siobhan vivian - not that kind of girl (16 page)

My parents sat together on the couch, watching one of those 24-hour news channels. I didn't know if they were looking for Breaking News: Local Girl Found Dead in Ditch. They looked paler, older than I'd ever seen them. "I'm so sorry," I said. They both rushed to me. Pulling at me, hugging me, and checking me over. My mom was crying. My dad had his jaw set, tears in his eyes. The way they looked at me, it made me want to vomit. How much I'd let them down. How terribly I'd worried them. The goodwill of me simply being alive wore away quickly. They demanded to know where the hell I'd been. "I was at Autumn's house. I fell asleep." "I thought you weren't talking to Autumn." Mom's voice was strange. She didn't exactly believe me, but I could tell she wanted to. And I was in luck: Because of my fight with Autumn, apparently Mom hadn't called over there to look for me. "We...we made up. I called her last night to finally talk things over. And Autumn invited me over so we could do it in person. We cried a lot. It was exhausting, and I ended up falling asleep over there. I'm really, really sorry." I hadn't noticed that I was crying, but I was. Because I was lying, and because I wanted my lie to be the truth. I got one last hug from each of them before I was grounded. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Connor texted me a bunch of times over the rest of the Thanksgiving holiday. They started out really apologetic and concerned. Messages like sorry and were your parents awake? I texted back I'm fine. And then I turned my phone off. I wished I could turn myself off, too. I could barely look at my parents. Not after how easily I'd lied to them. I was a terrible liar, but they ate it up. What other choice did they have? They didn't want to think that their daughter was capable of doing the things I'd done. I didn't want to think I was capable of them, either. As right as sleeping with Connor had felt, the realization about how other people would judge what I'd done spoiled everything. I was okay in the shed, hidden in Connor's bedroom. When it was just us operating in a judgment-free zone. Except there was no such place in real life. The addition of everyone else in my life threw Connor and me off balance. I didn't turn my phone on again until Monday homeroom. My voicemail box was full of hang-ups. The texts from Connor flooded in. Eleven of them. His tone changed with each one, sounding slightly more desperate.

Just let me know you're okay.

And angry.

Why are u ignoring me?

And defensive.

I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!

He was right. He hadn't. I'd done it all.

