Cameo (20 page)

“What?” I asked. Did he know more than he was letting on?

“Good luck in college,” he said.

Yeah, he might've heard about the raid, but obviously he was light years behind on the news about the bedroom brawl and the stalking collage! At the mere thought of that stalking board, I felt like 100 spiders were crawling all over my back.

I wondered that if Detective Smart was a member of the secret popular society, would he not blame Michelle for it? Cindy had insisted on not pressing charges, so Michelle would only be charged for breaking and entering if she was found guilty. Either way, it was apparent she was never going to be prosecuted. That was a word I should've thrown at Detective Smart—“prosecute.” Were they looking to prosecute anyone? He would've probably dodged that by asking me more questions he knew the answers to, or reassuring me that this was over. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure this was a conspiracy. Who could I tell? Without my cell phone, I felt like I was just toiling around aimlessly in what seemed like a teenager's life.

When I got upstairs, I began to wonder why Cindy would opt to have a locker here next to me. It was sort of a test. I mean, if we were going to remain friends, then she might still be at the lockers. I didn't want a showdown in front of everyone—meaning the nerds, misfits, and well-dressed freshmen who were steadily taking over no-man's land lockers to claim it as their own area. I just wanted to talk.

So this was me, cleaning out my locker at a snail's pace. I was playing it passive-aggressive, waiting for Cindy to drop by. Three trips to the trash can and a slow walk to the bathroom right next door to check my makeup, the weather outside, how I looked in my jeans, and, well, I was all done. Maybe when my cell privileges were back and my pride let up, I would call Cindy.

I left through the back entrance of the classroom. I felt compelled to turn around and take one last look.

“Nia!”

I turned around. To my surprise, Cindy was behind me. I jumped back. She looked as lost as I felt.

“Before you give me your spiel on how I betrayed you, listen. I know I should have admitted that I was part of the society. I had no right pretending and stuff. But I was trying everything I could to get it to stop. You have to believe me,” she said.

“I do,” I said.

“If I would've said something, you would've blamed me for all of those things that were happening. You hate everybody who's popular so much. I didn't know if we would even be friends anymore,” Cindy said.

“I don't hate the popular. You make it sound like I'm discriminating,” I said.

“No, I'm not. Part of the society rules is to keep it a secret. I was your friend, but I still had to follow the rules to the society I pledged. You have to know, I had no idea it would go that far. At first, I was upset that you thought I was just your friend for that club. I would never do that. I was totally your friend. You're my best friend,” Cindy said.

“Good, because I'm still your best friend,” I said.

“That was easy. I was prepared to be screamed at. Poor Jason.” Cindy laughed.

“Jason?” I said, confused. I shook my head. Poor me. He was trouble for me. I never planned on having a sweet spot for him.

“He's perfect for you. I don't want to hear another word about it,” Cindy said.

She sounded so mature. What had happened to her over the past week?

“And what up's with Peter? Are you two an item?” I laughed. Who the heck says “item” anymore? Spending the entire week at home with my mom was having a devastating effect on my vernacular.

Cindy cleared her throat and tugged uncomfortably at her sweater dress. “No! He decided to go to prom with a junior,” she said.

“You're kidding me. We're graduating! What does he think, he's trading up for a newer model?”

“I did like him. He was like …. I don't know. I can't even make an analogy. I thought he was different. My bad.”

“What a loser.”

“There were some problems. I didn't want to do it again until prom, to make it special, you know. And I don't know. It bothered him.”

I'd never seen Cindy like this, self-reflective and maybe even a little insecure. She almost always got to dump the guy first. I felt a little bad for her. I had been there before. Peter was fool's gold. There were times when all the dating tricks and flirting in the world couldn't change how things were going to end up.

“I happen to know a hot guy that is dying to worship you.”

“Really! Say it isn't so!” Cindy perked up.

“Are you going to start on your locker?” I laughed.

