Mr. Loring. Someone’s been sending me anonymous notes. They’re no big deal—just immature kid stuff—but I told Blake about them over the weekend, so I guess he was watching out for me. We don’t know for sure, but we think Natalie might be the one writing the notes.”
She glares at Natalie, who wilts before our eyes.
Mr. Loring turns toward her. “You’ve been putting notes in her locker?”
Natalie trembles. “Just two. But they’re not from me.”
“And who might they be from?” he persists.
Natalie’s chin trembles. “I promised I wouldn’t tell.”
Mr. Loring purses his lips. “Let’s take this to the office.”
“Mr. Loring,” Blake says, his voice now measured and reasonable, “I think we can settle this among ourselves, if you don’t mind. Now that we know who’s been planting the notes, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about this anymore.”
“What a stand-up guy,” Lauren mutters under her breath.
Blake is giving Natalie a studied stare, his expression a mixture of condescension and contempt.
“Are there any threats in the notes?” Mr. Loring asks.
Natalie’s face crinkles like a leaf. “I don’t even know! I haven’t even read the stupid things!”
“No threats,” Blake interjects quickly. “She’s got a crush on me and is trying to stir things up with my buddy and his girlfriend.”
Natalie squeezes her eyes shut.
Mr. Loring looks at Melanie. “No threats?”
“No, sir,” she assures him earnestly. “No threats.”
Then Melanie tosses a haughty look at Natalie and adds, “I’m not afraid of her.”
Mr. Loring hesitates a moment, then tells Melanie, “Open your locker and show me the note, please.”
Melanie, Lauren, and I exchange glances. Jamie’s nowhere in sight, but we know he’d be mortified to have half the school watch the saga unfold.
“I really think we can handle this ourselves … ” Melanie says.
“The note, please,” Mr. Loring says curtly.
Melanie sighs and opens her locker, plucking a sealed blank envelope from the top. She swallows hard, then hands it to Mr. Loring.
He glances hastily around the hallway. “Everyone else, please resume what you were doing,” he says.
The crowd starts reluctantly dispersing, everyone except Blake, Natalie, Melanie, Lauren, and me.
“Girls?” Mr. Loring says to Lauren and me. The two of us drop our chins and start slinking down the hall, trying to walk slowly enough to overhear what’s going on.
But we have to keep moving, and soon we’re out of earshot. Mr. Loring murmurs a few words we can’t make out, then walks to his classroom. Lauren and I rush back to Mel’s locker.
“I swear, I didn’t write it!” Natalie is telling Blake and Melanie, now heaving full-fledged sobs.
“Where’s the note?” I ask Blake.
He nods toward Mr. Loring’s classroom. “He took it.”
“What did it say?” Lauren asks breathlessly.
Natalie blurts out the answer. “It said, ‘Why won’t you listen to me?’ That’s all it said; that’s it! And I didn’t know what it said until Mr. Loring opened it!”
“Then why did you plant it in my locker?” Melanie asks.
“I didn’t plant it,” Natalie says through jagged sobs. “I put it in there. As a favor to a friend. I didn’t know what the notes said; I didn’t know they were freaking you out.”
“Bullshit!” Blake says.
“It’s true! I swear it’s true!” she cries.
“Then who wrote the notes?” Melanie demands. “Who are you covering for?”
Natalie drops her head and shakes it. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell. But I’ll ask her today if it’s okay. I’ll tell her this has all blown up and become a huge mess. I promise, I’ll ask her if I can tell, and if it’s okay with her, I’ll—”
“Why in the world,” Lauren asks, “would you try to protect the privacy of a sniveling coward who goes around writing anonymous notes?”
“She’s only trying to help,” Natalie says, her eyebrows an inverted V over tear-stained eyes. “If you knew who it was, you’d understand. She isn’t trying to freak anybody out. She’s only trying to help.”
We cast anxious glances at each other, which makes Natalie dissolve into a fresh round of tears. “I promise, I’ll ask her today if I can tell you. I promise!”
Then she turns and runs down the hall, her shoes tap-tap-tapping against the linoleum as she buries her face in her hands.
As we watch her disappear into the crowd, Blake’s eyes narrow. “She’s never been anything but a pain in my ass,” he says, his voice hard and gravelly. “A goddamn pain in my ass.”
“She’s gone,” Lauren says.
My eyes dart from her face to Melanie’s and back again as I approach them at the lunch table. “What do you