“You’re still applying early decision,” Perri told Kat after she confided in her friends, embarrassed by her father’s interference, but also visibly disappointed that he hadn’t been able to change the principal’s mind. “They won’t know Binnie is number one until long after they’ve accepted you.”
“I know, but number one makes much more of an impression,” Kat said. “Being number two just leads people to wonder how much better number one might be. It’s the damn reading comprehension. I’m too nervous to concentrate. I can zip through the vocabulary, and I was fine in the timed trials I did with my tutor. But my brain locks up on test day.”
Josie, whose board scores were a mediocre 1260, said nothing, but she understood Kat’s dilemma. Her old choke mentality had resurfaced in these tests, although her parents insisted they didn’t care. Perri, meanwhile, had scored an enviable 1550 but had the good taste not to mention it. If anyone was a lead-pipe cinch, it was Perri for Northwestern’s theater program.
“It’s not going to matter,” Perri said staunchly. “You’ve got a stellar application. You’ll be okay.”
“I know.” Kat sighed, stabbing her Frappuccino with her straw. “I just always thought I’d be number one.”
They were in a new Starbucks several miles south of Glendale. Now that they had licenses and cars-well, Kat and Perri had cars, Josie had only a license-they no longer met at each other’s homes or in the woods behind Kat’s house. They drove to the mall, the good one with the upscale department stores, or to restaurants that treated the high-school crowd hospitably.
Driving had opened up the whole world to them in the past year, although they seldom traveled more than five or ten miles from Glendale. Once, just once, Josie had borrowed her father’s car and taken the girls down to South Baltimore, the neighborhood of her pre-Glendale life. But the streets were narrow and all the parking was parallel, and the girls were a little stunned at the sight of homeless men slumped in doorways along Light Street. Josie could sense the energy and eccentricity that would have beguiled her parents when they were young, but she was thankful her family had left for Glendale. She would not have wanted to grow up here, with its no-name stores and littered streets.
“I’m telling you it doesn’t matter,” Perri said. “Besides, it’s not a done deal. You could take summer classes, too.”
“No, I can’t. I’ve already signed up to work at a summer camp for disabled kids.”
“She still hasn’t taken the class,” Perri said. “Anything can happen. She could drop out, or not get an A.”
“Ever since middle school, Binnie’s been a straight-A student,” Kat said. “I only stayed ahead of her by taking so many AP courses. I liked her better when she was a math genius.”
“We never actually liked her,” Josie pointed out.
“Well, you know what I mean. Why couldn’t Binnie be satisfied being this huge math brain and a National Merit Scholar? Why did she have to turn it into a competition?”
The girls sucked on their drinks. Josie’s mom liked to joke that Starbucks was the malt shop of Josie’s generation, but coffee drinks were so much more sophisticated.
“Well, it hasn’t happened yet,” Perri reiterated. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Nothing?” Kat, like Josie, believed that Perri had a plan for everything. In fact, Josie realized, Kat had been fishing, trying to get Perri to solve her problems, as Perri usually did.
“Not that I can see. Like I said, she might change her mind about taking the summer course if something better comes along, like a hot job. She might not get A’s. She could fall in love with some guy or have a nervous breakdown. But it’s out of your hands.”
The conversation had not seemed important at the time. Even a month later, after the pigs were killed at the Snyders’ farm, it didn’t seem notable to Josie. Summer came, and they went off in various directions-the camp job for Kat, a mother’s-helper gig for Perri, a mall job for Josie, who was trying desperately to earn money now that she knew the story of her compromised college fund. Things seemed normal enough when school resumed, but then this strange iciness set in Perri. She stopped speaking to Kat altogether, and when Josie begged her to tell her what was wrong, she referred her back to Kat, who said she had no idea what Perri’s problem was.
“Perri’s crazy,” Kat said. “There’s no talking to her. She’s probably still pissed that I got the part she wanted in the school musical.”
“Kat’s the one who won’t talk to me,” Perri said. “Ask her why. Make her tell why I’ve been banished from her life.”
But Josie did not dare ask, fearful that Kat would freeze her out in the same way she had exiled Perri. And while neither girl pressed Josie to take sides, it was natural for her to gravitate toward Kat. They were on the cheerleading squad together. Kat picked her up for school each day. Perri’s silences grew colder, more noticeable. If Josie had believed she could put the three of them back together again, she would have interceded. But if Kat could drop Perri, then she could drop Josie, too.
On the morning of June 4, Kat had picked up Josie for school as usual. They needed to be there early, for a run-through of a cheer routine that would be performed at the last-day-for-seniors rally. They were in Kat’s car-a used Mercedes that her father had justified on the grounds that it was safe-when her cell phone buzzed. Dutiful Kat, however, had promised her father she would never dial and drive, so she asked Josie to grab it.
“It’s a text message,” Josie said. “From Perri. She wants us to meet her in the north wing girls, second floor.”
The “us” was a little presumptuous. The text message had been for Kat alone. Josie tried to rationalize that Perri had to know that Josie and Kat would arrive at school together.
“Perri,” Kat said, “can go fuck herself.”
Josie had never heard Kat say anything so blunt, so naked. Oh, sometimes late at night-sitting by the reservoir, allowing themselves a beer or two just to be companionable with their jock friends-Kat might have let a profanity fly. But it was unusual.
“What if it’s important?”
“Believe me, it’s not. Just more drama from the drama queen.”
“Please, Kat.” Josie seldom argued with Kat, but she missed Perri, missed the three of them. It would be so sweet if they could reconcile before graduation. “Please go see her?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll go. I want to hear what she has to say.”
“No.” Kat sounded almost panicky at the thought. “Okay, we’ll both go. But I’m telling you, she’s crazy. You can’t believe anything she says.”