I first noticed people talking during lunch. I was in line at the cafeteria. Autumn, Marci, and a couple of other girls were discussing something in fevered whispers. They were so captivated, they didn't even notice that they were totally blocking the registers. I made a big show of huffing and puffing as I squeezed between them and the chip rack to get by. I even said, "Excuse me," in a snotty way, because I was so annoyed about my pizza. You can never get hot pizza at school. Those red heating lamps don't do jack. You've got literally five minutes to eat your slice, and it will be lukewarm at best. Longer than that, and you're out of luck. As I pushed past them, Autumn stopped whispering to give me a look. It wasn't a bitchy look, exactly. More like one of confirmation, a knowing look. Like I was involved somehow in whatever story they were all talking about. That's when I started to get nervous. Had Connor told people about what we'd done? As a punishment for not texting him back? I knew he was mad at me, but I couldn't believe he'd do something like that. I spent the rest of the day watching people talk. By eighth period, it was clear Ross Academy was entirely abuzz over something extremely juicy. It seemed to be the kind of gossip that literally catches fire, transcending cliques and loyalties. The same thing had happened last year, when Walter Desmon got a huge boner in swim class and refused to get out of the pool for fifteen minutes. I lurked just inside the door of the library, partially enveloped in the folds of a big American flag. If I craned my head until my neck hurt, I could see down the hall to where Dipak, Martin, and David were huddled together whispering. My ears rang, I tried that hard to eavesdrop. "Natalie?" Susan Choi popped up in front of me. "Umm, did you want the tables pushed together? Or did you want them, like, in rows?" "Whatever," I said, rising up to my toes so I could see over her head. "You choose." "Cool!" Susan said, then sprinted back to the rest of the students who'd come in for the meeting. "Okay! Natalie says that we can choose how to arrange the tables today. So...should we take a vote?" Now there was too much noise in the library to hear the conversation down the hall, so I focused below Martin's spotty mustache and tried to read his lips. It proved completely unnecessary, though, because all three heads suddenly snapped back. The boys shouted Whoa! and gasped for air in between deep laughs. My stomach seized. Sure, I'd had these kind of panic attacks ever since Connor and I got together. Only this time, I wasn't just being paranoid. The realization made my legs quiver as the boys made their way into the library. And it didn't go unnoticed that none of them could make eye contact with me as they walked past. Susan popped back out of the room. "Natalie?" She bit her lip and glanced around. "Can I talk to you for a second? Before the meeting?" "What, Susan?" "There's something I want to tell you." She exhaled so hard it fluttered her bangs. "There's a naked picture of Spencer making the rounds on everyone's cell phones." I almost couldn't believe my ears. "Are you kidding?" Susan grimaced. "I thought you'd want to know, since you're friends with her." I felt so many things. Embarrassment for Spencer. Anger. Disappointment. It reminded me of the moment Autumn had told me about her and Chad Rivington, when I couldn't believe that a friend of mine could be so stupid. More than anything, though, I felt utter relief that it wasn't me people were talking about. That somehow I had, miraculously, dodged this bullet. "Does Spencer know?" I asked. Susan shook her head. "I'm not sure. I saw her sitting in some junior guy's lap at lunch, picking the sweet peppers off his hoagie. But if she doesn't, she will soon. Everyone's phones are blowing up." I shook my head. "I wonder if she knows who took the picture." Susan shrugged. "Maybe. Unless she does this kind of thing all the time." The implication of her words hung in the air. "I think it's been forwarded and reforwarded so many times by this point, it's going to be difficult to figure out." Her lip curled. "It's really disgusting." I stared down at Susan. She seemed horribly judgmental for someone who completely idolized Spencer a few weeks ago. Then again, that's how quickly people's perceptions could change. It only took one mistake, one stupid decision. "If you want to see it, you could ask Dipak. It's on his phone. He showed it to me." She sounded almost proud. "I don't want to see a naked picture of Spencer," I said. "And I don't think other people should be looking at it, either." "It's a little too late for that," Susan said. "By the end of our meeting, you'll probably be the only person left in school who hasn't seen it."

