The Rules of Life

I spent the next few days dodging Matt. I started sitting by the door in his class, growling at anyone who tried to say, “hey, that’s my seat”. Whenever I saw him in the hallways, I would walk in the other direction or dip into random classrooms. It made for some pretty awkward moments, like when I accidently barged into the janitor’s closet where Madison Tyler was pretty much naked with, not her boyfriend, Quentin Bailey, but her boyfriend’s cross country coach. That door hadn’t been open for very long before I slammed it close and I nearly ran smack dab into Matt when I turned away. It was only my clever maneuvering and flighty skills that thwarted that fiasco.

Instead of going the easy routes to classes, I took the long way around, braving the cold weather in order to stay away from places Matt might be patrolling. This didn’t give me any private showings of personal lives, but I did find out who was getting high back by the tennis courts (the class valedictorian) and who was spray painting ‘Vikings suck’ on the wall by the gym (two members of the football team). I’d even accidentally walked in on Gretchen Parker making herself throw up in the bathrooms. Gretchen was a cheerleader, a lowly sophomore under Sophia’s tyrannical reign, and she’d begged me to keep quiet about the whole thing. Sophia had threatened numerous times: eating disorders were off the team. “We aren’t a charity case,” she’d said.

I never knew that backwater high school was so full of scandal. I mean, I knew our school pretty much sucked and everyone was either into drugs or pregnant or a dumbass or a bitch. But I had no clue that so many people were having so many different problems. That whole inspirational ‘new perspective’ shit really had the right idea.

Travis questioned my off-road routes at first but after a day or two, he did it without complaint. All the gossip he saw, he spread. Rumors were running rampant around this time and I couldn’t help but think I was to blame. But as long as April Tanner kept her little tidbit of information a secret, I was good. Even though I was safe from the gossip mill (fucking finally, Jesus Christ), others weren’t so lucky. The amount of Facebook relationship status changes was a record high and even freshman dweebs, the lowest on the high school hierarchy (but not as low as I had been, pre-Travis) were yelling insults to their senior superiors. It was total chaos. And it was all because I had to avoid Matt and Travis insisted on walking me to class and running his goddamn mouth.

By the time Thursday rolled around, the entire high school social system was in disarray and I was tired of seeing things I wasn’t supposed to with the worst possible gossiper ever. Seriously. Travis was worse than old ladies at Bingo. Plus I’d been late to most of my classes, a feat that did not go unnoticed by administration if the note telling me to see the school counselor was any indication. I crumpled it up in my fist and left my class, not even bothering to stay for attendance. The office would write me a note.

The only other person in the office was the valedictorian, Missy something-or-other. She looked awful. She was slumped in her seat, hair sticking out, red-eyed and puffy-cheeked with the remnants of yesterday’s make-up smeared around her eyes like a raccoon. She looked up when I sat down a few seats away and she gave me the meanest glare I’d ever seen. My eyes widened. What the hell did I do? Missy looked around and then moved to the seat next to me. I thought she was going to say something but she sat there for a moment. Then, out of the blue, she grabbed my arm and dug her nails in, shiny eyes boring into mine. She didn’t have very long nails so it didn’t exactly hurt but it wasn’t very comfortable.

“How do you like it?” she hissed at me. “How do you like being the victim for once?” She dug in harder. “It’s not fun, is it? You little rat!” Actually, it was pretty comical to see Missy, so usually put together, come unglued like this. And her fingers didn’t really hurt. Missy was tiny, a little short girl—shorter than me—with no muscle whatsoever. I yanked my arm out of her grasp pretty easily.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is,” I said, “but you’ve got beef with the wrong person. I didn’t rat you out.”

She sat back in her seat and pushed her bangs away from her face. Her nails were ragged which explained why they weren’t very long; she’d been gnawing on them. “They said you were a good liar.” Who was they? “But I saw you, McKinley! Okay? I saw you. I know you saw me,” she lowered her voice, “getting high. How else would they know? No one else knew besides me and my dealer and he would not have told! I pay him good and I’ve dug up dirt on him, oh yes.” Missy was a reporter for the school newspaper and her dad was a PI. I didn’t doubt that she probably had dirt on the whole school. Too bad for her. All my dirt was already general knowledge.

I didn’t mind being called a bitch. Hell, I actually enjoyed that part. But I was not a snitch. Unless the info I possessed could implicate someone like Travis or Sophia and I still wouldn’t do that anymore. Sure, half the people here had pretty much helped make my life a living hell but I was scary enough that many of them backed off after a little growling, teeth gnashing, and the occasional baby-eating rumor. Mostly, the only people who really patronized me were Travis and co. and they’d pretty much stopped. Except April but she was a different type of evil and I was going to personally see to her downfall, once she didn’t have any more blackmail material on me.

I thought back to the day that I saw Missy smoking up. It was after lunch on Monday, one of my first scandalous finds. Had I been with Travis? I had to have been. No one else would have seen and Travis was like a fucking puppy dog and never let me go anywhere without escorting me there. I don’t care if he was being gentlemanly or chivalrous, it was getting downright annoying. Besides, any attempt at being a good person was pretty much shot down when he spilled everyone’s secrets. But people told rumors all the time and most of them didn’t have any proof to back them up. The administration heard dozens of things all the time—even Matt had found out I was with Travis that way. Who was the rat?

