The boys had it the worst. They shopped at M. Dumas, the shabby chic store on King Street where their moms picked one look for them in seventh grade, and they stuck with it for the rest of their lives: khakis, long-sleeved Polo shirts in winter, short-sleeved Izod shirts in spring. After college they added a navy sportscoat, a seersucker suit, and an array of “fun” ties to wear to their first jobs at local law firms or their fathers’ banks.
The girls tried. Occasionally, a rebel like Jocelyn Zuckerman showed up wearing cornrows, which, although not explicitly banned by the dress code, were considered outrageous enough to get her sent home. But for the most part they kept their self-expression inside the dress code through elaborate workarounds. White turtlenecks were for girls who wanted to draw attention to their chests without showing forbidden cleavage. Girls who thought they had good butts wore stirrup pants that clung to their assets. Subdued animal prints (leopard, tiger, zebra) were popular with girls who were trying to project unique personalities. But no matter how hard they tried, they all still looked the same.
Because it wasn’t just their clothes. Albemarle taught grades one through twelve but there were only seventy-two students in Abby’s class, and most of them had been going to Albemarle together since first grade. They had carpooled to Brownies together, and gone to Cotillion together, and their mothers belonged to the Hibernian Society together, and their dads did business and went dove hunting together.
It was a school where everyone complained about the work load, but ragged on public schools for being “too easy.” Where
everyone hated the dress code, but snickered at the “rednecks” who roamed Citadel Mall in stonewashed denim and mullets. Where everyone was desperate to be an individual, but they all were terrified to stand out.
The first bell rang and they headed to class, and all day long Abby distributed rice krispie treats wherever she went: Intro to Computing, where the new teacher, Mr. Barlow, told them there was no eating around his computers. Then Geometry with Mrs. Massey, who confiscated them, ate two, and returned the tray to Abby at the end of class. U.S. History, where Abby made sure to give everyone treats before the second bell rang and the intolerable Mr. Groat appeared and made everyone throw them in the garbage.
As soon as the bell rang for lunch, Abby met up with Gretchen and they headed for the Lawn. Framed by the front office and the breezeway on one side and the auditorium on the other, the Lawn existed in the shadow of the bell tower. Set next to the auditorium entrance, the tower was a four-story rectangular monolith made of rust-colored bricks hammered into the heart of the school like a stake. On the side facing the Lawn, large metal letters spelled out the school motto: “Faith & Honor.”
They found Glee and Margaret sitting on one of the Charleston benches in the sun near the bocce players. Abby and Gretchen plonked down on the grass, broke out their green apples and yogurt cups, and soon they were talking about Saturday night like they were old pros who’d been dropping acid since Woodstock.
“Are y’all getting flashbacks?” Abby asked.
“Yeah,” Margaret said. “I saw your face on a dog’s butt.”
“That’s barely even funny,” Abby said. “Gretchen got flashbacks.”
They all looked at Gretchen, who shrugged.
“I was just tired,” she said.
That didn’t sound right to Abby. Normally Gretchen loved sharing drama.
“What happened?” Glee asked.
“The acid didn’t work,” Margaret explained. “So nothing happened.”
“I thought I cut my legs shaving,” Gretchen said. “It’s no biggie.”
“That is grotesque,” Glee said. “Were you in the tub? Did you think you were bleeding to death?”
Gretchen ripped out bits of grass until Abby came to her rescue.
“I heard stuff in the woods when I was looking for her,” Abby said.
“What kind of stuff?” Glee asked, leaning forward.
“Weird noises,” Abby said. “And I saw some old building.”
“Oh, yeah. That thing,” Margaret said, barely interested. “It’s totally like some historic landmark we can’t tear down. It’s so tainted.”
Abby turned back to Gretchen. “Do you remember anything that happened?”
Gretchen wasn’t listening. She was hunched forward, and while Abby watched, her shoulders twitched and she flinched again.
“Earth to Space Ace,” Margaret said. “What happened when you were naked in my backyard?”
“Who was naked?” a voice asked, and suddenly Wallace Stoney was among them.
Instantly, the mood changed. The girls could relax around one another, but Wallace Stoney was a senior, and a boy, and a football player. He thought friendships were emotional, and emotions were weakness, and weakness must be stomped.
“Gretchen was,” said Margaret, scooting over on the bench.
“You should have done ’shrooms,” he said, sitting beside her and squeezing out Glee. She stood up and joined Abby and Gretchen on the grass.
Wallace Stoney had a hairlip scar, and Abby was always fascinated that it hadn’t made him a nicer person. In fact, he was a giant jackass, and they only tolerated him because he was a senior and he was going out with Margaret, and Margaret only put up with him because he did whatever she said.
He put an awkward arm around Margaret and hauled her legs onto his lap. “Lovemaking is intense when you’re shrooming,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
“Make me barf now,” Glee said. “I’m going to the computer lab.”
“Nerd,” Margaret called after her.
“I’m coming with,” Gretchen said, getting up.
“What’s the matter?” Wallace leered. “Did I make the virgins uncomfortable?”
Gretchen stopped, turned, and looked at Wallace for a full second.
“It takes one to know one,” she said and took off after Glee.
Abby got up to follow. “I’ll leave y’all to your face-sucking.”
By the time she caught up with Gretchen, the bell was ringing and so she didn’t see her again until volleyball practice. Their first game was coming up and it would be totally humiliating if they lost. Last year they’d beaten Ashley Hall 12–0, but now the JV team’s power players had moved up to varsity and Coach Greene was not enthusiastic about their chances.
“You ladies are the most undermotivated, underachieving bunch of playing-to-lose girls I’ve ever seen,” she told them. “Go home and think about if you even want to be playing JV this year. Because if you’re not fired up, I don’t want y’all on the court.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Margaret said on their way out. “Truly inspirational.”
“I’m not your parents, Middleton,” Coach Greene said. “It’s time you girls woke up and joined the real world.”
Margaret and Abby rolled their eyes at each other, and then Margaret went to watch Wallace’s band practice while Abby and Gretchen walked out to the parking lot. Abby noticed Gretchen flinch again.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“The flashbacks are getting worse,” Gretchen said.
“Didn’t Andy say that was totally normal?” Abby asked.
“Andy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Gretchen said, and Abby’s heart soared. “It’s been like someone’s touching the back of my neck all day long. And it’s happening more. Every second it’s, like, touch-touch-touch.”
They crossed the street and walked between the mossy oaks that guarded the gate to the student parking lot, kicking rocks, the sharp white gravel poking through the soles of their shoes. Most of the cars were already gone, and the Bunny sat at the end, all alone.
“Like this?” Abby asked, extending one finger and poking Gretchen in the shoulder. Poke.
“It’s not funny,” Gretchen said. “I couldn’t sleep last night. The second I got tired, hands started touching my face and pulling on my legs. I turned on the lights and they stopped, then I started falling asleep and they were touching me again.”
“It’ll wear off soon,” Abby assured her. “It’s been less than forty-eight hours. This stuff can’t stay in your system forever.” She managed to sound confident, as if she was an expert on the half-life of hallucinogenic drugs.
Gretchen hitched her bookbag strap higher on one shoulder. “If I don’t get some sleep tonight, I’m going to go nuts. My entire face hurts.”
Abby poked her in the shoulder again, and Gretchen swatted her hand away.
It was just another Monday to Abby.
She didn’t know it was the beginning of the end.