I spotted Mrs. Fletcher surrounded by a flurry of students. She wrangled the chaos like a composer conducting a symphony. I hated to interrupt her right before her big show, but this was urgent.
“Is Clara around?” I asked her.
She looked up at me and her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, dear, you’re too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
“Clara isn’t here.” Mrs. Fletcher took my arm and walked me away from the kids so we could talk. “It was bad, Luke. Dixie all but screamed at her that she wasn’t welcome here. She was being a realsee you next Tuesday, if you know what I mean. And because the mayor is sponsoring this whole thing, she’s allowed to do it.”
My nose wrinkled. “So it’s true? She really broke up that marriage?”
“It would appear so,” she said. “I spoke to Clara after, but she was upset and she left.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I said through a red haze forming over my vision. “I think I need to talk to Dixie.”
“Oh, Luke, be careful.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said, not caring whether it would be or not.
I was finished taking Nic’s advice about not confronting Dixie for her shitty behavior. No one treated Clara like that and got away with it. Not if I had anything to say about it. Someone needed to set Dixie straight and pull her head out of her ass.
“Dixie Garner!”
She cut off singing about Santa coming down her chimney. The song had no business being performed at a school function. It was filthy and low-class, but that summed up Dixie to a tee.
“Why, Luke, are you here for my big performance?” She smiled like she was delighted to see me. Like she hadn’t done anything wrong. She probably really believed she hadn’t. People without souls couldn’t feel empathy or guilt.
“Oh, I think you already had your big performance earlier, when you were a bitch to Clara.”
That got everyone’s attention. High school kids could smell drama like sharks sniffing out blood in the water. They all gathered around and pulled their phones out.
“You do not talk to me like that, Luke Whitaker,” she said, drawing her chin up haughtily. A queen addressing a peasant.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked, genuinely curious. “How can you treat people like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re better than everyone,” I said, exasperated. “You act like you’re still in high school, as if anyone gives a shit you were prom queen once.”
“Me?” Dixie rolled her eyes. “You’re the one still picking fights with me over that stupid little girl. I get it. You love Clara and that’s why you broke up with me. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in my face ten years later.”
“You’re just jealous that Clara is more talented and is just a better person than you could ever be,” I told her, saying it loud and clear so all the kids got it on their phones. “Your only talent is spreading your legs for the mayor.”
A chorus ofoohsrose around us. That left her speechless, at least for the moment. I didn’t stick around for when she found her voice again. I could only imagine the bile she would spew from those filler-inflated lips. Fuck her. I had a real woman to find.
On my way out to the parking lot, I called Clara again, but it didn’t even go to voicemail. I tried Nic and he answered.
“Dude, do you know where your sister is?” I asked him.
“Hello, to you, too,” he grumbled. “And she’s at the school, helping out with the play. The performance is tonight.”
“Nope. I’m just leaving there.” I told him what had happened with Clara and what I had said to Dixie. Then I apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your advice. I couldn’t let her keep getting away with it.”
“No apology necessary at all, bro. Thank you for standing up for Clara. I should have done it last night, but I figured she was just drunk and talking shit. I was worried we’d get her riled up. Iwas wrong. She’s a shitty person all by herself, without any help from us.”
“You got that right.” I sighed. “Do you think your sister might have left town?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “Hold on. Let me text her.”
