“Sorry, I didn’t—”
But it was too late. I grabbed a fistful of her short hair. “I’m sick of this!” I yelled. She screamed again, grabbing my wrists. We were both covered in blood, so it was hard for her to hold on to me.
“Clara! Rose!Stop this immediately!” Mr. Sinclair yelled, his voice sounding far away.
Someone grabbed hold of Rose’s shoulders, but she shook them off, still holding on to me fiercely. My breathing quickened, and my heart pounded so hard that I felt its vibrations in my jaw. “I can’t breathe!” I cried out.
“I don’t care!” Rose growled as she let go of one of my wrists to take another swipe at my crown. The crown was smushed behind my head at this point, poking my scalp. Everything was starting to hurt, and my panic was rising.
“Stop it! Stop it!Stop it!” I screamed. There were a few people onstage now, dragging us apart. Just as I was freed from Rose’s death grip, my right foot got tangled up in some cables on the floor. Rose took that moment of vulnerability to lunge toward me again, pulling herself away from a couple of teachers who were holding on to her. Her arms were stretched out, and one of them got caught in the dangling chain on a lantern.
The lantern crashed onto the floor. We both looked at it momentarily before a stage light also came crashing down between us. I froze and Rose hopped back from it. The glass lens shattered and sparks flew—into the fake blood surrounding us. Then the blood caught on fire.No way.
People started to scream, and Mr. Sinclair ran over to the flames, taking his blazer off in one swoop and batting at the fire.
An English teacher named Ms. Leung ran up to the mic and cried, “Everyone remain calm but slowly start making your way to the exits in an orderly and—”
The stampede of feet and people screaming drowned out the rest of her words.
I was headed down the steps when the dark blue curtain hanging to my left burst into flames. I jumped back and yelled,“Good God!”
Someone pushed me toward the stairs. “Hurry, you idiot!” Rose screamed from behind me.
We both scrambled off the stage with the teachers behind us, including Mr. Sinclair, who had left his blazer up onstage, now a little ball of fire surrounded by burning fake blood.
I took one last glance before being rushed out of the cafeteria, the cool night air hitting my face at the same time I heard the sirens.
CHAPTER 4
The principal’s office was far enough away from the cafeteria that it didn’t smell like smoke. Instead it smelled like stale coffee and a barfy cinnamon pumpkin Yankee Candle.
I sank deeper into the green fiberglass chair facing Principal Sepulveda. She frowned from behind her desk. “Clara, you’re getting blood all over my chair.”
The chair squeaked when I sat up straighter, another smear of blood appearing as the sleeve of my jacket rubbed the armrest. I looked at her with a shrug. “I think it’s a lost cause. You can hose them down later, right?”
“Or you can just sit like a human being,” Rose muttered next to me. She was perched on the very edge of her seat, her back straight, chin held up high, and her ankles crossed like royalty.A very bloody royal. There was a smear of blood on her cheek, bloody handprints on her neck, and her dress was an abstract study in blues and reds.
“Shut it, you two,” Principal Sepulveda snapped. “I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouths until your parents get here.” The stern tone was at odds with her appearance—she was wearing a fleece vest over a thin floral-print nightgown. When the fire department had called her an hour ago, she had been home in bed watching true-crime shows.
The fire was out now; luckily the firefighters got to it before it spread beyond the cafeteria. Everyone had gone home, but Principal Sepulveda had shown up with guns blazing and had trapped Rose and me in her office. Mr. Sinclair sat in the corner, trying hard to stay awake. She wanted him there as backup, I guess.
“Principal Sepulveda,” Rose started with that bossy tone of hers, “wouldn’t it make more sense to discuss this on Monday? We’ve had quite the scare.” What the heck, whotalkedlike that. Did grown-ups really fall for this act?
“No.” The word sliced through the air like a knife.
I smirked. “Nice try.”
Rose ignored me, looking down at her cuticles. Oh, sonowshe was above it? Where was all this poise when she was losing her mind attacking me onstage? When I looked at her, resentment oozed out of my pores—she was the reason for me being stuck in the principal’s office at midnight. I couldn’t believe Rose had gotten me into this crap again.
Because in ninth grade, Rose Carver got me my first suspension.
It was the first time I had smoked. As I nervously lit up the cigarette in the bathroom stall, I heard someone come in and froze mid-puff. A second later, the door I’d forgotten to lock slammed open—and there was Rose. She ran out to tell on me before I could stop her. First cigarette, first suspension.
After that I had a reputation for being someone who got into trouble. At first it worried me—did I want to start high school with this label? But it stuck before I could really do anything about it. My teachers had low expectations, and I, well, I went with it.
It was easy and almost always more fun than actually trying. I saw old friends from middle school get sucked into that rigid college track. The more we drifted apart, the closer I got to Patrick and Felix, who were way more on the same wavelength as me.
And Rose? She was the epitome of all this high school drudgery. Everything about her rubbed me the wrong way: her inability to chill; her uptight, follow-the-rules compulsion; her stupid narc tendencies; and her need to get ahead in life. So, whenever I could, I made life very untidy and chaotic for her. Where I saw an opportunity to poke and irritate, I did. Like the time I coordinated a flash mob during her first dance competition. Or the time I added sugar to all the lettuce in the salad bar where she got her lunch every day. Any punishment handed to me was always worth it.
