would have rejected the entire plan. Only she didn't give me a chance. I grabbed the shampoo and lathered my hair. There wasn't much time to get ready.
 
A football player was being burned at the stake. Not a real person. It was just a uniform from the opposing team stuffed like a scarecrow and tied to a pole. The kindling below hadn't yet been lit, but the couple hundred kids in attendance were waiting with anxious savagery.
Chad, a fellow sophomore classmate whom I had never spoken to before in my life, had picked us up right on time. I was barely able to dry my hair before the car was honking in the driveway. I threw on a pair of Vince's old jeans, a fitted navy T-shirt, and matching flip-flops before heading out the door. Unlike me, Lilly wore a face full of makeup, a tight skirt, three inches of cleavage, and enough hair product to keep the people at Paul Mitchell in business for quite a long time.
We followed Betsy, Chad, and their friends through the crowd, slinking our way toward the front. Lilly's drooling freshmen fan club kept its distance after receiving only a brief wave at our arrival. I think she may have had enough of their antics during practice. The poor boys looked devastated.
While I recognized almost everyone around us, I didn't see a single student from my classes. We honors kids supported the mathletes more than the athletes. Lilly was my only real friend in attendance.
“Wow, this is super cool,” Lilly whispered staring at the crowd of teens gathered on the field. “In Puerto Rico, sometimes we used to hang out on the beach at night. I guess this is kinda like your version of a beach party.”
“Sure, just without the sand, the ocean, or the tropical scenery.” I smirked.
Lilly elbowed me with a snarky look. “You know what I mean. Anyway, are they really gonna light that thing on fire?”
“Looks like it, though I'd think it'd be a pretty serious fire hazard. I'm surprised the school lets us do it.”
“There's a fire truck waiting out back,” said a voice from behind us.
I turned and saw Bobby McNabb, video camera in hand.
“What are you doing here?” An involuntary smile slid across my face.
“Filming it. I feel it's my responsibility to document the rituals of upper middle class teenage America.”
“Is that your thesis statement?” I asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Only if it makes it to the Philadelphia Film Festival.”
“Good luck with that.”
Lilly cleared her throat beside me.
“Oh, Bobby, this is my cousin Lilly. She just moved here from Puerto Rico.”
“Yeah, I've heard,” Bobby replied, nodding to her.
Lilly's eyes flicked back and forth between us.
“You know, I'm gonna go catch up with Betsy. Why don't you look for me later.” She grinned and started to walk away.
“Wait!” I yelled. “I'm coming with you.”
I turned to Bobby.
“Have fun filming.”
“Oh, um, yeah. You too. I mean, have fun tonight,” he stammered as he fiddled with a button on his camera.
I grabbed Lilly's forearm and followed her into the crowd.
“Okay, what was that?” she whispered so loudly we caught stares from the students around us.
“What was what?”
“He was totally into you. Why didn't you stay with him?”
“Bobby? What-ev,” I said, rejecting the implication. “We're just locker buddies.”
“Well, it looked like more than that to me.”
“We're lab partners. But that's all. He asked out Emily this summer.”
“
And
?”
“
And
, they went out on a date.”
“One date?”
I nodded.
“I see,” Lilly hummed.
“What?”
“Well, maybe he's moved on.”
“I would never, ever date anyone that Emily is even remotely interested in.”
“So if Orlando Bloom asked you out, you'd say no?” Lilly curled her mouth.
“That's different.”
“See there's always an exception.”
Betsy, Chad, and a crew of about fifteen students stood huddled a few feet from the stuffed football player. It was almost time to burn the poor soul in effigy, a rather sick tradition really. In any other circumstance, burning a life-sized replica of another human being would be considered a murderous threat or at least a kooky act of voodoo. Imagine me torching the ballet slippers of a rival dancer right before a company's tryouts. I'm pretty sure the police would get involved, and the crowd of spectators would be a jury of my peers.
