None of the Regular Rules (9 page)

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Ella’s house made me uncomfortable. There wasn’t anything specifically wrong with the physical house or her family, but there was just this vibe that made me feel like something bad was about to happen whenever we were there. Ella had two younger sisters—eleven and nine—and the three of them were constantly at each another. And Ella’s mom, Sandy, wasn’t very easy to be around. She was constantly crabby, always rubbing her feet with these low moaning sounds, and snapped at Ella for just about everything. Granted, Ella’s dad had been a total ass, pushing everyone around until finally Sandy snapped and kicked him out. But it had been a long couple of years of custody battles and fighting to keep Ella and her sisters away from their dad.

When I got really fed up with my own family, I would hang out with Ella’s. A few hours around her mom and sisters made my house seem heavenly. I never told her that, of course, but I think she probably knew. You just knew these things about your own home.

The Friday
after our outing with Johnny
, Ella, Grace, and I had made plans to go to the football game together. I picked Grace up first, and then we drove to Ella’s house. Neither Grace nor I said anything as we drove the three blocks from Grace’s house to Ella’s house, but I knew we were both hoping Ella would be ready and out on the front steps when we pulled up. As luck would have it, she wasn’t.

Grace and I sat on the two chairs in the living room, watching as Sandy painted her fingernails candy-apple red. “Are you going out tonight?” I asked, just trying to be friendly.

“When would I go out?” she snapped back. “Are you volunteering to babysit for Chloe and Sammie so I can have some time off?” She laughed, but it was a cold, angry sound. Guess I’d hit a nerve. I got the sense there were a lot of them to hit.

“Isn’t Chloe old enough to babysit?” Grace asked with her usual innocence. I had a feeling Sandy would perceive it as sassing—her term for someone having an opinion of her own that differed from Sandy’s. “I started babysitting when I was eleven or twelve, I think.”

Sandy squinted at Grace, then resumed painting her pinkie. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But Chloe isn’t ready for that yet. She’s too immature.” Every time I had a conversation with Sandy, it made me wonder how Ella was still even remotely normal.

“You don’t need to be such a martyr all the time, Mom,” Ella said, storming into the room. “They’re both perfectly capable of taking care of themselves for a few hours if you want to go out.”

“My job is taking care of you girls,” Sandy spat back. “I’m not going to be held accountable if someone screws up.” She jutted out her chin, and in the process, smeared a little polish across her thumb knuckle. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight—I want you home by eleven, El.”

Ella pushed out the front door. “Fine.”

“Does she really never date?” I asked when we were in the car and on the road.

“Never,” Ella said, staring out the window. “She’s too angry to attract men.”

Grace bit her lip, then her thumb made its way up to the corner of her mouth. “She does have a sort of hard life,” she said diplomatically. “She’s a single mom to three girls—I’m sure it’s not easy.”

Ella snorted. “It doesn’t need to be as hard as she makes it. If she’d just lighten up and let us make our own decisions from time to time, she wouldn’t have to spend so much time trying to live four lives instead of one.” She leaned her head on the glass and looked out at the city passing by. “It’s not like any of us are total losers or pain-med-addicted dropouts—my dad gave us his ugly-ass nose and a recessive red-hair gene, but that’s about it. He kept all of his other special qualities for himself. We turned out to be somewhat decent people, right? We are capable of making smart decisions for ourselves.”

Grace and I both nodded. It was another one of those times when Ella needed to vent, and the best thing we could do for her was to listen. Once I’d accidentally broken in and started agreeing too vehemently, and she’d turned on me. She liked to rant about her mom, but she didn’t want anyone else to join her. She said it was poor form to disparage someone else’s parent, but you could say whatever you liked about your own. That was her rule, and it seemed like a good one.

