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

the party so much as what had happened to Trevor (and his pants). Khakis are a choice on any occasion, but a particularly bad one for Trevor last night, given how obviously it darkens when wet. But hey, hindsight.

Trevor did the smart thing this morning and stayed home. But his friends still had his back, spinning the story so that the Infamous Manchester Prankster was to blame, spilling water down the front of Trevor’s pants. Some people began to doubt the photos and videos of the event, attributing the dark spot on Trevor’s pants to a shadow. But I didn’t mind all the stories coming out of the rumor mill. Even if nobody knew that it was the Mary Shelley Club who’d brought Trevor Driggs to his knees, we knew it. We were the mysterious prankster. We were the bogeyman. I grinned just thinking about it.

When a guy bumped into me in the hall and didn’t bother to apologize, I realized I could just make him the target of my Fear Test if I wanted to. The club was a game changer. The club was a mood.

And I knew I wasn’t the only one enjoying this.

I saw Felicity walking down the hall with her head held high, switching up her regular floor-gazing skulk. I passed Freddie too, who was huddled with his Film Club friends. We shared a secret smile over their heads, no words needed.

But the biggest change came from Thayer. In Women in Literature, Ms. Liu was comparing Carson McCullers to Alexandre Dumas, so the Dumb Ass jokes practically made themselves. But Thayer didn’t make a peep. Even Ms. Liu seemed surprised, occasionally sneaking looks his way when she said Dumas’s name. Thayer just sat back, all dreamy eyes and perma-smile. He didn’t need to clown around today. He’d done enough of that for a lifetime.

If Bram felt bad about what had happened to his supposed best friend, he didn’t show it. He came up to me after class and handed me a book. “This is my favorite Mary Shelley biography,” he said. It was a thick paperback, with yellowed pages and curled edges. “It could help with the term paper research.”

I thanked him, and as he walked away he didn’t shoot me a withering stare. So: progress.

Apparently, I learned at lunch, I was changed, too. At least according to Saundra, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she sipped celery juice from a thermos. “What’s the deal with you? You’ve been, like, smiling all day.”

“I smile.”

“Not really.”

“Occasionally.”

“Rarely.”

“Stop it.” I laughed, which just proved her point.

“You’ve got a secret,” Saundra said definitively.

I shook my head. I couldn’t tell her about the Mary Shelley Club. But it also wasn’t just the club. The truth was, I didn’t know exactly why I was feeling so good. But for the first time in a long time, I was just happy. Chill. Content. And when that’s not your usual state of being, you tend to want to hold on to it, no questions asked.

I popped a french fry into my mouth and shrugged. “Still thinking about Trevor’s pee party, I guess. The guy got what he deserved.”

“I know! Trevor Driggs is such a douche canoe. I wish I was there to see it in person.”

“Mhmm.” I didn’t say anything, but it was like Saundra could read my mind.

“You weren’t there,” Saundra said skeptically. I kept chewing to avoid answering, but I was a crystal ball and Saundra was a fortune-teller. She nearly sprayed celery juice out of her nose. “You were there?”

We had tried to be discreet, but judging by how many selfies were being taken at Trevor’s house, I was sure I’d unintentionally photobombed someone’s Insta by now. There was no point in lying about not being there. Saundra would find out.

“Yeah. I just heard about it and went.”

“What the hell?” Saundra said. “And Trevor just let you in?”

I nodded. “He was distracted. Obviously.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gone with you!”

“You specifically told me on Friday afternoon that you were looking forward to bingeing Gilmore Girls.”

“That’s just something people say, Rachel; nobody actually means it!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Next time Trevor throws a party, we’ll go together.”

Saundra scoffed and looked across the lunchroom at the popular table. “As if Trevor’s going to be throwing any more parties in this lifetime.”

The kids at Trevor’s usual table—Lux, Bram, and the other shiny, pretty people—were consorting like normal, as if there wasn’t a gaping six-foot-lacrosse-defender-shaped hole there. Saundra leaned toward me, pushing aside her plaid Williams Sonoma thermos. “Tell me everything. Did you actually see him pee himself? I heard he was crying. Was he crying and peeing? Like, at the same time? Can Trevor multitask?”

“He ran down the stairs crying that a clown was out to get him,” I said. “And his pants were wet.”

“Holy crap.”

“I think he was pretty drunk.”

A peal of laughter left Saundra’s lips. “Beautiful,” she said. “If anyone deserves public humiliation, it’s Trevor Driggs.”

I munched on another fry, if only to try to keep my grin from being too obvious.

My mom noticed a change in me, too. Our normal dinner conversation was sprinkled with inquisitive looks in my direction.

“You’re in a good mood,” she said. “Meeting new people at school?”

This was her not-so-subtle way of asking if I was sharing my toys and making friends. “Mhmm,” I said through a mouthful of the Neapolitan ice cream we were having for dessert.

“Oh, really? Did you join a club, like I suggested?”

I let the ice cream melt on my tongue. “Mhmm.”

“Which one?”

I swallowed. I needed to think quickly. “Knitting.”

“Knitting.”

I shoveled another spoonful of dessert into my mouth. “Mhmm.”

“I didn’t know there was a knitting club at school.”

Neither did I, but now there would have to be. I was mentally kicking myself; I’d probably have to buy some knitting needles and yarn just to keep up with the lie. Which would mean that I would need money. Which reminded me that I needed a job.

“Does the club need an advisor? I