Forbidden Fruit (14 page)

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again for helping me out. I'll return the favor someday.”

Glory mock-saluted. “Forget about it. After all, what are friends for?”

L
iz didn't forget about it. Not about that act of bravery on Glory's part, nor about any of the others that followed over the next couple of weeks. It seemed to Liz that every time she looked around, Glory was there, sticking up for her by facing down girls the likes of Bebe and Missy, challenging their snobbery by tossing it back at them.

After the third or fourth time, Liz realized that Glory had decided to take her under her wing, though Liz hadn't a clue why. Liz was both a newcomer to the academy and a nobody. Glory was beautiful, rich and considered the coolest girl in their class. She was thought to be absolutely fearless, cool under even Sister Marguerite's stare, and a complete daredevil. Many of the girls whispered disparagingly about her wildness, but the truth was, they were all in awe of her. Liz certainly was.

Liz also admitted awe of Glory's looks. She was more than the most beautiful girl in the academy, she was the most beautiful girl Liz had ever seen. And not in the cute or pretty way of most high school girls, but in a full-blown, knock-your-socks-off, womanly way.

Sometimes, when Liz looked at Glory, she wondered what it would be like to have not only brains, but beauty, bravery and a rich, classy family, too. And sometimes, she would feel a great, gnawing longing to have all that Glory had.

Liz leaned against the school's front-office counter. She propped her chin on her fist, oblivious to the noise around her. A condition of her scholarship required her to work five hours a week in the school office, and every day she spent her third-hour free period doing just that. Usually, the secretary kept her busy making copies, filing and playing gofer, but, today the secretary was out sick.

Liz sighed, thinking of her own family, comparing it to Glory's. The best her family could be called was modest. The worst was trashy. Her father was a hardworking laborer who drank too much. Unfortunately, drink turned the usually affable Mike Sweeney mean. Her mother was a devout Catholic who believed the use of birth control was a mortal sin, and who happened to be uncommonly good at getting pregnant. To help make ends meet, Katherine Sweeney cleaned houses in the afternoons.

Liz was the oldest of the Sweeney brood—there were seven of them—and from the time she had been old enough to follow directions, much of her brothers and sisters' care had fallen on her shoulders. The first time Liz had gotten a glimpse of how the other half lived, she had decided that she wasn't going to spend the rest of her life in an overcrowded apartment in the By-Water section of town. As soon as she got the chance, she had promised herself, she was getting out.

She had seen from the beginning that her only way out would be by way of her IQ, and when she had been offered a scholarship to Immaculate Conception, she had grabbed it with both hands.

The scholarship, the academy, was her chance, her route to the way the other half lived.

Her father had been against it. He didn't think much of the richies, as he called them. According to him, the richies were selfish, greedy and dishonest. And those, he had told her, were their good qualities.

Liz had chalked up his warning to his uneducated, working class mentality and to sour grapes. Even so, to placate him, she had promised to watch her back.

After a month at the academy, however, Liz had begun to believe he was right. Then she had met Glory.

And, now, she had a friend, Liz thought. At least she thought of the other girl as that. She smiled to herself. She had even thought about asking Glory—

“Liz?”

Liz blinked. Mrs. Reece, one of Immaculate Conception's few lay teachers, stood on the other side of the office counter. Liz hadn't even heard her come in.

She flushed and straightened. It wouldn't do to be caught daydreaming on the job. “Hi, Mrs. Reece. What can I do for you?”

The woman smiled. “You looked like you were a million miles way.”

“I'm sorry,” Liz said, her cheeks burning. “It won't happen again.”

“Don't worry, I'll never tell.” The woman smiled once more and held out a file folder. “Could you make some copies of this for me? I need the contents by sixth period, collated and stapled.”

“I'll do them right away.”

Liz took the folder, noted the job on her work sheet and carried it to the copier. She began the job and had almost finished it when the copier ran out of paper. She squatted, took a pack of paper out of the cabinet and started to stand up, stopping when she heard Bebe's voice, coming from the hallway outside the office.

“I warned her,” Bebe was saying. “I promised I would pay her back, and now's my chance.”

Glory.
Liz's heart began to thunder.
Bebe had to be talking about Glory.

“I don't know, Bebe,” another girl said, one whose voice Liz recognized after a minute as Missy's. “What if she finds out you're the one who snitched?”

“Who cares?” Bebe made a sound of disdain. “What's she going to do? Unlike her, I have nothing to hide.” Bebe laughed. “Besides, at least a dozen of us saw her skip out of gym class. How would she ever know it was me who turned her in?”

The girls entered the office. Liz held her breath and crouched lower behind the machine, not wanting them to see her. They went to Sister Marguerite's office and tapped politely on her half-open door. The principal called them in. They closed the door behind them.

Liz stood.
Bebe planned to turn Glory in for skipping out of class. She had to warn Glory.

Without pausing to think about the unfinished copy-job or to consider the trouble she would be in if she was caught, Liz darted out of the office and headed for the rest room located across from the art lab. It was the least frequented rest room and, she had learned, Glory's favorite. She took a chance that Glory would be there.

She was.

Liz found her in the last stall, calmly smoking a cigarette. Liz skidded to a stop in front of her, and sucked in an agitated breath. “Glory! You've got to get out of here. You've got to get back to class now!”

Glory smiled, but made no move to get up. “Hey, girl. What's up?”

“I overheard Bebe and Missy talking.” Liz sucked in another deep breath. “Bebe's turning you in for cutting class. She's in Sister Marguerite's office right now!”

“So?” Glory exhaled a long stream of smoke.