Spencer didn't show up for the student council meeting. I wasn't surprised. The whole meeting, people kept checking their phones, as if they were hoping more photos might pop up. After the meeting, I walked straight to my car and called Connor. I was half-afraid he wouldn't pick up, but he did on the second ring. He picked up and started yelling at me. "Where have you been? I've been calling you all weekend!" "We need to talk." "Oh, so we only talk when you decide we need to?" He was really pissed. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I've..." I trailed off. "Where can we meet?" "People are going to be at the farm. We opened for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving." He sighed. "I had to bring the sleeping bag and everything inside." Our shed was gone. It felt like a Band-Aid had been ripped off. Cruel, but necessary. "I don't want to go to your house," I said, picturing his mother, staring at me from the front porch. I could hear him thinking. "There's a little dirt road before my house. On the left. It's just a turnaround spot. I'll be there in ten minutes." "I didn't think it was possible for our meet-ups to get any shadier." I meant it as a joke--a bad joke, because things were so awkward, and I wanted something to make things feel less tense. I could hear the disapproval in his silence. And then he hung up. I had a bad feeling driving over, and it got worse when I climbed out of my car. Connor leaned against the bumper of his pickup truck. He couldn't look at me. And I couldn't look at him. Of all things, I thought about Adam and Eve. How they'd been so happy, playing naked in the garden. And then in one moment, it all turned to shame. They couldn't have even known what was happening. They'd never known anything but joy. And then suddenly, there was hesitation. Silence. Awkwardness. Everything was ruined. We stood in the snow and stared at each other's toes. I could feel him trying to muster up the courage to say something. So I made sure to say something first. "Well, have you seen it?" I asked. He was completely confused. "Have I seen what?" "The picture of Spencer." "Maybe. Unless that's going to get me in even more trouble." I smacked him on the arm. "This isn't funny. Did you just see it, or do you have it?" He pulled his phone out from his pocket. I reached for it, but he lifted it high over his head. "Come on. Let me see!" "Why do you want to?" "Because she's my friend." "Then you probably shouldn't see it." My heart fell. "Just show me." He tapped a few buttons, and then passed me the phone. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Spencer like this on the tiny pixelated screen. Her curls, her puckered lips, her bare breasts cast forward toward the cameraman. My mind flashed back to that summer I'd babysat her. She had wanted to dance through the sprinklers and so I told her to get her bathing suit on. The only one that wasn't dirty was one from the summer before, when Spencer was a lot shorter. A couple of the neighborhood boys had come to play in the sprinklers, too. And it wasn't until Spencer came up to me, dripping wet and begging for a popsicle, that I noticed. The straps dug deep in her shoulders, the front dipped too low. It barely covered her. You could see everything. The kids were all innocent then. They didn't notice or care. But I was uncomfortable, because I knew better. I ran inside and made Spencer put on a T-shirt. And when I did, I felt like I was taking something away from her, instead of covering her up. I forced myself to look at the photo again. Spencer thought she was sexy, but it just made me sad. She wasn't powerful, in control. She wasn't anything she thought she was. I went to hand the phone back, but something caught my eye. Spencer held a wad of fabric up at her neck. I recognized it instantly. Her plaid nightgown. Behind her were a bunch of lab desks, a cabinet full of glass beakers. And suddenly, I knew who took the picture. "Mike Domski." "What?" "Mike took this picture." Connor looked at me blankly, like I didn't know what I was talking about. "Look," I said, "I saw him the night of the sleepover, coming out of the science lab with a shit-eating grin on his disgusting face. I know he did it." "You can't tell anyone about this, Sterling." "Says who?" I started walking toward my car. Connor grabbed hold of my arm. "Please. Don't get involved." "Why not?" He dropped his head back. "I don't know. Because Spencer kind of had it coming, after what she did to Mike in the theater? Because Spencer can do what she wants to do? Because it's none of your business?" I couldn't believe Connor was saying this. It was as if he'd pulled off the mask that I always suspected he was wearing. "Are you kidding me?" "Seriously. Spencer's going to do what she's going to do. You're not in charge of her. If she wants to tell someone, it's up to her. Not you." I stared at Connor. "How could I have not seen that you are as big of a dick as Mike Domski?" "You're angry. I understand that. But don't take it out on me. I'm trying to protect you." "What does that even mean? I don't need you to protect me. I can protect myself." "You know what I think? You're using Spencer as an excuse not to deal with what's going on with us." "What is going on with us, Connor? We're having fun, right? Fun, fun, fun. Well, you know what? I'm not having fun anymore. Not when I have to lie to my parents, not when I have to give up my life so you and I can mess around. I'm tired of messing around. It only leaves a mess. Because this is what happens--don't you see?" I handed back his phone. "It stops being fun, and it starts being other things. Like hurt. And gossip. And judgment. And blame. You might not care about that. And lord knows Mike Domski doesn't. But I do. I know you don't want me to confront him, but you know what? It feels like I've been waiting for this moment my whole life." "Sterling, don't--" His words hit my back, because I was already gone. And anyway, it was way too late for don't. Because we already had. