Page 143 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
“Yeah, Mom.” I leaned my head against her shoulder, taking one last moment, even though the scent of freshly baked cookies was in the air. “You were great.”
Thursday afternoon, it was time to face the music.
I’d gotten lucky with Mom’s leniency for Monday and Tuesday, when she was still trying to figure out how to stop my downward spiral, but after Maisie broke me from my bedroom, I had no more excuses.
At least, until Ms. Murphy—who consulted with Mom Tuesday evening—advised us to have a little one-on-one sessionbeforegoing back to school, so I could be “armed with the tools to protect my peace.” So, on Wednesday, she came home with my mom after school, and we had a long chat about what I could do if I felt overwhelmed during the school day.
And then that led to Thursday.
“Maybe I can just eat lunch in here,” I told Mom, who sat calmly in her desk chair. Which was ridiculous—how could she becalm? “I’ve done it before. It’s fine.”
I was pacing in her office, but it did absolutely nothing to calm my racing pulse. It hammered in my ears, and I would’ve sworn I was starting to feel lightheaded. “Madison,” Mom said, just as serenelyas she looked. “I let you take the morning off, but now it’s time to ease back in.”
“Walking into a full cafeteria is noteasingme back in,” I argued.
“Fourth period hasn’t let out yet. If you go now, it’d be empty?—”
And, almost like some cosmic joke, the bell overhead rang out.
“Well.” Mom turned back to her paperwork. “If you hurry, it won’t betoofull.”
My stomach dropped straight to my shoes. The bell’s echo was still bouncing through my head, louder than it had any right to be, like the whole school was announcing my downfall. My hands went clammy, my chest tightening as though someone had wound a cord around my ribs and yanked it tight. I could already feel everyone’s stares, the whispers that would coil through the air the second I stepped inside.Jefferson’s Bulldog. Jade’s ex–best friend. The fraud.
My breath came sharp and shallow, no matter how hard I tried to drag it deeper, and all I could think was that I wasn’t ready. I’d never be ready.
Mom’s office door slowly slid open, but it wasn’t her secretary poking their head in. It was Maisie. “Hey, Oliphants,” she greeted awkwardly. She still hadn’t quite seemed to get over the strangeness of interacting again.
And normally I’d have been the same way, but panic still had me in its grip. “How did you know I was in here?” I demanded, voice shrill.
“Principal O called Mrs. Greer—I have her for fourth period—and she told me to get my butt here after the bell.” Maisie gave her arms a little flap. “My butt is here, and ready to dragyoursto the cafeteria.”
I turned toward Mom. “Please?—”
“I can walk you down there,” Mom volunteered cheerfully. “I can even sit with you at your table. I doubt anyone would say anything if the principal was?—”
“Oh my gosh, that’d be even worse.” I actually cringed as the image painted out in my head, pulse spiking. “F-Fine. I’ll… go to lunch.”If I don’t have a heart attack first.
Mom put a hand up, pulling her pink fabric lunch pail out from the mini fridge she kept behind her desk. She offered it to me with a soft smile. “Here,” she said. “You can have my panini.”
I was wound so tightly that I nearly burst out crying then and there.
“It’s no big deal,” Maisie said soothingly as we walked out of Mom’s office and to the main door that’d lead into the hallway. “Let them look at you all they want. You’re above all that high school nonsense.”
“Am I?” I muttered.
“Yep.” She nudged my shoulder, hard enough to pull me from the brink. “Ms. Most Likely To Peak In High School, who?”
I swallowed hard. “Not Madison Oliphant.”
“No, ma’am.” Maisie grabbed ahold of the hallway door handle, gaze finding mine. “Ready?”
To go out and face the piranhas? Absolutely not. Jade Dyer would be out there. The Top Tier would be out there. Students who were ready to take my Bobcat butt and turn it into taxidermy were out there. Sure, no one would punch me—probably—but the dagger stares would hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?
But Maisie—the confidence gleamed in her expression like one of the football stadium lights. And one ofMs. Murphy’s recommendations for when things got too overwhelming was to have an “anchor,” something to latch onto when I was spiraling. Sure, she’d recommended it to be an object, but Maisie’s surety could work.
All I knew was that I was so beyond lucky to have her at my side. So even though I didn’t feel it, in a small voice, I said, “Ready.”
Maisie opened the door, grabbed my free hand, and tugged me out into the flow of traffic.
