But listen . . . we’ll talk more. Soon.” He puts his hands back on my shoulders, then lets them slide down my arms, his fingertips lingering against mine for just an instant before he backs away. “Okay?”
The door to the girls’ bathroom opens, and Mazzie strolls out. I turn to watch her, but she doesn’t even give us a glance as she passes. By the time I turn back, Drew is also gone.
Not long after he’s left my sight, it occurs to me that I’m so sick about Will, I don’t even remember what Drew and I just talked about. I’m left standing there all by myself, confused and horrified by what Mazzie knows and who she might tell, and there’s a part of me aware of the fact that I’ve got a vocab quiz in Latin class in about thirty seconds, and I’m going to be late, and there’s nothing I can do about any of it.
chapter 5
Things aren’t the same after I find Mazzie under the sink. A few days later, when I’m almost asleep, she says, “Tell me why you lied about your brother.”
Most people would ask, instead of giving an order, but as I’m learning, Mazzie isn’t most people.
So even though I know she could tell everyone, and probably ruin everything I have going for me at Woodsdale, I tell her. I tell her everything. When I’m finished, she says, “Oh. So you’re a freak.”
If it came from anybody else, I’d be offended by the label. But hearing Mazzie say it, along with the fact that she’s finally willing to talk to me, gives me a strange sense of relief and satisfaction. “Yeah.”
“And a liar.”
“Yeah, I guess I am. Mazzie, why were you under the sink?”
“You know,” she continues, and I can hear her smiling above me, “I could tell there was something different about you, Katie. I’ve tried so hard to hate you. . . . You’re really annoying, you know?”
“Thank you.”
“You and Lindsey and Estella hanging around together all the time, talking about swimming and boys and swimming and boys, and everyone following the three of you around like your farts smell like hot fudge . . . it just makes me want to barf.”
“What were you doing under the sink?”
“But I’ve been thinking that I should probably come out with you sometimes . . . I think I’m going to be stuck here, so I should probably make some friends. Okay?”
Can she hear me smiling now? “Mazzie, you’ll have to come to parties. You’ll have to talk about swimming and boys and you’ll have to . . . you know, talk to people.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid.” She pauses. “Now, Katie, when I talk to people, should I tell them your secret? Or is that just between us?”
“That’s funny. I don’t know, should I mention where you like to spend your study halls?”
“Hmmm.” She pretends to think about it. “You know what? I changed my mind. I do hate you, Katie.”
“I hate you too, Mazzie.”
She sighs. “Good night, freak.”
“Good night, loser.”
About a week later, I’m awake in bed, listening to Mazzie as she mutters in her sleep. I feel the mattress shifting above me as she kicks the covers away. When she’s not talking to herself—still in Korean—she keeps grinding her teeth.
The muttering grows louder than I’ve ever heard it. I sit up in bed, unsure of what to do. It’s painful to listen to her, obviously so unhappy. I have to do something, don’t I?
So I get up, switch on the reading lamp on my desk, climb halfway up the ladder to the top bunk, and give her a tentative shake. “Mazzie,” I whisper.
She’s so sweaty that, even in our air-conditioned room, her hair sticks to her face in wet strands.
“Mazzie!” I almost shout.
She sits up, opens her eyes, and looks at me with wild panic. She reaches out and grabs me by the arm; her palm is clammy. Without a word, she reaches into her mouth with her free hand and removes a thick piece of red plastic. It’s a mouth guard, meant to keep people from grinding away the enamel on their teeth. Will has one
The door to the girls’ bathroom opens, and Mazzie strolls out. I turn to watch her, but she doesn’t even give us a glance as she passes. By the time I turn back, Drew is also gone.
Not long after he’s left my sight, it occurs to me that I’m so sick about Will, I don’t even remember what Drew and I just talked about. I’m left standing there all by myself, confused and horrified by what Mazzie knows and who she might tell, and there’s a part of me aware of the fact that I’ve got a vocab quiz in Latin class in about thirty seconds, and I’m going to be late, and there’s nothing I can do about any of it.
chapter 5
Things aren’t the same after I find Mazzie under the sink. A few days later, when I’m almost asleep, she says, “Tell me why you lied about your brother.”
Most people would ask, instead of giving an order, but as I’m learning, Mazzie isn’t most people.
So even though I know she could tell everyone, and probably ruin everything I have going for me at Woodsdale, I tell her. I tell her everything. When I’m finished, she says, “Oh. So you’re a freak.”
If it came from anybody else, I’d be offended by the label. But hearing Mazzie say it, along with the fact that she’s finally willing to talk to me, gives me a strange sense of relief and satisfaction. “Yeah.”
“And a liar.”
“Yeah, I guess I am. Mazzie, why were you under the sink?”
“You know,” she continues, and I can hear her smiling above me, “I could tell there was something different about you, Katie. I’ve tried so hard to hate you. . . . You’re really annoying, you know?”
“Thank you.”
“You and Lindsey and Estella hanging around together all the time, talking about swimming and boys and swimming and boys, and everyone following the three of you around like your farts smell like hot fudge . . . it just makes me want to barf.”
“What were you doing under the sink?”
“But I’ve been thinking that I should probably come out with you sometimes . . . I think I’m going to be stuck here, so I should probably make some friends. Okay?”
Can she hear me smiling now? “Mazzie, you’ll have to come to parties. You’ll have to talk about swimming and boys and you’ll have to . . . you know, talk to people.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid.” She pauses. “Now, Katie, when I talk to people, should I tell them your secret? Or is that just between us?”
“That’s funny. I don’t know, should I mention where you like to spend your study halls?”
“Hmmm.” She pretends to think about it. “You know what? I changed my mind. I do hate you, Katie.”
“I hate you too, Mazzie.”
She sighs. “Good night, freak.”
“Good night, loser.”
About a week later, I’m awake in bed, listening to Mazzie as she mutters in her sleep. I feel the mattress shifting above me as she kicks the covers away. When she’s not talking to herself—still in Korean—she keeps grinding her teeth.
The muttering grows louder than I’ve ever heard it. I sit up in bed, unsure of what to do. It’s painful to listen to her, obviously so unhappy. I have to do something, don’t I?
So I get up, switch on the reading lamp on my desk, climb halfway up the ladder to the top bunk, and give her a tentative shake. “Mazzie,” I whisper.
She’s so sweaty that, even in our air-conditioned room, her hair sticks to her face in wet strands.
“Mazzie!” I almost shout.
She sits up, opens her eyes, and looks at me with wild panic. She reaches out and grabs me by the arm; her palm is clammy. Without a word, she reaches into her mouth with her free hand and removes a thick piece of red plastic. It’s a mouth guard, meant to keep people from grinding away the enamel on their teeth. Will has one
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