Being Mary Bennet Blows Page 3

  One tiny problem? I’d never known anyone like that in my entire life.

  I froze, wondering if I could talk Mr. Gilbertson into letting me do it solo. Maybe for extra-credit points?

  A buzz swirled around the room as everyone immediately started doing the inevitable pairing off. Cheerleaders and jocks. Artsy and theater types. Brainiacs. Skateboarder dudes, or at least the ones who weren’t so burned out that they actually did assignments.

  I figured Josh would hook up with one of them. I mean, a skateboarder dude who wasn’t a complete burnout. I guess I technically qualified as a brainiac, but even the geeky brainiacs made fun of me, which made me the definition of a loser.

  Sighing, I buried my head in my textbook and started reading—or pretending to read—again. Until I got another tap on the arm. For a single, wildly irrational moment, hope bubbled inside me that Josh might possibly ask me to be his partner. Oh, wait. Not in this lifetime. No, he probably wanted to tell me who he planned to pair off with. Did he think I gave a rat’s ass?

  Ignoring him, I started taking notes, fast and furious, starting with the assignment on the board and soon moving on to my feelings about lame-ass teachers who had nothing better to do than torture me by handing out assignments that didn’t exactly play to everyone’s strengths. Like, say, forcing me to embarrass myself even more than I did in my prone position on the hallway floor this morning by making me ask everyone in the class to be my partner, even though it was crystal clear that no one would want to be my partner.

  The only person who might possibly be surprised by this would be Mr. Gilbertson. This was only my second day in his class, and he must not hang out in the teachers’ lounge.

  “Mary? MB?”

  I felt like swatting Josh, but since he was the only person who’d ever spoken to me in class other than a teacher—I mean, if we don’t count all the kids who made rude remarks or heckled me—I couldn’t afford to blow him off.

  I turned half-sideways, prepared for the inevitable.

  “Do you already have a partner?”

  My jaw dropped. Me? Have a partner? Besides the obvious fact that no one except Josh had spoken to me since the bell rang, didn’t he know that everyone thought I was the biggest loser in our whole class, if not the school?

  I frowned at him. “Are you new here?”

  I probably should’ve asked that sooner. It might’ve cleared up a number of questions, like why he kept trying to talk to me. I mean, he’d find out eventually anyway, and I had to admit that it would totally suck when someone finally clued him in about Mary Bennet, the Reigning Loser of Woodbury High, and he suddenly stopped speaking to me. Or even poking me in the arm.

  Since he obviously was clueless, he frowned back at me. “You really don’t remember seeing me before? Like, ever?”

  I felt my face flushing, which was weird, since I was so used to being dissed that I’d mostly stopped getting embarrassed. But this time I realized that I’d totally dissed Josh, who was now staring intently at Mr. Gilbertson as if he was actually saying something interesting.

  I felt like such a jerk.

  The thing is, I never looked around in class. No one ever tried to sit by me or talk to me or eat lunch with me or even copy my tests, even though I got straight A’s. Somewhere along the way, and definitely after I first read The Book, I’d stopped trying to make friends.

  If I didn’t look at anyone, I wouldn’t see them cringe when they looked at me as if they smelled barf. So I really didn’t know anyone. The kids in my classes were a sea of blank faces waiting to cut on me, so I scratched them off my list before I even knew who they were.

  Unfortunately, my latest scratch-off was a guy who kept tapping me on the arm every chance he got. A guy who kept talking to me, for reasons I couldn’t figure out.

  Unless he actually wanted to be my partner? No way!

  I glanced over at him, hoping he’d look back or maybe poke me in the arm or something. Hoping he’d actually ask me if I wanted to be his partner for the roller coaster project.

  “Yo, Josh!” A huge guy yelled from the other side of the room, getting a major glare from Mr. Gilbertson but totally ignoring him. “You got a partner, dude?”

  Josh flicked a quick glance at me, as if I reeked, and nodded back at the guy. “Talk to you after class?”

  I can’t believe I actually thought for one crazy, stupid moment that Josh was about to ask me to be his partner. I mean, even if he asked only because he wanted to ace the assignment, I was such an idiot. I bit my lip and buried myself in my textbook again, wishing the last bell would ring an hour early.

