The Mockingbirds by Daisy Whitney Read Free Book Online Page B

the end of last year. It was our very own Themis scandal since the only thing that gets you kicked out is failing, and her roommate was so addicted to painkillers she spent most of her days too loopy to finish a sentence, let alone a homework assignment. So we asked Maia to room with us junior year. The three of us are super close, but T.S. is still the one I turn to first.
    “So listen to this,” Maia says, quickly moving to a new topic. “Mr. Baumann already wants the whole debate team to do one of the patented Themis performances for the Faculty Club. Can you believe it? We’ll be doing a parliamentary debate on the pros and cons of the foreign policy of the current White House administration when the club meets again.”
    “First
Merry Wives
, then foreign policy,” I say, grateful there’s one person who doesn’t want to talk about last night.
    “It’s pointless too. I mean, it doesn’t count toward the debate circuit,” she adds, referring to the national debate tournaments held every year. “But they say it’s practice, good practice, for the circuit.” She pumps a fist in the air, imitating her debate advisor. “You know it’s just for show though.”
    “Totally for show.”
    “I swear, Alex, someday I’m going to write a bloody exposé on this weird fetish, practically an obsession, Themis has for its students. The teachers constantly want us to perform.”
    Themis fancies itself as some sort of Utopia, drawing the best and the brightest, and the school loves to trot us out in these bizarre sort of private performances for the faculty—debate, music, acting. It’s the faculty’s reward for teaching here or something, puppet shows by the students themselves.
    “Hey, do you happen to know Hadley Blaine?” Maia asks.
    I shake my head. “Why?”
    “He mentioned your name today at the Debate Club meeting.”
    “Why would he mention my name?”
    Maia shrugs. “I don’t know. I overheard him talking to another guy there.”
    “Who?”
    “Henry Rowland. They’re both swimmers.”
    “What’d they say?”
    “Don’t know. I asked them to be quiet because I had to start the meeting.”
    “Oh,” I say. Then I see a flash of red.
    I point to Maia’s neck. “What’s that?”
    “What’s what?”
    “On your neck.”
    “Oh, it’s my new scarf. Isn’t it delicious? I went to the basement to get my clothes out of the dryer, and there it was on the floor, next to the lost-and-found bin. I thought it was vaguely ironic to wear something from the lost-and-found bin.”
    “Take it off.”
    “What?”
    “Take it off, Maia.”
    “Why? I think it’s kind of cool, don’t you, in a retro kind of way?”
    “No. Just please take it off.”
    “It’s just a scarf, Alex. Are you okay?” she asks. “You’re kind of freaking me out here.”
    No, I’m not okay. Because it’s not just a scarf. It’s a reminder that Carter was nothing like Daniel at the lost-and-found bin.
    “I’m sorry, Maia. I have this crazy headache and I just need to sleep.”
    And without looking at her, I slide into my bed, under the covers, where I should have been last night.

WHILE I WAS SLEEPING
     
    I don’t run into Carter the rest of the weekend, but I know I won’t be lucky enough to avoid him altogether. So on Monday morning I survey English class cautiously. I peer over my left shoulder, then my right. I don’t see his white-blond hair, so I breathe. He’s not in English, not in French. I tell myself it’s entirely possible I could have zero shared classes with him. Of course, it’s also entirely possible I could fly to Jupiter tomorrow.
    Themis isn’t one of those so-small-it’s-claustrophobic schools, but it’s not massive either. There are about two hundred students in each year. It’s hard to know everyone, but it’s easy to know
most
students.
    “Who are you looking for?” someone whispers.
    I turn to see my good friend and music buddy Jones Miner, who’s sitting behind me. His light brown