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What You Think You know

By Sue A. Fairchild

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“Come on, Em! Geez, you’re so slow.”
It isn’t the first time Beth has insulted me in our fifteen-year friendship, but now, in the midst of her latest brilliant idea, it’s starting to get on my nerves. And the fact that I have been trailing her for the last ten minutes across wet grass doesn’t help. My bare feet are soaked and I’m breathing like an overweight Sumo wrestler. If we’re in stealth mode—I’ve blown our cover for sure.
I lift my leg up over the fence dividing the school property, which I assume is our final destination, from someone’s back yard in a vain attempt to catch up to her, hearing my pant leg rip on the sharp metal fencing in the process. The additional sting tells me I have more than likely also torn a chunk out of my thigh.
“Crap!”
“What now?” Beth hisses.
I can’t see her in the dark, but I feel her hot breath on my other leg and smell the acrid stench of her cheap cigarette. The red glow breaks through the darkness and smoke from its tip swirls up past my head, mixing in with the fog creeping over the lawn. I guess I’m moving slow enough that she’s had enough time to light up. And how does she move so fast smoking those things? And how do her parents not smell that crap all over her? Doesn’t she know cigarettes are bad for her?
“I ripped my PJs.” I ignore her sharp laughter, followed by a hacking coughing fit. Serves her right. Stupid cigarettes.
“Seriously, Em?” she replies when she finally catches her breath. “Oh God, you’re killing me.” I’m not sure if she means me or the cigarettes. “Ugh, can you be any more of a nerd? Let’s go!”
I guess she means me. There are a lot worse things to be than a nerd…like dead from lung cancer. But Beth is the “cool” kid and I’m the nerd. I’ve tried to convince her over the past several years that being cool won’t get her anywhere, but being a nerd will land her a job. She doesn’t care so I accept her the way she is.
Beth, her full name is Elizabeth Ann Meyers, but I’ve always called her Beth so we don’t confuse our E names. We’ve been friends almost since the day we were born. Our parents live next to one another and are also friends so it was a given we would be, too. She has an older sister, Kimberly, but I have no siblings so I’m kind of her adopted younger sister. Besides, she doesn’t get along with Kim, who’s already a senior in college. But Beth and I have been joined at the hip since day one. However, when we were younger, we never left the safety of our own connecting yards so being so close was fun and harmless. Now, it’s times like these that I wonder if maybe being connected the way we are is something I should reconsider.
I swing my now ripped flannel pant leg over the fence and drop down beside her on the slick, dew-covered lawn. Reaching down, I try to feel how extensive the tear is…it’s bad. My favorite Hello Kitty PJs are now hanging off my leg at a weird angle. Several of the kitties seem to have shredded faces and half of my granny-pants underwear is probably hanging out. Thank God it isn’t quite daylight yet. Maybe we can get this over with and home before I have any embarrassing run-ins. Plus I can feel a bit of warm ooze trickling down my leg. Terrific, now I’ll have a bona fide reminder of this stellar evening—a scar. Note to self: check date of last tetanus shot.
I can see the outline of the school building in front of us now and wonder how on earth I’d gotten this far without chickening out. Beth is always trying to convince me to join her in these escapades, but I’m usually the voice of reason, always trying to talk her out of this stuff.
“Nothing good can come of this,” I told her once when she attempted to convince me to steal a small pack of gum from the local mini-mart.
“Yeah, but it’s fun, exhilarating,” she had replied.
“Spending a night in jail is not exhilarating.”
She simply shook her head and walked out of the store. I had complimented myself on getting through to her and followed her out of the store, where I saw her shoving a piece of minty freshness into her mouth. Nothing I say ever seems to matter.
I avoided the time she broke into the school and busted the water fountain off the wall. School was canceled the next day due to all the water, which ticked me off because I had promised Mrs. D, the librarian, I would help her organize the fiction section that day.
See…nerd.
I escaped that particular Beth Meyers Adventure because my father had insisted I clean out the garage. To avoid other unscrupulous events, I have used homework, cramps, chores, and various other ailments. I’m not about to ruin my stellar reputation, no matter how tight we are as friends. But today she caught me off guard. It’d been easy since I had been still asleep at the time—no time for excuses. I was barely awake when my covers were ripped off and I was forced out my bedroom window before I knew what was happening.
Hence, the pajamas. And the bare feet.
Luckily, I’d had enough presence of mind to grab my hoodie.
I feel her clammy hand grip mine now and spur me forward across the wet lawn, toward the glow of the school’s parking lot lights.
“What are we doing?”
“Emily Forester, will you stop worrying, be quiet and just follow me?”
That’s why I’m worrying, because I’m still following.
