Marney in the Middle

Chapter 12: The Rumor

I hunch over our outside lunch table to rest my face on top of my folded hands. Three classes and I already want this day to just end.

"What's wrong, M?"

I glance up at Carissa and shrug, forming a thin line with my lips. Her blonde hair is down today; she's styled into circular Shirley Temple curls that hang just above her shoulders. A light pink blouse and charcoal grey mid-thigh pencil skirt makes her look straight from Miss Temple's era, too.

"Is it the thing with Mr. Herkabe," she asks after a moment of silence.

I'm barely capable of concealing a grimace as I nod. After first period, I sped right out of there and ignored Malcolm's attempts to get my attention. No patience or desire to deal with that. But I'm not so much mad anymore as I am bummed. How could he be such a jerk?

"Don't worry," she says, "We've all been there."

Francine and Betty nod as all three of them exchange looks. They're like her copies; dark colored skirts and light colored blouses. Only difference is Francine has red hair cut into a pixie cut, and Betty has straight black hair slicked into a French braid.

"He made me cry because I couldn't name who we fought in World War I," Francine says. She glances around before leaning forward, "It was the Central Powers: German Empire, Austro-Hungarian Empire, Ottoman Empire, and" she wrinkles up her button nose and squints for a second, then snaps her fingers "and Kingdom of Bulgaria."

Betty frowns at the side of Francine's head, "You still remember that?"

"Uh, duh." Francine shakes her head and puts up her hands like she's explaining something very simple and obvious. "No way was that a*hole going to make a fool of me twice on the same subject matter."

"Anyway," Carissa says, rolling her eyes at the two girls, "Herkabe's a real jerk. It's the reason he's no longer the Dean of Action—"

"Discipline," Betty corrects.

"Whatever. Anyway, Herkabe used to be the Dean of Discipline" she sounds out each syllable as she shoots Betty a sideways glance "when he moved over from the junior high, but got placed into teaching after getting into a fight with a parent."

"Really?" I perk up a bit, slightly intrigued but also because my back has started to ache.

"Mhm." Carissa makes her signature 'gossip' look: eyebrows arched up, eyes wide, nodding slightly and bottom lip pushed out into a not-so-subtle grin. "With Mr. Wilkerson. You know, the weirdos—" Francine nudges her elbow into Carissa's side and not so subtly points at me "—I mean, Reese and Malcolm's dad."

Despite that slip, I chuckle. I can't imagine fidgety Hal from last night fighting anyone. Especially Mr. Herkabe. As I eat a slice of apple dipped in chunky peanut butter, the three girls across the table from me exchange a series of looks.

Subtle again.

I sigh and straighten up all the way so I can cross my arms, waiting for one of them to spill. My guess is Carissa since she's the group gossip, but Betty does hold the title for most blabby. That girl just doesn't think before she speaks.

"So," Francine begins after a minute. Huh, guess I was wrong. They exchange another series of glances; flexing her fingers out in front of her so her silver sparkly nail polish shimmers in the sun, she tries to make her voice sound nonchalant, "Speaking of Reese Wilkerson—"

"We heard you had a date with him last night," Betty blurts out. And here I thought I had these three pegged all wrong.

I bite my lower lip to keep my smile modest as I nod, "Mhm."