The List (17 page)

s with everything difficult in her life, Abby avoids dealing with the reality of her unsigned Earth Science progress report until the last possible minute, which is why she finds herself sitting in the last stall of the girls’ bathroom after school, waiting for the hallway noise to die down.

It is her own stupid fault. She should have shown her parents the progress report last night and begged for their mercy. Only, Fern was always within earshot, and it would have been too embarrassing for Abby to confess how much the homecoming dance meant to her, as well as admit that she was failing, in front of her sister. Knowing Fern, she’d probably burst in and tell her parents about the list, and then they could all lecture her on how dumb it was for her to feel good about being on it and how her priorities were completely screwed up.

But there was something else, too. Abby is scared. Scared to be in trouble, scared to be grounded, scared of the disappointed looks her parents were sure to give her.

And the disappointment is exactly why Abby is avoiding Lisa, too. The plan had been to meet at Bridget’s car right after school and head to the mall to go homecoming dress shopping. Instead, Abby is hiding in the bathroom. She’s hoping Bridget will run out of patience and force Lisa to leave without her. Lisa is going to be mad, but Abby just can’t stomach buying her perfect homecoming dress until she knows that she can actually
go to the dance. It would be too sad having it hang unworn in her closet or, worse, taking it back to the store. She’d rather not have the dress at all.

Abby hears the bathroom door open. She pulls her feet up.

Someone enters the stall next to her. After a few quiet seconds, Abby hears a couple dry choking coughs. And then a few retching gags. There’s no vomit, and Abby wonders if maybe the person is choking.

“Hey,” Abby says, climbing down off her toilet perch. “Are you okay?”

The gagging stops. “Abby?”

Abby steps out of her stall. The door to the other stall swings open. Bridget leans her head out. She looks pale.

“God,” Bridget says lightly. “This is embarrassing!”

“Should I get the nurse?”

“I’m okay.” Bridget pushes her hair off her face. “Something I ate at lunch didn’t agree with me. Anyway, I’d go home and crash but Lisa’s so excited to go dress shopping … and we’re kind of out of time. I don’t want to let her down.”

Again Abby finds herself comparing Bridget to her sister, and Fern comes up way short.

Bridget hurries over to the sink and starts washing her hands. “You’re still coming shopping with us, right? I hope I haven’t scared you away. I swear it’s nothing contagious. Please don’t say anything to Lisa. I don’t want her worrying. Please.”

Something feels weird. Maybe it’s how fast Bridget is talking. Or that Bridget wants her to keep a secret from Lisa. But she smiles back at Bridget. “No, of course. I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks,” Bridget says. When Bridget reaches for a paper towel, Abby notices her hands trembling. “You’re the best.”

Abby walks outside and sees Lisa sitting on the trunk of Bridget’s car.

“Hey! Where have you been?” Lisa asks.

“In the bathroom. I saw your sister … in the hallway.” It doesn’t feel good to lie to Lisa, but Abby did promise Bridget that she wouldn’t tell. “She’s going to be a few more minutes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lisa offers a hand to Abby and pulls her up on the trunk. “Listen to this great idea I just had! I think we should both buy a dress for the homecoming dance
and
another cute outfit to change into for Andrew’s party.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, unless you want to stay in your dress all night. But I’m thinking we’ll be more comfortable in jeans.” Lisa bites her lip. “I hope Candace and those other sophomore girls don’t go. I can see them being total bitches to us, because we’re, like, moving in on their guys. Also, I hear Candace wants to kill every pretty girl on the list because she’s so jealous.”

“Oh.”

Lisa snaps her fingers in front of Abby’s face. “Hey, I was only kidding about Candace.”

Abby takes a deep breath. “Look. I can’t go shopping with you and Bridget.”

“What? Why not?”

Abby fidgets with the zipper on her book bag.

“Come on. Tell me. I’m your best friend.”

Abby opens her bag and hands Lisa the blue rectangle. Lisa doesn’t recognize it right away, smiling as if it were one of the notes Abby wrote to her. It occurs to Abby that Lisa is confused because she has never gotten a progress report before. “I have to get this signed tonight,” Abby explains. “And my parents are going to kill me.”

Lisa gasps. “Crap. Okay. Well, you’ll probably get in trouble. You might not be able to go to the football game or Andrew’s party. But your parents
have
to let you go to the homecoming dance!”

