Gamer Girl (5 page)

I was
surprised. Most adults didn't even know what manga was, and if they
did, they dismissed it as comic book trash. "Sure, I mean, I
guess." I never had anyone to show my drawings to. My friends
back in Boston didn't really care and my parents only oohed and ahhed
because that's what parents were supposed to do when a child makes an
effort to express herself. But Ms. Reilly seemed genuinely
interested. Kind of cool.

The teacher
leaned forward. "Maddy, I know high school can be a tough time.
Especially when you're new. Believe me, I know."

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Aha! I knew
this conversation wasn't really about art. "I'm fine," I
replied automatically. I so did not want to get into it all with her,
no matter how much she appreciated manga.

She sighed.
"You're very bright. And creative. And sweet." She reached
over and patted me on the arm. "Look, I'm here for you if you
want to talk. About anything. And whatever you say to me stays here.
In the vault. I won't tell your parents or the principal. I just . .
. well, I'm here if you need a friend."

I knew she was
trying to help. That she was sincere. But it was just too hard. I
mean, what was I supposed to say? Tell her how everyone thought I was
a freak and that I had no friends? Yeah, right. I felt tears well up
in my eyes and swiped them away.

"Thanks. I
... I mean, that's nice of you. But I'm fine. Really." I shifted
in my seat, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "Can I go
now?"

She studied me
for a moment, her face sad. Why did she care so much? "Yes, you
can go now," she said at last. "But my offer remains open,
okay? And don't forget--I want to see your art sometime soon."

"Okay."
I jumped up from the seat and made a dash for the exit. It was nice
of her to offer to talk. But at the end of the day, she was a
grown-up. A teacher. She would never understand.

No one would.

43

CHAPTER 5

HEY, freak
Girl, whatcha doing?"

Lunchtime on
Thursday, later that week. I looked up to see Billy and the Haters
approach the cafeteria table. I'd deliberately chosen a seat in the
very back, away from their crowd, so I could lay low and work on my
manga. I was drawing a portrait of Allora, my Gamer Girl. But a seat
on Mars wouldn't have been far enough away for Billy. Especially not
after Monday's incident in English class.

"Yeah,
Freak Girl. Why are you back here by yourself? No friends?"
Flanking Billy were the rest of the Haters, of course. Rarely did you
see one stray far from the pack. They even took a lot of the same
classes. Lucy was dressed in her requisite cheerleading captain's
outfit. (I swear she wore it even when they didn't have practice,
just for status.) Chelsea had on some kind of filmy pink baby doll
dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe put together.
She came from old money, I'd learned, and liked to tell people that
her ancestors came over on the
Mayflower,
as if that were some
big

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accomplishment
that automatically made her cool. Because, like, Pilgrim chicks were
so the It girls of their time. And then there was Chad.

Yes, yes, I was
still sporting that pathetic, hopeless crush on the kid. I knew it
was wrong. He was way out of my league and not even really my type.
Caitlin would have had a field day if she knew--telling me to go for
a skater or something and leave the Aberzombie to the cheerleaders.
But I couldn't help it. I couldn't shake the butterflies that danced
a disco beat in my stomach every time he came near. Pathetic, but
true.

"Hey,
Horny, I'm talking to you!" Billy said, as if it weren't
obvious. He liked to mix up my nicknames. Horny (because of the
unfortunate first-day unicorn shirt), Freak. Vamp was a particular
favorite as well, as he would claim there was no way someone who wore
as much black as I did didn't turn into a bat and bite people's necks
during a full moon. (I once tried to tell him the full moon thing was
for werewolves-- dogs like himself--but he didn't get the insult and
eventually I just gave up. It went over much better in my manga.)

"Nothing,"
I muttered, going back to my drawing. Maybe if I ignored them they'd
get bored and go away.

Not today, it
seemed. "It doesn't look like nothing," noted Lucy. "It
looks like you're drawing something."

"Wow. You
got me there," I replied, setting down my paintbrush. "You're
amazingly perceptive, Lucy."

"Why do
the people in your drawings have such big

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eyes?"
Chelsea picked up my sketch and gave it a disdainful look. "It's,
like, freaky."

