High Heels and Lipstick (4 page)

“It isn't right.” Holly narrowed her eyes. “You didn't do anything wrong. Neither did Maryellen. Nobody should be making you feel like crap for having a crime committed against you. Some people just shouldn't exist.”

“It is what it is.” I'd heard Holly's rant about fairness plenty of times, and I wasn't up for another repetition. I agreed with her, but saying it over and over didn't change the fact that when a girl was raped, a lot of people blamed her for letting it happen instead of blaming the guy for being a criminal.

“Yeah, and what it is, is complete crap.” Holly took a sip from her iced something-or-other.

“He said he's guilty. They're going to sentence him,” I said. “Maybe now people will find something else to be asses about and leave me and Maryellen alone.”

“In this school?” Evan raised his eyebrows. “Dream on, girl. Not to make you feel worse, but they still go off on me because of Jim getting arrested and those other guys getting kicked off the football team right before playoffs. And the football player thing didn't even have anything to do with me directly. It was because of what they said to Moe.”

“Can we please change the subject?” My coffee was too hot to drink, but I drank some anyway. The pain in my tongue and the roof of my mouth yanked me out of the whine-spiral I was heading toward. “Homework. Who did it, and is there a chance in hell I can finish any of it before I have to hand it in?”

Both of them looked like they had more to say on the subject I was finished with, but Evan just started talking about the history assignment. I relaxed as much as I could. I might as well take advantage of the calm before the storm I knew I'd have to deal with as soon as I walked through the high school's front door.

Guillermo showed up, along with some of Holly and Evan's other friends. I didn't pay much attention to them other than to say hi when they said it to me. I managed to get through the history assignment, which was due first period, and half of the math assignment before we had to leave for school.

The second I walked through the door, I knew something was wrong. People were standing around the lobby and in front of the office, talking in hushed tones. A few of them glanced at me, but no one said anything. Not a single word.

“Everyone please report to the auditorium.” Our vice principal Mr. Lawrence's voice boomed through the speaker beside me. “Do not go to your first period classrooms. Go directly to the auditorium and sit with your homeroom groups. Your homeroom teachers will take attendance.”

That was completely against procedure. Our school didn't do the homeroom thing. We were assigned to homerooms, but the only times we actually went to those rooms were on the first day of school to get our schedules, at the end of the day on report card days, and during the yearly state achievement tests. Otherwise, we sat by homeroom at assemblies and stuff, but on normal school days we went straight to first period.

And we almost never had unannounced assemblies.

We followed the stream of people into the auditorium. I wished I could sit with Holly and the guys, but they weren't in my homeroom. I found myself between El-Al and Gina, two girls who'd been my friends right up until they found out what had happened between Jim and me. Gina had dated Jim too, but he hadn't done anything to her, so she didn't believe Maryellen and me. El-Al, who most people called by her full name, Eleanor Alice, just kind of followed whoever around her was loudest.

I hadn't talked to either of them lately. They said hi to me at school, and I hadn't heard them say anything negative about me, but we weren't friends anymore as far as I was concerned. I needed people around who supported me, and they didn't qualify.

“Do you know what happened?” El-Al leaned over me to talk to Gina. “I heard someone died.”

“Who?” I asked before I remembered that I was trying not to speak to them.

“I don't know.” She sat up and looked at me. “I was afraid it was you. I'm glad it wasn't.”

“Thanks.” I was confused to the point where I didn't know which confused me more: her thinking I'd died or her being glad I hadn't. “Why would you think it was me?”

“Because.” She looked uncomfortable. “I mean, people say stuff. Sometimes it has to be hard to deal with, and you've been kind of… I don't know, depressed about it. You don't even talk to us anymore. It's like you've already checked out.”

“So?” I narrowed my eyes. Before, I'd been the queen of this little clique. Just because half the school had turned against me didn't mean I couldn't still intimidate the hell out of people. “People always say stuff. They've been saying stuff about me since seventh grade. You think anything's new?”

