Confessions of a Hater Read online

  Now, don’t shoot the messenger, but this is how it was according to Noel:

  Locker placement is basically the first time you figure out your place in the social pecking order. It’s all about having your locker in the primo hallway. If you get a locker far away or in a desolate area where there’s not a lot of foot traffic, you’re pretty much screwed. You won’t ever hear the good gossip or know what’s going on, and nobody will want to come hang out at your locker. (Or, even worse, only the other social pariahs will hang out at your locker.)

  You have to make sure all your friends have lockers near you. If you get a random weirdo, nerd or simply someone from another social circle stuck between you and your friends, like some weird loner ending up in your cabin on an amusement park log flume ride, you need to gently (but firmly) get them out.

  The key to getting the best hall is that someone from your group has to go to school over the summer and scope out where you want your lockers to be, writing down all the locker numbers in the good group. Chances are, a lot of groups will want to claim the best lockers, so someone from your group must come to school early with all your locks and stake your claim first. You want to have your locker next to those of all your friends. Even if it’s in the right hall but you’re on the “wrong side” of the hallway, that can suck. You might miss out on stuff, and you could end up feeling left out.

  It’s also important to have other cool groups near your own.

  (I know this all sounds nuts, but it’s high school—of course it’s nuts.)

  For instance, once you get into the right hallway, you might want to migrate over a few lockers, or across the hall, depending on which guys have lockers near you. You also might want to avoid conflicting groups, necessitating a little more sliding over. Basically, you have about forty-eight hours to lock down and finalize your locker placement. Then you’re pretty much stuck. One or two people may be able to move, but as a group, you will be there for at least a semester.

  This brings us back to the new revolution when it came to the decorating of lockers. This had become such a “thing” that people were spending, like, ridiculous amounts of money to decorate their lockers. Okay, can I just say one thing?

  It’s a freaking locker!

  It’s a place to keep your books and your jacket and maybe to keep a mirror just to do the after-lunch spot-check to make sure you don’t have a poppy seed in your teeth from that poppy-seed-lemon loaf you snarfed down before class. (I had a mirror in my locker, but when it’s covered in fish guts, it loses a lot of its usefulness.)

  Sure, I suppose decorating a locker is a way to express your individuality and make that space your own, but I’ve heard it described as “nesting.” (What? Are they planning on moving into their lockers?) I’ve seen with my own eyes, like crazy excessive decorations. Not just wallpaper and standard crap, but like … chandeliers. I mean, really?

  Getting back to the mission at hand: From the look on Jericha’s face, she realized she shouldn’t have questioned Queen Skyler—once you’re out, you’re out, as Anya and I know perfectly well—and she must have wanted to change the subject. She pointed to a magazine Skyler was holding. Skyler was reading various horoscopes aloud.

  I wonder what Skyler’s astrological sign is, I thought. Probably Cancer. It should be Cancer. Hey, Skyler, what’s it say for Cancer? “Today, you will be a total bitch?”

  “Read mine,” Jericha said, mouth full of a banana-nut muffin, crumbs dotting her all-too-carefully considered ensemble.

  “You know, you may as well be eating cake,” Skyler said with her usual disdain.

  “It’s banana-nut,” Jericha said.

  “I don’t need to see it half-digested. Chew and swallow. Then speak.”

  Jericha swallowed. “It’s healthier than a chocolate muffin.”

  “Look, eat what you want. But when you start crying because you can’t fit into your skinny jeans, um, because you’re no longer skinny? Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

  Jericha said nothing for a moment. “Are you going to read mine?”

  “Fine,” Skyler sighed. “What sign are you?”

  “Gemini!” Jericha gasped, never so great at learning her lesson. “Still Gemini! These things don’t change! I tell you every week.”

  “Like I’m supposed to memorize it?” Skyler said, rolling her eyes like she was training a puppy. I swear, if eye rolling burned calories, girls would never have to work out.

  Anya giggled softly, so I pressed a finger up to my lips, and she swallowed her amusement. If we were detected, it would blow everything.

