Gossip Central

You know how other schools have their cliques? The mean girls who put everyone down and at the same time make them feel special for just acknowledging their existence. Others, have their egocentrically dumb jocks who parade over the campus, giving high fives to their buddies and finger-gun winking the head cheerleader. And those two or three bullies that always seem to pick on students three grades lower but are in fact so stupid you wonder how they made it that far in school. And don’t forget the overly enthusiastic drama club members who will be our future actors, the so-called band geeks that can play Star Wars better than anyone around, the show choir members who can sing and dance circles around you, at the same time, and the science nerds who will one day cure cancer.

Well…

At my school, we have those with a few others that movies and shows don’t depict, but the one thing we’re mostly known for is Gossip Central. No one knows how it starte. No one knows how the person got in and out of the school with two giant cork boards full of index cards color coded, categorized, and put in alphabetical order into the school let alone both random boy and girl bathrooms. We just know they did. They sneaked in this place and got it done. Every card holding a secret about people in the school.

It’s similar to the Burn Book in Mean Girls. Yes, that overly dramatized book scene in that overly dramatic movie.

But it’s worse.

It’s worse because there’s no telling how they get their info, and the cards always turned out to be true.

Always.

Knowing they all end up true, I’m stuck in a downright dill of a pickle today.

But let me start at the beginning.

…

Eight months earlier, a week after school has started back:

Hello, my name is Rory, Rory Pines.

Yes, like the trees.

Here we are at Fairville High. A one hallway school in a one horse and traffic light town. Granted, this one-horse town is sort of famous for its monthly rodeos, four yearly fairs spread evenly, and the only set of working railroad signals for miles. At this one hallway school, we actually have more than it would seem to offer. There’s the drama club. The art class with shows. Sports teams. The chemistry club. The book club that meets in the library, but it’s more of a closet for encyclopedias and dictionaries with three computers that don’t access anything for the parental blockers. Then there’s the small but talented band. Not what you’re thinking. It’s a so called rock band with about six members, but they support the halftime shows for the football and basketball teams as well as my favorite club, show choir, a.k.a. The Fairville Singers.

Over there, sitting at the middle set of the black and white outside tables, is the elite clique of females.

The Quads.

Fairville High’s ‘We’re better than you in every way, so don’t step in our light, or we’ll stomp you in the ground’ quadruplet sisters, and daughters to the school board president.

Sitting with and standing around them, is this year’s varsity football team and cheerleaders, with Riley Kessler the starting receiver, and his hip attachment, Jonathan Scaggs the quarterback.

At the back of the tiny outdoor sitting area, stands a breezeway awning that attaches the mains school to two classrooms. Next to the small building is the JV football team and their cheerleaders along with a few of their classmates.

Closer to the gym that houses three other classrooms, the lobby, and the caf with the rest of the students on break, is the drama club mixed with the show choir. And I bet one would expect me to say those are my people, but in fact, I prefer the table far across in the corner closest to the first classroom attached to the gym. No one else really likes to sit here because it’s right next to a teacher’s window, but that’s why I like it. I can read and think in private. Of course, no one would really want to sit with me other than Vickie, my best and truly only real friend. She’s gone to get us drinks from the good vending machine. She’s been gone a bit longer than expected. Must’ve gotten a pop tart and is waiting for one of the two microwaves to open up.

I make the mistake of looking towards the Quad’s table. Riley looks away from them, locking eyes with me, and I freeze. He smiles and tosses his chin towards me. I glance between him and my table a few times, white paint blinding, and offer a quick smile back. He takes his foot off the seat of their table as if he may walk over here, but just as he starts to take a step, Vickie walks up and sits next to me. She flips her board straight black hair over her shoulder and slides me a warm frosted strawberry pop tart with my lifeblood, diet coke.

Pulling my pop tart in front of me, I break it in half. “Thank you!” I grin, biting away the crust around the frosting.

I hate the crust, so I eat it first and quick so I can enjoy the frosting and gooey center more.

