Phoebe

Monday morning the hallways of Laurel High were even more swamped with people. (Built in the 70's after integration was mandatory, the school was small and about to cave in on itself. Apparently a new school was being built nearby, but the progress was so slow on it that upgrades like new carpet in the hallways kept being made. I heard kids talking about this in the corridors; they also declared they just wished the administration would fix the roof. I didn't want to find out what they meant by that either.) I wondered what was going on, but then thought better of it. Nothing here was really any of my business except for perhaps making good grades.

I passed a huddle of girls talking at a set of lockers and couldn't help but hear some of the gossip. Despite me not needing to know what was happening, I wanted to and so I busied myself at a random empty locker by acting like it was my own.

"I heard that Sara cried the whole weekend and then decided to try and kill herself," said a blonde girl. She was pulling books out of her locker and placing them in her bag.

"No, Lisa, don't be an idiot," declared her friend, a brunette who was eating a bag of Doritos while leaning against the lockers.

"I'm not being an idiot, Dava."

"Yes, you are," affirmed the girl named Dava.

"I say I'm not."
"You are."
"Not."
"Are."

That little, uh, discussion continued for a bit until a tall and willowy black-haired girl stepped into the conversation with a slight country twang.

"Ya'll stop it. Sara did not try and kill herself but it's not idiotic to think that. I mean, suicides sometimes happen because the person is experiencing extreme emotional distress. Sara's not cowardly enough to handle her problems by killing herself. In fact, I know for a fact that she didn't even attempt because I talked to her this morning."

"Oh, Kara, you didn't! What did she say?" exclaimed Lisa excitedly, hurrying forward to get the newest word.

Kara shook her head, hesitant, not wanting to disclose information but only because she wasn't a 'cutthroat bitch.' "She called me. We talked about school. And the party Saturday."

The party Saturday. I had almost forgotten about that. I wondered if Theodore had talked to Clara yet or if he was still waiting for the right moment.

"So it happened at the party?" asked Lisa impatiently. "Whatever made Sara freak?"

"No, it was obviously going to church that made her that way," snarked Dava. I almost laughed. Quite noticeably those two did not like each other.

Lisa ignored Dava's remark and listened dutifully as Kara began speaking again.

"Yes. I'll tell you what I know but this doesn't go anywhere else, understood?"

The three girls all pinky-promised and I thought about how long it would take one of the girls to spill. Dava I couldn't be too sure about, but I was fairly certain that Lisa would be the one to spread the word [first]. The thing about telling just one person -- like most girls do after finding out some juicy detail of the current scandal -- is that eventually there are no more people to tell and everybody knows whatever it was the person wasn't supposed to tell at all. This is why I was not actively involved in the politics of girls; I was incapable of stabbing anyone in the back (verbally, of course) and so I would probably be a victim of gossip if I ever got taken in myself.

"Okay, well, Sara showed up at the party at about ten, just like Kevin said. You know what he said the other week about her not going, remember? that the other juniors and seniors wouldn't like a sophomore in their presence? Well, he finally told her she could come, but that she would have to come later, when, you know, the other kids were --"

Drunk I thought at the same time Kara said it. And that was true. Once it had gotten dark, somebody had produced beer and the rest was history. (For the record I didn't drink any because beer is honestly one of the worst things in the world to taste. I don't care that Benjamin Franklin once said, "Beer is good." I had stayed in the house and played video games against Theodore until Ivy sought me out, ready to go home.)

"---and wouldn't be able to remember what grade she was in. So she goes to the party and sees Kevin kissing this other girl. Well, kissing wouldn't really be an accurate word. More like making out."

Dava and Lisa both gasped. I did not. His infidelity to who obviously was his girlfriend did not surprise me. In fact, trust is a major reason why I do not pursue relationships myself. If you hear stories enough about guys cheating on their girlfriends, then you'd be doubtful of love too. And as I was already a cynic of the human race, I trusted no one and never put myself out there to be hurt. It's basic knowledge . . . don't steal and you won't have your hand chopped off.

"Poor Sara," Lisa sighed.

"So she went up to Kevin and punched him in the face. That's why he has that black eye now."

Well, at least I could safely say that this Sara girl was intelligent. It always irritated me when the girl who was cheated on goes after the other girl. Didn't those girls realize it was the guy who actually committed the atrocity? No matter if the girl seduced him, it was still he who was the one to blame . . . even if for a lack of better judgment.

Dava laughed. "That's Sara alright!"

"So who was the girl? I don't know who it was."

"A girl named Pansy or Daisy or something like that. I forget what it was exactly, but it was something floral," Kara faltered. She added in a much more sure voice, "She's blonde, I know that much."

Shit I thought to myself, slamming the locker closed and running up the hallway to where I knew Ivy would be -- at her locker. She couldn't have. She wouldn't have.

She reallyshouldn't have.