"It's
Japanese style," I defended, not knowing why I bothered. "That's
how they're supposed to look."

"Let me
see!" Billy ripped it out of Chelsea's hands. He started
laughing. "Wow, you suck, Vamp Girl. And I don't mean blood
either."

I'd had enough.
"Give it back!" I commanded, rising from my seat to grab my
picture. He held it up, beyond my grasp.

"Or what?
What are you going to do? Turn me into a toad?" he taunted.

"Please,"
I begged. "The paint's still wet. You'll smudge it."

The second the
words left my mouth I realized I'd made a huge mistake. "Smudge
it?" Billy crowed, dragging his fingers down the picture,
smearing the art I'd spent hours working on. "I wouldn't want to
... oops!" he said, giving me a totally fake look of horror. "I
think I might've--"

"Give it
back!" I cried, lunging at him and punching him full in the
face. He bellowed like a little girl, fortunately dropping my picture
in the process.

Unfortunately,
however, drawing the attention of Mr. Wilks, our science teacher,
who, unlike Ms. Reilly, had no sense of coolness whatsoever and
didn't appreciate teaching weird girls who refused to model H&M
during class.

"What is
going on here?" Mr. Wilks demanded.

"The crazy
Freak Girl hit me!" Billy cried.

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I squeezed my
hands into fists, furious and helpless. If I defended myself, we'd
just have to go through this again next time Billy caught me alone.
It wasn't worth it. Besides, Mr. Wilks was Billy's basketball coach.
He thought the kid walked on water. There was no chance in hell he'd
believe me over his star.

Sure enough,
Mr. Wilks didn't even ask for my side of the story. "Maddy, I
don't know about your old school, but here at Hannah Dustin we do not
hit our classmates," he clarified, as if I'd been unsure on
school policy and had assumed smacking around my fellow students was
totally okay with the current administration. "Now go down to
the principal's office and explain to him what you did."

I glanced
around at the other kids, who'd formed a curious circle around us. I
realized no one present was going to defend truth, justice, or the
American way. Lucy and Chelsea were smirking in one corner, enjoying
the show. Chad stared at his feet, as per usual. There wasn't a soul
here who would speak up on my behalf.

"Fine,"
I retorted, grabbing my comics. I left behind the one Billy had
smudged. I'd have to start it all over again anyway. "I'm
going."

I made it
halfway to the principal's office before bumping into Matt. And I
mean literally bumping--like book-dropping and paper-scattering
full-on collision. I guess in my rage I hadn't been looking where I
was going.

"Whoa,
girl, where's the fire?" he asked, bending down to

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pick up my
books. I crouched down to join him, trying not to get stepped on as I
grabbed errant papers.

"Principal's
office," I told him, relating what had just happened.

"Ooh, you
punched Billy Henderson?" he cried, standing up and handing me
my books. I took them gratefully. "It's about time somebody
stood up to the guy. Impressive. Very impressive."

"Yeah,"
I muttered. "Real impressive. It'll be even more impressive when
I get to explain to my mom why I've got detention."

Matt waved a
hand. "She's got to understand though. I mean, it's not like
Billy didn't start it by destroying your painting. He's such a jerk."

I sighed. "No
kidding. I spent so long on it, too. Now I'll have to start all
over."

"When's it
due?"

"Due?"
I cocked my head. "What do you mean?" "Well, I just
figured it was like for art class or something." "Oh, no.
I'm creating my own manga." Matt raised an eyebrow. "Manga?"
"You know, like a Japanese-style graphic novel." "Yeah,
I know what they are. I just . . . You're making your own? Like from
scratch?" "That's the idea."

"Wow,
that's hard-core." He looked impressed.

"Do you
read manga?" I asked curiously. It'd be cool to

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find someone
here at Hannah Dustin who was into it. Back home my friends and I
would hold little impromptu book clubs after school to discuss what
we'd read. It started with just Caitlin, Ashley, and me, but then
other kids found out about it and would crash our meetings. In fact,
it became so popular we'd considered seeing if the school would allow
us to form an official club, but then I ended up moving and the idea
fell apart.

