8. Troublemaker
TROUBLEMAKER
One week into summer, and I’m already seeing how the next three months will play out.
The Freshman-soon-to-be-Sophomore class trip to Italy started yesterday, which meant everyone (save for the south side residents who couldn’t afford it) is likely already in Venice.
So, why am I lying in my bedroom devouring a buttered bagel and watching Parks and Rec reruns?
Well, funny story.
Okay, maybe not ‘funny’ per se (a.k.a. at all ), but I’m looking for a silver lining.
Mrs. O’Keefe, one of the trip’s chaperones, had the brilliant idea to randomly assign “travel buddies” for our class. Not only would this person be the individual with whom you shared a hotel room, but you wouldn’t be allowed to stray from the group to use the bathroom unless you had your “buddy.”
We’d all received emails the day after school let out with our itineraries and “travel buddy” pairings.
I had been assigned with Sienna’s right-hand girl, Olivia Bouchard.
Not ideal, but I could live with it. Except, since there was an odd number of students, one of us would be assigned to a chaperone… which was what happened to Sienna.
To say the Queen Bee was pissed would be like saying Godzilla’s been known to damage a building or two.
She demanded to be paired with Olivia, and Mrs. O’Keefe would only agree to make the switch if I was okay with it.
Yeah, not a tough decision. I would have been more than happy switching places, so long as it kept me off Sienna’s radar.
As of right now, I doubt Sienna could even pick my face out of a lineup. And I’d like to keep it that way.
I still remember the wrath she had exacted on Heather O’Donnell in seventh grade when Sienna brought a designer handbag to school that hadn’t been released to the general public yet.
What was Heather’s mistake? Owning that very same purse.
Sienna hadn’t been as special as she thought, and no one—and I mean no one —could get away with making her feel “less than.”
At the end of P.E. second hour, I went into the locker room to find Heather in tears, cradling the tattered remains of her handbag.
Not only had Sienna broken into the locker and cut up Heather’s purse, but she’d also taken scissors to Heather’s cashmere sweater and even stolen the diamond bracelet that her grandmother had gifted her for her birthday.
And that had been payment for upsetting Sienna for one morning over a fashion accessory.
Imagining the retribution Sienna would exact for making her Italy trip less than idyllic…
I shudder to think.
Despite my email to Mrs. O’Keefe stating that I was perfectly fine with the switch, she still called our house, having come to the obvious conclusion that I felt pressured into making the decision by Sienna.
And wouldn’t you know it? Blythe just couldn’t resist interfering, going so far as to tell Sienna’s mother that I wasn’t okay with the change. Sure enough, the message was relayed to the Queen Bee, and my life officially ended.
When Dad came home, I pleaded with him to help, to call Mrs. O’Keefe and smooth things over, but like always, he consulted Blythe for some “womanly wisdom,” despite the fact she was part of the problem.
And, of course, Blythe came back with the same argument: that this was simply about me needing to be more assertive, that I couldn’t always hide from the issue.
She doesn’t understand Sienna. She can’t wrap her head around the idea that a fifteen-year-old cheerleader can be dangerous .
At this point, I wouldn’t put it past the Untouchables to get away with literal murder if Jase Rivers is any indicator.
It’s not like I keep up with gossip around here, but even I heard the rumor circulating this past week about his little run-in with the law.
Any other teenager caught driving without a license would find himself up Shit Creek.
Being caught while also intoxicated? Oh, being without a paddle would be the least of his problems. Sure, he’s the son of a congressman, but even that wouldn’t have been enough to bury the story.
Being connected with the Hawthornes and Eastons, however, seemed to be all the currency he needed, because there hadn’t been so much as a police report filed.
Great people to have in your corner when your back is against the ropes, but when you’re on the other side of that fighting ring? Yeah, not so much.
Still, Blythe wouldn’t relent. “If Ali doesn’t stand up for herself now, these girls will walk all over her.”
Yeah, except I’m perfectly fine with being walked all over if it means avoiding being run over by Sienna’s car!
Blythe couldn’t be deterred, and—shocker to no one—Dad took her side.
Sure, I wanted to go more than anything, but I also knew it wouldn’t be worth the hell I’d be put through.
So what did I do?
I dropped out.
Yes, it was cowardly, and even worse, I had to lie even to my dad about why I couldn’t go, claiming I was too scared to go on the trip, that I was having anxiety attacks over the very thought.
