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Maddox Kelley didn't notice when Mr. Willard stopped lecturing in biology. She bent her head over her notebook, grasping her pencil. Instead of taking notes on dissection, she wrote the name Jack Meadows repetitively. Hearts drifted up from the name like puffy little clouds. When her book disappeared, she gazed up at her teacher in amazement. The class tittered, and she glowered at them.
"I don't ask for much, Ms. Kelley," Mr. Willard stated, his voice dripping with honey. "All I ask is for my students to pay attention." He sneered when he glanced at the notebook page.
Maddox slumped in her seat. Her fellow middle schoolers focused their attention on her. Her face flushed, and she studied her folded hands.
"I am sure the class would appreciate your entertainment, Ms. Kelley," her teacher decided, moving toward the back of the room. He scanned the page and replaced the lecture on the huge screen with her doodles. The class exploded with laughter and loud talk.
Tears welled in Maddox's eyes. She slumped further into her seat and held back her sobs. Every part of her wished to bolt from the room. All eyes remained on her; one set particularly Glancing up, she met Jack Meadows' steady gaze. His brows arched, and he grinned.
Maddox could not bear the pressure. She stood on shaky legs and headed toward the door, her gait unsteady. She lurched at the door handle, yanked it open, and slumped into the corridor. Without thinking, she ran outside and sat beneath the basketball hoop. Maddox pulled herself into a ball and, hugging her knees, stared at her worn sneakers.
She hated her old sneaks. Unlike the other kids, they weren't fancy Adidas, Nike, or Vans. Hers were white Keds worn to a hazy gray. She wore long red knee socks and a too-short plaid hand-me-down skirt with a frayed green sweater. Maddox pulled the long sweater sleeves over her hands and stared at the empty sports field.
The Kelley family was poor—dirt poor. They lived in a rundown trailer park where her father did maintenance. Her mother worked for a hairdresser part-time, often overnight, if a client wanted her hair straightened or in cornrows. Maddox and her little brother, Mikey, frequently stayed alone in the trailer.
Maddox Kelley longed for a better life. She viewed her wealthy fellow students with envy. She wanted what they had: parents who drove fancy SUVs and who gave their kids whatever they wanted. A little treasure box hid in the back of her closet. It contained faux diamond rings and earrings she lifted from the corner store. Maddox took them out at night when Mikey was asleep and pretended she was a Hollywood star.
Maddox's latest obsession was Jack Meadows. Jack was new at school. The moment she saw him, her universe lit up. She wanted Jack more than all her stolen baubles and her Hollywood dreams. Her main goal was to find a way to get him to ask her to the spring dance.
She realized her secret hopes had disappeared. Her biology teacher took care of that. In her heart, she hated Mr. Willard, so she plotted revenge beneath the basketball court.
Maddox knew a secret about Mr. Willard. He wore women's clothes and went to the gay nightclub on Friday nights after school. He met Mr. French from the bank there and sometimes went home with him. In Maddox's middle school opinion, it was a dirty little secret because Mr. Willard was married.
Scowling, Maddox's hate for Mr. Willard grew. He had embarrassed her in front of the entire class. Her school friends would never let her humiliation go. They would tease her about it for the rest of her middle school career.
A sudden idea occurred to Maddox. Her entire face turned from a scowl to a devious grin. After school, she would call on Mrs. Willard and divulge her husband's little secret. The more she thought of Mrs. Willard's crumpled face, the more the idea delighted her. She plotted to hurt because someone had hurt her. The word REVENGE flashed behind her eyes in bold red letters.
Why wait until after school? Maddox thought. She would go immediately while her hatred burned inside her.
"Hey," a voice stated above her. Maddox looked up. Her best friend, Sailor Kent, smiled down at her. "Why are you sitting out here? I waited for you in the cafeteria."
"Didn't you hear what happened?" Maddox answered, casting her eyes downward. "I'm humiliated."
"Yeah, I heard." Sailor squatted. "Everyone's talking about it."
"News travels fast." Maddox stood. "I don't have to take it, you know. I'm just as good as everyone else around here. Why do they pick on me all the time?"
"No one's picking on you." Sailor rose also. "You just think they are. Mr. Willard shouldn't have posted your doodles for the class to see. It was stupid of him."
"Yeah. I'm gonna get back at him. I know a secret. Mrs. Williard's gonna find out…like now." Maddox called over her shoulder as she marched across the basketball court.
"Ain't a secret, Max," Sailor answered, stopping Maddox in her tracks. "Everyone knows Mr. Williard wears women's clothing. They're his wife's dresses."
Maddox's back went rigid. Her revenge lost its steam. A moment elapsed before she stalked toward the school's fence.
"Where are you going?" Sailor ran to catch up with her friend.
"Away from here." Maddox turned, her face blaring red.
"What? And skip class?" Sailor faced her friend.