“Hey guys, this is my cousin Mariana,” Lilly gestured as she introduced me to her pack of friends.
It was at that moment I realized I had gone from being “Mariana Ruíz” to “Mariana Ruíz, Lilly's cousin.” And she had only been here a week.
The girls smiled politely, and the guys raised their chins before turning their stares toward Lilly's chest. I couldn't really blame them; her cleavage was hard to miss.
“So, what, are you, like, new here?” Evan Casey eyeballed me as his lips pursed to the side.
The boy had gone to Sunday school with me for two years. We made our communion together. He knew quite well who I was. But being the captain of the wrestling crew with a muscle-bound image to protect, he couldn't dare acknowledge a lowly honors student like myself. It made me glad that I didn't have friends like his.
“No, Evan. I've lived in Spring Mills my whole life.”
“Oh, seriously?” He snorted before elbowing his friend with a cocky grin.
“Yup. You sat next to me at St. Monica's. Remember that time Father Thomas reprimanded you for using the Lord's name in vain, and you started crying. They had to call your mom. I sat with you in the rectory until she picked you up. You remember, don't you?”
Complete silence. Puzzled eyes stretched wide as the snide grin washed from Evan's face. His nostrils flared with heated breath. I bit my lip to keep from smiling—that is until Lilly rippled with laughter.
“I'm sorry, Evan. But that's too funny,” she gasped, giggling.
The crowd broke into chuckles, and Evan faked a grin.
“Oh, I, uh, must have forgotten. Whatever ... It was a long time ago. And you look ... different,” he murmured, shrugging uncomfortably.
I paused and stared him straight in the eye. “No biggie. I knew it'd come back to you.”
Just then, the varsity football team barreled out from behind the bleachers and burst through a “Spring Mills Rules!” paper banner the cheerleaders held taut. The last three boys, the senior captains, carried torches. They jogged down a dirt path lined by their teammates and faced the crowd.
“Hello, Spring Mills!” a captain bellowed into a megaphone.
The crowd ignited in cheers.
“It's football season, and we've got these wimps from down the road who think they're gonna come into our house next week and push us around!” he boomed to a mass of boos.
“But we're not gonna let 'em, are we?”
“No!” everyone shouted.
“That's right. 'Cause who we gonna beat?”
“Thorndale!”
The crowd erupted in thunderous claps. Guys body-slammed into one another and pounded their chests. Even without much experience with football games, let alone pep rallies, I could see how people could get caught up in this.
“Spring Mills!”
Clap, clap.
“Ti-gers!”
Clap, clap.
The mob howled in unison as the captains lowered their flames to the pile of wood. As soon as the first sparks flew, cheers swept through the student body.
It was a lynch mob if ever I saw one.
Lilly and her friends continued chanting as my eyes scanned the crowd. I spied Bobby, standing on the opposite end of the inferno, his digital video camera pressed to his eye. In that moment, he looked like a real filmmaker, slowly weaving his shoulders and extending his long legs to get the perfect shot. He was probably the one person in attendance who found the entire spectacle as odd as I did.
All of the sudden, thick, gray smoke pillowed up from the burning wood. The chalky scent filled my nostrils and water swelled in my eyes. I lifted my hands to cover my face from the airborne debris.
“God, who's that loser with the camera?” I heard Evan ask.
My shoulders instantly tensed.
“Who? Where?” asked Evan's buddy, Scott Piper.
“The dork with the glasses over there. He's filming this like it's some stupid project,” Evan continued.
My pulse began to spike. It was obvious who they were talking about, and it might as well have been me. I didn't belong here either.
“I know, I hate it when losers like that try to ruin things. Get a life, buddy,” Scott replied. Scott had also attended our Sunday school classes, though clearly all those lessons on “do unto others as you'd have done unto you” were wiped from both their memories.
I peeled my hands from my face and saw Evan glaring and pointing at Bobby.

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