Ella carried on for a while longer, talking about how her mom had given up her life for her daughters and how they owed her something for that. It was the same stuff that got her every time—a discussion that always ended with her deciding that she maybe ought to want to go to a fancy East Coast school, just because it was her mother’s wish. “I’m not a bad kid, right? I mean, I’m smart enough, I make my own clothes so I don’t spend money on stupid stuff, I’m not pregnant….” We nodded. “So why do I feel like I’m making a mess of her life all the time?”

I started to tell her she was wrong, that she was crazy for thinking her life was a mess when she was the only person I knew who actually did have a semirealistic vision for life beyond high school, but she cut me off. “Enough. Let’s not let Sandy ruin another one of my evenings. Who wants to see my outfit?” And on that note, she effectively changed the subject.

“I do!” Grace said, easily shifting right along with her. We’d pulled into the parking lot at the football stadium, and all three of us climbed out of the car.

Ella pulled off her faux-leather jacket and twirled. “Ta da!”

Grace gasped, then began to giggle. The usually elaborately accessorized and creatively dressed Ella was wearing a plain, loose pink polo with her dark-wash jeans. When we’d picked her up, I hadn’t paid attention to the fact that her feet were in pristine checkered Converse that somehow looked cool rather than kidlike. She had a tiny ladybug necklace around her neck, and perfect pearl earrings in her ears. She slipped a headband into her hair and looked like a different person.

“You look like me!” Grace giggled. “Oh my gosh, are those my pearls?” She reached over to fix Ella’s headband.

“Maybe…” Ella said, smirking. “I might have lifted them last time I was at your house.”

“Ella!” Grace gasped. “You stole from your best friend?”

“Borrowed. For the sake of doing the seventh thing on Sophie’s list.” She cleared her throat and spoke in an announcer voice. “‘Number seven: change my style.’” She looked to me for approval. “Do you care that I just went ahead and did this one for you? It let me fulfill my dream of turning into a prep, once, as an experiment.”

“Nice,” I said, impressed. “Stealing from Grace was the right call. Grace really is the model of pink perfection. Prep in a box.”

“I am
not
prep in a box,” Grace said, her hands on her hips. “I prefer cardigans to lace leggings, but that doesn’t mean I’m a prude.”

I snickered. “We didn’t say prude. You said prude.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’m a prep in a pink gift box. With a ribbon.”

“A pretty one at that,” Ella mused. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have stolen your outfit.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “Wait! That’s my
shirt
, too?”

Ella just smiled and marched across the parking lot to the stadium, looking as confident as ever in her new preppy clothes. But I knew she was probably a mess inside. She was just great at hiding it.

As we walked through the crowds outside the football field, Grace said hi to nearly everyone. A few people looked at Ella as she passed, clearly trying to figure out why she looked so different from usual. We climbed the bleachers, looking for a seat, and Grace squealed when she saw Ian waving at us awkwardly from his spot in the stands. Grace bounced over to hug him. Ella and I subtly looked for other options.

I don’t know what it was about Ian that made me so uncomfortable. They’d been together for six months, but it still always felt like Ian and Grace were just playing the part of a couple. I hoped I was wrong, for Grace’s sake. She insisted that they were very happy, and she was constantly communicating with him—no matter where she was or what she was doing—so there had to be something. But I never got the sense that Grace was Grace when she was with him. She’d even quit the Key Club so she could spend more time with Ian.

“Hey, honey,” she cooed as Ella and I reluctantly filed into the stands to sit with Ian. Most of the other people Ella hung out with didn’t come to football games, so she was sort of stuck with us. And I…well, I didn’t have a lot of other friends. I had always had Grace and Ella, and other than that I had a tendency to float in and out of groups of people, maintaining a low profile.

It wasn’t that I was an outsider or super socially awkward or anything, it was just that I’d never made a real effort to jump into the middle of any crowds. People liked me just fine, and I was never at a loss for something to do if I wanted to go out, but I wasn’t the sort of person who had to schedule my calendar out weeks in advance.

Grace rubbed Ian’s arm mindlessly as she said, “Mind if we sit with you?” It was almost as though she was asking his permission and waiting for his approval before she sat.