  Before I died of mortification.

  Chapter 3

  “The men shan’t come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them; do we?”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter Twelve

  I trudged home from school Friday afternoon, even letting Cat take the Jeep so I could be alone in my misery and mope. I could handle moping.

  Guys? Not so much.

  The thing is, I didn’t even want to be able to handle guys. Guys are gross and wear their pants halfway down their butts and think belching is an art form. Guys think they own the world—and for the most part, it seems like they do. A guy can break a girl’s heart.

  I wasn’t about to let that happen to me.

  Except, well, maybe it already had. Thank you, Josh.

  The thing is, I’d been teased and picked on and ignored my entire life. Why would Josh actually pretend for two minutes that he might possibly like me, then treat me like pond scum the very next minute?

  He spoke to me for one entire day, Wednesday, the best and worst day of my life. Was it possible that he suddenly turned into a jerk only because I’d been a jerk to him?

  I told myself I didn’t care.

  Ha.

  Ever since Wednesday, when that guy in Physics asked Josh if he had a partner for the roller coaster project, Josh hadn’t spoken to me. Or poked me in the arm or even looked at me. In English, he still sat behind me—thanks to assigned seats—but didn’t say a word. In Calculus, where Ms. Veilleux let us sit wherever we wanted, he didn’t come near me. He was stuck next to me in Physics only because Mr. Gilbertson warned us not to switch our assigned seats on pain of death, but I could never catch his eye, even when I pretended to look out the window.

  I’d basically had a friend, or a theoretical friend, for less than twenty-four hours. A new world record.

  For me.

  Now I didn’t have a friend, and I didn’t have a partner for the roller coaster project, and Mr. Gilbertson refused to let me do the stupid project by myself. He said a few kids still hadn’t found partners and I could “easily” get one by just asking. Right. Like anyone would say yes to me. On any question.

  Luckily, the assignment wasn’t due until Halloween. That gave me almost two months to find an imaginary person to call my partner. Maybe someone taking Physics online? Maybe an alien from Mars who’d never heard of me?

  The walk home yielded only depressing thoughts, including the belated discovery that I’d spilled chocolate pudding down the front of my yellow shirt at lunch. I temporarily forgot my problems, though, when I reached our front door. Mom, home early from work but still in her suit, was giving orders to the Merry Maids crew, and Jane kept contradicting them behind Mom’s back. I’d barely tossed my backpack in my bedroom when the doorbell rang with a takeout delivery from Kowalski’s.

  I asked what was going on, since no one bothered to mention we were having a party or even tried to bribe me to go to a movie or the Mall of America. Mom and Jane both ignored all my questions, but Mom just seemed clueless.

  And, unlike Jane, not dressed for a party.

  Dad’s yoga mat, which he usually plunked in the middle of the living room, was nowhere in sight. Neither was Dad. Ever since he’d left his lucrative engineering firm to take a mid-life detour to become a yoga master, I was used to seeing him on his mat, chanting and “om”
ing and contorting his body in embarrassing positions at all hours.

  So, basically, Mom skipped out early on work for reasons even she didn’t seem to understand, she’d booted Dad, and she hadn’t booted me. Totally weird.

  When Mom went upstairs to shriek at Cat about getting four tardies on the first four days of school, Jane finally told Liz that she’d invited some friends over. Then Dad showed up, lugging a case of generic beer and two cases of Pepsi. I rolled my eyes. Dad claimed he’d found enlightenment in his yoga practice, but he was still totally clueless when it came to drinks for a party. Pepsi and cheap beer? Any kind of beer when we were all underage? Nothing diet? No water?

  When Mom came back downstairs, she frowned at the Pepsi and beer as she bustled and hovered near Jane, who ignored her. For once, though, Mom seemed oblivious to everything she couldn’t fix. She couldn’t fix Dad, or she would’ve a long time ago, but maybe next time she’ll have someone else get the drinks.