  Skyler looked for the horoscope. “Gemini. Here it is: ‘If you’ve been wondering why someone seems to act a little strangely whenever they’re near, you may be about to find out. Don’t be surprised by the sudden revelation that they have romantic feelings toward you.’”

  “Oooh, I wonder who it is,” Jericha said. She seemed genuinely excited. I’ll bet she believes in unicorns too. Hey, Skyler, tell Jericha her new beau’s a unicorn.

  “Maybe it’s Mr. Davies,” Skyler said, sharpening her claws right on cue. “Maybe you can stare into his nostrils from up close!”

  “I’d rather make out with my grandfather.”

  “Ew,” Skyler said, but you couldn’t tell if it was directed toward Jericha or the fact that Xandra had emerged from our hiding place and was heading toward them.

  As Xan marched forward, I felt my phone vibrate in my hand. We’d all checked our phones several times to make sure the sound was off—can’t have a poorly timed ring tone exposing us at the worst time—but now I was thinking I should have just turned it off. I glanced down to see a text from Chris: hey you, whats up?

  Boy, will I have a story for you, I thought. Someday.

  Skyler watched Xan approach with the look of a child being spoon-fed spinach. You can make all the airplane noises you want to, Mom, but it’s not gonna make that green crap any more appetizing.

  “Hey, Skyler,” Xandra said, as if they’d been best buds since kindergarten.

  Skyler looked confused. God, I love that look on her. “Hey … person I don’t know.”

  “What do you have fifth period?” Xan asked, undeterred.

  “I have…” Skyler thought for a second. “Spanish. Why?”

  “Oh,” Xandra said. “Well, our ‘Elizabeth’ dropped out of Drama. And we can’t very well do Pride and Prejudice without an Elizabeth Bennett.”

  Skyler looked at her blankly. “This conversation is actually worse than Spanish class. Speak English! What are you trying to say to me? I don’t know who Elizabeth Whoever is, and why are you telling me this?”

  “She’s a character. I thought you’d be perfect for the part,” Xandra said. “They’re having auditions during fifth period, so I thought maybe you’d want to try out.”

  “You thought wrong,” Skyler said. “Like, I’m going to spend my free time in the auditorium with a bunch of theater geeks? Um … no.”

  “Okay,” Xandra said, fearless and right in character. She really is good. “I had to try. It’s just so sad. Kristy got into so much trouble, and well … her mom pulled her out of school so suddenly. She was going to be a great Elizabeth. So crazy. Such a tragedy.”

  “Tragedy?” Skyler replied, and I turned to Anya. We could barely hold it in, but we quietly high-fived. She’s on the hook! There’s no way Skyler’s passing up some good gossip.

  “You didn’t hear?” Xan asked, deadpan.

  “Of course I didn’t hear! I don’t know who she is! What’s the tragedy?”

  “She got herpes,” Xandra said.

  “What?” Skyler’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

  “Yeah,” Xan said. “Her parents didn’t even know she was having sex yet, much less with—”

  “With who?” exclaimed Jericha, seemingly desperate to get in the conversation. A deadly glare from Skyler ended her curiosity just as quickly.

  “Oh … nobody,” Xan said, just to annoy the s
hit out of them. “It’s nobody you know anyway.”

  “Screw it, who cares?” Skyler said, laughing. “They found out she was having sex and she has herpes? OMG, that is amazing. I wish I knew who you were talking about, but whatever. Herpes, huh? Gross.”

  Xandra smiled.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Skyler asked. “You look like a psycho.”

  “I just think you’re really great,” Xandra said, unable to keep the grin off her face. I couldn’t help but worry for a second: You did great, Xan, don’t blow it!

  “Well, I think you’re really weird,” Skyler said. “Also? Bright-colored denim isn’t ‘in’ anymore. Thought you should know.”

  “And thanks for that,” Xandra said. “So that’s a no on tryouts, right?”

  “A definite no,” Skyler said. “Feel free to stay away from me in the future.”

