That Girl, Darcy Read online

  I nodded blankly.

  Mrs. Haggerston smiled. “Good. You’re a bright young man, and I’d hate for you to waste your talents and abilities. Keep that in mind. Don’t be afraid to explore your options, and don’t be afraid to have fun. Enjoy your last year of high school. It only happens once.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I told her. And then I excused myself and made a speedy exit. As far as meetings with Mrs. Haggerston went, that wasn’t as bad as I had expected. Her gentle prodding was unpleasant, sure, but not unbearable. And besides, she was right. I should try to enjoy this year, and try new things, and explore my options.

  By the end of the day, I’d decided to take Lucas’s advice and see what The Quill was all about. I figured that attending one meeting didn’t obligate me to officially join. Besides, I was sure there was a process. A person couldn’t expect to just walk in and become a journalist, even for a high school paper. There had to be some standard. Probably. But Jake thought it was a good idea, and even offered to come with me. I couldn’t say no to that, not when he was voluntarily peeling himself away from Bridget to come. So, not knowing what to expect, I accompanied Jake and Lucas to what he affectionately referred to as “the bullpen,” a title that did absolutely nothing for my nerves.

  The bullpen turned out to be a tiny room tucked away behind the media center that was barely big enough to house the dozen or so people that had crowded inside. There were a couple of tables lined with rusty old folding chairs, a few computers, and one very old and very lopsided desk at the front of the room. A cork bulletin board hung from the back wall with a collage of pictures and clippings from the paper. A banner over the door read, “Welcome to The Quill.”

  “Is the paper dead?” I asked as Lucas led us inside.

  “Just about,” he said with a laugh as he plopped into a chair. Jake and I followed suit. I recognized a few people here, and having Jake and Lucas with me made me feel at least a little better about being here. But I still felt like I was crashing a party, one I wasn’t even sure I wanted to crash in the first place.

  “You think they’ll let me join just because I showed up?” I whispered to Jake. “Don’t I have to submit a resume or a portfolio or something?”

  He laughed. “Have you read some of the articles that come out of this place? The only qualifications are that you can use Microsoft Word, and even that is negotiable.”

  “That makes me feel much better,” I lied.

  Suddenly, a sultry voice caught my attention. “Look who it is—my favorite boy.”

  The hairs on my neck stood up at the sound of that voice. Before I could make a run for it, Nicole Collins came sashaying toward us wearing a cheerleader’s outfit and a great big grin. Jake and I exchanged exasperated glances, both of us hoping she was talking about the other. Lucky for me she, looked at Jake first. “Hey, sailor,” she said as she ran a finger along his shoulder, “Wanna rock my boat?”

  Jake cringed and muttered, “No thanks.” Nicole leered at him for a few more seconds, and then turned her attention to me. “Elliott, can I ask you a question?” I tried to say no, but she went on before I could get the word out. “Are you a library book? Because I am definitely checking you out.”

  “Good to see you too, Nicole.” I tossed Lucas a hard glare, and he shrugged. Had I known she was going to be here, I wouldn’t have bothered coming. Nicole used to live across the street from me. Our families were always doing things together, so much that I thought we were related up until the first grade, when she started chasing me around the playground trying to kiss me. Our relationship has only gone downhill from there, and she’s had a weird sort of quasi-crush on me ever since.

  She sat down next to me, fluffing her dark hair. “So I’m a cheerleader now,” she said, running her hands along her skirt and bumping my knee with hers.

  “I noticed,” I said while doing my best not to notice.

  She grinned, licking her lips. “Seriously, it’s so good to see you. We need to hang out sometime. It’s been so long. We can play games, just like we used to. Like Twister…or Spin the Bottle…or Truth or Dare…”

  I swung my leg away from hers. It wasn’t that Nicole was ugly or anything. But we’d known each other for so long that I couldn’t see her that way. And seeing as she flirted with everything that walked, I wasn’t even sure she actually liked me. “I don’t recall us ever playing any of those games.”

  “First time for everything.” She winked.

  Jake piped in, trying to save me. “Are you on the paper, or…”

  “Sort of,” she said with a grin. “But seeing you two here makes me want to commit, if you know what I mean.”

  I was about to excuse myself so that I could go throw up somewhere, but just then the door swung open and person number two on my list of people I hoped not to run into came sauntering into the room.

  “Greetings, one and all, greetings,” said a tall, skinny boy with brown hair and a great big, pointy Adam’s apple.

  My urge to throw up intensified as he walked right up to the front of the room and plopped his satchel on the desk. A hush fell over the room, and all eyes moved to the boy as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt and adjusted his skinny tie.

  “You all are probably wondering what your class president, homecoming king and soon-to-be valedictorian Christian De Bourgh is doing in your humble newsroom.” His voice reminded me of a politician—full of crap.

  “You mean other than referring to himself in the third person?” I muttered. Christian was too caught up in his speech to acknowledge me.