"Yeah." Lowering her head, Maddox sprinted through the fence gate.
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Sailor Kent's shoulders slumped. Maddox was her best friend since the first grade. She couldn't recall how she became friends with Maddox. Until first grade, her best friend was Bethany Copley. The Kelley family moved to the area during the second half of the school year. In the beginning, Sailor hung out with both Bethany and Maddox. After a while, Bethany began playing with other girls, so it was only Sailor and Maddox.
Sailor accepted the situation, although Maddox was different from the other girls. Maddox had a temper. She flared out in anger over the slightest humiliation. Sailor knew Maddox had light fingers, too. Sometimes, she accompanied her friend to the corner store and shared stolen Twinkies or candy with her friend. Sailor knew it was wrong but didn't know what to do about it.
A day never passed without drama. The newest obsession with Jack Meadows became Sailor's situation, too. Maddox called or texted her at all hours of the day or night about Jack. It became wearisome, but she put up with it. To be honest, Jack wasn't much to look at. He was pudgy, with round red cheeks and dull-colored hair. He didn't walk but rather lumbered from place to place with his long arms swinging at his side. His face was pale and round like a full moon.
Like the rest of the girls, Sailor preferred boys like Erik Newell and Frank Bartley. Both were athletic and quick-witted. She even liked bookish Clyde Martin over Jack Meadows. She could talk to Clyde about the novels she read or history, and he tutored her in algebra.
Jack, on the other hand, often told dirty jokes in the corridors and made sexual comments to the girls. Once, he walked into the girls' locker room while they were in the showers. They slapped him with wet towels, and he laughed instead of leaving.
"What's up with Jack Meadows?" Sailor Kent asked no one in particular. Shrugging her shoulders, she returned to the cafeteria. The lunch line was closed, but Clyde sat alone at a corner table. She sat with him and, taking his oatmeal cookie, bit into it. "You don't mind?" she asked.
Clyde shrugged his shoulders. Clyde never minded about anything. Sailor knew her tablemate was lonely. An only child, he mostly kept to himself unless a failing student wanted his intelligence. She liked him and thought she might go to the spring dance with him if he asked her. The likelihood of him asking was slim.
"Maddox ok?" Clyde asked out of the blue. He rarely concerned himself with others' problems. "I saw you go out to talk to her."
Sailor shrugged.
"Is Maddox ever ok?" she asked sarcastically. Clyde stared at her through his thick glasses. His pupils looked like out-of-focus fisheyes. Collapsing against her cafeteria chair, she rolled her eyes. "She's got a thing for Jack."
"I think that's obvious."
If Clyde noticed, it was apparent, Sailor conceded.
"She was going to tell Mrs. Willard about Mr. Willard's wardrobe habits," Sailor informed.
"That's obvious, too."
"I informed her. That's when she walked off."
"I AM THE REINCARNATION OF MATHATMA GHANDI!" a loud voice yelled. All eyes focused on a skinny boy standing atop a table. He wore a white towel between his legs like a diaper and nothing else.
"Get down from there, Arnold Gorey," Mr. Willard yelled, striding across the cafeteria.
"Yeah, get down, Arnold," Erik Newell echoed. "You were Adolf Hitler yesterday. Who's up for tomorrow? Princess Di?"
The room burst into laughter. The biology teacher motioned everyone to silence. No one paid attention. Sailor and Clyde watched a performance repeated daily. Arnold Gorey was nerdy like Clyde but strange also. Arnold was book smart, but his intelligence manifested itself in playacting. Every day, he became another deceased famous person.
"I don't need your help, Erik." Mr. Willard glanced toward the other student. "Get down, Arnold, and go to the principal's office."
Arnold leaped from the table and rushed toward the door.
"Get dressed first," the biology teacher ordered.
Arnold stopped at the double swing doors and bowed at the waist. His towel slipped, and he grabbed it and dashed into the corridor. Mr. Willard sunk into a cafeteria chair and buried his head in his hands. The students looked at him momentarily and then went back to their lunch conversations.
"It was funny at the beginning of the year," Sailor stated, "but it wears thin after a while."
"It's boring," Clyde countered, rising with his tray. He hesitated a moment, looking down at Sailor. She glanced up in expectation. Clyde started to speak, then walked away. Sailor watched him throw away his trash.
Sighing, she collapsed against her chair. She felt sure Clyde wanted to ask her something—maybe about the spring dance. Sailor felt disappointed. She would have to find a way to make him ask her. When she got the chance, she would ask Gabrielle. Her older sister knew how to get boys to ask her out.
When school let out, Sailor headed toward her bus. When she noticed her classmates heading toward the teachers' parking lot, she followed them. Mr. Willard's red Mustang sat on deflated tires, and a jagged scratch ruined the driver's side door. I HATE YOU sprawled across the windshield in shaving cream. Sailor's shoulders sank. She knew Maddox had returned with a new form of revenge.
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