  “My pleasure!” Xandra said, and then walked away, practically bursting from excitement.

  Xandra rounded the corner, and she, Anya and I quickly slipped down a separate hallway. We ducked into an empty classroom and regrouped in the back.

  “I got it!” Xandra said.

  “We know! You fucking rule!” Anya said.

  “You’re sure you got it all?” I asked.

  “All and then some,” Xandra said. “She ad-libbed some true gems!”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s move.”

  We glanced into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear—if Skyler saw Anya or me with Xan, the jig was up—and then the three of us walked to the media lab. Dahlia was waiting alone amid a sea of computers, Avid digital-editing machines and other equipment.

  “Hey, ladies,” Dahlia said. “Did you bring me some candy?”

  Xandra took off her hat and handed it to Anya, who turned the hat upside down, fidgeted with it, and plugged in a USB cable connected to a computer.

  Voilà: We had Skyler on video!

  The initial question about fifth period was to get her saying “I have” on video. The rest … well, that was soon to become the talk of West Hollywood High.

  * * *

  The groundwork we laid would pay off the next morning. Anya, budding comedian that she was, had landed the morning announcements gig at school. She treated it like a combination open mic/morning radio show, and she handled it beautifully: entertaining enough that no students took issue with it, but school-friendly enough that the administration left her alone.

  Even though she only had five minutes, she always tried to make the most of it. We had TV monitors in five places around our campus in case anyone wanted to watch (typically, nobody really did), but the audio was broadcast throughout the halls.

  This time, we were going to make sure people actually watched. I arrived twenty minutes before school started with lattes for Anya and me, so we’d be properly caffeinated and happy as we took Skyler down. Anya was in the media room, practicing, going through the rigmarole:

  “Remember that it’s Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria.”

  “Friday is a half day, not that you’d forget that.”

  “Whatever heathen thinks they’re above flushing in the third bathroom stall on the second floor in Chem Hall needs to seriously check herself.”

  This morning would be just a little bit different.

  “Uno venti mocha latte, por vous,” I said.

  “I think you just managed to incorporate three languages into that sentence,” Anya said, accepting her latte.

  “I did, didn’t I?” I felt rather pleased with myself. “You ready?”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” she said. “I never really had the chance to get her back for making my life hell.”

  “Payback’s a bitch,” I said. “And so is she.”

  We toasted with our Starbucks cups, and Anya put on her headphones. I moved out of view.

  “Morning, everybody,” Anya said. “We have a little change in our scheduled programming, just one quick special announcement. Don’t worry, it’s not a natural disaster or an unnatural disaster. And unlike the glee club’s performance last night in regionals, it’s not a total disaster. Well, actually, I don’t know what it is, but I just got the tape, and I’m told it’s extremely important, so everyone needs to watch it carefully, right now. Enjoy!”

  With that, time was immediately of the essence. Anya pressed a button, and the video of Skyler began to play. Well, you could call it a mash-up of sorts. A “best of” remix from her conversation with Xandra.

  Skyler, looking directly at the camera: “I have … herpes. Thought you should know. Feel free to stay away from me in the future.”

  Aaaaaand … scene.

  That’s right, Dahlia’s seamless editing skills turning Skyler’s words to our advantage in our (hopefully) seamless plan.

  Anya took the mic again. “Huh. Well, that’s not exactly what I was expecting. Skyler Brandt has herpes? Wow, just saying the words sounds so strange: Skyler Brandt has herpes. I guess it’s some sort of public service announcement. That’s—well, I’d say that’s a pretty brave decision to put it right out there for the good of the school. And considerate. Thank you, Skyler! Thank you for caring enough about your fellow students to make this news public so people won’t unknowingly contract this painful and recurring STD. Everyone be sure to thank Skyler today when you see her!”

  Anya turned off the mic and whipped around to find me. I stood there, grin plastered on my face, shaking my head. “She is going to freak.”

  “Oh, I know,” Anya said. “We should probably start counting now because—”

  Before Anya could even finish her sentence, we heard it: the guttural scream sailing down the hall, courtesy of one pair of lungs, belonging to one Skyler Brandt.

