The List. Siobhan Vivian

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СКАЧАТЬ Nearly every one of her chorus friends would have been a likely choice.

      This time, after she spotted her name, Jennifer remained in school the entire day. She cried a little, alone in the bathroom, but she didn’t throw up or make a scene, which were marginal improvements. Her friends did their best to console her.

      Junior year, when Jennifer saw her name on the list, she laughed. Not because it was particularly funny, but because it was so ridiculous. She didn’t delude herself — she knew she wasn’t going to be named prettiest. But wasn’t it only fair to pass the ugliest torch along to another girl?

      She didn’t cry, not once. Her chorus friends comforted her again, of course, but more intriguing were the random students who sought her out to personally apologize. They never said what they were sorry for, but Jennifer had a pretty good idea; no one should have to be the ugliest girl three years in a row. It was too cruel, too mean. There were other girls who deserved to be picked, not only her. She was being unjustly singled out.

      Though a big part of her was angry at this repeated indignity, Jennifer graciously accepted the supportive pats on the back. This, she noticed, made people relax around her. It eased their minds. The entire student body seemed to appreciate that Jennifer was taking this with grace. They were relieved that she wasn’t going to make this awkward for them, like she had back when she was a freshman. There was no hysterical scene, no finger-pointing, no barfing. She was a really good sport.

      It was clear to Jennifer what had happened. The list, for better or worse, did elevate her status at school. Practically everyone knew who Jennifer was, and that was more than the other ugly girls, her friends, could say.

      The rest of junior year transpired without incident. Jennifer made halfway decent grades. She stopped hanging out with the chorus girls. She never really liked them much anyway.

      After twelve green tiles, Jennifer pivots. She spins the lock left 10, right 22, left 11.

      Jennifer steels herself and clicks open her locker. The entire hall watches as a white paper falls softly to the floor and lands inches away from her feet. She sees the embossed stamp of Mount Washington High. Certified truth, special delivery.

      Jennifer unfolds it. She skips the other grades, the other girls, and goes straight for the seniors.

      Margo Gable, prettiest.

      Jennifer wishes Margo didn’t deserve it, but she does.

      And right above her name, ugliest, for an unprecedented fourth year in a row.

      Jennifer pretends to be surprised.

      Someone claps. Someone actually claps.

       Drumroll, please.

      Jennifer shrugs off her book bag. It hits the floor with a thud, amplified by the vacuum of noise. She paddles her hands against her locker door rapid-fire until they burn. The sound smacks off everyone watching her, shocking them like those heart-attack paddles.

      Jennifer spins around to face her crowd. She explodes into a jumping jack, legs spread, hands shooting straight up, holding the list for everyone to see, as if she were one of the cheerleaders brandishing a FIGHT, MOUNTAINEERS, FIGHT! sign. She shouts the best “Wooooooo!” she can and pumps the list up and down in celebration.

      A few kids grin. More clap, and when Jennifer curtsies, enough hands join in to make it full-fledged applause.

      Jennifer skips down the length of the senior hallway, keeping her hands raised for anyone who might give her a high five. Many reach out for her.

      At the end of the day, there is this fact: Jennifer has accomplished a feat no other girl at Mount Washington has, endured something no one else can touch. She can’t help but feel special. It’s how that old saying goes. If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. She pulls her smile as wide as it can go, so no one will think for a second that she might not be enjoying this, fully embracing this gift.

      She wants everyone to know. She’s come a long, long way.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      Margo Gable is walking with her best friends, Rachel Potchak and Dana Hassan, three wide in a crowded hallway that always leaves room for them. The girls’ heads are pitched forward in a secret-sharing way, their hair falling collectively to make a privacy curtain. They are not talking about the list, as an outsider might assume. They are giggling about Mrs. Worth’s toes.

      The toes, gnarled and stuffed into a pair of orthopedic sandals, had mesmerized Margo during fourth period, and she ignored the lecture on the algebraic equation of a Möbius strip in favor of mentally unlocking the twisted, overlapping joints.

      “Why would a person with such hideous feet ever think to buy a pair of sandals?” Rachel asks.

      “No clue,” Dana says. “Also, hello! It’s almost October. Why is she wearing sandals in the first place?”

      Margo pulls her brown hair up in a sloppy bun at the very top of her head, secures it with a pencil, and thinks hard for an answer. Perhaps it’s a medical condition?

      This is why she doesn’t notice Principal Colby lurking by the staircase until the principal’s hand is on her arm, pulling her to an abrupt stop.

      Principal Colby is new and, so far as Margo can tell, the youngest faculty member at Mount Washington High School. She’s dressed in a red pencil skirt and a cream silk blouse with tiny yellow beads for buttons. Her dark hair is gathered in a low ponytail, except for her bangs, which Margo notices are kept long and shaggy in the way that is featured in lots of magazines right now.

      Some in her group have said that Principal Colby could be Margo’s older sister. But now, up close, Margo thinks Maureen, her actual older sister, is prettier.

      “Margo. I’d like to talk to you about this list. Do you have a minute?”

      Margo expects this to be a quick conversation, if that is even the right word for it. She tongues her watermelon gum down in her cheek and tells Principal Colby that she doesn’t know anything about it.

      Principal Colby narrows her eyes. “Well, Margo … you know that you’re on the list, right?”

      The suspicion in Principal Colby’s voice catches Margo off guard, and it suddenly feels funny to be smiling. Like it gives the wrong impression of her. She threads some of her soft hair behind her ear. “Yes,” she admits. “Someone mentioned it in homeroom.”

      Actually, Jonathan Polk, who had been cast as the lead in Pennies from Heaven, drowned out the morning announcements by performing the list as a monologue. Afterward, he tried unsuccessfully to coax Margo into taking a bow. It is nice, being on the list again. She’d been on it freshman year, Dana sophomore year, and Rachel last year, when they were juniors. That’s when her sister, Maureen, had also been on the list, and then, five days later, was picked as homecoming queen, which was the way things usually went.

      Margo had thought about texting Maureen at college with the good news, but decided against it.

      It has been weeks since they’ve spoken.

      Principal СКАЧАТЬ