“So?” Liz repeated, stunned. “She could be here any moment. You could be expelled! And please, put that thing out. If Sister smells smoke—”

“I'm not going to be expelled,” Glory said, but stood and tossed the cigarette in the commode, anyway. She flushed it, then waved her hands in the air to disperse the smoke. “I won't even be suspended. My family's too important, sits on too many boards and donates way too much money to this dump. Come on, I'm going to wash my hands.”

Liz followed her, dumbfounded by her attitude, so different from her own. “But, what about your parents? I mean, aren't you worried about getting in trouble with them?”

Glory rinsed her hands. “You have to know my family.”

“What does that mean?” Liz frowned. “They don't care what you do?”

“Quite the contrary.” Glory laughed, the sound tight and, to Liz's ears, unhappy. “My mother cares about everything I do. And everything I do is wrong. It always has been. In fact, my mother all but thinks I'm the devil himself. So, you see, it doesn't really matter what I do.”

Liz shook her head, shocked. “I can't…believe that.”

“Believe it. But, it's no big thing.” Glory dug in her purse, pulled out her lip gloss and applied a layer of the shiny pink to her mouth.

But, it was a big thing, Liz thought, watching the other girl. Glory pretended to be completely tough, but, something about the way she was avoiding Liz's gaze suggested otherwise. Something about her tough-girl routine suddenly rang false.

Liz let out her breath in a huff. “Well, that makes me really mad. I mean, I think you're the nicest, bravest person I've ever known!”

“Me?” Glory laughed. “Nice and brave? Wouldn't my mother get a hoot out of that one.”

“It's true. You've stood up for me, and I'm just a nobody. You didn't have to do that. Heck, you didn't even know me. And you're the first girl in this school who's treated me like I wasn't some sort of disease, though it certainly hasn't earned you any popularity points.”

Glory lifted her shoulders. “But who needs them?”

“See what I mean?” Liz shook her head. “It takes courage not to care what other people think.”

“Not really.” Glory fluffed her hair. “I don't like their behavior and they're not my friends.”

“Who are your friends?” The question spilled past her lips before she could stop it. She flushed. “I mean, do you have an…” She brought a hand to her mouth, embarrassed. “I'm sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was—”

“Forget about it.” Glory met her eyes, her gaze defiant. “But, no, I don't. Not real friends, anyway. It's always been that way. And it suits me just fine.”

“It does?”

“Yes.” Glory jutted out her chin. “Do you have a problem with that?”

The other girl's vehemence surprised her, and Liz took a quick step backward. “No, of course not. I just—” Liz bit back the words, feeling like a total fool. “Never mind. I have to get back to the office.”

“Wait.” Glory touched her sleeve. “Sorry I was so, I don't know, such a bitch. What were you going to say?”

Liz flushed and took a deep breath. “I wasn't being critical, it's just that I wish…I mean, that I'd like to be your friend. I really like you, Glory.”

Glory gazed silently at Liz a moment, then cleared her throat and looked away. She fiddled with her purse strap, fastening and unfastening the metal clasp.

Probably to keep from laughing out loud.

Liz fought tears.
How could she have said that? “I want to be your friend. I like you.”
She sounded pathetic and desperate.

Liz lowered her gaze to her feet, horrified to realize how near tears she was. She would not further humiliate herself by letting those tears fall. No doubt Glory St. Germaine felt sorry enough for her already.

Liz swallowed past the lump in her throat and took a step backward, toward the door. “Look, forget I said that. It was really…dumb.” She took another step, anxious to get away before she cried. “I'll see you around.”

She turned and raced for the door.

“Wait!” Liz stopped but didn't turn to face Glory. “You want to know the truth?” Glory asked. “What you said earlier, it wasn't right. You're the brave one. Not me. I've never had to bear the snubs of the other girls. I've always had my family name and money to protect me. I can't even imagine having the kind of guts you have.”

Liz turned around slowly. When she did, she got a glimpse of a girl very different from the one who boldly broke rules and proclaimed indifference to everyone's opinion of her. Glory stood, gaze lowered, arms wrapped around her middle, the picture of vulnerability and uncertainty. Of loneliness.

“You were right,” Glory continued, trying to laugh but failing miserably. “I don't have any real friends. Because I don't let them close enough.”

“But why?” Liz asked, searching Glory's expression. “Why don't you want people close to you?”

“Because everyone thinks I'm so brave. ‘Glory St. Germaine's not afraid of anything,' they say. I like it that way. It's who I am.” She lifted a shoulder. “If I let people close, they'd know the truth.”

“You're a lot braver than you think.”

“Yeah?” Glory smiled. “Well, so are you.”

From outside the bathroom, they heard the sound of someone approaching. Not just someone—Sister Marguerite and her assistant, Sister Josephine. Glory winked at Liz, then held a finger to her lips. Liz nodded, and Glory ducked into the end stall, climbed up on the commode and held the door almost shut. A second later, the sisters entered the bathroom.

Liz smiled at the nuns. “Hello, Sisters.”

“Hello, Liz, dear,” the principal said. “We're looking for Glory St. Germaine. Have you seen her?”

Liz felt her cheeks heat and prayed the women wouldn't notice. “Yes, Sister. She just left.”

“She did?” Both nuns looked suspiciously toward the stalls, then back at her. “We didn't pass her in the hall.”

“That's odd, it was just a couple minutes ago. And she felt just awful. She was sitting on the floor with her arms around her middle when I came in.” Liz lowered her voice to a whisper. “She had terrible cramps.”

“Cramps,” Sister Josephine repeated. “Poor thing.”

“I told her she should have the office call her mother, but she said she had a quiz this afternoon, and she couldn't miss it. I think she went back to class.”