Confessions Of An Angry Girl. Louise Rozett

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СКАЧАТЬ dad would have told me not to worry. “It’s not the length of the leg, it’s the length of the stride,” he used to say. He was always telling me to take bigger steps when we ran together. Dad made the mistake of taking me to see a half marathon when I was nine, and right then and there I decided that I was going to run the race the next September. He said he’d train me, which basically meant he spent the summer being really late for work and running twice as much as I ever did. We’d go on runs early in the morning, before it got too hot, and of course it took him a while to get me out of bed, so we never started as early as he wanted to. And then, when we were running, I’d get slower and slower as the longer runs went on, and he’d have to double back for me. I don’t think it was much fun for him, but he was pretty proud of me when I finally ran the race at the end of all that. It took me forever, but I finished. I was the youngest girl running that year.

      I haven’t run since he died. Peter pulled me aside this summer after Mom had asked me for the millionth time when I was going to go for a run, and he told me that I never had to run again if I didn’t want to. But I do. I will… I think.

      Robert and I grab a booth, but Tracy hovers near Matt until she realizes that he’s not going to introduce her to the swim thugs. Then she comes over, trying to look fine but mostly looking mad. And sad, too.

      “So, Rose,” she says. I know I’m in trouble when she calls me Rose and not Rosie. Well, that, and also the fact that until now she hadn’t spoken to me since we left her room. “I saw you with that guy today in the parking lot after school.”

      Robert looks at me. The waitress with the crazy beehive hairdo arrives to take our order. She’s famous for demanding that kids pay before she puts their orders in—including tip. We must look trustworthy, because after we order our pizza and sodas, she just leaves.

      “What guy?” Robert asks.

      I’m staring at Tracy. So this is how she’s going to get revenge for me saying that Matt might not be her knight in shining armor. I realize that she has had this information about me since the afternoon and she’s been saving it. Clearly Tracy has been studying Gossip Girl, absorbing lessons in how to treat your friends like crap.

      “Jamie Forta. You got in a car with Jamie Forta,” she says. How interesting that, when it’s convenient for her, she knows his actual name. Her eyes are glued to Robert’s face, searching for a reaction. He must look appropriately shocked or hurt because she appears to be very satisfied. I decide to focus on the blackboard menu above the counter, even though we’ve already ordered and I know the menu by heart.

      “What the hell were you doing with Jamie Forta?” Matt asks as he finally sits down at our booth. “That guy’s such a loser. I hear he’s been trying to graduate from high school for, like, three years or something.”

      I used to like Matt, way back in eighth grade. But something changed over the summer when he started preseason training with the swim team. He partied with them and now he thinks he’s such a big deal, it’s annoying. I started hating him the second I realized he was pressuring Tracy to have sex. But tonight, right now, I hate him for an entirely new reason.

      “He’s a junior, Matt. And you don’t know anything about him.”

      “There’s definitely something wrong with that guy,” Matt says. “He’s a moron.”

      “Do you know him, Rose?” Robert asks.

      The waitress drops off four sodas. Matt reaches for his wallet, but she still doesn’t ask for money. He looks puzzled. I sip my root beer and try to buy myself some time.

      “Rosie?” Robert says.

      “Yes,” I finally say, hiccupping because of the carbonation. “He was on the hockey team with Peter.”

      “Peter knew him?” Tracy asks, blushing a little bit. Matt gives Tracy a sharp look. She’s had a crush on Peter since the day she became my best friend. Coincidence? Doubtful. But maybe that’s just my cynical side coming out.

      “Jamie drove Peter home once, when Bobby Passeo skated over his hand.” I know that no one here could possibly know who Bobby Passeo is, but I figure he could work as a diversion from the current topic.

      “Jamie’s weird,” Tracy says, ignoring Matt. “What did he want with you?”

      So much for a diversion. “Nothing. He has a right to talk to me, Trace. He even has a right to offer me a ride home.”

      “He’s a junior,” Robert says, sounding alarmed.

      “So what? We’re not supposed to talk to people who aren’t in our class?”

      “He must have wanted something from you,” Tracy says again.

      “Nope.” I am determined not to give her anything. Two can play at this game.

      “Fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” she snaps.

      “There’s nothing to tell,” I snap back.

      The guys are now watching our conversation like it’s a tennis match. Matt looks amused, Robert looks confused. Tracy is staring at me, hard, and then she plays her trump card. I don’t actually know if she knows it’s a trump card, but it is.

      “He goes out with Regina Deladdo, who’s friends with Michelle Vicenza. They’re both on the squad,” Tracy says, using her favorite, extremely annoying nickname for the cheerleading team. “Michelle’s the captain. Regina’s her lieutenant.”

      You’d have to live under a rock three towns over to not know who Michelle Vicenza is. She’s Union High’s prom and homecoming queen. It’s been that way for four years. She might have been born with those titles. Every girl in Union secretly—or not so secretly—wants to be Michelle. She goes out with Frankie Cavallo, who graduated two years ago and now runs Cavallo’s, which is his family’s place. Peter introduced me to Michelle last year at his graduation party—I thought she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.

      But I have no idea who Regina Deladdo is.

      Or why Tracy suddenly seems to know everything about Jamie Forta when she was calling him “that guy” just two minutes ago.

      The waitress brings our pizza over and takes a moment to rearrange everything on the table so it fits. I’m glad, because I need a second to get over the fact that Tracy knows more about Jamie than I do. The way she’s doling out information tonight makes me want to kill her. How does Tracy already know that Regina Deladdo is dating Jamie? She must have been studying up from the moment we started school on Tuesday.

      Jamie goes out with a cheerleader? My brain hurts.

      I try very, very hard not to let anything show on my face.

      “Wow,” Robert says. “I know who she is. She seems a little…” He takes a sip of his drink as he searches for the right word.

      “Insane?” Matt says, shaking his head as he takes a bite of pizza. “Imagine screwing that harpy,” he adds. Robert nearly spits out his soda. Tracy stares at the table.

      Matt, a virgin? Uh-huh. Sure.

      “They’re perfect for each other,” he continues. “They’re both idiots.”

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