The Taming of the Drew (11 page)

I had texted Mrs. Bullard that 1) Drew was being tempted, 2) Bianca needed a ride and a guy was hitting on her, and 3) she should wait fifteen minutes before leaving to come pick them both up. And yes, everything I sent her was auto-tweeted to my twitter account.

Thankfully, Mrs. Bullard did what I asked her to do, down to the (text) letter without asking questions.

Which meant that Drew had no choice but to wait around for his mom, standing beside Bianca and glaring at the (now — counting Tio —
three
) guys drooling over her. Once his mother arrived, Drew, without a car, had no easy way to beg off and go to Steve's. All his friends had already left while Bianca's guys were drooling.

Now, the Greenbacks were finally alone. “Without Mrs. Snyder's accidental help tonight,” I wailed, “this would've gone down in history as one enormous, gigantic,
huge
failure.

“That's true,” said Tio.

“Hey! You don't have to agree so fast.” I held my head in my hands. “Sorry. I'm just depressed. One little me — okay one
tall
me — cannot possibly do this. I can't even hold my own around those kids, much less somehow…I don't know…undo everything that happens around the Dog. He's like a magnet for trouble. Everyone wants to drag him away, to show him something that'll impress him. It's like a cult. The Cult of the Dog. There's no way I can fight that.”

Helena sat down gingerly beside me.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t think you can pull this off. You can’t pull the same stunt over and over. And you can’t afford to pay both your tickets into every University function. He’s too proud to ask, but sooner or later one of the Dog’s pals is going to notice and offer to loan him money. That’s when he’ll leave you in the dust. Even more than tonight.”

There was a long, painful silence. It was hard to hear, even though I knew it was true. And it sounded even more hopeless, when you said it out loud. I swallowed past tears. “The
trees
,” I said.

“Oh no,” wailed Gonzo. “Don’t cry. I can’t stand it if
you
cry. Not after everything — the bruises you covered with make-up, the way you got all dressed up and no one noticed, and the way you walked right up in front of all those horrible people and faced him down.” Gonzo’s voice shook. “You can’t give up
now
.”

In the silence, Phoebe said, “I could smack him around, you know.”

We all looked at her. Robin said, “You weigh — what? — a hundred pounds?”

Phoebe said, “Just leave me alone for a couple of months and I’ll be like a cocked and loaded gun. With the safety off.”

Oh, God.

“You knew?” I said.

She smiled. “You guys are sweet. And you’re right — I do feel a lot better if I blow off steam.”

“Why did you let us think it was a secret?”

“Where would I be without friends to keep me sane? Where would any of us be? Besides,” she pulled out her index card, “if I’d mentioned it before, we might not have played the Uni-watching game. Why would I open my mouth and miss out on forty bucks?”

“Hey! That’s it!” I said, “That’s the key!”

They all stared at me. “Forty bucks?” said Alex. “I don’t think you could get the Dog to cross the street for forty bucks.”

“Friends!” I shouted it like a
eureka
. “It’s your
friends
that keep you sane — you said it yourself, Phoebes.”

“No way you’re going to get the Dog a friend for forty bucks,” Viola said. “I’m pretty sure even prostitutes cost more.”

Shocked silence.

“Come on, give me a hand up,” I said, “I’ll explain on the way home.” The night had been a near-disaster, but we’d survived, barely, and now I had this idea, this ray of tiny hope. If I could somehow change the Dog’s pack, maybe he’d start to change too. Or maybe a change in his group would at least tone things down. We stood, dusting off, checking for wallets and bags, shaky but together. If I could just get all the pieces for my idea in place before Monday…
 

That's when Celia stomped so hard toward us, it seemed like her stilettos ought to be puncturing the concrete. “I knew you were up to something.” Celia’s voice rang down the school's empty hallway. “I knew it.”
 

She stopped in front of me, one hand on her hip, one palm flopped out. “I want my picture.”

I raised my eyebrows.
 

“Of the Dog,” she said, her voice singsong, like I was an idiot.

I so did not have time for this right now. “Look, Celia, if you're so desperately in love with the guy, sneak into the locker room to stare at him yourself.”