As we creep closer and closer to the school, I wonder what the inside of the Lowston police station looks like. Or the inside of a squad car for that matter. I’ve never even been inside the principal’s office. As Beth and I have gotten older, our similarities have begun to differ. We used to love the same games, movies and agree on almost everything. Now, she seems to keep veering off into territories I’d rather not navigate and spends a lot more time in the principal’s office and detention than I’d prefer. I’m pretty much the straight and narrow sister in this little family. But now my shiny reputation may finally get the Beth Meyers tarnish all over it.
I groan.
“What? Are you hurt?”
So she does have some compassion for me.
“No, just wondering when I’ll get my first phone call.”
“Shut up. It’ll be fine. Come on.”
We make it to the back door of the school, and I notice two other figures lurking in the shadows. Beth stops short and so does my breath. The figures step closer. One is a bit taller than the other and one is super skinny. I don’t see guns—so perhaps we have a chance. We are either about to be found out or mugged. Neither seems like a particularly awesome outcome.
“Hey, Beth,” the larger one says, “What took you so long and who’s this?”
Great, it’s just Adam, her goon-like sidekick with another guy I only half recognize.
“You know Emily. She’s my neighbor.”
Neighbor. What happened to best friend, sister, soul mate?
“Oh right, she looks different in the dark,” says Adam. Hello, I’m right here. Talking about me like I’m a two-year-old who doesn’t understand English. Ripped PJs and all, oh, right. “Didn’t your mom off herself?”
“Shut up, idiot.” Beth shoves his shoulder and then looks at me, eyebrows furrowed in worry. I shrug at her and try in vain to cover up my exposed leg, feeling the thin flannel stick to my still bleeding thigh. Adam’s the first one to come right out and say it to my face, but everywhere I go in this small town, I’m the girl who lost her mother to suicide. I’m getting used to the eyes full of pity and the whispered words behind my back, but hope it’ll all die down, no pun intended, soon. Mom died about eight months ago, right after Christmas.
I let go of my pant leg and cross my arms over my chest.
“Are we doing something or just yakking?” I ignore the lump forming in my throat and try to sound cool and aloof, but it comes out hoarse and squeaky.
Beth raises her eyebrows and shoots me a quick smirk.
“That’s my girl,” she whispers.
Great. Now she thinks I’m on board and I just don’t want these two dorks to talk about my mom anymore, or to see my panties. But it’s time I took charge, too. The only way we’re getting out of her unscathed is with my help. These two can barely get a passing grade on a test, even if their scores were combined.
“Did you rip your pants?” the other one asks, looking down at my half-bare leg.
I look up and recognize Adam’s sidekick from third period Algebra. Jonah something-or-other. He’s skinny as a rail and, like most Lowston male teens, blond and blue-eyed. He wears a plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. And he’s quick as a comeback. Last week in class his hand went up before the teacher even finished the question. Quicker than my hand. I wonder what he’s doing with Adam on this adventure. Maybe he was dragged into it like I was.
“Yeah, she ripped her pants and you two lovebirds can get acquainted later. Come on. Let’s get this done.”
“Ex—cuse me?” I plant my hands on my hips, not moving an inch. “I may not be able to hop fences without tearing my pants, but at least I’m going to graduate and make something of myself.”
“Stop being a goody two-shoes and let’s go.”
Beth picks up a rock and starts banging away on the door. The latch pops with a loud crack and she pushes me through the door against my will. The boys follow and we’re all inside within seconds. The long corridor looks creepier than usual in the dark. The rows of lockers stand as black sentries around each classroom door, the only light coming from the Exit signs above outside doors.
“Don’t they have surveillance in this place?” I wonder aloud.
“Yep, but this door has been sealed off for years since it’s in the back and they never put a camera on it.”
Seems like she’s done her homework. A bit of irony that does not escape my attention since she rarely does her schoolwork. Of course, she’s done this before. Something you’d think the school would have rectified after her latest wall fountain stunt. Guess they haven’t done their homework. I wonder, who else knows about this door? That’s how small Lowston is—no fear of gun-toting crazies around here.
Just vandals.
Beth skulks down the dark hall, glancing into each classroom she passes before plastering herself to the side of a row of lockers, trying to become one with the metal. Adam and Jonah follow suit and I stand looking at them in the middle of the hallway like they’ve gone bonkers.
“What the heck? Are we a SWAT team now?”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!” Beth waves her arm at me in a downward slicing movement indicating she wants me to get down and join them out of sight.
I roll my eyes as I stroll to their location. Seriously? Who will hear or see me? The place is dark and deserted. No one will be here for hours.
But then I hear the familiar swoosh of one of the classroom doors opening.
I fling myself to the floor in front of Jonah, ripping my pant leg further.

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