A couple of girls giggled. Most didn't do anything, and didn't look very happy to be there, either.
Resigned, Claire guessed. Glad it wasn't them lying on the floor.
Monica stepped out of the corner.
"Well," she said, and put her hands on her hips. "Look what the cats dragged in." She flashed Claire a cold toothpaste-ad smile, as if the rest of them weren't even here. "You ran away, little mouse. And just when we were starting to have fun."
Claire faked more sneezing, lots of it, and Monica backed away in distaste. Faking sneezing, Claire discovered, wasn't as easy as she'd thought. It hurt. But it provided time and cover for her to pull the phone out of her pocket, cover it with her body, and frantically punch *2.
She pressed SEND and shoved it between two boxes, hoping the blue glow of the buttons wouldn't attract Monica's attention. Hoping Shane wouldn't be iPoding or Xboxing and ignoring the phone.
Hoping...
Just hoping.
"Oh, for God's sake. Get her up!" Monica ordered. Her Monickettes sprang forward, Jen taking one of Claire's arms, Gina the other. They hauled her up to her feet and held her there.
Monica pulled the hood back from Claire's bruised face and smiled again, taking in the damage. "Damn, freak, you look like hell. Does it hurt?"
"What did I ever do to you?" Claire blurted. She was scared, but she was angry, too. Furious. There were seven girls standing around doing nothing because they were scared, and of what? Monica? What the hell gave the Monicas the right to run the world?
"You know exactly what you did. You tried to make me look stupid," Monica said.
"Tried?" Claire shot back, which was dumb, but she couldn't stop the impulse. It got her hit in the face.
Hard. Right on top of the first bruise, which took away her breath in slow throbs of white-hot agony.
Everything felt funny, rattled by the impact of Monica's jab. Claire felt pressure on her arms, and realized that the Monickettes were holding her up. She put some stiffness back into her legs, opened her eyes, and glared at Monica.
"How come you live in Howard?" she asked.
Monica, inspecting her knuckles for signs of bruising, looked up in honest surprise.
"What?"
"Your family's rich, right? You could be living in an apartment. Or in a sorority house. How come you live in Howard Hall with the rest of us freaks?" She caught her breath at the sudden cold blaze in Monica's eyes. "Unless you're a freak, too. A freak who gets off on hurting somebody weaker than you.
A freak your family's ashamed of. Somebody they hide here where they don't have to look at you."
"Shut up," Jennifer hissed, low in her ear. "Don't be stupid! She'll kill you - don't you get it?"
She jerked her head away. "I heard you went away to college," Claire continued. Her stomach was rolling, she felt like she was going to puke and die, but all she had to do was stall for time. Shane would come. Eve would come. Maybe Michael. She could imagine Michael standing in the doorway, with those ice-cold eyes and that angel's face, staring holes through Monica. Yeah, that would rock. Monica wouldn't look so big then. "What's the matter? Couldn't you cut it? I'm not surprised - anybody who thinks World War Two was in China isn't exactly going to impress - "
She saw the punch coming this time, and ducked as best she could. Monica's fist smashed into her forehead, which hurt, but it must have hurt Monica a whole lot more, because she let out a shrill little scream and backed off, clutching her right hand in her left. That made the horrible throbbing in Claire's head almost okay.
"Careful," Claire gasped, nearly giggling. The scab on her lip had broken open, and she licked blood from her lips. "Don't break a nail! I'm not worth it, remember?"
"Got that right!" Monica snarled. "Let that bitch go. What are you waiting for? Go on, do it! Do you think that wimp's going to hurt me?"
The Monickettes looked at each other, clearly wondering if their queen bee had lost her mind, then let go of Claire's arms and stepped back. Jennifer bumped into the towering column of boxes, spilling an avalanche of dust and old papers, but when Claire looked at her, Jennifer was staring at a spot between the boxes.
The spot where Claire had hidden the phone. Jen had to have seen it, and Claire gasped out loud, suddenly a whole lot more afraid than she'd thought she was.
"What the hell are you looking at?" Monica snarled at Jen, and Jen very deliberately turned her back on the incriminating phone, folded her arms, and stood there blocking it from view. Not looking at Claire at all. Wow. That's... what? Not lucky, exactly. Jennifer had shown some cracks already. And maybe she wasn't a complete convert to the First Church of Monica.
Maybe Monica had just pissed her off one too many times. Not that she would be stepping in on Claire's side anytime soon.
Claire wiped the blood from her lip and looked at the other girls. The ones who were standing, uneasy and indecisive. Monica had been challenged and, so far, hadn't exactly delivered the smackdown everybody - Claire included - had expected. Kind of weird, really. Unless Claire really struck some nerve besides the ones running through Monica's knuckles.