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Spencer didn't answer any of my phone calls that night, obviously avoiding me. I drove to her apartment complex, but I couldn't remember which building I'd dropped her off at. When I went to school the next morning, I camped out at her locker. I sat right on the floor until homeroom bell. Only she never showed up. I went to AP Chemistry and took my seat. It was across the room from where Spencer had taken her now-infamous photo. It made me sick to stare at that open space, to think about what she'd done there with Mike Domski. I knew she wouldn't want to talk to me about it, but I didn't care. "Mr. Quinn? May I use the bathroom?" He looked annoyed at my outburst, but nodded toward the oxygen molecule hall pass. I walked toward the main office. Principal Hurley was there, leaning over his secretary's desk. I waited to enter until he went into his office and closed the door. "Excuse me," I said to the secretary in my most polite voice. "But could you tell me if Spencer Biddle was marked present today? I...uh, have to give her a special student council message and I haven't been able to find her." "Spencer was suspended this morning." The secretary leaned in close to the small fern flanking her desk and whispered, "Principal Hurley became aware of a picture." Damn. "When?" "About fifteen minutes ago." I sprinted out to the parking lot. And when Spencer wasn't there, I climbed into my car. I had to drive around a little before I found her a few blocks from school, waiting to cross the street. I pulled over to the side of the road and put my hazards on. "Come on," I said. "Get in." Spencer didn't look at me. "I'm fine. Thanks anyway." "Spencer. Don't be a baby. Let me drive you home." After a big sigh, she walked toward the car and leaned down to my window. "I don't want a lecture from you, okay? Because I really don't care. I honestly think the way everyone's getting worked up is funny." "Funny? Suspension is funny?" "A week's suspension is no big deal." "It will be when you start looking for colleges! I mean, I'm still haunted by a C-plus I got in Home Ec sophomore year." "Well, I'm not planning to go to Harvard, so I'm sure I'll be fine." I was fuming. She was clearly putting on an act. "I know who took the picture, Spencer. I know it was Mike Domski." The bravado melted from her face. It was the first time that I saw the little girl, the one I used to babysit. "It was not," she lied. "It was, too, Spencer! I saw him sneaking out of the labs that night. And you were wearing pajamas in the picture." Ugh. I wanted to throw up, thinking of her with him. "You knew what kind of an a-hole Mike was. Why would you do something so stupid? And why in God's name would you ever cover for him?" "The picture was just a part of my plan to get him to drop his pants at the theater. I had to make him think I was interested. He's just trying to get me back. I thought it was over, but then..." "What?" "That pinky wave thing I made up. Everyone's been doing it. Not just the girls, but boys, too. This one freshman guy did it yesterday morning, and I thought Mike was going to explode. I guess that was the final straw. Honestly, I thought he deleted the picture. That's what he'd told me, anyway." "So get him back! Tell on him!" "Natalie, stay out of it." "If you're going to be in trouble for this, then he should be, too, right? I mean, isn't that only fair? He took advantage of you, Spencer." "I wanted to pose for the picture. He didn't force me." "And that gives Mike free rein to exploit you? Spencer, you're in trouble because of what he did." She brushed her hair back. "Look, it's over. Mike and I are even. I just want it to go away." I laughed. "Go away? You're being passed around school like a trading card! Don't you have any self-respect?" "Of course I do," her voice was sharp. Of all people for her to be mad at, she was getting mad at me. "Haven't you learned anything from what I've taught you? You're better than this, Spencer!" She started laughing. "I love how you're basically calling me a slut, but you're doing the exact same thing with Connor." Now the edge was in my voice. "It's not the same thing." "You're letting Connor Hughes use you. Or you're using him. Whatever. Either way, you're a big phony. You play like you're so good and that just because you fool around with Connor in secret, you're somehow better than me. It's easier for you to be mad at me, instead of at yourself." "I am nothing like you, Spencer. Nothing." "Just leave me alone. You're not my babysitter anymore." "Well, that's too bad, because you could really use one!" I had enough. I was supposed to be in class, anyway. Spencer could walk home in the cold for all I cared. I pulled away, and vowed that I wasn't going to get involved any further. If Spencer wanted to destroy her life, so be it. But then, later that day, I saw Mike Domski at lunch, grinning like the Cheshire cat as people clamored to look at his cell phone. Suddenly, I understood why Spencer didn't tell. If she kept Mike out of it, the naked picture would be something she was okay with. But naming Mike, telling on him for what he'd done, would signal she actually did have a problem with it. And then suddenly, just like that, Spencer would be a victim. It was not a role she wanted to play. Or maybe it was more simple than that. Maybe Spencer just didn't have the guts to stand up to Mike Domski. Because the Mike Domskis of the world usually won. Either way, I knew I had to do the right thing. And I had to hope that Spencer would thank me later for it. