“Are you okay, Cuckoo?” he asks as he takes my homework. He looks like he wants to say more, but he’s not sure what. I remember that he probably has almost zero experience talking to other teenagers, because he spent his high school years in college.
I know we all kind of can’t wait to get the hell out of here, but I don’t think I’d want to have to be the youngest kid in the room all the time, like Winnie was.
“Oh, sure,” I say. “I’m fine as can be. Fine as rain. Fine as angel-hair pasta. Fine as a lice comb! Couldn’t be better. Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” For some reason, I said that last thing in a really bad Irish accent. I don’t know why I’m talking, and I can’t imagine how awful I look right now, with puffy eyes and a drippy red nose.
I just spent twenty minutes arguing with Ms. Kellerman over my diary, and I’m feeling pretty torn open and drained. I mean, I barely have enough energy to get out of bed in the morning, much less to fight with the school psychologist over privacy issues.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Winnie asks. “Or not. I mean, I’m not asking like I’m a teacher and you have to tell me. I’m asking like a… person who’s… concerned. If it’ll help. If it won’t, it’s no big deal. Oh, sorry. I’m rambling again.”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“Okay.”
Silence fills up the space between us, and I’m grateful. Grateful that he cares enough to let me just be quiet for a while. Why do people think talking solves problems?
“I’m here if you ever change your mind,” Winnie says finally.
That makes me feel like I might really talk to him someday. If I ever feel like talking again.
Right now, that’s not looking too likely.
Chapter 37
FIRE IN THE HOLE!
It’s Monday, and usually Monday lunches are the best, because the cafeteria serves up ice cream. Sometimes they even have chocolate sauce and sprinkles. But my friends and I don’t get to enjoy it, because Jenna McClue decides to serve up a fight instead.
“You bitch!” she screams, right in Brainzilla’s face. “You made out with my boyfriend!”
“Bloom?” Brainzilla gives Jenna this cool, lifted-eyebrow look that most people find super-intimidating. “Does he know he’s supposed to be your boyfriend?”
I fight the urge to crouch behind a piece of furniture. I don’t know what Jenna heard—but it must have been about me, not Brainzilla. Jenna doesn’t even glance in my direction, though. She just stares at Brainzilla’s lifted eyebrow as if she wants to rip it off.
Brainzilla frowns, like she feels sorry for Jenna. “Look, I hate to tell you this, but your so-called boyfriend has—”
“Stop talking!” Jenna screeches, just before she lunges at my best friend. Suddenly—it’s on.
Brainzilla is losing, big time! Jenna has wrapped her fingers in Brainzilla’s hair and is yanking like she’s trying to get the top off a cheap wine cooler. Brainzilla lets out a scream, and I don’t even have time to think—I just jump in and bite Jenna’s arm.
“She bit me!” Jenna is shrieking like a car alarm bent on revenge, but the minute she lets go of Brainzilla’s hair and comes after me, Flatso dives in and holds her off.
Tebow grabs Jenna and delivers her—still screeching—to a group of stunned Barbies. “Stay away from him!” Jenna screams. “Stay away from my boyfriend!”
Brainzilla’s fingers are covering her eye. I can tell it’s swollen from where Jenna’s fist caught her right under the brow bone. “Don’t worry, I will!” Zilla snarls.
And there’s a moment—just a tiny moment—when I should say, “She never went near him! That was me—Bloom tried to attack me!” But the moment slips by, and Flatso steps forward and wraps a thick arm protectively around Brainzilla’s shoulder.
“Come on,” Flatso says gently.
The entire cafeteria is silent as Flatso steers us all toward the door. Everyone stares—I feel their eyes like fingers poking at me.
“Get me out of here,” Brainzilla whispers. I catch my best friend’s spare hand, and Eggy takes up the rear. We’re just heading to the girls’ room, but I feel like we’re escorting a prisoner to the cellblock.
Chapter 38
SISTERS IN TEARS
What the hell is wrong with people?” Brainzilla wails once we’re behind closed doors. She, Eggy, and I are crammed into the handicap stall of the girls’ bathroom. I put down a huge mass of paper towels all over the toilet, just in case anyone needs to sit down. Flatso stands in front of the locked stall door to make double sure nobody comes in.
“Oh, Zilla,” Eggy says, pulling her close. Brainzilla’s tears leak onto Eggy’s shoulder. Eggy’s tears pour into Brainzilla’s hair. My tears spill down my face and fall into my lap. (Yes, I’m the one sitting on the toilet.) And Flatso’s tears trickle straight into the corners of her mouth.
“My nose is pouring snot all over your sweater,” Brainzilla says.
“I love snot,” Eggy swears.
Brainzilla holds out her hand to me, and I squeeze it. She has a massively swelling eye, and her hands are shaking. I press her fingers to my cheek. “People have been mean to me before,” she says. “But I’ve never been—attacked.” She gulps for air, and her tears start to flow again.
I know how she feels. Having someone go after you like that—for no reason, or for a reason that isn’t even real—it messes with your sense of safety. I remember Bloom, the fear I felt when I was shut into that small car with him and thought I’d never get out—
“I hate those Haters for making me cry,” Eggy says, smashing her knuckles into her eyes. “I never cry!”
“If Jenna tries anything again, I’ll pound her into hamburger,” Flatso promises.
“That’s just it!” Brainzilla cries. “No pounding! I’m all about nonviolence! But the Haters—they’re making me into the guy from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre!”
She sobs again, and Flatso looks like someone has just ripped her heart out, and I’m feeling so low I’m practically at the center of the earth.
This is all my fault. Bloom tried to make out with me, not Brainzilla. Jenna should’ve mistakenly tried to claw my eyes out. And yes! I know that doesn’t make sense! Neither one of us is after Jenna’s boyfriend, so what difference does it make, right? But still—I should’ve said something, even though it probably just would’ve made everything more confusing. My heart is skittering like it can’t get a foothold, and then, before I even know what I’m doing, I hear myself say, “Knock, knock.”
Silence, except for the sound of breathing.
“What?” Brainzilla says after a moment.
I clear my throat. “Um… I said, ‘Knock, knock.’ ”
Eggy’s voice is tentative. “Who’s there?”
“Hater.”
“Hater, who?” Flatso asks.
“Hey, dere!” I say in a really bad Italian accent. “Woulda you lika some lasagna?”
Everyone stares at me for a moment.
It’s a long moment.
Yep, still going.
Finally, Brainzilla sniffs. “Hey, dere,” she says slowly. “That was totally the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”