The Mary Shelley Club by Goldy Moldavsky (ebook reader for manga TXT) 📕

“I’m sorry, Lux.” And I meant it. I had nothing against her except for the fact that she seemed to hate my guts. I didn’t know what had come over me in the supply closet, but I had to make sure I never felt that way again. I couldn’t risk what happened last year happening here.

Lux paused at my apology, and I felt a flare of hope. Maybe that was all she needed to hear. Maybe she would finally take me out of her cross hair(extension)s and we could put this behind us. But Lux’s expression did not change. She was still tense in her seat, still staring at me like I’d just tried to kill her. Which was fair, I guess.

“That’s an admission of guilt,” Lux said, glaring at AssHead. “I know how this works, my father’s an attorney.” I knew as much from Saundra, who’d told me that even though Lux’s dad made about a million bucks an hour and her mom traded money on Wall Street, Lux resented her parents for having boring jobs instead of working as editorial directors or celebrity stylists or some other position with cultural cache.

“I’m bringing suit,” Lux said, shooting up from her seat.

“Okay, okay, no suing anyone in my office,” AssHead said. But Lux ignored him, grabbing her tiny leather backpack and heading out the door.

“I don’t think she was being serious,” AssHead said, turning to me, though he didn’t look so sure.

“She can do whatever she wants.” I stood up to leave, but AssHead stopped me at the door.

“The school is aware of your past trauma, Ms. Chavez.”

“My past trauma,” I repeated slowly.

“Yes, your mother let us know what happened to you last year and we’re here to support you. It can’t have been easy to survive something like that. Just … I don’t want to hear about any more pranks, all right?”

I avoided looking into his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see how hot my face was getting. I only nodded and slipped past him.

 9

IT WAS A LONG way back to Brooklyn. On the subway, I practiced what I was going to say, going over my options on the 6, then settling on my defense on the L, perfecting it all on the walk home, and ultimately blanking on the climb to our third-floor walkup. The door had three locks on it, per my own request, and before I got to the second one, the door swung open. My mom stood on the other side with a scowl on her face.

“You’re home early,” I said.

“Mr. Braulio stopped by my class,” she said.

It took me a minute to remember that this was AssHead’s actual name. “Oh.”

My mom stepped aside and I came in. Our place in Greenpoint was an adjustment from our old house on Long Island. It was about thirteen hundred square feet smaller, there was only one bathroom, and our downstairs neighbors played classic rock so loud that the floors vibrated. But I liked it here. I actually liked the fact that we were sandwiched between apartments and that there were people and noise at all hours of the night and that when I opened my window, I could smell the Polish food from the restaurant on the corner.

But right now, standing before my mom, I wanted to be anywhere but here.

“When I said you should get more involved in school, I meant join the field hockey team. Not get into lawsuits.”

“Mom, please. I would never join the field hockey team.”

“This isn’t a joke, Rachel. You know, I was worried you weren’t making friends. I didn’t know I had to worry about you making enemies.”

“Can I get something to eat first?” I shuffled past her to the kitchen. I stuck my head in the refrigerator in a futile attempt to avoid having this conversation. It’d been stupid of me, confessing to that prank. I still didn’t know why I’d done it. It wasn’t like I wanted credit for it. And I wasn’t trying to protect a club that I didn’t have anything to do with and that wanted nothing to do with me. But maybe a part of me just wished I had pulled that prank. Because Lux deserved it.

“I’ll never make friends at that school,” I said into the fridge. “The kids at Manchester are different.”

“Different how?”

I grabbed a bottle of water and closed the door. “For starters, some of the senior girls are already on the hunt for their perfect debutante gowns and we have Craigslist furniture.”

“I thought you liked that nightstand we repainted.”

“I do,” I said. I shook my head, trying to come up with a better example for my mom. “Some of my classmates still have nannies, Mom.”

“They have housekeepers.”

“If your housekeeper walks you to school every morning and hands you your lunch, I’m sorry, but you officially have a nanny. It’s like I’m at school with a bunch of aliens. Actually, no, it’s like I’m the alien.”

“I know you feel that way now, Rachel, but every teenager feels that way, too.”

“You don’t get it.” I tried to walk away, but you couldn’t get very far in this apartment. I thought about escaping to my room, but I know my mom would have just followed me.

I flopped down on the couch. My mom sat next to me, forcing herself into my line of vision. “Okay, I don’t get it. So tell me.”

There was so much I wanted to say. The words filled my mouth like spit that I couldn’t swallow, threatening to spill through my clenched teeth. But I didn’t know how to say what was wrong. I didn’t know how to say that I didn’t feel like myself.

Not since what happened last year.

I couldn’t tell my mother that ever since what AssHead called my “past trauma,” it was like there were two sides of me at war with each other. I was either a regular teenager or I was a monster,