  Mom glanced at my overalls, and sniffed, but I was another thing she couldn’t fix. Sighing, she finally grabbed Dad and headed out the back door, mentioning some sci-fi movie they planned to catch. Weird on all counts.

  Right at seven, the doorbell rang, but it barely registered. Caterers, Cat when she forgot her key, you name it. Everyone in Woodbury appeared to be ringing our door today. I went to answer it, but Jane shot past me, sliding the last five feet.

  She opened the door to Charlie and Alex.

  So that’s what this was all about. A “party” for the guys who hadn’t called or shown up again, as far as I knew, since Tuesday night. From the shocked look on Liz’s face, she was totally in the dark.

  I wondered if Mom was, too. Had Jane bribed her? Jane, who never did anything wrong? I was mortified for Jane, which had to be a first. I mean, no one gets embarrassed for her, because she’s perfect and nice and nothing in her life ever goes wrong. Except when Charlie dumped her. But pretending to have a party just to get Charlie here seemed pathetic.

  Pretty soon other friends of Liz and Jane started trickling in, bringing the crowd to twenty or so. Jane hadn’t invited any of Cat’s snotty little girlfriends, thank God, either because they were too young to hang with Charlie and Alex or because they’d all still be buzzing about the Lydia situation, which wouldn’t exactly be cool.

  She also hadn’t invited any friends of mine.

  Because I didn’t have any friends.

  Everyone hung out in the kitchen, noshing on deli food and gulping down beer. Which was totally irresponsible of Dad, since Jane must’ve told him she was having a party and fluttered her eyelashes and asked him to buy some beer. Now Dad would get busted for furnishing liquor to minors, and then where would we all be? With Dad in jail, even Mom’s bipolar meds wouldn’t be enough to give her a sanity check.

  Being the only sane person in the house, I went to the fridge, scrounged in the back on the bottom shelf, and finally pulled out the last can of Diet Coke.

  Popping the top on it, I scanned the room but didn’t know many people. Cat was flirting with a guy who had his arm around some other girl, and Jane was getting cozy with Charlie, even though he’d dumped her for how long? Almost a year?

  Liz stood by herself but kept looking across the kitchen at Alex. At least Liz had some sense—I think—and was frowning at him. Not that he’d notice, since he had a constant stream of girls hanging all over him. When he slowly started heading in Liz’s direction, though, my mission was clear. I had to rescue Liz.

  I reached her before Alex did and grabbed her arm. “Don’t worry. After what happened to Lydia, I think we should stick together and keep the wolves at bay.”

  Liz frowned at me. “What if I don’t mind the occasional wolf?”

  Poor Liz. She’s smart enough to major in biomedical engineering at the U of M, but she’s so naive when it comes to guys. After seeing the Charlie-and-Jane fiasco up close, you’d think she’d know better. “That’s what Lydia thought, and look what happened to her.”

  “No one compares Lydia and me. And now that she’s—”

  She broke off when Alex grabbed her free arm and dragged her away from me. Possessively. Like he owned her. Like he dwelled in a cave. Alex might be a rich guy, but he’s way too overbearing even for Liz, who can be a little overbearing herself.

  I absentmindedly rubbed my arm as I watched Alex pull Liz into the living room and wondered whether I should follow. All of my sisters were going nuts around guys these days, and I felt like the lone soldier guarding the castle against marauders. My sisters, unfortunately, kept giving the marauders the keys to the castle gate.

  They might not be grateful, but I was there for them. Ready to foil the enemies’ advances.

  Feeling both full of purpose and a little nervous that Liz would whap me upside the head, I followed Liz into the living room. She and Alex weren’t saying anything, but it didn’t look like a romantic moment. It sounded more like the kind of conversations I had with people. Nonexistent.

  Alex took one look at me, though, and shot for the front door, calling out to Charlie that they had to leave. Like he couldn’t deal with being in the same space with me for more than two seconds.

  Unless he was actually doing a dump-and-run on Liz.

  Despite my views on guys in general and Alex in particular, I felt awful for Liz. Sure, she could be a bit prickly about emotional moments with her sisters, except maybe Jane, but I put a soothing hand on her arm anyway. I didn’t even mention that she was lucky Alex didn’t seem interested. “Sorry he got you away from me. I’ll be more vigilant next time.”