Vickie glances over at the Quad’s table. “What’s he looking over here for?” She eyes Riley glancing our way every few seconds.

I try not to make it obvious I’m looking at him looking at me from his new seat on the other side their table. Don’t want him thinking I’m a creep.

Shrugging, I eat the completely frosted middle of my poptart piece. “No clue. Maybe he’s waiting for someone to walk out the gym?” I glance at him one more time, still trying not to make it obvious.

Well, shoot…

We’re making eye contact.

He gets up, holding his eyes on our table.

I look around, but no one’s coming from the gym or the two classrooms attached to it, so I look forward again with minimal glances his way.

Before he can move towards us, Jonathan walks up to him and taps the back of his hand to Riley’s shoulder with a nod towards the gym. “Hey man, let’s shoot a few before break ends.” He shoves his fingertips into his jean pockets and waits for a response.

In the midst of my interest in Riley, the Quads walk up to our table, and Nola sets her gold ring covered deep brown hands over the holey white break table with a grin and speaks low. “I saw you staring at Riley.” She sniggers, glancing at him over her shoulder, and then looks back at me with a plump plum lipped smile. “That’s so cute how you’ve found a crush, but I think you should just stick with your imaginary beaus.” She pokes my most recent Supernatural novel, and then glances again at Riley waiting with Jonathan for her. “Besides, it’s not like he even knows you other than maybe your name.” She turns back to me, standing straight, and her large black ’fro blocks the sun for a moment.

I smirk, pulling my book closer to me. “Trust me Nola, I have no interest in your self-proclaimed boyfriend.” Standing, I fold my wrapper around the rest of my pop tart and look at Vickie getting up next to me. “C’mon, let’s go to the classroom. I wanna finish filling out Coach Carson’s study guide.” I cut my eyes at Nola. “There’s less noise in his room.” I give her a sarcastic open mouth smile, and then head towards the main hallway.

The rest of the day is a seemingly normal day with normal classes, normal lunch, and a normal show choir practice in the choir room. Of course, the show choir is made up of most of the ninth through twelfth grade class students, those of whom who are not singers or dancers are crew members who help out with stunts, dressing changes, and props. With the exception of the only other person of interest in this story, Riley Kessler. He won’t say why he refuses to try out. Even Jonathan, the Quads, and half of the football team, which also happen to be part of the basketball team and baseball team, and the cheerleading squad who are members of the girls’ basketball team and softball team, are members.

But no.

Riley isn’t part of it.

So, when am I getting to the pickle you ask? Not for a while, but for now, we can skip to the next day.

…

Ten o’clock break again. Vickie and I make our way to the girl’s bathroom in the lobby at the front of the gym. Walking through the lobby doors, we stop at the large amount of students trying to cram themselves into each bathroom on either side.

Guys crowd their door, laughing, Oh-ing, cheering, high-fiving, and cringing.

A girl pushes through the crowd, crying into her hands, and runs past us.

Vickie and I look at each bathroom and then each other in confusion right before pushing our way into the girl’s bathroom.

There it is.

The first occurrence of Gossip Central with a laminated explanation plaque at the top.

It reads: “Since I hear how everyone is or wants to be in everyone else’s business, talking about one person or the other whether necessary or not, nice or not, true or not, I have taken it upon myself to bring the rumors and gossip to the masses in a concise method. Enjoy at your own risk.” The title Gossip Central is at the bottom in big bold black letters.

I glance through the cards. Vickie’s name is at the top in the B’s. I look back at her. She just stares at the secret that is supposed to only be between us. A secret about her first time. That it was with a boy in his freshman year of college, and how romantic it was.

I nudge her shoulder, pulling her aside. “Well.” I point at the board, still looking at her. “Is this the truth? Or is what you told me the truth? Cause no one else is supposed to know about this, let alone know it happened over a year ago instead of this summer.” I cross my arms, waiting.

Vickie flits her eyes back and forth between me and the board, stuttering out her first word. “W-w-well.” She picks at her fingernails. “Yea.” She looks up at me, scrunching her nose.