  “I’ll tell you what Christian De Bourgh is doing here. Christian De Bourgh wants to save this paper.” Save. This. Paper. He punctuated each word with a hard jab of his finger on the desk. “True story: I was on campus last week doing some voluntary community service—as one does—and do you know what I found amongst the junk that I spent all afternoon picking up with my bare hands?” He reached inside his satchel and took out an old crumpled piece of paper, which he waved for us all to see. “A back issue of The Quill,” he said solemnly, like it was some long lost family heirloom. “It was a transformative and eye-opening experience.”

  He gently laid the paper on the desk and began pacing the room. “As of this very moment, I am your new student Editor-in-Chief; in essence, your boss. All of you report directly to me. I know what you’re probably thinking…”

  “Kill me now,” I offered. Again, he either didn’t hear me or was deliberately ignoring me.

  “You’re probably thinking, ‘Christian, you have so much on your plate as it is; why in the world would you take on this added responsibility?’ I’ll tell you why. Because I want this paper to be valued, but for that to happen we need to bring what’s important to the people. The average kid doesn’t read. Not when they can find everything they want to know online—and believe me, I know. My blog gets a ridiculous amount of traffic. We have to give them something worth reading. That means giving them three things.” He held up three fingers and began ticking them off as he spoke. “Winter formal…winter formal…and winter formal. Say, that’s catchy. You there, new cheerleader, what’s your name?”

  “Nicole,” she said dreamily.

  “Nicole, I’m promoting you to my personal assistant. Write that down.”

  She snatched a piece of paper from the guy next to her and started furiously scribbling. I rolled my eyes as Christian circled back to the front of the room and leaned against the desk. “Fact: aside from graduating—which I hope most of you will, in fact, be doing come May—Prom is the most important thing that’s happening for us seniors. Little known fact: Winter formal is the second most important thing that’s going to happen.”

  I raised my hand. “Wouldn’t that be third?”

  A few people chuckled, but Christian just narrowed his eyes at me. “That reminds me. You all probably know my brother, Andrew. Quarterback, cellist—”

  “Rode the bench all of
last season,” I added.

  “He’s making his triumphant return at this year’s homecoming game, and I think it will make an excellent feature for our first issue. Elliott, thank you for volunteering to cover it. As I recall, you do love sports, especially football. I expect that piece in my inbox the Monday after the game. As for the rest of you, I know that the formal is nearly five months away, but I want you to treat it like it’s happening tomorrow. I want us to make an event of it, an extravaganza. Also, I’m on the dance planning committee and we’d really appreciate the press. So get those creative juices flowing; I want my mind blown when we meet next time. Now if you all will excuse me, I’ve got to rehearse. I’m giving a speech at the pep rally this Friday. Nicole?” He plucked the ratty old paper from his desk and passed it off to her. “Frame this. Hang it somewhere we all can see it.”

  When Christian had left, the room’s energy picked up again. Why people seemed to walk on eggshells whenever he came around was beyond me.

  “Who does that pompous idiot think he is?”

  “You don’t know Christian De Bourgh?” gasped Nicole, who had somehow popped up right next to me.

  “It’s a figure of speech.” Of course I knew who he was. The way he paraded around the school like he owned the place, there was no way not to know. We’d never been on the best of terms, either. “And does everyone have to say his whole name when they talk about him?”

  “I read his blog, ‘Musings from Rosings,’” said Nicole, who was now in full fangirl mode. “He’s such a poet. It’s no wonder he’s in charge of the paper.”

  “His blog does get an insane amount of traffic,” Lucas admitted. “I’ll give him that.”

  “You should try writing poetry, Elliott. Girls love it,” Nicole said as she headed out. “And by girls, I meant me. As in, I love it.”

  She winked as she left, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Lucas shook his head. “Has she always been so . . .”

  “Persistent?” I offered.

  “I was going to say friendly.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Jake gathered his things. “All in all, I’d say that went better than I’d hoped.”

  “You must have had very low expectations,” I teased.

  “At least you made the cut. You’ve even got your first assignment.” He glanced at his phone and smiled. “Well, I’d better get going. Catch you guys later.”

  “Where are you in such a hurry to get to?” I asked suspiciously.

  Jake gave me that innocent, I-have-no-clue-what-you-mean look, which he had perfected over the years but never been able to fool me with. “I’m not in a hurry. I just need to . . . study.”

  He rushed off before I could call him on his obvious lie. Jake was a good student, better than I was for sure, but he wasn’t that studious.

  “What was that all about?” Lucas asked.

  Half-frowning and still looking after him, I answered, “A girl.”

  And I knew just which girl it was.

  Chapter 6

  Friday’s pep rally was a welcome reprieve from class. It was right after second period when our principal, Mrs. Hernandez, got on the PA and announced that we were all to head to the gym for the rally.

  “Remember who you represent, students,” she said in closing, “and carry yourselves as the responsible young adults that you are.”

  But our school mascot was a stampede. We represented a team of horses. That’s exactly what we sounded like as we thundered down to the gymnasium.

  My friends and I had come up with a contingency plan for these events. As we went with our individual classes we would each try to stall next to the front doors of the gym, four paces to the right of the farthest door on the right, and wait for the others. Barring that, we would all gather together in aisle twenty-four, Row G, on the right side of the gym. We’d come up with the plan—codenamed the “United-We-Stand Protocol”—during freshmen year, so that if any upperclassman were to try and haze us we would all be able to defend one another. Fortunately for us, that never happened, but we stuck with the protocol anyways. So when my class made it to the front of the gymnasium, I slipped away and took up my station at our designated meeting area.