“It's different stuff,” Gina said.

“Still the same idiots saying it.” I turned my glare on her, and she looked away. “I don't care what people say. I'm not going to do something stupid to myself because other people are jackasses. So don't ever assume I would.” I looked at El-Al again. “And by the way, I don't talk to you two anymore because you bailed on me. That doesn't mean I checked out. It means I choose not to deal with people who pretend to be something they aren't. Like friends.”

“Attention, please.” Ms. Rondeau, the principal, stood on the stage with a microphone in her hand.

El-Al and Gina both looked pretty guilty, but they didn't respond to what I'd said. Everyone stopped talking almost immediately, which was as rare as unplanned assemblies. Usually it took a few tries by whoever had the microphone to get five hundred teenagers to quiet down, but this time, everyone wanted to hear what was going on.

“This is unexpected, and I'm sorry to have to be the one to deliver the news,” Ms. Rondeau said. “It's important that you are aware of what's happened, so thank you all for cooperating. Earlier this morning, I was informed that a freshman student, Maryellen Rourke, attempted to take her own life during the night.”

Audible gasps and murmuring filled the room.

My heart stopped. This was partly my fault. I should have tried harder to be Maryellen's friend. We'd gone through the exact same thing with the exact same guy.

If I'd checked on her last night after my parents broke the news about Jim to me, maybe she wouldn't have done it.

I didn't understand why she'd waited until last night, though. All the time we'd waited to find out what would happen, she'd chosen to live. But when we found out Jim would have consequences, she tried to die. It didn't make any sense.

I swallowed hard a few times and bit my lower lip hard so I wouldn't scream.

“I want to make it clear that Maryellen survived,” Ms.
Rondeau said. “However, she is in intensive care and there are still concerns. She will not be returning to school for the
foreseeable future.”

She paused. The auditorium was almost completely silent.

“If any of you need to speak with someone, counselors will be available in the guidance and nurse's offices,” Ms. Rondeau said finally. “There's more, and this is the truly important part. A note Maryellen left, which her parents e-mailed to me, indicates that she has been on the receiving end of severe bullying and threats for the past two months, both online and here at our school. We take reports like this very seriously. We will be investigating with assistance from the police. If any of you have any knowledge about this, please come to the office. Reports will remain anonymous.”

My eyes watered so badly I could barely see Ms. Rondeau. Maryellen should have reported the bullying.
I
should have reported it. And now it was too late.

Maryellen was still alive. I had to focus on that. She hadn't died, and she wouldn't. She couldn't.

Gina leaned past me to look at El-Al. “That's the girl—”

“Shut up,” El-Al snapped. “Chastaine, are you okay?”

A teacher sitting in front of us turned around and shushed
them. I wouldn't have been able to answer El-Al anyway. If I
opened my mouth, I would either puke or start crying too hard to talk.

“Thank you,” Ms. Rondeau said. “I'll dismiss by grade. Please go to your first block classes. Even if you want to speak to a counselor or to me or Mr. Lawrence, please go to class first and check in with your teachers. Seniors, you may go.”

The seniors got up and walked out of the auditorium. A bunch of them glared at me as they went past my row. At least, it
looked to me like they were glaring. Maybe I was only imagining
it.

But everyone at school knew who Maryellen was, which meant everyone knew why she'd tried to kill herself. Some of them probably believed the same thing I did. It was my fault, because I'd reported Jim first. Maryellen hadn't come forward until she heard I had.

If she hadn't told anyone, they wouldn't have harassed her the way they'd done to me. They wouldn't have said all the shit to her that had probably made her feel like if she didn't kill herself, things would only get worse.

No matter how hard I tried to snap myself out of it, those thoughts played on repeat in my brain.
If. What if. If only.

“It's my fault,” I said without registering that I'd spoken out loud. I gagged on the last word and bent forward, covering my mouth with both hands so I wouldn't vomit all over the floor in front of me.

“No, it isn't.” El-Al touched my arm. “It isn't your fault, Chastaine.”