Exhaling hard and rolling my eyes, glaring at her. “Jonathan Scaggs? At least tell me it was worth it? He’s just, just, Scaggs!” I throw my hands to the sides, halfway laughing.

Vickie looks around at the other glares and giggles, and then turns back to me. “Actually, it was really freaking awkward. We both knew how it was supposed to work, but neither of us had actually done it yet.” She shrugs, rubbing an arm. “He’ll never admit it in public, but he’s pretty sweet.” She grins, picking her cuticles now.

I cross my arms again. “Well, I can’t say I’m not pissed that you lied, because you could’ve told me.” I grin. “I wouldn’t have judged you too harshly.” Giggling, I nudge her shoulder.

Vickie looks up at me, raising her eyebrows. “Really? You don’t think I’m gross or stupid?” She hugs herself.

I let out a laugh that’s a bit too loud, and look around before speaking. “Of course I think it was stupid, and that he’s gross, but no, I’m not gonna hold it against you.” I shrug, looking at the board. “Besides, the board says he sleeps with a little green frog that he got when he was five from his dead Noni so…” I put up my hands.

Vickie giggles, shrugging too. “Yea.” She puts out her arms.

I smirk, leaning in, and we hug.

A loud growl interrupts our overly sappy girl moment, and we both look towards the board.

Nola stomps her foot, looking at her sisters. “Which one of you told?” She points a finger at each of them. “I know it was one of you.” She growls again, storming off.

Vickie and I look at each other, moving towards the board as Nola’s sisters chase after her. On the board is a bright pink index card with Nola Ward at the top and “Middle name is Minerva and she doesn’t shave her armpits when she is wearing long sleeves.” We both laugh, putting our hands to our mouths.

I shake my head, eyes wide. “That’s pretty intimate information for this person to have. How did whoever this is get it?” I look at Vickie, eyes still wide, and we hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds.

Vickie shrugs, shaking her head. “Don’t know, but you’re not on here.” She puts out her hand to the board.

I arch an eyebrow, shrugging my lips, and look at the board. “Yet.” I cut my eyes at her.

How true. And had I known, I would never have said it.

…

Skip to after lunch as I sit in Mrs. Stippler’s Spanish class.

Headmaster Ferellee, a chubby bald man with a permanent frown, grabs the attention of the school through the intercom system. “Listen up! It has come to my attention that there is a board in the boy’s and girl’s bathrooms of the gym lobby.” A short pause with a sigh. “Those boards have been removed for the safety of the students. Whoever is responsible needs to come forward immediately, and anyone who knows who put them up, should do the same. Obviously, whoever did this isn’t your friend so give them up. That’s all.” The intercom screeches for a second before silence settles over the school.

My entire class erupts into chatter.

Mrs. Stippler puts out her hands, shushing us.

It doesn’t work.

Seconds later, she slams her yard stick on her desk. The class shuts up, glaring at her, and we all sit stiff in our desks.

Mrs. Stippler sets the stick down. “Now, can we please get back to Spanish?” She glances around the room, pressing the play button on the DVD player, and sits back in her desk as the nineteen-nineties’ based “classroom teacher” resumes her lesson on the box tv.

I glance behind me to see if anyone is whispering about the board, and I lock eyes with Riley. He lifts his fingers from his desk in an attempt at a wave and grins. I can’t help but grin back with the same little wave.

It’s so weird how nice he’s being. Nola’s right. He probably only knows my name and is just being nice because we keep making eye contact. Shrugging it off, I turn back to the tv.

…

Fourth period.

Show choir practice.

Finally, something I’m good at.

As the first person to class, I sit on the front row on the end, holding my folder, and wait for the director and choreographer to arrive with the other students. Once everyone is in the room, Mrs. Holms warms us up on the piano with scales and a short song.

Mrs. Holms stands behind the piano, white hair rolling over her shoulders, and looks us over. “Alright, turn to Once Upon a December. Sopranos, you take the lead. Altos, you come in during the fourth measure. Tenors and Bass, come in two measures later.” She turns to the cd player next to her. “We will sing with the vocals once, and then go over parts separately.” She hovers her finger over the play button and looks at us. “Ready?” To our nods, she presses the button.

