The List

Margo reaches out to stop Rachel from getting up. “Come on. No.”

Rachel stares down the two freshmen boys as they walk back to their table. “I don’t like those little turds thinking they can make fun of Jennifer because she’s on the list. Don’t they have any respect for the fact that she’s a senior? If she’s with us, they wouldn’t dare say anything.”

Margo sighs. “No one cares about hanging out with us that much.” But she knows that isn’t true. Especially when it comes to Jennifer.

“Huh. Easy for the prettiest senior girl to say.”

“Shut up, Rachel. You’ve been on the list, too. Both of you. It’s not a big deal.”

Dana cocks her head. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’ll get to be homecoming queen.”

“That’s not a guarantee,” Margo says, even though it basically is. “And anyway, I don’t care about being homecoming queen.” Sure, it will be nice. But if Margo hadn’t made the list this morning, if it had been Rachel or Dana instead, she’d have been fine with it.

Rachel pats Margo on the back. “Inviting Jennifer to hang out for half a lunch period isn’t going to kill you.”

Margo pretends to concentrate on picking the lettuce out from her chicken wrap. It doesn’t surprise her how quickly the legs of Jennifer’s chair squeak against the floor.

“Hey, Jennifer,” Dana says, sliding over so Jennifer can sit.

“Hi,” Jennifer says. “I like your shirt, Dana. It’s so cute.”

Dana grins down at her front. “Oh, thanks.”

It’s quiet for a second. Margo glances over and sees Jennifer staring at her. “Hi, Margo,” Jennifer says, all bright and cheerful. “Congratulations on … you know.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel drums her nails against the table. “So, Jennifer. We wanted to tell you that we’re sorry that you’re on the list again this year.”

Jennifer shakes her head, like it’s nothing. “Honestly, I’m used to it by now.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to get used to something like that,” Dana says, pursing her lips. “Whoever made the list this year is a total sadist.”

Margo thinks back to when senior year had just started. Dana got assigned a seat behind Jennifer in French II, and she complained every day for a week about the fat rolls on the back of Jennifer’s neck. Whenever Jennifer looked down at her textbook, the folds of skin would smooth out, and when she’d look up, they’d squeeze together, like a disgusting human accordion.

It annoys her how easily Dana can forget the past.

But it also makes Margo jealous. Because she can’t.

CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_7d987cda-83ec-55f5-b2c8-396242035aea)

At three o’clock, Danielle shuffles from her last class of the day to her locker. She collects her textbooks and her swim bag as slowly as possible, in no rush to get where she needs to be. Well, that’s not true. Danielle should be at swim practice with Hope. But she’d been instructed not to go to the pool.

Everyone in English had looked up when Principal Colby knocked on the door. Danielle’s teacher welcomed her. Principal Colby didn’t say anything to him, she just looked around the room. When her eyes landed on Danielle, she walked over and said simply, “I’ll see you later.” This left the bulk of the explaining to the note card she placed on Danielle’s desk.

TO THE GIRLS ON THE LIST:

PLEASE REPORT TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY AFTER SCHOOL.

THIS IS A MANDATORY MEETING.

PRINCIPAL COLBY

Danielle bit the end of her pencil. What could Principal Colby want with all the girls on the list? Were they in trouble? Had Principal Colby figured out who had written it?

Though her questions baited juicy answers, Danielle hardly cared to know them. Instead, she became aware of the boy sitting to her left, craning his neck as he tried to read the note. She quickly slid the card into her book and succumbed to humiliation for the second time that day.

Her cheeks are still hot from it.

Just then, Sarah Singer, the ugliest junior, passes by. Principal Colby is right behind Sarah, her hand pressing into Sarah’s back, forcing her forward. Sarah’s steps are comically laborious — flat-footed trudges, punctuated by tortured sighs, the toes of her sneakers dragging across the linoleum floor.

Danielle had heard about this girl and the word she’d scrawled on her forehead, but this is the first time she sees it for herself. Part of her is impressed by Sarah’s toughness — a different Game Face than the one she’d worn today, when she pretended there was no list, that she hadn’t been on it. But the rest of her is humiliated knowing she is the same as Sarah. That all of Mount Washington will look at her and see the same word, whether or not it’s written on Danielle’s face.

Danielle closes her locker and leans against it. It is the kind of hurt that feels permanent, more like a scar than a scab. Something she’ll always carry with her.

“I was already off school grounds!” Sarah complains. “You can’t force me back inside once the day is over!”

Either Principal Colby doesn’t hear Sarah or she doesn’t care to respond. Instead, she locks eyes with Danielle as she passes her and says, “Come on. You, too.”

The other six girls are already in the principal’s office. The room is too small for there to be any order to where people sit, no division of space with the pretty girls in the chairs and the ugly girls against the wall, that sort of thing. It is crowded, uncomfortable for everyone.

Abby is in one of the two chairs in front of Principal Colby’s desk. She scoots over, allowing a small patch where Danielle can squeeze in next to her. Danielle smiles faintly at the offer, but instead perches on the armrest.

Candace is in the other chair, inched forward to the very edge of the seat, her weight tipping forward. She’s pulled herself up close to Principal Colby’s desk.

Lauren sits on the radiator, her knees drawn to her chest, staring out the window.

Bridget is on the couch.

Margo sits next to her, hands folded in her lap.

Jennifer slumps against a tall, black filing cabinet.

Sarah won’t enter the office farther than the doorway, her arms crossed and defiant. She barely moves as Principal Colby squeezes past her.

Once she settles behind her desk, the principal says, “I’m sure you’ve probably figured out why I’ve called you here.”

If anyone knows Principal Colby’s intentions, no one says so. Margo wraps a strand of her hair around her finger. Bridget cracks her knuckles, tiny little pops. Jennifer scratches something stuck to her shirt.

Principal Colby sighs. “Okay,” she continues. “I’ll spell it out.” She leans forward dramatically. “A terrible thing has happened to you girls today. And I think it would help if we talked about it as a group.”