“I think the only thing I'm really going to take is my makeup and my lock,” she said.

“Did you bring an overnight bag?”

“For what?”

“Your makeup,” I said.

“You know, there are two things of mine you don't mess with: my man and my makeup. I have to be fly-i-i-i-i-i,” she said.

She unleashed the beast inside her locker. Three Ziploc bags full of every type of cosmetic under the sun in all shapes, sizes, colors, and brands fell out. I bent down to help clean up the mess. A bronzer case fell right onto my head.

“That itty-bitty supermarket shopping bag will not do. But I know somebody who probably has everything we need in his locker,” I said.

“Uh, you think Jason is your superhero. Ha! Ha! Nia and Jason sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then come marriage …,” she said.

“Shut up! I was not talking about Jason. And who said anything about love?”

“I know love when I see it. It's everything I try to avoid,” she said.

“You had me fooled. You were all … ‘I really liked him, and he didn't want to wait,'” I said.

“Talk to the hand.” Cindy put her hand in my face, which would've been an appropriate response if it were 1990. Obviously, she'd seen one too many
In Living Color
reruns.

“I'm referring to Roger. Please just call the boy. Get him to help you lug this stuff home. I have to walk home with my boyfriend.”

“Roger? … Maybe.”

“Wait. You mean, you
are
going to call Roger?”

“Yeah.” Cindy shrugged. This was truly the end of an era.

“You dig the makeover?” I asked.

Cindy busted out into a crazy, sinister laugh. Had she and Roger already hooked up … or … “Are you seeing Roger?”

“No.” She smiled.

“But you thought about it.”

“No … okay, yeah,” she said.

“Wow, just like that.”

There was hope in life. Nothing was permanent—just look at Roger. Knowing that somehow made me feel like I would sleep better at night. You could become anything, and change was always happening for the better.

“Plus, he thinks I'm smart,” Cindy said. She voice-activated his number from her address book. Unbelievable. I hugged Cindy.

“I'm going to go. I, um … have a date. Stop by my house tomorrow during usual visiting hours.”

“While your mom is at work?”

“You know it.”

“Michelle just came on too strong,” a deep voice with a slight nervous crackle said from behind me. It almost caught me for a moment, like a sticky spider web. There was some sort of neurological reaction I had, in which he would speak and I used to flash a coy grin without even thinking.

I could even remember the first time he'd kissed me. I smiled. But my stint of brief reminiscing was quickly cleared away as he uttered, “Once she called you, I knew you figured we had hooked up.”

I actually hadn't figured out immediately that Craig had hooked up with her. I'd hoped it was all some type of bad thing … you know, the kind of thing that involved drinking or smoking or something that would cloud one's judgment. I could believe that he'd made a bad choice. I just couldn't believe he would break my heart. He'd once said to me, “I'm loving you.” What did that mean? I should've figured out then that he had a few screws loose.

I didn't get the hint until Cindy had come to pick me up the next morning and showed me the overnight gossip texts. Then I knew what that meant. He didn't love me, he was just loving me—and whoever else came along, I suppose. I'd had a lot of doubt about his loyalty to me during our relationship. Craig continued ranting on and on. But I couldn't hear him. I couldn't see past all of the stupid things he had done to hurt me. So I just stood there, frozen and immobilized by shock.

Had he been waiting all month to say this? You know, people take common courtesies for granted. I didn't have to acknowledge his presence. I didn't have to listen to him. I felt like it was too bad for him. He should've tried the day after the phone call. Let's just call it what it was: the most embarrassing call ever.

“I couldn't find you for the next two weeks,” he continued.

I looked him right in the eye. He had the nerve to act as if he had tried to redeem himself but I was underneath a rock or something. So he didn't get a proper opportunity. Please!

“I didn't move,” I said. The resentment dripped from my lips, which he couldn't stop staring at.

“I know it's over!” he shouted.

“You're getting way too serious about this,” I said.