  Jake was the first to join me there. “Wasn’t expecting you,” I yelled over the noise. “Figured you had a new crowd.”

  He looked a little hurt. “I’d hope you of all people would know me better than that.”

  He was right. Jake was no deserter. But I knew where he wanted to be. “No one would take it personal if you sat with someone else.” I didn’t mention Bridget by name, but we both knew that’s who I was talking about. “The company’s probably much better. You should find her.”

  “You think so?” he asked.

  “Dude, of course.”

  He gave me a grateful smile and pushed off into the crowd. “Thanks, Elliott,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Go get ‘em, handsome man,” I laughed to myself as he disappeared.

  It wasn’t long before Liam found me, and Kyle soon after. “Why do we even have rallies anymore?” Kyle asked. “The only people excited to be here are the freshmen and the cheerleaders.”

  “And me,” said Liam, “because of the cheerleaders.”

  “Where’s Lucas?” asked Kyle.

  “And Jake?” added Liam.

  “Jake’s not with us this time,” I told them.

  Liam scoffed. “I’ll bet he’s with Bridget, huh? I don’t blame him. Have you seen her butt? She’s in my gym class, and I’m telling you—her curves defy physics.”

  “Darcy’s got a better one,” said Kyle, “better rack too.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Opposite sides of the same coin, my friend,” Liam advised. “Bridget’s built like a volleyball player. Darcy looks like a dancer.”

  “Or a gymnast,” Kyle added.

  “I’d bet she’s flexible.”

  My jaw dropped open.

  “I’d love to see her at the beach.”

  “Can we not!” I blurted, suppressing the sudden and brutal urge to gag. It felt wrong to talk about Bridget, I most certainly didn’t want to hear about Darcy, and I especially didn’t want to hear about Darcy’s butt, or her rack, or her flexibility.

  Liam laughed and slapped me on the back. “Admit it, dude, for a crone Darcy’s got a pretty awesome body.”

  I shoved them both toward the doors. “I admit nothing.”

  As I fought my way into the gym like a minnow amidst a cantankerous school of fish, I realized that the rally was not the hastily-thrown-together affair I’d assumed it was. Cheerleaders lined the doors, ushering us in with wide smiles and shimmering pom-poms. The band was set up along the far wall, in the middle of a thundering rendition of the school anthem. I spotted Mark playing the cymbals off to the side. School security officers paced the exterior with wary faces, hands ready on their batons.

  Lucas was already in our designated row when we got there, and he was conspicuously quiet. “What’s up?” I asked as we all plopped down beside him.

  A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Remember how I said I wanted senior year to go out with a bang?”

  He’d said that all the way back in freshmen year, but, “Yeah, why?”

  He reached under his seat and discreetly showed us an air horn. “I decided to start the bang part early.”

  “You’re crazy,” said Liam, but he was laughing.

  “How much trouble do you think you’ll get in for using that thing?” asked Kyle.

  “Not enough to stop me from doing it.”

  I just shook my head and laughed with the rest of them.

  Once everyone was squeezed inside the auditorium and the band finished playing, the cheerleaders all sat down, and Mrs. Hernandez went up to the podium that had been set up in the middle of the room. She began her speech while I read some more Sherlock Holmes
. We weren’t supposed to have anything with us, but the security guards were on the lookout for backpacks or weapons, not books, so I got in without a fuss.

  All of a sudden there was lots of clapping, and I looked up to see the dance team jogging onto the floor. Next to me, Liam and Kyle stood up and yelled at the top of their lungs. I kept reading my book. Soon there was more clapping, and I looked up to see the dance team filing away and Christian coming up to the podium. He went on and on about how three generations of De Bourghs had attended our school, and how much he appreciated the support of the student government body and how he looked forward to a wonderful final year here. He was sure to name drop The Quill a total of eight times, and in closing, he highlighted how much of a spectacular event the winter formal was going to be.

  When Christian was finished, it was time for the varsity football team to take center stage. They were led by Christian’s brother Andrew, the second-string quarterback, a massive boy with shoulders as wide as two of me. Andrew and I didn’t exactly get along. He was far too arrogant for my tastes, with a quick temper and a habit of showing off. During football season he acted like he was king of everything, even though he only played half the time, if that. Before we’d met, I was sure that the whole “dumb jock” thing was a myth. But so far Andrew had lived up to every single one of the stereotypes.

  When the showboating was over, Mrs. Hernandez again took to the podium, this time to remind us that school should be taken seriously and that she expected each and every one of us to put forth our best effort blah, blah, blah. “Before I let you all go,” she said as the rally drew to a close, “I want you all to know that I am immensely proud of you. This student body is one of the most focused, mature—”

  That was the moment Lucas chose to unleash the fury of his air horn.

  * * *

  “You’re such an idiot,” said Liam as the four of us filed into the cafeteria. We hadn’t stopped laughing since the rally ended.