Chimes start the song, tinging and pinging out a melody. I take in a deep breath just as the soprano’s part starts. Not long, the altos join in as do the tenors and base. We all sing together for a few measures before it’s only the girls, and then only the boys up to a string of harmonic ah’s.

This is one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite movies. I’m so excited we’re doing it this year. There’s even a duet segment, on which I have my eye. Of course.

Once the song is over, Mrs. Holms turns off the player and looks at us. “Who wants the duet?” She waits.

I immediately raise my hand.

Mrs. Holms nods. “Alright, looks like we have a competition for the female portion.” She pauses. “No takers for the male? If not, then I’ll randomly assign it.” She crosses her arms, staring the boys down.

All the boys look at each other, and finally Jonathan raises his hand. “I’ll take one for the team.” He sniggers, fiving with Jeremy next to him.

Mrs. Holms nods. “Good.” She looks at me and behind me. “Alright Rory and Nola, come to the piano.” She sits down at the piano with her fingers in place to play, and looks at Nola. “Your first, but right now, just listen.” She raises her eyebrows, tilting her head, and then looks at the piano.

Nola and I stand on either side of the piano. Mrs. Holms plays out the melody while we read along with our sheet music. After a couple run throughs, she points to Nola.

Nola sings out quite well, adding in a little of her own flourish. Once done, she smiles, bouncing a bit, and looks out at everyone else before looking me up and down.

Mrs. Holms clears her throat, turning to me and points.

I sing through the solo as best I can with little flourish, staying as close to the soft and sweet sound the song is going for.

As soon as I finish, Mrs. Holms closes her book, standing, and points at me. “Alright Rory, you’ve got it.” She looks at Nola. “And Nola, if she can’t perform, you get the solo for that performance.” She looks between the two of us. “Now, having said that, no fighting over it. This is my decision, not yours.” She points a finger at both of us, moving from between the bench and the piano.

Nola gives her best fake smile. “Oh, of course Mrs. Holms. We wouldn’t fight over it anyway.” She keeps her smile, still standing next to the piano.

Mrs. Holms just glares at her.

I snigger to myself. I’m not the only one who knows her fake smile. I try to keep my own smile to myself, but it’s hard to keep my victory inside. Getting a solo over her is one of best feelings. Not just because it proves I can sing as well or better, but it hurts her ego. An overly stated, entirely fluffed, I-have-a-high standing-social status-in-the-school, ego.

Nola looks at me, offering a quick scrunchy grin before we turn away and take our respective seats.

Vickie pats my arm, grinning at me, and looks over her shoulder at Nola with a quick smirk.

Nola rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and legs in a silent huff.

Mrs. Holms clears her throat, standing next to the CD player, and looks at all of us. “Alright, let’s run through it with the duet.” She presses play and sits on the piano bench.

The music starts. We sing as a group until the duet. Every time my part comes, I can hear just above myself, and the music, another voice singing with me. On the last section of my part, I glance over my shoulder spotting Nola singing along.

Mrs. Holms pauses the music. “Nola what’re you doing?” She stands next to the cd player and stares at her.

The room gets quiet. Everyone cuts their eyes at either me or Nola.

Nola smiles. “I was just getting a feel for how the solo works for me, for when I need to sing it. I didn’t realize anyone could hear me. I’m sorry.” She scrunches her shoulders and face, offering another fake sweet grin.

Mrs. Holms just gives her an annoyed frown. “Do that in your own free time, not here, not now.” She turns to the cd player, hitting the back button. “Again.” She glances at Nola. “Without the echo.” She arches an eyebrow, hitting play, and we start over.

The bell rings for lunch. Seems this is always the quickest class. In the caf, Vickie and I stand in line at the small counter for our chance to get a leftover desert before they run out.

Fudge brownies.

My favorite.

Riley and Jonathan stand just a couple people ahead of us.