“School … us. I don't—I don't know. I can't get you off my mind,” he said.

It finally hit me. I would never get to be angry at him again. After graduation, he would be a blip on the roadmap of my life. Good, because honestly he didn't even deserve that. This was the first time we'd spoken since he'd kissed me goodbye on my doorstep the same night I had been dumped.

“You're like my whole high school memory. The good thing I remember. I'll remember you sitting in the bleachers cheering us on,” he said.

“That was one time!” I said. Enough of this melodrama, half of it didn't even make sense.

By now I could see exactly how ridiculous he was. What college was he going to anyway? I mean he didn't take any AP classes. So I guess he'd done me a favor. I'd gotten an upgraded model with new technology. It was like comparing one of those old cell phones that looked like a walkie-talkie to a new one that was razor-thin with Internet capabilities. He took a deep breath, and then he did the unthinkable.

“I know breaking up with you was the stupidest thing I did all year.” Was he repenting? After all this!

“Don't pretend you're not shallow because you found a soul now that your reign is over and you realize in college you'll just be a number. One of tens of thousands of kids, many of whom will be
more senior than you. You hooked up with Ms. Most Likely to Be in a Padded Room in Ten Years because she told you to. But that was all you!” I said.

“That was really stupid. I just said that,” he said under his breath. He sighed. Then he wiped his face with his mammoth man hands, perfect for catching a football. He looked like a preacher caught with his hands in the cookie jar—namely, one of the deacon's wives. Church drama was much like high school drama.

“We would've never worked past high school anyway! I can't stand a guy that's whipped. I can only wonder if I meant all this to you when you were shacked up with Michelle.”

“Forgive me!” Craig blurted out.

“You do dumb things all the time. People can't forgive you for every single dumb thing you've ever done,” I said.

“I admitted it was stupid,” he said.

“Is that the only part that was stupid? 'Cause this part, the part where you approach me six weeks later to talk about the break-up, ranks pretty high up there.”

“Because you're smarter than me, does that make you better than everyone?” he said.

“That doesn't even make sense. This is not about who's smarter. I'm loyal. People aren't disposable to me.”

My cell phone buzzed with a new text message. Thank goodness. This was getting old. “That's probably my new boyfriend.” I shrugged.

I walked away briskly. I wasn't sure what he wanted from me. A hug, approval … maybe he wanted me to say it was okay to screw me over in the last quarter of the final game. Well, I wasn't going to do any of that. It took me long enough to get over this. Plus, he lucked out. I'm the one who shared a secret part of me. What I shared with him I could never get back. I did it because I thought
we'd meant something. A girl shouldn't want that back anyway. Maybe that was what this was about, being at peace with what we'd shared. More like what I'd shared. He, on the other hand, had gladly doled himself out to more than a few other girls in our class, I'm sure.

I realized he had done me a favor by breaking up with me. I'd thought it all along, but I didn't feel it was actually true until right then. Before I left the popular corridor for the last time, I had to have one last look at my past and what was behind me now.

There, in that hallway, I was leaving the girl who had once believed that people were honest and true and meant you well. Instead, the new me knew that people, even the ones closest to you sometimes did things that hurt you, and you had to be careful whom you trusted. I also knew now that shallowness was a rampant disease. Even I had caught a touch of it when I thought I was popular. Since when does who you date, who your friends are, and what you look like mean everything? Generally speaking, that is. My makeup mantra still holds true to the grave: A girl can't leave the house without a little base, mascara, and eyeliner.

I didn't understand why Craig had done something that he would regret so dearly. Yet again, too bad. Everything wasn't for me to understand. Unfortunately, a guy like Craig would spend a greater portion of his youth reminiscing about his golden years. Face it, he had peaked at seventeen.

“I wish you the best in college!” I said softly. My scolding tone had subsided. I'd succumbed to belief in good karma. One too many public television specials, I guess. I couldn't just leave without forgiving him. It was negative energy to hold onto the past.