Shucked (2 page)

“I know,” Becky answered. “You’ve
been living in the jungle in South America for the last year. Your mom is on a
dangerous archaeological dig and you weren’t allowed to go with her so now you
have to go to school here until it’s safe. Political unrest sucks, doesn’t it?
I think you’d be safer there than here. The kids are brutal. Everyone hates
everyone else. It’s sick really. For such a small town you’d think we would all
get along, but we don’t.”

Becky paused for a moment, took a
deep breath and opened her mouth.

I held up my hand. Her lips slowly
closed and she rolled her eyes.

“Sorry. Everyone says I talk too
much,” she said, grinning.

“It’s okay,” I answered. “I just want
to know how you know so much about me. My mom’s postcard just arrived
yesterday.”

Becky blushed. “Oh, um, my mom heard
from Jenny’s mom, who works at the café and she overheard Justin’s mom who
lives next door to Tara’s mom who works at the post office and read it on the
postcard your mom sent.”

My jaw dropped. How many stereotypes about
small towns did Becky just confirm for me?

“She read my mail?” I asked. “That’s against
the law, right? She should be fired.”

Becky chortled. That laugh alone
would have been enough to frighten a group of hardened Krav Maga trained
Israeli special forces. I couldn’t believe something so heinous came out of a
girl that skinny.

“Against the law? Oh, Tabs. Can I
call you that? Tabs, you have a lot to learn about small towns. She reads any
postcards that come through the post office. Tara’s mom considers it an open
invitation. She figures if you don’t want anyone to know your business then you
ought to try to cover it up. Your mom should know that. She grew up here.”

Did Mom send a postcard on purpose? To
make my life easier? Harder? That woman drove me insane! For a moment I was
glad I wasn’t flying out to meet her. Then I looked around at the hordes of
teens and shuddered. I didn’t know which was worse.

“How did everyone find out so fast,
though? I didn’t even know until last night.” I fiddled with the combination on
my locker, sure that if I could disarm a taekwondo Grand Master, I could open a
freaking, stupid lock! I spun the digits again, believing it would open this
time but it wouldn’t. I punched the locker, leaving a nice dent in it. At least
I wouldn’t have trouble finding it in the future.

“Gossip travels faster than the speed
of text,” Becky said, shrugging. “Punching it isn’t going to help you get in
any faster, you know.”

I glared at her.

“You’re lucky, Tabs. The freshmen
have lockers in the old building. Did you see the attached brick box? That’s
the original school. We’re in the addition. Anyway, the lockers over there are
rusted and hardly ever open, even when the combination is done right. Ours are
a lot easier.”

Becky grabbed my left hand, where I’d
written the combination, and deftly twirled the button. The locker swung open
with ease.

“I’m never going to get this.” I
sighed. “Maybe I should just leave it cocked open with poisonous darts set to
stun anyone who tries to get in.”

Becky’s blue eyes widened. “Can you
do that?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.” I couldn’t, but
it didn’t hurt to encourage the mystique.

“Want to walk with me to health?”
Becky asked as I pulled textbooks out of my backpack and dropped them on the
floor of my locker.

“How did you know I have health
first?” I asked. “Did someone send out my class schedule to the whole town
too?”

Becky laughed again. I was going to have
to get used to that. It wouldn’t do, as Mimi says, to be jumping every time
she’s amused.

“You’re a sophomore. Sophomore girls
have health first period. They’re finally teaching us about sex this term.”

“Sex?” I asked. “At fifteen this is
the first you’re hearing about sex?” Not that I was all that experienced with
boys, but mom had made sure I knew about sex a long time ago.

“Well, this is the first official
time. We all know, obviously. We’re not that stupid, Tabs. Girls get pregnant
as early as seventh or eighth grade out here. Not much to do in the winter in a
farm town, you know. But our parents like to pretend it doesn’t exist until
we’re mature enough to handle it.”