Right when we get to the counter, Mrs. Rita shakes her head. Vickie and I drop our shoulders, groaning.

Mrs. Rita raises her fingers from the counter and shrugs. “Sorry girls, the two ahead of you got the las ones.” She shrugs her lips, raising a shoulder to her cheek.

Vickie and I look at each other, and I shrug. “That’s alright Mrs. Rita. Thanks anyway.” We grin, heading for the door.

We sit at our normal table, opening our lunchboxes. As I pull out my individual containers of sandwich supplies, a shadow covers our table. Looking up, I lock eyes with Riley. Not knowing why he’s here, or what to say, I just sit there and stare at him.

Riley smiles, letting out a quick breathy laugh, and pulls his hands from his tan Carhart jacket pockets. “Hey, I uh…” He lets out a deeper breathy laugh, holding out a hand. “I heard what just happened, and I saw your face, so I figured you’d, um, like this.” With another quick laugh and a smile, he sets an unwrapped brownie on the table next to my tomato container, and walks to the door.

Just as he grabs the knob, I jump up from my seat. “Thank you!” I stay up, awkwardly between the table and bench, and look at him with what I hope is a sweet smile.

Riley grins, tossing a hand from his jacket pocket, and then goes back into the caf.

Sitting down, I just stare at the brownie. Why? Why would he do that?

Vickie points to the brownie. “You gonna eat it or stare at it?” Before I can answer, she adds another question. “Can I have it if you don’t want it?” She giggles, shoving her hot dog into her mouth.

I move the brownie farther away from her. “Duh, I’m gonna eat it.” I cut my eyes at her, watching a glob of ketchup, mustard, and relish fall from the back onto her wrapper. “Why, um, why wouldn’t I eat it?” I shake my head, putting my sandwich together.

Vickie shrugs. “’Cause it was Riley’s.” She wipes ketchup from her mouth.

I freeze, cutting my eyes at her. “What does that have to do with it? It’s not like he has cooties.” I let out a light snort, taking a bite of my sandwich.

Vickie giggles, taking another bite of her hot dog, and speaks with her mouth full. “You know you like him.” She covers her mouth, speaking as she chews. “You know those blue eyes and that crooked little grin get you all gooey inside.” She swallows, letting out a loud giggle.

I roll my eyes, finishing my bite. “Oh, shut up. Yea, I admit he’s pretty cute, but I don’t know anything about him. I’ve never really paid him any attention, so no, I don’t know that I like him at all.” Shrugging, I take another bite, not looking at her.

Vickie lets out a loud laugh, covering her full mouth. “That answer right there says you want to like him which means on some level, you do like him.” She leans her shoulder into mine, and I open my mouth to speak, but she points a finger at me and shakes her head. “Oh, don’t even try to say I’m wrong.” She raises her eyebrows, looking at me, and shoves the last bite of her hot dog into her mouth.

A silence falls between us.

Vickie wipes her mouth, crumpling the napkin in her hand. “Well? Am I right?” She crosses her arms, leaning back, and waits.

I eat my sandwich, keeping quiet, and think. Okay, so he’s cute. Really cute. And his eyes are gorgeous. And he is super sweet… but that’s all I really know about him other than he plays sports. Do I want to get to know him? I guess, but should I try? Or should I just wait to see if today was a fluke?

Now, even my thoughts get quiet.

Finishing my sandwich, I open my mouth to speak, then the bell rings for fifth period, and I look at her. “I’ll give you my answer after class.” Putting my containers in my lunchbox, we head into the hallway to our lockers.

All during class, I keep drifting back to the brownie I didn’t get a chance to eat.

It was pretty sweet of him to give me his brownie, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he likes me past being a decent person to me. But, we’ve been going to this school for five years together, so, why now? Why wait until senior year to make me wonder if he likes me? Shaking off the thoughts, I try to finish out the rest of the school day.

…

That afternoon, Vickie comes over for a study session. Which to us, is an hour of studying and either five more of gossip, or we convince the parents to let her stay and make a night of either Netflix and popcorn or the child-like parallel play of Sims or ps4. I think mama let’s her stay so often from my lack of siblings. I’m not sure.