“Except I know they won’t. They don’t care about dances. They care about this stuff. And they told me at the start of high school that I’m not allowed to get any more progress reports.”

“Abby! I don’t want to go to the dance without you!”

Abby doesn’t want Lisa to go to the dance without her, either. Her mind spins. “I guess … I could sign it. You know, pretend to be my mom.”

“Yes! That’s a great idea! I mean, Mr. Timmet will never know. How would he know?”

He wouldn’t. “And then I can try hard for the rest of the semester. I could even ask Fern to tutor me.” Really, she would.

“I say go for it. What have you got to lose at this point?”

It is nice to have a friend who wants her to go to the dance almost as much as Abby herself wants to go. Lisa isn’t at all jealous that she’s the prettiest freshman. She sees it as a good thing, a thing to be proud of.

Abby takes one of Lisa’s pens, because hers are all pink or purple. After practicing a signature that looks nothing like her own, she signs her mom’s name with a little flourish on the dotted line. She says, “I feel better already!”

“Me, too,” Lisa says, and rubs Abby’s back. “Do you want to drop it off at Mr. Timmet’s classroom now? I bet he’s gone for the day. You can leave it on his desk and forget about it. And then we can go shopping!”

“Great idea.”

The girls run into school together, their feet pounding on the floors, their laugher filling the otherwise empty halls. Abby feels a million times lighter, but she is resolved to do what she needs to do to pass Earth Science. This is her wake-up call.

The door to Mr. Timmet’s classroom is open. The girls step inside, expecting the room to be empty, but it isn’t. Mr. Timmet is still there, putting on his coat.

And sitting on a desk near the window, swinging her legs, is Fern.

Abby immediately notices that Fern has her hair done the same way Abby had worn hers earlier in the week, in a knot with a braid tracing along her hairline. Fern’s is a poor attempt, lumpy and bumpy and uneven, but she has clearly tried to copy Abby.

“I … uh …” Abby mumbles.

Mr. Timmet waves her inside. “You almost missed me, Abby.” He notices the blue card stock in her hand. “Is that your signed progress report, I hope?”

Abby forces down a swallow. She nods. Fern is staring at her.

“Wonderful. I didn’t want to have to call home. And I hope that you aren’t grounded the way you thought you’d be.” He steps over and takes it out of Abby’s hands, then turns back to Fern and says, “I should get home. I can’t believe we’ve been talking for thirty minutes. But thanks for bringing me this article. I’m excited to read it.” Abby watches Mr. Timmet slide her father’s
Popular Science
magazine into his briefcase.

Fern gets up and heads to the door, nodding and smiling. “Oh, good. It’s really … um, good.”

Abby steps backward out into the hall. Lisa is there, pressed up against a locker, frozen. Abby quickly mouths to Lisa that she’ll call her later. Lisa mouths
sorry
back, and then disappears into a stairwell.

Fern says her good-byes to Mr. Timmet and then joins her sister out in the hall. As she stalks past Abby, she says, “You’re failing Earth Science, Abby? It’s only the fourth week of school.”

“Shut up, Fern.” Abby trails a few steps behind.

“Who signed your progress report?”

“Mom,” Abby says, trying to sound confident.

Fern laughs, and it cuts right through Abby. She pushes through the heavy double doors. “Oh, yeah? Let’s go ask her.”

Mrs. Warner’s car is parked outside, and she waves to both her daughters. A few feet in the distance, Lisa and Bridget drive away together as Abby watches.

“Please don’t tell on me,” Abby pleads.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Fern shakes her head.

“Because they won’t let me go to the homecoming dance.” Abby wipes away a tear with her sleeve. She knows Fern will hate her for crying over the dance. But Abby hopes she’ll pity her, too.

“Of course I’m going to tell. They’re going to find out anyway when you fail.”

“Come on, Fern! Can’t you do me this one favor? Please?” She is begging. Unabashedly begging for Fern’s mercy. “Please. I never ask you for anything!”

“Why should I lie for you?”

“Because you’re my sister.” Abby can barely get the words out. Every part of her is shaking. “Sisters don’t do this to each other.”

