Chapter 13 The Arms of Hanging Men #2
Several people cast her looks when she steps out of the car. She averts her eyes and follows Joanie’s path to the A-Hall doors. Just as they’re about to walk inside, a voice from behind them calls, “Hey, Hannah, wanna go out with me tonight?”
She falters, but Joanie clutches her arm and keeps her moving forward. “Go fuck yourself, Guthrie!” Joanie yells, her voice loud in Hannah’s ear.
“It’s fine,” Hannah mutters.
“He’s always been a jackass. Whatever. Come on.”
They walk into the building, and whereas Joanie would normally turn left for the junior hallway, today she turns right.
“You don’t have to lead me the whole way,” Hannah tells her.
“I was just going to stop by Mrs. Paulk’s room to ask her something about our study guide.”
“Joanie. I’ll be okay. I don’t need an escort. Seriously.”
Joanie eyes the hall behind her and sighs. “All right. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“It will be. Thanks.”
The path to her locker is full of stares and whispered gossip. A few people smile nicely at her, but most of her classmates openly gawk. She clears her throat just to reassure herself that she is still there.
She spots Wally at the end of the hallway, his book sack propped against his side as he switches out his books. She yearns to go to him, to find reassurance in his steady expression, but she stops at her own locker instead.
Ms. Carpenter isn’t at school, and by the end of the morning, the news that she was fired has spread through the student body like a virus.
“The diocese called for her immediate dismissal,” Michele says pointedly as Hannah walks past her during class change.
“I heard Ms. Gramley telling Mr. Jasper. The teachers are just as pissed about it as we are.”
“Carpenter was the only cool teacher at this school,” Jonah grumbles in reply. “This is so fucked up.”
All eyes are on Hannah when she walks into the senior courtyard for lunch.
She heads to her usual table, the blood pounding in her ears, and opens her lunch bag as if everything is normal, as if she’s not absolutely alone in this hell.
She scans the courtyard for Wally and spots him at Luke’s table, the sun reflecting off his glasses.
He does not so much as look at her. She checks Clay and Baker’s table to see them sitting across from each other, Baker’s back to her.
Hannah stabs a fork into her salad and swallows against the burning lump in her throat.
Joanie joins her a minute later, brushing her hair back from her flushed face.
“We just had the stupidest assignment in Pre-Calc,” she says without preamble.
“I almost got into an argument with Ms. Hersch about it. Just because she got dumped by that deejay doesn’t mean she can force us to recap everything we learned last semester. ”
“You don’t have to talk to me like everything’s normal,” Hannah says. “Let’s just acknowledge it.”
Joanie’s face falls. “How’s it been?”
“Shitty. Really shitty.” Her voice breaks on the last syllable.
“Four more days. That’s it. Just four more days.”
Hannah looks up and makes eye contact with a table of guys who are clearly talking about her. As she watches, Guthrie leans into the center of the table and says something that makes all the guys roar with laughter.
“How was school?” her mom asks when she gets home from work that evening. She asks the question offhandedly, but Hannah notices the anxious look in her eyes.
“Fine,” Hannah says. “Nothing different.”
“No one said anything about it?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s good,” her mom says. Her hands fumble over the grocery bags on the counter. “Will you help me put these away?”
On Tuesday morning, when Hannah opens her locker, a crumpled note falls out.
Nice going lesbeaux.
She tries to intercept Wally in the parking lot after school, but he marches straight past her to his car. She follows him and knocks on his window, but he blares his music and reverses out of his parking spot without looking at her.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have fucked with his heart,” someone says, and when she whips around, she comes face-to-face with Luke.
“I never meant to.”
Luke stuffs his hands into his pockets and squints at her.
Up close, he looks haggard and more jaded than he ever did before.
“Look, Hannah, I’m sorry that you’ve been going through all this stuff.
I really am. I wish we’d been able to be there for you.
But just because you were confused, or going through a hard time or whatever, doesn’t mean you had the right to string him along.
You hurt him. Bad. Just like my parents hurt each other and Joanie hurt me. ”
“Joanie loves you,” Hannah says thickly. “You know she loves you.”
Luke swallows. “This isn’t about that. Just leave him alone. I hope you figure things out and I hope you feel better, but leave him alone.”
He shuffles away, his hands still in his pockets, his shoes scuffing against the asphalt.
Clay’s end-of-year party is scheduled for the Friday night of graduation weekend.
The seniors gossip about it all week, trading ideas for how to lie to their parents, bragging about how wasted they plan to get, whispering to their friends about which person they want one last chance to hook up with.
“Hannah,” Joanie asks her timidly one night, “are you considering going to Clay’s party at all?”
Hannah looks at her like she’s gone insane. “Are you joking?”
Joanie lowers her eyes. “I want to hang out with Luke one last time. See if he’ll talk to me.” She pauses. “But I don’t have the guts to go alone.”
Hannah sets her makeup remover on the bathroom sink, staring hard at the faucet while she figures out how to reply. “I’m sorry, Joanie. I can’t.”
Joanie nods, her expression sad but understanding.
Michele Duquesne wanders up to Hannah after graduation practice on Friday. “Crazy that I’m invited to the party and you’re not,” she says breezily, as if she and Hannah are longtime friends.
“Leave me alone,” Hannah snaps.
“I’m actually not trying to be mean,” Michele says, and by looking at her, Hannah can tell that she’s speaking the truth. “I wanted to tell you that it’s not personal, what happened with the email. I was trying to get at Baker, not you.”
“I don’t care who you were trying to get at. What you did was disgusting.”
“I’m trying to be nice to you.”
“I don’t need you to be nice to me. You’re a jealous snake.”
Michele’s eyes thin to slits. “Remember who ultimately betrayed you, Hannah. It wasn’t me. It was her. It was your friends. They saw something they didn’t like, something that scared them, and they left you to deal with it alone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
Hannah doesn’t answer her. She storms out of the gymnasium and makes her way down the empty hallways, listening to the classrooms full of freshmen, sophomores, and juniors chattering away.
When she reaches the senior hallway, she counts her friends’ lockers as she passes.
142—Luke’s. 151—her own. 159—Baker’s. 174—Clay’s.
203—Wally’s. She can see their echoes in front of each locker, Oxford shirts sticking out of their skirts or khakis, shoes scuffing against the tiled floor, laughter reverberating off these sacred walls.
I don’t want to hate this place.
Joanie approaches her again that evening. “I’m gonna go to Clay’s party.”
“Are you sure?”
“Luke leaves for Alabama on Monday. And I probably won’t get a chance to talk to him at graduation.” She pauses. “This might be my last shot.”
Hannah nods. “Good luck. I hope it works out.”
Joanie rubs her left elbow. She stares hard at the grandfather clock in the family room. “Hannah…,” she says, her voice small, “I need you to go with me. Please. Just ten minutes, I swear. I just have to tell him that I love him.”
Hannah sighs. “I can’t, Joanie.”
“No one has to know you’re there. Even if they do, it’s not like they’ll say anything. Please, Han, I’m begging you.”
Hannah sighs into the pages of her book. She presses her hands to her eyes. “Fine,” she mutters, her heart pumping faster. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
Joanie’s eyes shine with gratitude as Hannah gets off the couch. They drive to Clay’s house in silence.