Trouble is a Friend of Mine

Now, in the old days, I probably would’ve done the normal thing: scream, storm out of the bathroom, thank God they hadn’t filmed me actually peeing, and then obsess about why Sloane was picking on me.

But these were new days. I had a scar on my chin. I was on a first-name basis with cops. For the past few nights, ever since the Dumpster fire, Digby had been coming over to hang out and eat, and I guess the sly tricks from the outrageous stories he’d been telling me had sunk in. I batted the phone out of Sloane’s hand. I heard her gasp as she lost her grip on it. It clunked against the porcelain before slipping underwater in the bowl. That’s the sound of eight hundred bucks going down the toilet, I thought. I wanted to cheer when the screen distorted, then shorted out and went black. I kept it together, though, and walked out of the stall.

Sloane confronted me at the sinks. ‘You owe me a phone.’ There were red spots on her cheeks.

‘You mean the phone you were using to film me in the bathroom?’ I said.

The red spots on her cheeks grew, but she backed off. ‘Whatever. It’s fine. Plenty more where that came from.’

‘It’s okay, Sloane, you can get it fixed,’ one blond backup said.

‘Leave it,’ Sloane said.

But the blond had fished the phone from the toilet and was holding it out to Sloane.

‘I said leave it!’ Sloane screamed. That’s the problem with needing a posse to represent: they represent, all right, and when they do something humiliating like dive into a toilet, they take you down with them.

Sloane ran out and the other groups of girls openly laughed at her.

‘That was like that YouTube of the giraffe kicking the lion.’ One of the Sharpie vandals stuck her hand out for me to shake. ‘My name’s Bill. This is Darla.’ Bill draped a toilet paper sash across my chest. ‘For your bravery, your bitchiness under pressure, and your service to all the girls of River Heights High … we thank you.’

‘Hi … Bill?’ I wasn’t sure I’d heard right.

‘Well, it’s really Isabel but yuck, right? Ever since that movie-that-must-not-be-named, Isabel, Isabella, Bella … no. Just no,’ Bill said. ‘So, did you really get arrested?’

‘Well, we were taken into custody, which isn’t really the same thing.’

‘That guy Digby. What’s up with him?’ Bill said. ‘Are you two …?’

‘Digby? No.’ I said.

‘I remember in grade school his sister was murdered. He was messed up,’ Bill said. ‘I mean, he was never normal or anything. But now …’

‘With the suit,’ Darla said.

‘And the attitude,’ Bill said. ‘Hot.’

‘Hot,’ Darla said.

‘He’s number four,’ Bill said.

I read the list. ‘No Henry Petropolous?’

‘Petro-puh-lease. He’s so … pedestrian,’ Bill said.

‘So pedestrian,’ Darla said.

‘Saying you like him’s like saying your favorite pizza topping is cheese. Snore,’ Bill said.

It was like I’d stepped into some weird alternate universe. Where had these girls been the whole time?

Instead of jewelry, Bill had grocery lists and notes-to-self scribbled up and down her arm like a tattoo sleeve, new writing sitting on top of the old scribblings that hadn’t washed off yet. Her clothes were a vintage-y, Grandma, biker mix and she wore makeup but not in a way that said she was doing it to look pretty, because that would be lame. Plus, she had a gravelly voice. Darla had the same vibe, but she was basically an echo. Darla was Bill Lite.

Then I remembered who they were. ‘Oh, wait. You guys got the homecoming formal canceled,’ I said.

‘Everyone remembers that part but forgets that we got the budget for the formal donated to the Covenant House,’ Bill said. ‘Anyhow, all we did was start a petition. The people spoke.’

‘And it was basically only a moral victory because the Blooms just cut a big-ass check so their little Cinderella would still get to go to the ball,’ Darla said.

‘Darla, we didn’t do it to piss Sloane off. We did it for Covenant House,’ Bill said. ‘Your life’s not a movie starring Sloane.’

‘Whoa. You’re right. That’s deep,’ Darla said.

See? Bill Lite.

‘So. Digby,’ Bill said.

‘Yeah, we want to know about Digby,’ Darla said.

‘Among other things … like how you get your bangs so smooth.’ Bill held her phone out to me. ‘We need to hang.’

I know I sound weird, but it was an instant friend crush. I wanted to be friends with Bill so much that, high from the first meaningful contact I’d made in that school besides my questionable friendships with Digby and Henry, I blurted out something I would regret horribly. ‘Yeah … we should hang out. Gimme a call and I’ll call Digby.’ They wanted the Digby freak show? I’d give them the Digby freak show. I took her phone and entered my number.

My feet weren’t touching the ground when I left. I saw it all so clearly: Bill, Darla, and me at the mall, the three of us eating lunch, the three of us not taking crap from Sloane. I was so busy daydreaming, I didn’t notice the boys’ bathroom door open until a hand shot out and dragged me in by the elbow.