181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 40: Iola and Sister Carla

Friday came, and we were now ready to look for the last club we'd like to try out. Since I wasn't able to try for the Green Thumbs Club last time because of the incident, I went for this option instead. I saw Mickey with some baseball equipment, so I guessed she would be trying out for the Baseball Club. Anyway, her physique and personality fitted all clubs involving sports. I didn't like to take that away from her just because we made a pact.

Besides . . . I only had less than five months. She had a year to spend time with the club she'd choose.

I couldn't be selfish, could I?

Green Thumbs Club was located on one of the freshmen classrooms. I walked by myself, my long black hair waving by each step, catching the eyes of some of the students who weren't in their respective clubs yet. I knew I was just as popular as Jane, but I had a "bad bitch" reputation whereas Jane was supposed to be my opposite. It was as if there should be an equal ratio of the bad and the good; if an angel existed, a devil should be lurking. Yes, it was a requirement. No one believed in a pure place, apparently. And because Jane was the saint, the model student, the epitome of excellence, I had to play the devil.

Well, at least I was a cool ass devil.

I didn't mind playing the role. After all, knowing the truth—that Jane once spat on my face just because a guy she had a crush on liked me instead—was enough. In a world where receipts and proofs were critical, too bad I had none. But my experience was real. Whether people would believe my story was true was up to them. As for me, I would carry this truth to hell . . . or heaven . . . or wherever I'd be in.

When I entered the room, there were only eight people, who seemed surprised that someone like me was interested in such a club. There was only one senior, for goodness' sake, and she wasn't even my classmate. Wouldn't this club be abolished if it had this few members?

"What's the Madeline Jesty Jacobs doing here?" she asked. Her pixie-cut hair bounced as she turned her seat to face me. I, on the other hand, just looked for an armchair far away from their group. All of her reminded me of Mickey, but my Mickey was more charismatic.

"Isn't this the Green Thumbs Club?"

"Yup. And what are you doing here?"

"Uh . . . trying to get to know the club so I could join?"

"Aren't you supposed to be like . . . in a better club?"

I raised my brow. "What do you mean?"

"Our club is only responsible for helping the maintenance staff. Uh, start a newspaper drive . . . what else?" She glanced at our lowerclassmen and repeated what they mumbled, "Ah, yes, the segregation stuff."

"Do you do that every week?"

She nodded. "Yup, so I guess you should be—"

"Then that's perfect."

"Better off to another club . . ." she finished the line I interrupted, her voice fading as she was saying it. In shock, she added, "Excuse me? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why?"

"W-well, that's weird."

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," one of the lowerclassmen said. "The Madeline Jacobs!"

"There you go. Instant fans. Oh." She offered her hand for me to shake. "I-Iola."

"Can't be," I told her as I shook her hand. "No one in this school likes me."