Fern takes out the elastic from her hair. She shakes out the knot, yanks out the braid. “No one believes we’re related. Especially not me.”

uring World History, Lauren’s last period, a secretary knocks at the classroom door and hands a note to Lauren’s teacher. The teacher reads the note, and then places it on Lauren’s desk.

Principal Colby wants to see her immediately after school.

Lauren glances up at her teacher, silently hoping for more information, but he shrugs indifferently. This must be about the list. Her friends had said Principal Colby was on the warpath, trying to figure out who’d made it. Could she possibly think Lauren was to blame?

Lauren considers not going to the principal’s office, pretending she never received the note. After all, her mother will be waiting to pick her up right when school ends. But she can’t skip out on the principal. It would make her seem more guilty. Or maybe make Principal Colby call the house looking for her. She has no choice. So, after saying good-bye to her friends in the hallway, Lauren walks gloomily over to the main office.

Outside the office, she sees her mother sitting on a bench. Mrs. Finn is wearing the same cream blouse and wool skirt that she had worn for her interview on Monday.

“Mommy! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Lauren’s heart is clogging up her throat. Would Principal Colby bring up the list in front of her mother? Lauren takes a seat next to her mother and quickly decides if that were to
happen, she would play dumb. She’ll pretend not to know anything about it.

But Mrs. Finn says, “I left early so you and I could meet with Principal Colby and discuss your English teacher.” She looks down at her watch and frowns. “Since you haven’t had the time to do it yourself.”

From down the hall, Principal Colby’s light voice cheerily says “See you tomorrow” to someone, probably another teacher.

“Is that her?” Mrs. Finn whispers. Lauren presses her lips together and nods. “She sounds …
young
.”

Principal Colby rounds the corner. She’s wearing a black wool dress, black heels, and a long necklace of tiny pearls knotted halfway down. Her hair is in a low ponytail, a pair of tortoiseshell glasses holding back her bangs. Lauren feels Mrs. Finn stiffen next to her.

“Hello!” Principal Colby calls out, hustling to meet them. “You must be Lauren’s mom. It’s a pleasure to —”

“Good afternoon, Miss Colby,” Mrs. Finn interrupts. She stands, but does not shake the hand extended toward her.

Principal Colby blushes, clearly caught off guard. “I’m sorry to have kept you both waiting. Today’s been … well, quite a day.” Her mother follows Principal Colby into her office, close on her heels. Lauren trails behind them, her mouth suddenly bone-dry.

Principal Colby takes a seat behind her desk and her gaze moves onto Lauren with concern. “Now, this is about Lauren’s English class curriculum, right? Lauren, are you having trouble keeping up?”

Her mother’s shoes. That’s where Lauren sets her gaze. They are older than Lauren herself, and probably Principal Colby, too, though they do not appear to be at all broken in. Beige leather with a squat, square heel.

Mrs. Finn laughs drily. “Principal Colby, when it became clear that I could no longer be Lauren’s primary educator, I met with her teachers and provided copies of my lesson plans to bring everyone up to speed on what we’ve already covered. I assume you’ve read them?”

“I … think I remember seeing them. Yes.”

Mrs. Finn exhales a deep breath. “Then you must know that Lauren has already studied nearly every book on the sophomore AP English reading list. It’s the fourth week of school, and her teacher has made no adjustments to accommodate her. I’m sure you can imagine how frustrating that is for me, knowing Lauren must sit in class, day after day, bored to tears.”

Lauren cringes. She’d said those exact words yesterday afternoon, except they sound much worse now. She’d done it to smooth things over with her mother, because things had felt tense when she’d gotten home from working on the Spirit Caravan decorations. She’d had a great afternoon with the girls, painting snowcaps on their cardboard mountains, and had lost track of time. When she finally got home, her mother had already eaten her half of the stir-fry dinner she’d cooked for them. She sat with Lauren while she ate, but didn’t say anything. Not until Lauren complained that her English teacher was horrible, especially compared to her mother. It had seemed a harmless compliment at the time.

Principal Colby shuffles some things around on her desk. Lauren has never seen her so flustered. “I don’t know what to
say, Mrs. Finn. I mean … I’m sure you’ll understand that our teachers can’t do away with the curriculum for the entire class on Lauren’s behalf.”

“Of course you can’t,” Mrs. Finn says with bitter validation, as if they both are agreeing this has been a huge waste of time.