"Not
really, but I'm totally into comic books and have a bookcase full of
graphic novels at home."

Huh. Not
exactly the same, but close enough. I knew he had friend potential.
"Cool," I said. "I like some American comics, too,
though I don't know as much about them as I do the Japanese stuff."

"Yeah,
well, I'd be happy to bring in some of my favorites if you're
interested in checking them out."

"I'd like
that. Thanks!"

"There you
are!" A tall skinny guy with curly red hair walked up to Matt,
hands on his hips. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Matt grinned at
him. "Sorry, I was just helping Maddy with her books." He
turned back to me. "You all set now?" he asked. "I've
got to go. Luke and I are going to the library to play video games.
He's figured out a way to hack into the computers and get by the
firewalls they set up."

"Cool,"
I said, smiling at the two of them. Wow. Comic books and video games.
Matt and I had a lot in common. I considered telling him about my
Fields of Fantasy adventures,

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but I was such
a gamer noob, I'd probably sound totally poseurish to real gamers
like him and Luke. "I need to get to the principal's office
anyway before I get in worse trouble."

"Principal's
office?" Luke repeated. "What did you do?"

"She
punched out Billy Henderson!" Matt said, pride in his voice. At
least someone thought I was cool.

"Well, I
didn't exactly--"

Luke looked at
me with respect. "Very nice," he said.

"Indeed,"
Matt said, giving me a wink. "Anyway, we'll catch you later,
okay? Hope they take it easy on you."

"Thanks,"
I said. They turned to walk down the hall. I watched them go. Matt
was a nice guy. Not boyfriend material exactly. But definitely a new
friend. And we all knew how badly I needed one of those.

50

CHAPTER 6

HERE, MOM, you
have to sign this," I said, dropping off the detention slip on
Grandma's kitchen table that evening after school.

"What is
it?" she asked, leaving the stove to pick up the note. Her smile
faded as she scanned its contents. "Deten tion? For fighting?
Madeline Starr, what's this about?"

I frowned.
"Nothing."

"Nothing?
A detention is not 'nothing,' young lady. And neither is fighting in
school."

Anger welled up
inside of me. Of course she'd blame me. She'd never understand that I
was provoked and totally justified in my actions. Billy had destroyed
my property. My art. Just out of spite. And if I didn't stick up for
myself, I was going to be a victim for the rest of the school year.

"It's not
my
fault the kids who go to that stupid school are all stupid
jerks with no stupid lives," I muttered, though I was pretty
sure my stupid argument wouldn't hold much water with the momster.

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Sure enough,
she set her lips in a frown. "Madeline, you're generalizing
again. I'm sure there are many very nice kids that go to Hannah
Dustin."

I screwed up my
face. "Yeah, right." Moms were so clueless sometimes.

"Did you
ever consider that it's your bad attitude that's scaring them off?"
Mom asked. "I mean, maybe if you lost the chip on your
shoulder--that 'I hate the world' vibe you walk around with . . ."

I squeezed my
hands into fists. "I don't hate the world. The world hates me."

"Well, I
simply don't believe that, Madeline. Just because they don't dress
like you or act like you doesn't mean they aren't nice people."

"It also
doesn't mean they are." I mean, if she was going to go with
that
logic ...

"Well,
you'll never know either way, now will you?" Mom said. "Since
you're judging people before giving them half a chance."

"Kind of
like how you didn't give
Dad
half a chance?"

Mom's face
tightened. I'd struck a low blow. But I was sick of her being so
freaking clueless about my situation at school. She had no idea what
I had to go through every day. And yet she would, time and time
again, insist it was
my
fault I had no friends. As if I wanted
to sit alone at lunch and be picked on when I was just trying to
learn.

"Go to
your room," she said in an oddly calm voice.

"Fine.
Gladly." I ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a

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time, slamming
my bedroom door behind me. I threw myself on my bed, tears coming to
my eyes and sobs racking my body. It was so unfair. Life used to be
great. I had friends, I had a real family that wasn't split apart.
Now what was I left with? Nothing but a broken home and a broken
life. I didn't even have anything to look forward to. It wouldn't be
until college that I'd have even the remotest chance of bonding with
another human being.