style="font-size:15px;"> Margo gives a light shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just a weird school tradition, I guess.” It feels strange to be talking openly about the list with school faculty. Margo is almost positive the teachers at Mount Washington know about it. How could they not? The ones who’ve grown up here, like Mrs. Worth, could have even been on it back in the day! But they tolerate it in the name of tradition, like Margo said. Or maybe, she realizes, they just don’t care.
“And you have no idea who is behind it?”
Dana and Rachel are lurking a few steps away, trying to eavesdrop. Margo says, “No,” as confidently as she can.
Principal Colby regards her skeptically. “Do you know any of the other girls on the list?” She offers her copy of the list to Margo, but Margo keeps her hands clasped behind her back.
“A couple, I guess.”
“Would you agree with the ones who were picked? Or would you have picked different girls?”
“Principal Colby, I haven’t even seen the actual paper before right now. I don’t know anything else. Really.”
Instead of believing her, Principal Colby waves off Rachel and Dana, who have inched a little too close. “Go on, ladies. You don’t want to be late.”
As her friends disappear down the stairs, Margo is guided over to the wall. She recognizes Principal Colby’s perfume as one of the bottles on her dresser, but decides not to comment on it. “Am I in trouble?” she asks.
“No,” Principal Colby says. Which, to Margo, should be the end of it, but she goes on. “I’m wondering how you plan to respond.”
“Respond?”
“You seem like the kind of girl who has influence around here, Margo, and how you choose to deal with the list will have an effect on your peers.” Principal Colby pushes up her sleeves and folds her arms. “This is a sick tradition, don’t you think? And I plan on getting to the bottom of who’s behind it. So if you know something, I would suggest you let me know right now.”
Margo stares blankly. What does Principal Colby expect her to do? Confess? Rat someone out? Um, please. “I didn’t make up the list, Principal Colby. And I don’t know who did.”
Principal Colby lets out a long sigh. “Think of the girls who are on the ugly side of things. Think of Jennifer, and how she must have felt this morning, seeing her name on the list for the fourth year in a row.”
I heard Jennifer was pretty psyched is what Margo wants to say. That’s what she’d been told, anyhow. But Margo doesn’t want to think of Jennifer. Not at all. If there was one sucky thing about this morning, it was finding out that Jennifer was on the list, too. It made Margo feel like she was living the drama of freshman year all over again.
Margo starts backing up. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”
She makes it halfway down the stairs before she has to stop and catch her breath. Principal Colby was so suspicious. It was as if she’d heard something.
Margo arrives at the cafeteria with cheeks brighter than the heat lamps burning red over the casserole special. Feeling slightly dizzy, she grabs a bottle of water and, aware that her hands are shaking, attempts to tide the miniature waves breaking against her lips with careful, measured sips. Margo pays for her lunch and then walks to where Rachel and Dana are sitting with Matthew, Ted, and Justin. On the way over, she passes a few tables of underclassmen. She senses them looking at her and quickly puts on a smile.
“What was that about?” Dana asks.
Margo falls into her seat. “I don’t know. Principal Colby’s all worked up over the list.” She fights the urge to look at Matthew to see if he’s heard.
Of course he has.
Rachel cups her hands and whispers, “Does she think you wrote it?” in a hissy voice that everyone can hear.
“God, no.” Margo quickly follows this statement with a breezy laugh. Underneath the table, she wipes her sweaty palms on her skirt, smoothing down the pleats. “Definitely not.”
“I’d put Principal Colby on the list,” Justin says, and licks his lips before taking a bite of hoagie.
Dana throws a napkin at him. “Ew.”
Ted leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. He’s got on a plaid button-down, collar popped, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He says, “Why’s it such a big deal? I mean, the list doesn’t say anything that everyone isn’t already thinking. We all have eyes. We know who’s hot and who’s not.”
Rachel taps a finger on her temple. “That’s funny. I seem to remember you were sweating that freshman Monique Jones pretty hard after she got on the list last year.”
“Busted,” Justin says and gives Rachel a high five.
The tips of Ted’s ears turn bright red. “The list had nothing to do with that,” he argues, louder than he needs to. “I always thought Monique was hot. She freaking modeled, dudes. The list just gave me a reason to go and introduce myself.”
Matthew pulls his sweatshirt hood up over his buzzed head. “Who wants to play me in Ping-Pong?”
He’d worn his blond hair long and floppy throughout high school, but decided to cut it short late this summer. None of the other girls liked it, but it reminded Margo of fourth grade, when Matthew first moved to Mount Washington. They’d been assigned desks next to each other, and Matthew appeared intrigued with her collection of tiny rubber erasers, which she kept in a pencil box. He’d always sit on his feet when she’d bring out the pencil box, trying to look inside as she picked which one she wanted to use. Around Christmas, she bought him a football eraser and slipped it secretly into his desk. Margo never saw him use it. She likes to imagine that maybe he still has it.
Dana shakes her head, confounded. “Principal Colby needs to relax. Next thing you know, she’s going to institute a ‘No Freak Dancing’ rule for homecoming dance.” She takes a sip of her iced tea and then adds, “Hey, speaking of freaks, did any of you guys see Sarah Singer parading down the hall with UGLY written on her forehead?”
“What a rebel,” Rachel says, rolling her eyes.
Matthew pushes away from the table. “Come on, Ted, play me. I want a rematch.”
“One ass beating, coming right up.” As Ted collects his garbage on his tray, he leans down over Margo’s shoulder and says, “I think you’re going to make a beautiful homecoming queen, Margo. And if I’m lucky enough to be your king, you should know right now that I’m not letting go of you the entire night.”
Matthew groans. “Come on! Lunch is almost over.”
Margo answers, “Um, thanks, Ted,” and tries not to appear disappointed at Matthew’s non-reaction. Maybe he hasn’t heard that she’s on the list?
Ted perches himself on the corner of the table. “I mean, don’t you think it’s funny that we’ve never hooked up? Homecoming might be fate bringing us together. I mean, I’ve always thought you and I would make a good —”
“Dude!”
