to hold the door open for her.
?Thanks, freak. Try not to rip it off the hinges, will you??
Gretchen said archly, breezing past Helen.
Helen stood stupidly at the top of the steps, holding the door
open for other students, who walked past her like she worked
there. Nantucket was a small island, and everyone knew each other
painfully well, but sometimes Helen wished Gretchen knew a little
bit less about her. They?d been best friends up until fifth grade,
when Helen, Gretchen, and Claire were playing hide-and-seek at
Gretchen?s house, and Helen accidentally knocked the bathroom
door off its hinges while Gretchen was using it. Helen had tried to
apologize, but the next day Gretchen started looking at her funny
and calling her a freak. Ever since then it seemed like she?d gone
out of her way to make Helen?s life suck. It didn?t help matters that
Gretchen now ran with the popular crowd, while Helen hid among
the braniacs.
She wanted to snap back at Gretchen, say something clever like
Claire would, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she
flipped the doorstop down with her toe to leave the door propped
open for everyone else. Another year of fading into the background
had officially begun.
Helen had Mr. Hergeshimer for homeroom. He was the head of
the English department, and had mad style for a guy in his fifties.
He wore silk cravats in warm weather, flashy colored cashmere
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scarves when it was cold, and drove a vintage convertible Alfa
Romeo. The guy had buckets of money and didn?t need to work,
but he taught high school, anyway. He said he did it because he
didn?t want to be forced to deal with illiterate heathens everywhere
he went. That was his story, anyway. Personally, Helen believed he