doesn’t matter to me. Don’t care what others think.”
I take in a thin breath and my foot kicks the locker behind me. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Todd straightens and clasps the strap of his backpack. “Because it’s true,” he says, as if he’s telling me rain is wet.
“Look, it’s not—”
Sierra Thompson flaunts her shapely assets just by walking. The sight of her cuts me off, because Todd lifts his head toward her. Ugh, I’m ready to disappear.
“—just my mom. Something else happened.”
I stop talking, because it’s pointless. I may as well be talking to myself.
Todd points his finger to his heart, like we do when the other needs a pick-me-up. But it doesn’t have its typical effect, because his eyes are still on Sierra. “Pipes, I gotta go.”
He follows her like he’s a kitten and she’s catnip. I hide my face in my hands, a pang of jealousy jagging through me.
It’s my row’s turn to water our tomato plants in greenhouse, so I head to the heated light tray at the back of the room. When I turn, Sierra and three of her sheep friends block my way, each girl with her arms folded.
“Is it true, Zittles?” Sierra asks, knocking the cup in my hand. Dirt spills on my chest and down my shirt, and the plastic cup falls to the floor. I glance to the teacher’s desk. Coach Morris is so lax, he probably hasn’t noticed I’m being ganged up on.
I think back to Turcott cornering me this morning, back to the endless flak these girls have given me online, back to the coughing and the lunchroom incident the day before. I said nothing for Todd’s sake then. I won’t take it this time.
I level a glare at Sierra and her satin-smooth skin and perfect eyes. For once I’d like her to have pimples covering her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. To wash her face twice a day and not have it do a single thing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not that stupid, are you? I mean your
mom
.” She holds out a small newspaper clipping. With a gasp I remember her snooping through Joel’s papers last night. Patting something in her pocket.
“You didn’t,” I say, hoping it’s not true, but knowing it is. I have no other explanation for why her mom would do an out-of-the-blue news story about a murder committed nine years ago.
“Funny what you can find when you look through people’s stuff,” Sierra adds.
I snatch the article from her, ignoring the triumphant look on her idiotic face.
Lydia lifts her chin. She has a flower on her headband, and curls tumble to her shoulders. “No wonder you’re so messed up, Payback.”
I step forward, but they do too, caging me in. There’s no point in saying anything. Joel and I couldn’t hide it forever. I knew better than to have them come over last night.
Sierra closes in, narrows her stenciled brows. Her irises jag back and forth. “Wait. You’ve got…oh my lanta, it’s all over your face! Somebody call the nurse!”
They laugh, and for the first time I keep eye contact with her. I don’t know where my nerve comes from. “Too bad your ugliness is all under the skin,” I say. “If people could see how you really are, you’d look like a burn victim.”
Jaws drop, and gasps break from their glossy lips. Pulse thumping, I ignore the gawks I’m getting from people and head toward my seat. My tomato seedling is dead anyway.
They have no clue, no
idea
what it’s like to have
their
mother be the murderer. To be the one with the loopy house, the ugly face. I’ll show them. I’m not sure how. But I’m done with this. Done with being the kickee. That was the old Piper. Not anymore.
Amy Nelson turns to face me. Her hair is smooth and perfect, as usual. Freckles dot her big nose. But she doesn’t ask me a question about terminology. She doesn’t look over my clothes with a sneer.
“So,” she says.
Oh. I am. So. Sick of this.
“Yes. My mom is in prison for murder. I have acne. I don’t cheat on my tests, I
I take in a thin breath and my foot kicks the locker behind me. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Todd straightens and clasps the strap of his backpack. “Because it’s true,” he says, as if he’s telling me rain is wet.
“Look, it’s not—”
Sierra Thompson flaunts her shapely assets just by walking. The sight of her cuts me off, because Todd lifts his head toward her. Ugh, I’m ready to disappear.
“—just my mom. Something else happened.”
I stop talking, because it’s pointless. I may as well be talking to myself.
Todd points his finger to his heart, like we do when the other needs a pick-me-up. But it doesn’t have its typical effect, because his eyes are still on Sierra. “Pipes, I gotta go.”
He follows her like he’s a kitten and she’s catnip. I hide my face in my hands, a pang of jealousy jagging through me.
It’s my row’s turn to water our tomato plants in greenhouse, so I head to the heated light tray at the back of the room. When I turn, Sierra and three of her sheep friends block my way, each girl with her arms folded.
“Is it true, Zittles?” Sierra asks, knocking the cup in my hand. Dirt spills on my chest and down my shirt, and the plastic cup falls to the floor. I glance to the teacher’s desk. Coach Morris is so lax, he probably hasn’t noticed I’m being ganged up on.
I think back to Turcott cornering me this morning, back to the endless flak these girls have given me online, back to the coughing and the lunchroom incident the day before. I said nothing for Todd’s sake then. I won’t take it this time.
I level a glare at Sierra and her satin-smooth skin and perfect eyes. For once I’d like her to have pimples covering her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. To wash her face twice a day and not have it do a single thing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not that stupid, are you? I mean your
mom
.” She holds out a small newspaper clipping. With a gasp I remember her snooping through Joel’s papers last night. Patting something in her pocket.
“You didn’t,” I say, hoping it’s not true, but knowing it is. I have no other explanation for why her mom would do an out-of-the-blue news story about a murder committed nine years ago.
“Funny what you can find when you look through people’s stuff,” Sierra adds.
I snatch the article from her, ignoring the triumphant look on her idiotic face.
Lydia lifts her chin. She has a flower on her headband, and curls tumble to her shoulders. “No wonder you’re so messed up, Payback.”
I step forward, but they do too, caging me in. There’s no point in saying anything. Joel and I couldn’t hide it forever. I knew better than to have them come over last night.
Sierra closes in, narrows her stenciled brows. Her irises jag back and forth. “Wait. You’ve got…oh my lanta, it’s all over your face! Somebody call the nurse!”
They laugh, and for the first time I keep eye contact with her. I don’t know where my nerve comes from. “Too bad your ugliness is all under the skin,” I say. “If people could see how you really are, you’d look like a burn victim.”
Jaws drop, and gasps break from their glossy lips. Pulse thumping, I ignore the gawks I’m getting from people and head toward my seat. My tomato seedling is dead anyway.
They have no clue, no
idea
what it’s like to have
their
mother be the murderer. To be the one with the loopy house, the ugly face. I’ll show them. I’m not sure how. But I’m done with this. Done with being the kickee. That was the old Piper. Not anymore.
Amy Nelson turns to face me. Her hair is smooth and perfect, as usual. Freckles dot her big nose. But she doesn’t ask me a question about terminology. She doesn’t look over my clothes with a sneer.
“So,” she says.
Oh. I am. So. Sick of this.
“Yes. My mom is in prison for murder. I have acne. I don’t cheat on my tests, I
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