ME. DETENTION.
Amanda was given one weekend, but I have detention after school for the next two weeks. “I’m disappointed in you, Anna,” the head said, massaging
the tension from her bal erina neck. “What will your father say?”
My dad? Who cares about my dad? What will Mom say? She’l kil me. She’l be so angry that she’l leave me here, imprisoned in France forever. I’l end up like one of those bums near the River Seine who smel like underarms and cabbage. I’l have to boil my own shoes for food like Charlie Chaplin in
The Gold Rush. My life is RUINED.
The detention was divided unfairly because I refused to tell her what Amanda said. Because I hate that word. Like being g*y is something to be
ashamed of. Like because Mer likes sports, it automatical y makes her a lesbian. The insult doesn’t even make sense. If Meredith were g*y, why would
she be upset about Étienne and me?
I hate Amanda.
When the head asked Isla for the story, she defended me, which is the only reason I don’t have detention for the rest of the year. She also took my cue;
she didn’t tell the head what Amanda said about Mer. I thanked her silently with my eyes.
We return to Résidence Lambert, and everyone is hanging around the lobby. Word of our fight has spread, and our classmates are looking for bruises.
They shout questions at us, as if this is a press conference for shamed celebrities, but I ignore them and push my way past. Amanda is already holding
court, spreading her side of the story.
Whatever. I’m too furious to deal with that crap now.
I pass Dave and Mike in the stairwel . Mike does that dumb thing jerks do where they purposely bump your shoulder with theirs to throw you off balance.
“What the hel is your problem?” I shout.
Dave and Mike exchange surprised, self-satisfied smirks.
I stomp into my room. Everyone hates me. Étienne ditched me for his girlfriend. AGAIN. Meredith hates me, and Rashmi and Josh certainly aren’t
pleased. Dave and Mike hate me. And Amanda and her friends, and now everyone else downstairs, too. If only I’d taken Rashmi’s advice. If only I’d
stayed in my room, Mer wouldn’t have yel ed at me. I wouldn’t know Étienne chose El ie. I wouldn’t have attacked Amanda. And I wouldn’t have detention
for the next two weeks.
WHY IS ÉTIENNE CHOOSING ELLIE? WHY?
Étienne. Who has perfect lips and perfect kisses. Who tastes like honey. Who will never, ever, EVER give up his stupid girlfriend! I’m startled by a
knock on my door. I’m worked into such a frenzy that I didn’t hear the footsteps.
“Anna? Anna are you in there?”
My heart seizes. The voice is English.
“Are you all right? Amanda’s downstairs, talking complete bol ocks. She says you hit her?” He knocks again, louder. “Please, Anna. We need to talk.”
I throw open the door. “Talk? Oh, you’d like to talk now?”
Étienne stares at me in shock.The whites of my eyes are stil red, I have a two-inch scratch down my cheek, and my body is poised for attack. “Anna?”