  “You do know her well,” I said.

  “I did,” Anya answered, and I could detect a hint of sadness. She was glad we’d gotten her back, but in her heart of hearts, she probably wished none of it ever happened—the pregnancy, the rumors, the dissolution of their friendship. Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to a simpler time? I know sometimes I’d think to myself, I’d like to go back to a time when my biggest problem was Cap’n Crunch destroying the roof of my mouth.

  We were collecting our things and heading for the door. If the principal or dean of students got here while we were still together, it would make our “escape plan” a bit more complicated, but we’d planned for that contingency—they were in a meeting on the other side of campus. It was more likely we’d be intercepted by—

  Skyler. She had just stepped inside the doorway, and the look on her face was priceless. She was beet red, with her fists balled and her face twisted into a mask of hatred.

  “Get on that thing right now,” Skyler seethed, “and tell everyone you lied.”

  “But I didn’t lie,” Anya said. “You’re the one who said it.”

  “I didn’t say that,” she said through gritted teeth. “You edited that to make it look like I did.”

  “I most certainly did not,” Anya said.

  “Well, someone did, so fix it!”

  “Morning announcements are over, Skyler,” Anya said. “My work is done here. And I have to get to class now.”

  “How could you?” Skyler said, going for the heartstrings—because threats certainly weren’t working.

  “I could ask the same of you,” Anya said, referring to past transgressions. When Skyler provided no response—and encouraged by my energetic gesturing to hurry up, we need to roll—Anya walked toward the door.

  “You,” Skyler said to me just before we could get out. “This is your fault. Anya never would have done something like this before you got to her.”

  “Sorry,” I said hurriedly. “I don’t control my friends. Anya is her own person.”

  “Yeah,” Skyler said. “Right.”

  We needed to get out of there, but I couldn’t help myself. “Anyway”—I turned one last time and threw Skyler my best faux-sympathetic look—“sorry to hear about the herpes. That must b
e a real drag.”

  “I. Don’t. Have. Herpes!” Skyler shouted after us.

  Sure I felt a pang of guilt—I’m not a monster. And it wasn’t lost on me that I’d gone “Skyler” on Skyler and two wrongs don’t make a right blah blah blah but you know what? It’s called survival. Maybe now she’d realize she’d messed with the wrong girls. Maybe now she’d quit being so awful. And maybe there would be a calorie-free red velvet cupcake that would not just keep you slim, it would clear up all your zits with its miraculous ingredients! Hey, a girl can dream.

  ’Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.

  —LED ZEPPELIN

  “Stairway to Heaven”

  CHAPTER

  11

  If you ever decide to rob a bank, commit a murder or hold some hostages, I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that the person you want as your partner in crime is Anya Delaney.

  (For the record, please do not rob a bank, commit a murder or hold hostages. Even if you can do them all at the same time. Not all multitasking is good multitasking, you know.)

  We didn’t figure that Anya’s awesome announcement would go over big with the administration, and give us points for this:

  Holy shit, were we right.

  As Anya later explained it, only seconds after we separated and she entered her first-period class, she was told to report to Principal Dash’s office immediately.

  That wasn’t surprising. Well, maybe just a little surprising; we kinda figured The Man would have closed in on her before she made it to first period.

  If you haven’t noticed anything else about US public school administrations in the twenty-first century, you’ve probably noticed this:

  They are gigantic chickenshits.

  At the slightest hint of controversy, like a half inch of your underwear exposed by your low-rise jeans (and by the way—the whale tail is just not a good look—nobody ever looked at a plumber’s ass-crack and said, “Hey, that’s fantastic!”), or a school newspaper running an editorial that questions the dress-code policy, or a big Stephenie Meyer fan feeling “invalidated” because someone wore a T-shirt that reads TWILIGHT SUCKS!, a school district will hold thirty-seven “emergency” meetings and pass forty-six new no-tolerance policies to ensure that no one ever does anything interesting ever in the history of ever.