“But,” Principal Colby adds, “I will speak with her teacher about developing a secondary reading list Lauren can pursue on her own. I know Lauren is a brilliant girl, and it would go against every reason I became involved in education to let her languish unchallenged this year.”

Lauren looks at her mother, hoping to see relief, but Mrs. Finn is barely pacified. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for,” she says.

Her mother stands. Principal Colby does, too, only with a bit more urgency, and says, “Actually, Mrs. Finn, I want to tell you that Lauren is making quite the impression around our school.”

Lauren stares at Principal Colby harder than she’s ever stared at anything in her whole life.
Please don’t,
she shouts inside herself.
Please don’t say anything about the list.

Principal Colby seems to sense this, and mumbles her way out of things. “I … I always see her surrounded by a group of girls. She seems to have made lots of friends here.”

Lauren sags. This is almost worse.

The business clothes had been stored in several zippered garment bags. Her mother tries everything on, emerging nervously in each outfit, rising up on her toes to see herself in the cracked mirror atop the oak bureau.

Lauren watches from her mother’s bed. She is on her stomach, feet up behind her.

The suit separates are clean and well preserved, but tailored in old-fashioned silhouettes that show their age. There is no money for new work clothes, not yet anyway. And so Lauren feels it her duty to make her mother feel good no matter what. She offers only compliments. How the navy blazer brings out her mother’s eyes. The timelessness of a herringbone skirt.

As Mrs. Finn changes outfits and regards herself in the mirror yet again, Lauren summons her courage and says, “There’s a homecoming dance on Saturday night.” Lauren pauses to see if her mother will say something, but she is too interested in picking some lint off a pair of slacks. “I’d like to go.”

A good minute of silence goes by before her mother says into the mirror, “Money’s tight right now, Lauren.”

“The tickets are only ten dollars, and I’ve got that saved. And I wouldn’t need a new dress or anything. I think most of the girls are wearing jeans.” This is a lie, of course. Her friends have been talking nonstop about their dresses. Lauren knows she’ll have to make do without, that jeans and a nice blouse will have to do. Or there’s the black dress she wore to her grandfather’s funeral. And there’s always the chance that one of the girls will let her borrow something.

Mrs. Finn raises an eyebrow. “So you’re planning to go with a group? The friends Principal Colby mentioned?”

“They’re just girls from my grade. We’re going to the football game together and then —”

“Football game?” Her mother shakes her head, like it’s too much for her to process. “This is the first I’m hearing about this, Lauren.”

Lauren takes a deep breath. She tries to stay patient, but what is her mother being so short with her about? It isn’t like
she’s breaking any plans they’d had. “Yes. A football game, and then a dance. I’d like to go to both, please.” Asking permission makes her feel like a little girl, though she had always felt like an adult with her mother. “Everyone’s going to meet at one girl’s house before the dance, and we’ll walk over to the school in a big group.”

Mrs. Finn sits down on the bed. “Don’t you miss the old days? When it was just us, together?”

Lauren tenses up. Her mother is making it sound like she’s doing something wrong. “Of course I do. But I’ve been trying to put myself out there.”

“You need to be careful, Lauren. You don’t know these girls that well.”

“They’re nice. They’re my friends.”

“This party? Who’s it being thrown by?”

“Her name is Candace Kincaid.”

“Why don’t you invite Candace over for dinner tomorrow so I can meet her.”

Of all the girls, her mother wants to meet Candace? That’s not going to work. “Mommy! Please.”

“So I should just let you call all the shots, now that you’re a high school girl, huh?” She shakes her head. “I have a right to know whom you’re spending time with.”

Lauren uses the phone in the living room while Mrs. Finn takes a shower. She’d written the phone numbers of her friends down on the back of the list, and she calls one to get Candace’s. The friend seems shocked and wants to know the details of what would necessitate this call, but Lauren manages to get the number without giving too much embarrassing information.

Lauren isn’t sure she can get Candace to agree to come over. After all, Lauren was probably only invited to Candace’s party because of the other girls, so Candace wouldn’t look bad. And if Candace does say no, there’s a good chance Lauren won’t be able to go to the dance at all.

But then again, then none of the girls would go to Candace’s party.

Candace sounds surprised to hear from her.

Lauren explains the situation. And she is surprised at how quickly Candace says yes to her dinner invitation.

Frankly, it scares her.