“I promise you, I didn’t rat you out, Missy,” I told her.

She looked at me funny. “My name’s not Missy,” she said.

Oops.

“Oh, uh,” well, this was awkward.

Whatever-her-name-was slumped back into the seat. “So, I guess that means you didn’t turn me in,” she said miserably. “I wish I knew who did it. I mean, I know Travis probably spread it.” Travis spread everything. It wasn’t any secret and he’d received his share of hate. But Travis was buff and friends with Dash and Sophia. It was one thing to mess with a senior of normal status but it was a completely different thing to mess with the Trio of Doom. Just like everyone knew Travis was the rumor originator, it was just as common knowledge that he would beat you up without question. Oh yeah. Travis was a keeper alright.

“Why does it matter, though? I mean, yeah, it’s illegal and shit but it shouldn’t affect your grades or your valedictorian status, right?” I didn’t understand the mechanics of this at all. Half my high school career had been spent under the influence of drugs and my grades had sucked. The other half was spent in and out of detention and my grades, look at that, still sucked. But they were getting better. I had mostly Cs now and a B in math.

“Someone said that they thought I had weed in my locker,” she said. “I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t. I never bring it to school.” She looked guiltily at the floor. “My dealer brings it to me to do it at school. But they found some in my locker and now Harvard might take away my scholarship and if that’s the only thing that’ll get me into college!” Her eyes filled with tears. I didn’t get to hear anymore of her story. Mr. Denning opened his office door and said my name in a very, un-cheery way. I patted what’s-her-face’s arm awkwardly and then smiled sunnily at Denning as I entered his office.

Mr. Denning sat down at his desk and clasped his hands on top of the shiny wooden surface. “Do you know why you’re here, Miss Miller?”

I shrugged. “Did they catch me streaking in the cafeteria again?” I opened my mouth in a wide ‘O’. “Because I thought I hid my face pretty well!”

“This is no joking matter, Miss Miller,” he said.

“Sheesh. Tough crowd.”

“You’ve been tardy to your classes for the majority of the week,” he told me.

“That is what is,” I put on my best Denning impersonation voice, “not a joking matter?” He did not look amused. “Okay, yeah, I’ve been tardy. I’m trying out new routes to my classes. Is that what this whole thing is about?”

Mr. Denning shook his head. “That was only part of it. We received an anonymous tip about you, Miss Miller.”

That bitch! I guess she’d got tired of waiting for Travis but let’s see how much longer she’ll have to wait when I break her face in half and go Jack the Ripper status on her ass and rip out her vagina. Have a fun time having sex without a girl part, you fucking skank! I couldn’t believe April had squealed on me. That was probably why Matt looked kind of pissed off in homeroom this morning.

“Whatever she said, it isn’t true.” Denial is the first step to covering your ass. Blame it on rumors.

Denning raised his eyebrows, bushy and graying. They were almost fused together above his nose. He was in bad need of an eyebrow wax, holy shit. “So you’re not selling drugs to Minnie Fitzgerald or Patrick O’Harris.” Minnie! That was the valedictorian’s name. Who the fuck names their kid after a Disney mouse? And who the fuck was Patrick O’Harris? I didn’t know any Patricks except for the one on Spongebob. And drugs? What? This was even more farfetched than the rumor about me getting pregnant. Well, maybe not. I’d had a history with drugs but I hadn’t touched them since I’d gotten out of rehab. I had first-hand knowledge of how hard those things can fuck you over and I so wasn’t looking to go back down that path.

“No, I am not selling drugs to anyone,” I corrected. “I haven’t touched drugs at all since I got back.”

Mr. Denning flipped through a file that I hadn’t noticed sitting on his desk. My name was emblazoned at the top. Miller, McKinley P. Yeah, my dad was a narcissist. McKinley Pauline Miller. “It says here that you were at St. Jude’s Rehabilitation Center for six months.” He peered at me over the top of the folder. It was pretty full. There were giant stacks of paper on either side of the open file. I nodded. “Have you experienced any urges to get back into that?” Other than Monday when I found out Matt was harboring a secret girlfriend—other than me? Nope. I shook my head. “Well, we don’t have any proof but I’m afraid we’ll have to search your locker.”

That’s how I ended up at my locker accompanied by Mr. Denning, Principle Tanner, and the same police officer who I’d threatened when he’d checked me out. They waited for me to open my locker. I spun the combination, thinking it was pretty lucky that I didn’t use this damn thing. I swung the door open and the metal door slammed against the lockers next to mine, making a loud clanging noise. I gave the counselor, principle, and officer a pointed look like, ‘see? Nothing here’. But Mr. Denning looked disappointed and Principle Tanner was shaking his head. The police officer said, “What’s that?” in an obviously happy-to-catch-the-bad-guy kind of way.

I turned my head and my jaw dropped. My locker wasn’t empty.