“Ugh!” She reeled back in apparently genuine horror, as if I had suddenly pulled a big black bug out of my nose. “I don't
like
the Dog. Monosyllabic gorilla. What’s to like?”

Tio and I exchanged looks. “Are we talking about the same guy?” Tio asked.

Celia bit at her cuticle, already bored with us. “Pay attention. He can’t string two words together.”

“And you care about vocabulary because…why again?” Phoebe asked, mesmerized.
 

Celia actually reached over and knocked on Phoebe’s head. “Hello in there? Me –“ Celia pointed at her semi-exposed chest, “family of lawyers. We don’t care much for Neanderthal cretins. Earning potential over and done before thirty,” She rolled her eyes, “and that’s
best
case scenario.”

“Ooh,” said Robin, “harsh.”

Celia narrowed her eyes at Tio and me like she'd just realized something. “Are you saying the Dog’s been droning on and on around you two? What’s he talking about,
exactly
?”

“Celia, you need to get over this weird stalker thing you’ve got going with the Dog. Now that you mention it, you’re right — he doesn’t talk around his friends.”

“He grunts,” she corrected me.

“Whatever. The fact is, I snapped your photo, but I don’t have the picture.”

“Well where is it?” It was like she thought I could pull an eight by ten of my bra.

But she had a point. Tio and I looked at each other. So where
was
it?

“I haven’t a clue. Probably Mrs. Bullard has it.”

“Oh no she doesn’t. That woman wouldn’t know how to find a SIM card with a map in her hands and the entire Google staff shouting instructions. Besides, I know for a fact she didn’t leave the meeting with that camera in her possession.”

Which meant the camera might still be in the Dean’s office, which meant that a cleaning lady or a secretary or an aide might have replaced it where it belonged without knowing what was in it.

Oh. No. If those pictures were still in the school's digital camera…Tio and I realized it at the same time and he went “eep!”
 

We were looking a Homeland Security Level Mega-Red disaster. Someone on the school news staff would walk in Monday morning and turn on the camera. The football team bare-from-the-waist up photos would, at minimum, be plastered all over the school paper. Even if a teacher stepped in and stopped
that
from happening, the files would be passed all over the world, and there would be an investigation about how the pictures had been taken, and —
especially
— who illegally snuck out the camera to take them, and then the lawsuits from parents would pile up until the thick envelopes of subpoenas jammed the old-fashioned mail slot on the central office door.
 

It was my absolute worst fear — the reason I didn’t want him to tag along — Tio and I
both
would be dead.
 

So would the trees. The whole deal would be off. I’d be hung out to dry. And I couldn’t really blame the school or Mrs. Bullard for doing it. Instead of preventing more bad news about the Dog, I’d be causing it.

How could I have forgotten the camera?
How
?

“You know something about where those photos are, don’t you,” Celia turned on Tio like maybe she sensed panic and had a better shot at getting info out of
him
.

There was a held-breath silence. All the Greenbacks knew something major was at stake, even if they didn’t know exactly what. I couldn’t kick Tio or interrupt without alerting Celia that maybe we
did
know where the camera might be, not with Celia standing right here watching. And Tio was a hideous liar. His face was bulging like G-forces were building, hurtling him toward some inevitable collision. We watched in horror. Tio’s eyes swiveled around looking for a way out but not finding one. He was on the spot. No one could help. Everyone took a step closer to him. He opened his mouth…

Tio shrieked, “You secret, black and midnight hag!”

Celia blinked. She popped a hand on her hip and her eyes went to slits, “Ex-
cuse
me? Who you calling a — ”

“That’s Macbeth,” I said, “Ignore him.” I took a shaky breath and let it out, slow. “Look, you want info, talk to the Dog. He or his mom knows way more than we do about what’s going on.”

“I told you, the Dog doesn’t talk. And frankly, Mrs. Bullard scares me almost as much as your little friend-freak here.” Celia still looked rattled, and edged away from Tio.

Ooh, she
so
deserved what I was about to do. “Listen, Celia, for all your trouble, I’ll give you a freebie. I’ll
tell
you the secret to getting the Dog talking. In fact, I can promise that you’ll
wish
you could shut him up.”