Not a lie…at least until I said it was because I couldn’t handle being so far away from my family.
But since I’m already prone to anxiety, it wasn’t a hard lie to sell.
Dad called the school and told them I sprained my ankle while waterskiing and that I wasn’t physically up for traveling.
Sure, I’m more than a little bummed that I don’t get to see Pompeii or the Trevi Fountain or the Colosseum, but being afforded the luxury of flying under Sienna’s radar is well worth the price.
Sadly, Blythe has made it pretty damn clear that I’ve ruined her plans by simply being here.
Derek’s down in Alabama for some football thing until after the Fourth of July, and I was supposed to be four thousand miles overseas right now.
It should have just been Blythe, my dad, and Vanessa here.
Granted, my sister is still enrolled in a summer ballet program, but it’s only during the day, and it’s from Monday through Thursday, giving them all cushy three-day weekends to “make memories” and have fun.
I’m not sure how my being here has messed things up—maybe Blythe planned activities with age restrictions or requiring a driver’s license or something—but whatever Blythe had in mind is now apparently a no-go.
So, say hello to the family killjoy. I’m here all week…and year.
I’m able to block out my misery for a whole two minutes before Blythe’s voice cuts through me from downstairs. Thankfully, she’s calling up to my sister and not me, but with all the muttering and eye rolls I’ve been enduring from her this past week, I find myself cringing at her very presence.
I polish off my bagel, choking on the last of the bread instead of doing what I’d like to do: scream! Because a pair of hands suddenly grapples at my window and shoves the bottom half up.
What the hell?
Only once I’ve managed to free the bagel from my upper airway do I hack out the sentiment, seeing it’s my sister. Vanessa, who had apparently climbed the lattice outside my bedroom, heaves herself through the window and not-so-elegantly tumbles onto the floor headfirst.
Since she’s still wearing the same top and jeans she had when she left last night, it’s more than a safe bet that she’s only now just returning.
I steal a glance at my clock.
9:42 a.m.
Did Vanessa, Little Miss Goodie Two Shoes herself, break curfew by nearly eleven hours?
She looks panicked, and rightly so, as Blythe calls up the stairs from the foyer a second time.
The two of them had planned to go shopping this morning for some new leotards or something, and it appears Vanessa’s running more than a little late.
Without so much as a “hello,” my sister pries me off my bed and pulls me out into the hallway. “I need you to buy me some time. Just go down there and distract her for ten minutes.”
“…W-what?” is all I can manage to sputter out, but Vanessa doesn’t bother explaining anything, peeling off her top before she’s even made it into her own room.
Lovely.
I’d been hoping to play the Avoidance Game with Blythe for the foreseeable future, but I don’t know what else I can do that’s “distracting” and also won’t involve talking to her.
Adding to my mounting pile of lies, I drag my sorry ass downstairs and tell Blythe that I haven’t been feeling well and Vanessa was looking after me this morning. Hence, she’s running a little late now.
Another eye roll. “If you think you’re coming down with something, you shouldn’t be around any of us. Your father has a fundraiser early next week, and Vanessa can’t afford to miss any of her summer sessions.”
Again, lovely.
If someone so much as winds up with a scratchy throat or runny nose from even allergies, it’ll be pinned on me .
I shoot Vanessa a text message explaining the excuse, and to my shock, I actually receive a “thanx!”
Not only that, when she comes downstairs, she tells Blythe that she thinks I have food poisoning from the takeout she brought home for me last night. “Hailey ordered the same thing when I went through the drive-thru, and she’s been really sick too.”
I know it’s silly that the exchange leaves me grinning like an idiot, but I’ve missed this.
Vanessa and I were thick as thieves growing up…
Something I can’t say now.
I wouldn’t say she’s ‘mean’ to me, because that would imply she has the time to act the part. For years, Vanessa’s entire focus has been on academics and dance. And if, by some miracle, she manages to scrape up any free time, she spends it with her friends.
Last month, I saw her for a combined total of an hour.
Honestly, I just miss my big sister.
I had hoped that, with my now-vacant schedule and the lack of schoolwork, she and I could find some time to hang out, but our stepmom has been glued to her side whenever she’s home.
And with them both walking out the door, I find myself completely and utterly alone.