SOMEONE LIKE me shouldn’t be used to being summoned to the principal’s office at the last minute. Someone like me, with a solid 4.0, killer extracurriculars, and an immaculate disciplinary record, makes appointments and attends those appointments gladly, ready to be told how well they’re doing and what an excellent model they are for the rest of the student body. And if it isn’t too much trouble, would someone like me mind having my photograph taken for the alumni magazine?
That’s not exactly the case for me and our head of school, Dr. Piper. It seems that my unwillingness to fudge the truth, as she would say, or look past certain complications and small snafus in the administration, puts a sour taste in Dr. Piper’s mouth. “The old editor of the paper,” she once patronized me, leaning down from her perch on her desk, her tight sheath dress straining against her large bosom, “knew exactly how to toe the fine line between the truth and . . . and—”
“And lying?” I’d asked, and Piper exhaled loudly through her nose, her freshly done hair blowing away from her face in a single curtain of shiny locks.
This is the reason I am so surprised when I walk through the door of her office to see a sickly sweet smile plastered across her cheeks, and not the usual scrutinizing stare.
“Am I early?” I ask.
Dr. Piper shoots a glance to the right of the room, and I scoot in a few more steps to find that we aren’t alone. Will, the new guy, is leaning on a bookshelf, clutching a bunch of textbooks to his chest.
“Hi,” he says, and clears his throat again.
“Hey,” I say before turning back to Dr. Piper in confusion. “Seriously, am I early?” I repeat.
“You’re right on time,” Piper replies. Why does everyone keep saying that today? “I take it you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting our newest transfer.” She motions a red-taloned hand as though welcoming Will to the stage.
“Sort of.” I shrug.
Dr. Piper beams. “I was hoping you could do us a favor, AB,” she says. I hate it when she calls me that name, as if we’re close. “Our new friend Will needs someone to show him around. Sadie Kim was supposed to do it, but she mysteriously came down with some kind of stomach bug only moments ago, and Will said yours was the only other name on campus he knew. I told him wasn’t that convenient, as you’re one of my favorite students.”
I raise my eyebrows at her like, Is that so?
Piper ignores the look. “So what do you say?”
Will gives a wide smile, like Please?
I really do not have time for this, I think. But all I end up saying is “Sure. I was just heading to lunch.” Then, not knowing what else to say, I exit the office. When Will doesn’t follow, I pause in the doorway.
“Should I come?” Will asks, leaning forward curiously.
“Obviously,” I reply. I’m not trying to be rude, but I have a ton of articles to assign for the student paper, and oh, yeah, a crazy lady just told me I’m a fictional character, ten minutes ago in the parking lot.
Will’s grin grows even wider as he follows.
“I really appreciate this.” Will walks quickly to keep up with my pace as we make our way through the halls. His steps are bouncy and confident. All around us other students turn to inspect him as he passes.
“People think you’re interesting,” I tell him.
“Wait till they find out the truth,” he says, and when I look at him, he gives me a goofy grin.
“Are you always this happy?” I ask.
“Are you always this direct?” he replies, and this time I smile back.
“Always,” I say.
“So what did you think of that class today?” he asks as we exit the administrative building and head across campus. “I thought that author seemed pretty cool.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
“Not a big fan of the written word?” he asks.
“I love writing,” I tell him, shifting my bag to the side as someone jogs between us on the path. “I’m the editor in chief of our school paper.”
“Whoa, that’s cool.” Will shifts his backpack around and places his phone in the pocket. “How’d you get into that?”
“Diane Sawyer,” I answer simply.
Will frowns. “The newscaster? My grandmother loves her. Aren’t you a little young to be a fan of Diane?” He smiles at his own rhyme.
“So?” I ask.
“No, I’m just saying . . .” Will’s smile disappears, his eyes going a little wider. “Okay, sorry. Explain to me your love for Diane Sawyer.”
“You really want to know?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
“No, I’d rather walk in silence and not learn anything about the one other student I’ve met today.” Will tilts his head and gives me a look.
I laugh in spite of myself. “Okay,” I say. “There’s not that much to tell.” We walk into the student center, the double doors of the dining hall swinging back and forth ahead. “Basically, we watched her interview with Malala Yousafzai in school one day, and while Malala’s bravery nearly made my heart stop beating, Diane’s ability to bring her story to life made it race. Since then, I’ve watched every interview I can get my hands on. Hillary Clinton, Caitlin Jenner, even a special on Jackie O. The way she’s able to see patterns, to distill the essence of someone’s story down to a meaningful message, to ask just the right questions, takes my breath away.” We’ve stopped outside the double doors. “Also, nobody has ever looked fiercer in a crisp white button-down.”
Will doesn’t say anything; he just looks at me. Then he nods.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Will shakes his head. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”
I don’t know what he means, but I don’t really have the time to find out. “You ready for your high school dining hall experience?” I ask instead.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Will replies.
My friends are The Loud Table in the dining hall. It’s where Elliot and Sam got the idea for Look at Me, Look at Me as a band name. That and our society’s ever-growing obsession with how we portray ourselves. Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat . . . and whatever comes next.
“Those girls will do anything for attention,” Elliot always complains.
“They’re my friends,” I always say back, usually accompanied by a shove.
“Well, they’re annoying,” he teases then, stepping closer. I always walk away in a huff, leaving him chuckling to himself.
Okay, so I do know what he means. My friends tend to take on this weird persona when they know people are looking. Their voices get higher, louder, and they always seem to be standing up at the table instead of sitting at it. They do a lot of gesticulating.