“I’m not going with Ryder to any more dances,” Ava says.
“That’s what you said last year,” Danielle says, tilting her head. “But then . . . wait, tell me again about the fall ball?” She takes a bite of her salad and smiles.
Ava looks stung. “Well, maybe I’ll go with Chase this year if you’re not.”
Danielle laughs. “Do you actually think he’d ask you?”
Ava clenches her smoothie and backs away from the table. Her mouth opens and closes a few times like she has something to say, but then she sighs and turns around, storming away from the table.
“Lighten up,” Danielle says, “I was just kidding.” She sighs and stands, following Ava out of the cafeteria. I hate watching them act like this, but I don’t know what I could do to make anything better. Danielle wouldn’t listen to me.
“Promise me you’ll always be nice to me,” Hannah says once they’re gone.
“No matter what,” I say.
She swirls her straw in her drink. “So you really don’t think you’re going to ask him?” We’re back on James Dean. “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to.”
“I don’t know.” I bite into a crouton, picturing Dean in a tux, and it’s kinda beautiful. But then I remember the relief that flashed across his face when I told him I wasn’t a virgin, and the image pops.
“You’ll be fine. Beautiful unicorn princess, remember?”
“I’m a lying, idiot princess.”
“Well, at least you’re still a princess,” she answers. “That counts for something. Just ask him, okay?”
We get let out of French early because Madame Deschenes has a headache, so Hannah and I take our time in the bathroom after class and then head to the senior lounge. It’s mostly empty, except for some of the guys in our French class. When we walk in, Andrew and Edwin are huddled over by the window with Ryder and Simon Terst. I say bonjour to them, but no one answers me. They’re all focused on something on the wall I can’t see, pointing and whispering in a way that can only mean something bad.
“What does it say?” Simon asks from the outside the circle, trying to break through. Ryder is blocking his view of whatever they’re looking at because he’s practically seven feet tall.
“It’s so gross, man,” he says to Simon by way of explanation.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Andrew steps aside so I can see. Someone has taken a Sharpie to the wall and written a message in thick black ink.
DANIELLE OLIVER TASTES LIKE ROTTEN FISH
The letters are messy, like someone scrawled them there in a hurry. I feel my stomach clench. Hannah takes a sharp breath next to me.
“Who wrote this?” I ask, feeling slightly queasy. This is so much worse than a few hidden notes stuffed into a bag or a locker. This is public. Who would do something so messed up?
“I don’t know,” Andrew says. “It was there when we got here.”
“What the hell.” Hannah turns to the huddle of guys. “Hey, asshats!” They stop talking and look at her in surprise. “Who wrote this?”
Ryder steps back, holding his long arms out in surrender. “Whoa, Choi. Calm down. Are you on your period?”
Hannah reddens at his remark.
“It was on the wall when we came in,” Edwin says. “There wasn’t anyone in here.”
“We should clean it.” I scan the room for something I can use to scrub the wall. “We should get rid of it before anyone else sees.”
“No way!” Ryder moves slightly to block me. “It’s hilarious.” He pulls out his phone and snaps a quick picture.
Simon pulls out his phone, imitating Ryder. “Good call, dude.”
“Delete those pictures,” I say, my voice rising in alarm.
“Hey, man. That’s not cool.” Andrew takes a step toward Ryder and Simon.
“You telling me what to do?” Ryder asks, stepping forward. “You got a problem?” Despite Andrew’s sizable height, Ryder still towers over him. Edwin takes a step closer too, rearranging himself so he and Andrew are shoulder to shoulder. Andrew looks at Ryder and narrows his eyes.
“If you think this”—he motions toward the writing on the wall—“is funny, then I’ve got a problem.”
“You guys are seriously mean,” Hannah says, spitting the words at Ryder and Simon. She pulls a water bottle and some napkins out of her bag, using them to scrub the wall. The marker doesn’t budge, the words dark and angry as ever.
“Looks like it’s permanent.” Ryder smirks.
“Did you write this?” I ask him, taking a step forward. He’s so much taller than me that it’s almost comical. But fuck him if he thinks something like this is funny.
“I wish I wrote it,” Ryder answers.
“I’m getting some soap,” Hannah says, running out toward the bathroom down the hall.
“You sure about that, man?” Andrew nods at Ryder as more people start pouring into the lounge. The other classes must have been let out. Hannah still isn’t back with the soap and towels, and now everyone is going to see.
And then Danielle walks in, arm in arm with Sophie Piznarski. They’re laughing about something, oblivious to the tension in the room. I suck in a breath, glancing over at Andrew, hoping he has an idea. He leans awkwardly against the wall, trying to keep the words hidden from view.
Then Chase lumbers in behind Danielle, messy brown hair tucked in under his usual Red Sox cap. He’s whistling, headphones in, and he fist-bumps the group of guys beside me—Ryder, Simon, Edwin, and then Andrew, who raises an arm awkwardly, trying to keep the words covered. If Chase notices Andrew’s strange position or the tension among the group of guys, he doesn’t say anything, just continues to his locker.
Hannah runs back into the room with the towels, and her face crumples when she notices Danielle and then Chase. Her eyes dart quickly back and forth between the two and she tucks the towels behind her back, trying to be discreet.
I know it’s hopeless, no matter how hard we try to hide the ugly words from Danielle. Now that there are pictures, the whole school will know in seconds. Still, I don’t want it to become a spectacle, especially in front of Chase. If he’s the one who wrote it, I don’t want him to get the satisfaction of a reaction. And if he didn’t write it, then I don’t want him to know it even exists.
But then, over the clamoring chatter of students, I hear Ryder call out, his voice deep and loud.