Behind us, two guys waggled their
tongues at a girl in tight jeans. Their palms turned upward, they both made rude
grabbing gestures at her butt. Mature. Sure. I’d seen more mature behavior
toward the opposite sex from chimps than these supposedly evolved primates.

Chapter Three

I’m willing to try wrestling a croc.
I can fight with a sword or a staff. I apparently cannot dodge a ball thrown by
a girl whose glasses are hanging precariously on the edge of her nose while
she’s blowing her bangs out of her face.

“You’re out, Tabitha,” the gym
teacher shouted as she pointed her thumb behind her. Fine with me. I took a
seat next to Becky and buried my face in my hands.

“Let me guess, you’ve never played dodge
ball before, huh? I’ve been playing it my whole life and I’m always the first
one out. I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t really care too much. As long as
I pass gym, it’s okay. My mom says I don’t need an A in gym to get far in
life.”

Becky twirled her braid around her
finger as she babbled about gym. Honestly, I had looked forward to this class. I
may not understand math, but I was accustomed to physical activity. I once ran
with the Masaii in Africa and my black belt spoke volumes about my discipline
and stamina, not to mention my deadly ability to break through concrete blocks
with my hand. Yet dodging a ball was beyond my abilities. It was embarrassing.

“What do you want to do when you get
out of this town?” I asked Becky, trying not to dwell on my problems. I needed
to make a friend here and so far she was it. We sat back on the bleachers,
leaning against the row behind us, our butts resting on the planks. Not
comfortable, but better than sitting up.

“You’ll laugh,” Becky said, her mouth
firmed up as she crossed her arms. I waited for her to say something. Two words?
That was all? Strange. I hadn’t known her long, but I knew she was a motor
mouth. Something was up.

“I won’t laugh,” I promised. I took
my index finger and slashed across my heart. I’d never made a motion like that
before, but I thought Becky would appreciate it.

Becky looked around. No one paid
attention to us. The cheerleaders to the left braided each other’s hair. The
music girls to the right were tapping out syncopated rhythms on their knees. No
one really cared what we did or said, which was just fine with me.

She leaned in, her lips close to my
ear. I waited, tense, wondering what could be so awful, so weird that she
wouldn’t want anyone to overhear.

“A supermodel.”

I jerked away and stared at her, my
eyes wide. “Seriously?”

“You’re not laughing.”

“I wouldn’t laugh about that.”

“I’ve always known if I told people
they would laugh at me. But there’s something they don’t know. Something I’ve
never told anyone at school, but I think I’m about to tell you. Not just
because I kinda like you, because I believe we were meant to be best friends.
Our moms were best friends as kids and I guess I thought that meant we would be
too. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life and I think maybe I’ve imagined it
one too many times. I always wanted to visit you the other summers on the farm,
but my mom never let me because I was too busy in the summers. Too busy
modeling in Chicago.”

My mind swirled. Our moms were best
friends as kids? I didn’t know much about my mom’s life here. I knew that from
a young age she could be found digging in the fields looking for Indian
artifacts, or buying language tapes to pop in her Walkman, a primitive form of
iPod, so she could learn how to speak Thai. My mom was weird in a place where
everyone else aspired to be farmers. A few escaped to college with her, but
most of them went back, including her first love, Jon.

Mom carried a picture of the two of
them, in overalls covered in dirt, in her wallet. I don’t think she knew I
found it. I saw it once when I was, um, borrowing money from her.

I glanced back at Becky. I’d made
friends with a model the first day of school? A social outcast secret model,
though. Kinda cool when I thought about it.

I looked beyond her pigtail braids
and black glasses to her azure eyes and dark eyelashes. Becky’s arms and legs were
longer than some of the pythons I’d encountered in South America. Her tiny feet
fit into impossibly small gym shoes. How hadn’t I noticed before that she was
drop-dead gorgeous?

“You hide it well,” I said.