“Juniors may go,” Ms. Rondeau said.

I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together enough to move. We stood up, but my legs shook so badly I wasn't sure I'd be able to walk. El-Al grabbed my arm and steadied me. From somewhere else—I didn't see where—Holly showed up and took my other arm. She must have been sitting nearby with her group.

“We need to take her to the office,” El-Al said. “She's going to pass out or something.”

“Ms. Rondeau said to go to class.” Gina kept her distance from me.

“Screw Ms. Rondeau,” Holly snapped. “Chastaine damn sure isn't going to class until someone makes sure she's okay. Come on, Chastaine. We'll help you.”

All around us, people stared. I didn't deserve help, but the nasty taste at the back of my throat warned me that if I tried to say so, I would end up losing my coffee. All I could do was let Holly and El-Al pull me up the aisle and down the hall to the nurse's office.

The nurse, Mrs. Alves, took one look at me and ushered us into one of the two cot rooms. She followed with a stethoscope I hadn't even known she owned. “Lie down, Chastaine.”

I obeyed, with my head at the end of the cot closest to the window so I could see the open door. Holly and El-Al stayed in the doorway while Mrs. Alves sat in a plastic chair beside me. She glanced over her shoulder. “You girls need to go to class.”

“We want to make sure she's okay,” Holly said.

Mrs. Alves sighed. “What class are you in?”

“History.” El-Al was in the same class as Holly, Evan, and me. “Mr. Ruiz.”

Mrs. Alves nodded. “I'll buzz down and let you know. Now go before you get in trouble.”

Holly opened her mouth again. Mrs. Alves turned back to me. “If you girls don't leave, I'm not giving you a pass.”

Holly whirled around and stomped out. El-Al followed her. I wished they'd stayed, but I didn't blame them for leaving. Mrs. Alves wasn't anyone to mess with. Neither was Ms. Rondeau, when people disobeyed her orders.

“What happened, Chastaine?” The nurse knew me way too well.

“I don't know.” I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at her face. “They said Maryellen….” I stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know. Ms. Rondeau met with the staff earlier.” She
sounded sympathetic.

“It's my fault.” I blurted it out again before I realized I was going to say it. “She and I should have been a team, but she didn't want to talk to me. I should have made her talk, or made sure she was talking to someone else, at least. I should have been more supportive.”

“How was it your responsibility?” she asked. “I understand how you feel, Chastaine, but even the people who were around her every day and listened to her didn't know she was going to do this.”

“How do you know?” I demanded. I opened my eyes and glared at her. “How do you know they didn't have a clue?”

“If they'd known, they would have tried to keep her from doing it,” Mrs. Alves said calmly. “On the other hand, if she was really determined, she might have found a way to do it anyway. It's a horrible thing to have happen, but it isn't anyone's fault. You couldn't have changed it. She survived. Hold on to that.”

I didn't believe most of what she said. The people who saw or talked to Maryellen on a daily basis hadn't been through the same thing as her, but I had. If I'd tried harder to be there for her, even if she kept not talking to me, maybe she wouldn't have felt alone enough to hurt herself. I could handle what people said to and about me, but Maryellen was only fourteen. I didn't even know why Jim had gone after a girl who was two years younger than him. Maybe he was just that much of a creep.

I blinked and realized my eyes were wet. Tears ran down the sides of my face into my hair, and my nose was stuffing up. I didn't even remember starting to cry.

“It's going to be okay.” Mrs. Alves laid a cool hand on my forehead.

That made me cry harder. My mother had put her hand on my head exactly that way when I was little and got sick or scared. And her hand had felt as cool as Mrs. Alves's.

My mom hadn't touched me that way since I was about ten. I'd told her to stop because I wasn't a little kid anymore.

“I'm going to call your parents.” She stood. “And I'll see if Mrs. Turnbull is free to come talk to you until someone can pick you up. She's your guidance counselor, right? The grief counselor's already kind of booked up.”