However, tonight’s topic of discussion isn’t what I expected to take up the night’s entirety.

Vickie plops on my bed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and kicks off her shoes over the side of my bed. “So, did you eat the brownie?” She grins at me, picking at her socks.

Grinning, to myself, I roll my eyes at her. “Not yet.” I sit next to her on the bed, picking at my white bed spread. “I honestly don’t know if I should.” Scrunching my nose, I squint at her.

Vickie lets out a loud and quick laugh. “I’ll eat it then.” She moves for my lunchbox next to my backpack.

I beat her off the bed, getting halfway across the room. “No! I haven’t made up my mind.” I stop with my hands out.

Vickie giggles. “I’ll take that as the answer to my question from lunch you never answered.” She giggles more, tapping her foot, and I smile to myself.

Of course she would. That’s just Vickie. She can read between the lines better than anyone I know.

Vickie crawls the short way to me, sitting on her knees. “I knew it! Yoooou like him! Yoooou want to be Mrs. Riley Kessler! Yoooou want to have little Kessler babies!” She pokes my sides and shoulders, and we giggle even more.

Bouncing off the bed, she pulls out her laptop.

Hanging my feet off the end of my bed, I lean forward on my hands. “What’re you doin’?” I watch her open it up and sign in.

Vickie turns the screen away from me. “Uh-uh, just wait.” Smirking, she watches me sit back down.

After about twenty silent minutes, Vickie nods for me to come look. Getting to the other side, my head drops, and I laugh.

Vickie giggles, pointing to the screen. “Well? Doesn’t you r family look so sweet?” She keeps giggling.

I look at the overly exaggerated Sims4 version of myself next to my almost perfectly represented husband version of Riley and our Sims4 genetically replicated offspring son and daughter, and a burst of laughter rips through my lips.

Pointing to my Sims4 self, I speak through my giggles. “Why is my hair blue and brown instead of auburn?” I cover my mouth, trying not to cry while looking at my matching daughter.

Vickie shrugs. “I donno. Guess I didn’t wanna make it too realistic.” She cuts her eyes at me and laughs.

I laugh harder, trying to speak. “Then, why is he? Why is Riley as close to real as possible?” I try to calm down, wiping a tear from my eye.

Vickie smiles, leaning her head into her shoulder. “Eh, how else were you gonna live out the fantasy? He needs no improvement in my opinion.” She smirks, offering me the computer. “Wanna get your woohoo on?” She snickers, holding it up.

Covering my mouth to hold back my laughter, I shake my head. “Nah, maybe later.” Unable to contain my giggles and smiles, I sit on the edge of my bed and try to calm down.

Vickie snickers, putting down the laptop. “Suit yourself. You know you will before we go to bed.” She scrunches her nose, snickering more.

Rolling my eyes, I pull our textbooks from my backpack. “On a different note, what do you want to fake study first?” I look at my grinning black cat clock across the room. “Almost time for mama to check in.” I put air quotes around check in.

Vickie bites her lip, looking at the books. “I donno.” She looks at me. “Which one to you is more believable?” She turns to me, pulling her knees to her chest, and wraps her arms around them.

I glance down at the four books on my bed. History. Calculus. English Lit. And A&P.

Crossing my arms, I look between A&P and Lit. “Science or stories?” I look up at her.

Vickie rolls her eyes, glancing at my extensive library on the shelves taking up an entire wall across my room. “I’ll go with stories.” She sits on my bed next to me. “Hurry up and flip to the right page and pick something to fake discuss.” She grins, picking at a loose thread on my bedspread.

I flip through the pages to our current story, The Tell Tale Heart, and note a specific passage. “Okay, listen for her. I’ve got a topic.” I point to the paragraph, and Vickie nods.

Sure enough, not ten minutes later, mama knocks on the door and peeks in. “Hey girls, just wanted to see how y’all’re doin’. Do y’all want anything? Supper’ll be ready soon.” She grins, waiting with her hand on the knob.

