Ava sat beside her mother in the two visitor chairs facing the desk; the guidance counselor, a milquetoast librarian-type named Mr. Freeman, sat on Maggie’s other side, sideways so he could see all involved parties, sipping coffee in noisy slurps.
Maggie had dressed the part: black skinny jeans, spike-heeled boots, white button-up blouse, very fitted, and a black blazer; her hair was messy, honey-colored perfection, her lipstick and fingernails bright red, her gaze narrow and her jaw tight. She was this wild, vital creature, cooped up in this dead room; she looked dangerous and ready to strike.
Ava had gone for demure – as demure as her closet would allow. Bootcut jeans, low ankle boots, black hoodie, sparse makeup. She sat on her hands to keep them warm and shivered inside her sweatshirt, anxious to get this over with, anxious about going out into the school.
“The Millcotts,” Mrs. Mullins began in a voice too large for the room, “took quite a lot of convincing not to press charges against your daughter, Ms. Lowe.”
One corner of Maggie’s mouth twisted at the slip. Mullins had been the principal when she was in school. The lingering disapproval was a palpable thing. “Mrs. Teague,” she corrected. “And yeah, I guess we have you to thank for that?”
Mullins tucked her chin a self-congratulatory way. “I persuaded them that this was a childish skirmish gone wrong, and that it wouldn’t help their daughter to have yours arrested. I also assured them” – sharp glance toward Ava – “that there would beno moreincidents, of any kind between the girls. The zero tolerance policy is firmly in effect. One more act of aggression, and Ava will be expelled.”
Tight smile from Maggie. “Don’t worry,ma’am. I’ve instructed her to just let the bitch beat her up next time, and then we’ll sue the Millcotts for the medical bills.”
Mr. Freeman choked on his coffee.
Mullins aimed a wagging finger at Maggie. “That attitude right there is why Ava’s having trouble getting along with her classmates.”
Maggie fired back. “That attitude is the only thing that gives my baby hope that she isn’t alone when it comes to dealing with the spoiled Mean Girls who run schools all across this damn country. You can run this place, Mullins” – she gestured to the room around them, the school – “but you can’t run my family. You keep Ainsley Millcott away from my Ava, and you and me won’t have a problem.”
She hid it well, but that got under Mullins’s skin, intimidated her a little. She’d never approved of Maggie – smoking in the bathroom, condoms spilling out of her pockets in the middle of Biology – but Maggie’s connection with the Dogs gave her pause. It gave everyone pause.
After promising not to make more trouble – it was all she could do not to roll her eyes – Ava was released back into the jungles of the school.
Maggie kissed her on the forehead just outside the main office. “Be brave, baby, you can do this.”
And when she turned around, just as first bell was ringing, there were Leah and Carter, her bodyguards and support system.
“You’ve gotta see the bandage on Ainsley’s nose,” Leah said, grinning. “So not in vogue.”
Ava took a deep breath and plunged in.
Twenty
Five Years Ago
Panic. This was panic. Not forgot-her-homework panic, not dented-the-truck panic, not even OSS-affecting-her-future panic. This was cataclysmic, life-altering, oh-God-no panic.
Ava pressed her palms to the closed bathroom stall door in front of her and shut her eyes, drew in a deep breath of stale, bathroom-smelling air.
Mercy had been gone for almost three weeks. According to her dad, he and the others were due back this afternoon.
She should have started her period a week ago.
Panic.
The bathroom door swung open with a squeal and small footsteps pattered across the tiles. “Here,” Leah’s voice said, and a package in a Walgreens bag was shoved under the stall door.
Ava’s hands shook as she took the bag and pulled out its contents: three pregnancy tests. Three different brands. Leah had been thorough.
“You know,” Leah said from the other side of the door, her voice echoing off the porcelain sinks, the tile, the mirror, “they don’t keep those things on a shelf. They’re under glass. Locked away. I had to ask Mr. Ross to get them out for me.” She made a disgusted sound at the memory of the seventy-two year-old pharmacist who’d worked the Walgreens counter since they’d both been in diapers. “Now he totally thinks I’m knocked up, and the worst part is, he didn’t even look surprised about it. Like heexpectedme to get pregnant–”
Somehow, the process of peeing on all those sticks was less embarrassing with Leah chattering away out there.
“Not that I disagree. Of the two of us, I woulda thought it’d be me. But – totally not the point. God hopes he doesn’t go down the street and tell my dad I came in and bought them. I hope you know what a great friend I am.”
“The greatest,” Ava said, only half-sarcastic. She zipped up and opened the door.
Leah stood with arms folded, studying her neon reflection; she turned as Ava came out, all her test sticks held flat on her palms. “What do they say?”
