Anna and the French Kiss

Sanjita raises a manicured hand. “I did.”

I want to smack Rashmi’s sister, but I turn around. Ignore them. Amanda clears her throat. “What’s this about you and St. Clair?”

I freeze.

“Because while you were puking, I heard Rashmi talking to the dyke through her door.”

I spin around. She did NOT just say that.

Her voice is like poisoned candy, sweet but deadly. “Something about the two of you hooking up, and now the big freaky dyke is crying her eyes out.”

My jaw drops. I’m speechless.

“It’s not like she ever stood a chance with him anyway,” Nicole says.

“I’m not sure why Anna here thinks she stood a chance with him either. Dave was right. You are a slut. You weren’t good enough for him, and you’re definitely not good enough for St. Clair.” Amanda flicks her hair. “He’s A- list. You’re D.”

I cannot even begin to process that information. My voice shakes. “Don’t you ever call Meredith that again.”

“What, dyke? Meredith Chevalier is a big. Freaky. DYKE!”

I slam into her so hard that we burst through the bathroom door. Nicole is shouting and Sanjita is laughing and Isla is begging us to stop. People run from their rooms, surrounding us, egging us on. And then someone tears me off of her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Nate says, holding me back. Something drips down my chin. I wipe it and discover it’s blood.

“Anna attacked Amanda!” Sanjita says.

Isla speaks up. “Amanda was goading her—”

“Amanda was defending herself!” Nicole says.

Amanda touches her nose and winces. “I think she broke it. Anna broke my nose.”

Did I do that? Tears sting my cheek. The blood must have been a scratch from one of Amanda’s fingernails.

“We’re all waiting, Mademoiselle Oliphant,” Nate says.

I shake my head as Amanda launches into a tirade of accusations. “Enough!” Nate says. She stops. We’ve never heard him raise his voice before. “Anna, for goodness’ sake, what happened?”

“Amanda called Mer—” I whisper.

He’s angry. “I can’t hear you.”

“Amanda called—” But I cut myself off when I see Meredith’s blond curls hovering above everyone else in the crowd. I can’t say it. Not after everything else I’ve done to her today. I look down at my hands and gulp. “I’m sorry.”

Nate sighs. “All right, people.” He gestures to the crowd in the hall. “Show’s over, back to your rooms. You three.” Nate points at me and Amanda and Nicole. “Stay.”

No one moves.

“Get back to your rooms!”

Sanjita makes a hasty exit down the stairs and everyone else scrambles away. It’s just Nate and the three of us. And Isla. “Isla, go back to your room,” he says.

“But I was here.” Her soft voice grows braver. “I saw it happen.”

“Fine. All four of you, to the head’s office.”

“What about a doctor?” Nicole whines. “She totally broke Amanda’s nose.”

Nate leans over and inspects Amanda. “It’s not broken,” he says at last.

I exhale in relief.

“Are you sure?” Nicole asks. “I totally think she should go to a doctor.”

“Mademoiselle, please refrain from speech until we get to the head’s office.”

Nicole shuts her mouth.

I can’t believe it. I’ve never been sent to the principal’s office! My principal at Clairemont High didn’t even know my name. Amanda limps forward into the elevator, and I trudge behind with increasing dread. The moment Nate turns his back to us, she straightens up, narrows her eyes, and mouths this: You’re going down. Bitch.

chapter forty

The head gave me detention.

ME. DETENTION.

Amanda was given one weekend, but I have detention after school for the next two weeks. “I’m disappointed in you, Anna,” the head said, massaging the tension from her ballerina neck. “What will your father say?”

My dad? Who cares about my dad? What will Mom say? She’ll kill me. She’ll be so angry that she’ll leave me here, imprisoned in France forever. I’ll end up like one of those bums near the River Seine who smell like underarms and cabbage. I’ll have to boil my own shoes for food like Charlie Chaplin in The Gold Rush. My life is RUINED.

The detention was divided unfairly because I refused to tell her what Amanda said. Because I hate that word. Like being gay is something to be ashamed of. Like because Mer likes sports, it automatically makes her a lesbian. The insult doesn’t even make sense. If Meredith were gay, why would she be upset about Étienne and me?

I hate Amanda.

When the head asked Isla for the story, she defended me, which is the only reason I don’t have detention for the rest of the year. She also took my cue; she didn’t tell the head what Amanda said about Mer. I thanked her silently with my eyes.

We return to Résidence Lambert, and everyone is hanging around the lobby. Word of our fight has spread, and our classmates are looking for bruises. They shout questions at us, as if this is a press conference for shamed celebrities, but I ignore them and push my way past. Amanda is already holding court, spreading her side of the story.

Whatever. I’m too furious to deal with that crap now.

I pass Dave and Mike in the stairwell. Mike does that dumb thing jerks do where they purposely bump your shoulder with theirs to throw you off balance.

“What the hell is your problem?” I shout.

Dave and Mike exchange surprised, self-satisfied smirks.

I stomp into my room. Everyone hates me. Étienne ditched me for his girlfriend. AGAIN. Meredith hates me, and Rashmi and Josh certainly aren’t pleased. Dave and Mike hate me. And Amanda and her friends, and now everyone else downstairs, too. If only I’d taken Rashmi’s advice. If only I’d stayed in my room, Mer wouldn’t have yelled at me. I wouldn’t know Étienne chose Ellie. I wouldn’t have attacked Amanda. And I wouldn’t have detention for the next two weeks.

WHY IS ÉTIENNE CHOOSING ELLIE? WHY?

Étienne. Who has perfect lips and perfect kisses. Who tastes like honey. Who will never, ever, EVER give up his stupid girlfriend! I’m startled by a knock on my door. I’m worked into such a frenzy that I didn’t hear the footsteps.

“Anna? Anna are you in there?”

My heart seizes. The voice is English.

“Are you all right? Amanda’s downstairs, talking complete bollocks. She says you hit her?” He knocks again, louder. “Please, Anna. We need to talk.”

I throw open the door. “Talk? Oh, you’d like to talk now?”