Vickie and I shake our heads. “No mama, we’re good right now.” I smile, turning back to Vickie, and point to the book.

Mama taps the knob. “Alrighty then, just let me know.” She gives us her scrunchy Mama grin and starts to close the door.

I go into my fake discussion. “Okay, so, the fact that he hears the heart when the police officer stops by shows his guilt for having killed the man…” I trail off until I hear the creak of mama going down the stairs, and then collapse on the pillows. “Man, could she be more predictable?” We giggle, and I pick up the ps4 controller. “Soul Calibur or GTA?” Swinging the controller, I grin at her.

Vickie looks off at the ceiling. “Uuuuuh, I’m feelin’ some Soul Calibur right now. GTA can come later.” She takes the other controller. “So, who was Tira last?” She sits at the end of the bed with her legs crossed.

I pick up my blue floral notebook. “According to the log, you were the last to play her.” I turn around, still holding the open notebook.

Vickie’s eyebrows furrow. “Nu-uh, let me see.” She holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers.

Turning the notebook around, I hand it to her.

Looking it over, Vickie’s shoulders drop. “Well, damn.” She hands me back the log, and I enter in the date and time for myself to be Tira, putting the book back in its spot on the shelf.

Now that that’s been established, we start playing.

After about an hour, mama’s voice comes from the stairs. “Girls! Supper’s ready!” The creaking from the stairs follows.

Pausing the game, we head downstairs to the kitchen. Mmmm… mama made spaghetti. Vickie and I fill our plates. The three of us sit at the table in the attached dining room.

While eating, mama goes through her usual questionnaire. “So, how was school? Anything different happen? Anything exciting, unusual, or whatever? Any classes giving you trouble, yet?” She shoves a wrapped forkful into her mouth, looking at me.

I glance at a grinning Vickie swirling her fork over her food. “School was good.” I nod, sticking my fork into my noodles, mixing them into my sauce, and a smile spreads across my face. “I got another solo over Nola today.” My smile widens when I meet mama’s eyes.

Mama smiles back at me. “You go girl!” She smirks, looking down at her plate. “That girl and her sisters need a swift kick in the butt every now and then if you ask me.” She takes a bite, putting a hand over her mouth, and speaks with her mouth full. “That Nola is the worst. She bumped into a janitor at the hospital last night and just about bit his head off for being in her way and getting mop strings on her shoes.” Her eyes widen as she lowers her hand. “I almost jumped over the nurse’s station wantin’ to snatch a knot in her head.” She shakes her head, huffing at her forkful just before taking a bite.

Vickie and I laugh as we eat, and Vickie cuts her eyes at me with a smirk. “That’s not the only thing she got today.” She giggles.

I swat at her. “Ssshh!” I cut my eyes at her.

Vickie shrugs. “What? It’s not a bad thing.” She grins.

Mama grins, looking between the two of us. “What is it? Rory, what’d you get?” She puts down her fork, looking at me.

Sighing, I turn to mama. “A boy gave me his brownie at lunch, nothing overly exciting.” I shrug, moving my fork around in my spaghetti.

Mama smirks. “Which boy?” She holds her eyes on me.

Rolling my eyes, I cut them at Vickie before grinning at my plate. “Riley Kessler.” My grin turns into a smile as I look up at mama.

Mama’s face lights up. “Oh, he’s so cute, baby girl! Has he ever done something like this before?” She takes another bite.

Before I can say anything, Vickie answers. “No ma’am, this is the first time he’s done anything like this.” She grins, looking at me.

Mama’s smile faulters a bit, and her eyebrows furrow. “Isn’t he dating Nola?” She sips her tea.

Rolling my eyes again, I look off at the floor. “In her mind, maybe.” I look back at mama. “He always looks like he’d rather be shot than be with her though.” I shrug.

Vickie laughs. “He’s not the only one.” She nudges me with her elbow, and we all laugh.

Supper ends with chatter about clothes, the solo, and the fall festival coming up this weekend.