Becky smiled. Her perfect white teeth
gleamed as a blush crossed her face. I could see it now. Why didn’t anyone else
see it? Were they so used to seeing what was in front of them, rather than noticing
potential to be something else?

“Kinda. I don’t fit in here and I got
tired of trying. I assumed everyone would make fun of me if they knew. I also
don’t feel like putting on makeup or high heels for school like some girls do.
I want to get the grades to get me out of here and to New York City. My parents
can only afford to set aside a small amount of tuition for college in addition
to the money I’ve made modeling. I need to make up the rest by getting the best
grades possible. It’s my ticket out. I need a good education along with my
modeling career. Looks don’t last forever.”

I’d only just gotten here, but I
understood wanting to get out. Technically I’d lived here longer than any other
place, due to my three-month sentence every summer. Every year mom moved us
somewhere new and I considered the world my home, not this small patch of
farmland hidden in rural Illinois.

“Your secret is safe with me.” I smiled
at Becky and she grabbed me, pulling me into her arms for a bear hug. I patted
her back and let go first. I’d only known her for a few hours and while she certainly
was the coolest kid I’d met, I wasn’t ready to become blood sisters or
anything.

“I knew we’d be best friends. Just
like our moms. You should hear the stories she tells about them when they were our
age.” Becky’s eyes widened as she stared past me and her voice trailed off.

Craning my neck around, I saw the gym
teacher walking towards us, an angry look on her face. Was there some sort of anti-hugging
law at this school? Harassment? Did they think we were gay? Oh no, don’t tell
me it’s illegal to be a lesbian. Not that I was, or have a problem with it, but
you never know what kinds of things small town people worry about.

“Smith?” she barked at me. Yes, Smith
is my last name. Unique, I know.

“Yes, Mrs. Jordan?” I asked in the
sweetest voice I had.

“You,” she pointed at Becky, “hit the
showers.”

Becky wiggled her fingers at me in a
little wave. On the way to the locker room, she stubbed her toe. Becky hopped
precariously on one foot while massaging the other. I was dying to see her walk
a runway in heels after that.

I eyed the gym teacher. I’d been out
of the country for a long time, but I was quite sure mullets went out of style
about twenty years ago. Someone forgot to give her the memo on that. If
Highlights Gone Wrong was a reality show, surely she’d be on it.

“You haven’t signed up for a sports
team yet.” Mrs. Jordan dropped next to me on the bleachers, hiking up her pants
as she sat. Legs spread wide, she rested her elbow on her knees, put her chin
in her hands, and stared at me.

“Sports team?” I repeated.

“There’s nothing in your file about
playing an instrument, right?”

I’d learned elementary didjeridu
during a quick stint in Australia. I couldn’t imagine they had a section for
that here. I shook my head.

“You are required to participate in
an extra-curricular activity. Marching band is out. What skills do you have?”

I thought quickly. I didn’t want to
end up on an awful team. Too short for volleyball. Too slow for track. No penis
for football. What did that leave me?

“I am a black belt in taekwondo,” I
said, sure that I could get a spot on their martial arts team. I could probably
disable them all with a glance. I sat up straighter, my shoulders back.

Mrs. Jordan’s eyes widened. “Taekwondo?
You beat people up?”

“Well, kind of,” I said, puffing up
my chest with pride. Not many people would suspect tiny me to be dangerous. I
liked that. “It’s more self-defense than attack strategies, but if pressed,
yes, I can hurt someone. I have this amazing jump-kick combination that never
fails to knock people off their feet. I also learned how to flip over someone’s
kick to avoid being hit. It’s really amazing.”

I stopped when I realized Mrs. Jordan
was staring at me. Yes, I was babbling. Yes, maybe I sounded a tad like Becky. But
hey, how often did I get to discuss my martial arts experience with a fellow fitness
enthusiast? Mrs. Jordan didn’t have an ounce of fat on her. Obviously she would
understand the amazing things the human body can accomplish when pushed.