  “Don’t do me any favors.” Liz groaned, evidently realizing she’d just gotten dumped by a guy she wasn’t even dating, and she didn’t want to admit it. At least not to me. “Please. I can take care of myself.”

  All evidence to the contrary.

  Liz and Jane holed up in their bedroom all morning Saturday, probably dissecting guys—what else—while Cat spent hours writing an e-mail to Lydia, who was lucky if they let her receive e-mails in prison school. Cat didn’t usually zap more than five-word text messages to her friends, so the idea of constructing entire paragraphs had to be paralyzing her.

  Or maybe I’m just being snotty because Cat kept giving me these significant looks. Like she knew something.

  I shrugged. Since no one ever spoke to me, pretty much everyone knew more gossip than I did.

  By noon, I finished my homework and did a quick-and-dirty Google search on roller coaster designs. Liz has already taken two semesters of college Physics, and I think she has Engineering this semester, but she just mumbles something incomprehensible every time I ask her for help on my roller coaster. She’s not usually rude about helping with a genuine homework problem, but these days she doesn’t even hear the question if it isn’t from Jane or a guy. Sheesh!

  After scarfing down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I grabbed the keys to the Jeep and headed outside. My imaginary partner on the roller coaster project would probably appreciate it if I actually looked at a roller coaster. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to ride one, since the last time I’d done that, at age ten, I’d puked all over Dad. Dad hadn’t taken me on a roller coaster ride since, and I hadn’t asked.

  Just thinking about roller coasters made my stomach gurgle.

  As I turned the key in the ignition, I sorted through my options. Valley Fair is outdoors and huge and has at least a couple of great roller coasters, according to Cat and Lydia. But Valley Fair costs big bucks and is a much longer drive and basically is for people who want to spend an entire day going on rides. I planned to spend exactly zero minutes on rides, so end of story.

  The Mall of America has an indoor amusement park. It’s close, it’s free if you don’t do the rides, and I could stop by Ragstock and see if they had any new overalls—or old overalls, as the case may be.

  My plan hit a major snag when I decided to check out Ragstock first. Josh Lawton was in there—alone, thank God—looking at clothes.

>   Maybe he hadn’t seen me yet. I hung a right at peasant blouses and headed for the far wall, where I didn’t see anyone, maybe because it held overalls. Most people stop wearing overalls around age three.

  “Mary? I mean, uh, MB?”

  Busted.

  I stopped next to a rack stuffed with old Army fatigues and slowly turned in Josh’s direction, hoping I didn’t look like I’d seen him and blown him off.

  From the frown on his face, he had some doubts.

  “Hi, Josh. You shop here, huh?”

  Even as he nodded, I couldn’t believe it. I honestly thought no one I knew shopped at Ragstock. My sisters didn’t. Most kids hang out at stores like Abercrombie or American Eagle or Gap or, for skateboarders like Josh, maybe Zumiez.

  In other words, I’d always been safe here. Safe from being dissed or ignored or treated like a loser, free to do and wear my own thing even if no one else dressed like me. I’d have to start hanging out at Barnes & Noble. As far as I could tell, the kids at school pretty much avoided books.

  Josh took a few steps closer to me, crushing any hope of an immediate dash for the exit. “They have great jeans. So you shop here, too?”

  I glanced down at my overalls, then gave Josh a look that basically said duh. But when he flinched, I almost slapped myself. Why did I keep acting like a jerk to Josh? And why did he have to shop at Ragstock?

  “You look, uh, kinda cute in overalls.”

  Okay, this time I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. I didn’t look cute in anything, and didn’t try to, and everyone knew it. Besides, every time I even considered changing how I looked, I remembered The Book.

  According to The Book, as everyone knew, Mary Bennet was ugly. Mary Bennet had No Hope.

  “Do you always wear overalls?”

  I blinked, realizing Josh was still there and looking at my stupid overalls and talking to me, and I was lost in this weird Jane Austen world. Josh obviously hadn’t read The Book, even though Ms. Mickel assigned it last year in English 11.