Ian scooted over and Grace plunked down next to him. There wasn’t enough room for all three of us. Ian gave us a thin smile that made it obvious he couldn’t care less. Ella and I offered to get popcorn just so we could get out of the way. Ian wrapped his arm possessively around Grace and nodded approvingly. Grace didn’t even look our way.

“She’s like a zombie girlfriend when she’s with him,” Ella said—somewhat too loudly—as we walked back down the bleachers. “Doesn’t it seem like he has her on an awfully tight leash?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered, not wanting to talk about Grace behind her back. “I guess they’re just like that, maybe.”

“Did you know she’s auditioning for the Christmas Carolers?” Ella asked with a smirk. “She wouldn’t try out for the musical with us, but she’s hoping to get into the Christmas Carolers. Just so they can be together.”

“She hates the Christmas Carolers!” I said, strangely irritated by this news. The Christmas Carolers was our school’s small choral group that toured around to local stores and nursing homes during the holiday season, singing Christmas songs in strange period clothes. “Isn’t she always complaining about how she’s too busy for the activities she’s already in charge of?” We got to the concessions stand and I ordered popcorn and some taffy. It was the healthiest dinner I could put together at the game. My mom would have been proud.

As I was waiting for my change, I waved at Taryn Mattson, who was one of the intellectual cheerleaders, but also a friend of mine from skiing. She and some of her friends—the noncheerleader types—had come to a few bonfires at the public beach near my house during the summer, and we’d always had a good time. I liked her a lot, and I knew Ella did, too.

Taryn waved back, then bounced over. “What are you guys doing later?” she asked happily.

“Nothing,” I said, glancing at Ella. She shook her head and shrugged.

Taryn beamed. “A bunch of us are going to Hanging Rock tonight after the game?” It sounded like a question, but I wasn’t sure what she was asking me. Taryn looked at me expectantly, and after a longish pause, I nodded.
“If you want to come?” She grabbed my arm, then added, “We’re going with a couple guys from the team—Martinson, Haddon, Jimmy P.—and some other people?”

Ella grinned. “Yeah, we’re in,” she said, all conversation about Grace and Ian forgotten. I could tell that her mind had moved on to the idea of Peter Martinson in a swimsuit at Hanging Rock. There was no doubt in my mind that this would be all we would talk about for the rest of the game.

I was right.

A few hours and one major football-team loss later, we were in the car on our way to Hanging Rock. It wasn’t even close to dark yet, since the game had started at four. Because there was only one high school football field with a viewing area, and four high schools within fifty miles, there were always two games scheduled for every Friday. It wasn’t convenient, but it made it easy to do stuff afterward when our team was scheduled for the early game.

We’d convinced Grace to join us, but only by suggesting that Ian come along. He agreed, reluctantly, and the plan was set. I caught Ella rolling her eyes when he said yes, and I think maybe Grace saw it too, but no one said anything. Soon we had our swimsuits on under our clothes and were back in the car and on our way out to the cliff.

“Do you think you’re going to jump tonight, Sophie?” Grace asked excitedly. “It’s probably one of your last chances before the water gets too cold.”

“It’s not safe,” Ian added in his usual monotone. “None of you should be jumping. It’s careless and it’s irresponsible.”

“Thanks for the tip, Safety Officer Ian,” Ella said. “We’ll keep it in mind.”

Ian cleared his throat and Grace randomly said, “It was a pretty fun game, huh?”

“If you’re just thinking about jumping off Hanging Rock because of that list you found, don’t.” Ian gave his advice quietly, and maybe it was intended for Grace alone, but both Ella and I heard. I noticed Ella’s body stiffen next to me. She didn’t like to be told what to do by anyone, most certainly not a friend’s boyfriend for whom she had no respect. I didn’t much enjoy someone bossing me around, either. Especially when I was looking for any excuse not to make the attempt at jumping off the cliff.