“So what’s the secret,” Celia asked, hitching her beaded-strap skinny purse high on her shoulder, like she had lots of place to be and didn’t really care if I told her or not. But I didn’t quite believe her — that she didn’t have a crush on Drew. If she did, God knows she would never want us to know. She was way too interested in him, and this greedy tone entered her voice when she started talking specifics, the way obsessed people do.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. If you think I’m selling you a load of bull, check with his sister. Bianca, I’m sure, will back me up on this one.” I nodded at the Greenbacks that it was time to head out and we shuffled toward the parking lot where the dance crowd emptied out of the gym.

“What? Wait! You didn’t say. What’s the secret?” Celia said, unwilling to let it go, but equally unwilling to be seen walking with us.

I turned and skipped backwards in the middle of the group, cupping my hands around my mouth to call to her, “Here’s the big secret. Just get him mad enough.”

Chapter 4

The Greenbacks arranged to met in the fairy circle Monday before school to discuss the new plan. I got there on time, and then had to wait for everyone else. My nerves were sizzling and my head still hurt from the Take Down and my hands had this tiny shake going when I held them out — probably from too little sleep. I paced for a few moments. Everyone else being late was making me angry — I got up early, why couldn’t they? — but then I took a deep breath and just sort of…I don’t know…stopped fighting it. I let go.

I flopped on my belly across the mother-stump. My arms and legs flapped out in four directions, hanging over the edges. I closed my eyes, thinking that at least I could catch a few minutes sleep.
 

And then it seeped into me. Like it always does.

The peace, the hope. The smell of soft needles that also could be spiky when they needed to be. A breeze shuffled through overhead, like it was giving the trees a wake-up shake, one after the other. A fallen twig pecked me on the cheek then slid off my face to the stump, leaving a tickle trail behind.

I let my brain stop thinking. Which is harder than it sounds.

I floated.

When I opened my eyes, the air had lightened to a dim pinkness. All the Greenbacks stood or sat around, no one saying a word.

I sat up and gave a slow blink. “You guys are quiet,” I said. “I wasn’t asleep, you know.” I don’t know why, but I felt like I’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

“Sorry we’re late,” Phoebe said, but she didn’t sound sorry at all. “You been here long?”

“That’s a silly question,” Helena said, “just look at her.” Everyone got suddenly awkward, like Helena had said something she shouldn’t have. Helena rushed to fill the silence, “Did you send the message to Mrs. Bullard?”

“What message? You didn't call off the deal, did you? This deal with Mrs. Bullard is still our best shot,” said Phoebe.
 

I nodded in agreement with Phoebe. “But it’s a big gamble. It won’t work the way things are. Which is why something major has to change.” I took a deep breath and powered up my cell to share what I’d already done.
 

Everyone crowded around to peer at my tiny cell screen.
 

“So I sent her a follow-up message. I had to type complete sentences, because I couldn’t risk Mrs. Bullard not knowing an abbreviation. The message ended up being longer than I wanted, but still — it was the hardest few words I ever wrote.”

“Including honors English with Mr. Gorn in eighth grade?”

“Even including Mr. Gorn’s assignments. Worse by
far
. Here’s what I sent:”

Went to dance with UR son. Lots of insight. Cause = hopeless as is.
 

Reading that first part again made me want to cry. There it was — I’d put it in writing that this deal with Mrs. Bullard, and saving the trees, was hopeless.

I scrolled down to the next parts:

Only chance = transfer Drew to Academy pod.

Deans will do it if you insist.

Must do now. That means by Monday. Tomorrow.

Hurry.

Seeing it in print, even electronic print, made everyone simultaneously take a big inhale.

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on Mrs. Bullard,” said Gonzo. “You
still
really think it’s that big a rush?”

I felt my shoulders sag. “No way would I suggest something like this if I didn’t have to. Think about it though. How long until the Dog hits up one of his friends for money? Or until Celia finds out about my arrangement with Mrs. Bullard and blows the whole thing? Or, worse yet, all the Dog really needs is one more weekend — that’s
all
— to get into big enough trouble that it’s over. Everything. Him and the trees.”