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN As soon as I finished eating, I headed for Principal Hurley's office. His secretary said he was busy, but I ignored her and opened his door. "Let me call you back," he said, and set his phone on the cradle. I didn't even wait for him to ask me what I was doing there. I just came right out and said, "I know who took that naked photo of Spencer. It was Mike Domski." He leaned forward and said in this ridiculously helpless voice for a principal, "What do you suggest I do?" Wasn't it obvious? "Mike should be held accountable in the same way Spencer was. One week's suspension." Principal Hurley shook his head. "Spencer is the one who broke the rules here. Spencer is the one who disrobed." "Yes, but--" "And I am sure that Mike Domski wasn't the only one to forward the photograph." "Well, of course, but--" "I'm certainly not about to conduct a witch hunt, trying to find out everyone who was involved." "I'm not saying you should. But like I just told you, Mike Domski was the one who started it all. He took the picture." "Perhaps he did. But it will be your word against his, since Spencer refused to implicate her photographer. And anyway, Spencer was the one who chose to expose herself on school property. Otherwise, there would be nothing to take a picture of." I could barely sit still. "So that's it? You're going to suspend Spencer, but Mike doesn't get so much as a slap on the wrist?" "I'll have a talk with him," Principal Hurley offered. "Though I doubt he will confess. Now, do you need a pass back to class?" I did not need a pass. I walked straight out and down to Ms. Bee's office. Except she wasn't there. She was teaching. I paced the halls and finally found her classroom. I knocked on the door and summoned her out. She looked shocked by my disruption to say the least. "Yes?" "Mike Domski sent around a naked picture of Spencer. She got suspended, but nothing happened to him. And it is completely, totally unfair." Ms. Bee closed the classroom door. "Natalie. Breathe. Now, what's going on?" I did what she told me to. I breathed. And then I repeated everything slowly. When I was done, she asked, "How do you know it was him?" "Because Spencer's wearing the pajamas that she had on at girls' night. And you can tell the picture was taken in the science lab, which is exactly where I found Mike Domski hiding." She frowned. "I'm not following." Except she was following. And then I realized that I was going to be in trouble, too. "Some boys snuck into the girls' night, after you fell asleep. I tried to chase them out. I didn't want to upset you. I handled it." "Oh? Did you?" Ms. Bee shook her head. It looked like I'd only managed to delay the upset. "Natalie, you're lucky that you haven't been officially implicated in this. Principal Hurley might suspend you, too." Maybe Ms. Bee was right, but Spencer was my friend. I had to defend her. "Please. You have to help." "What I have to do is get back to my class." "You have influence over Principal Hurley. You could tell him that Mike should be held equally responsible. He'd listen to you. I know he would." "Natalie, someone like Spencer needs to learn that her actions have consequences. You tried to help her after those ridiculous Rosstitute shirts, and I supported you on that. But I'm afraid this time, she's going to have to suffer her punishment, whatever Principal Hurley
decides." She wiped at a bead of sweat on her forehead. "I will certainly see that Mr. Domski's participation is investigated. But that won't let your friend off the hook. Now get back to class immediately, or I'm going to have to write you up." CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT You'd think I would have figured it out a little quicker. After all, I'd seen it happen before to Autumn. And then, just two days earlier, to Spencer. But it took about halfway through the Wednesday before I realized that everyone was talking about me. Granted, I was in a fog. I'd given up hope that Mike would be brought to any real justice. And I knew that once Spencer found out that I'd stuck my nose into her business, she'd probably never talk to me again. Connor and I weren't speaking. Ms. Bee thought I was a moron for standing up for Spencer and, even worse, for letting boys into girls' night. And my friendship with Autumn felt like a distant memory. It turned out that Principal Hurley was true to his word. Maybe he realized that taking pictures of underage naked girls was illegal--so he wanted to get involved before the police did. Who knows? But he called Mike into his office for a stern talking to. Mike denied everything, of course. And, really, how could it be proven? The photo was texted to so many cell phones, it was impossible to determine where it had originated from. And none of the boys at school would out Mike Domski. Principal Hurley must have mentioned there was a witness, because when Mike left that office, he knew I was involved. And he didn't waste any time in getting his revenge. I was packing up my books after school when Mike walked right up to my ear and whispered, "I know all about you. About what you do with Connor. I've known since the first night you snuck over his place, you stupid little nympho." I'd never been scared of Mike Domski before. But at that moment, I trembled. "I don't know what you're talking about," I managed to say. "He's my best friend, bitch. You think he hasn't told me everything? I practically know what you look like naked." There was no dignified exit to take. So I just ran. I left my locker door open and dropped my books on the floor and I ran. In a way, I did save Spencer. Her naked picture was only infamous for about forty-eight hours, before the torch was passed to me.