Free Hate List by Jennifer Brown

getting our trays filled. We’d just come
     out of English together. Class had been tense but livable. A couple girls passed notes back and forth to one another and Ginny’s
     seat was empty, but other than that things were quiet. Mrs. Long, my English teacher, was one of the few who’d signed that
     letter of thanks from the school board. Her eyes got kind of teary when I’d walked into the room, but she didn’t say anything.
     Just smiled and nodded at me. Then she let me take my seat and she started class. Thank God.
    “Yeah.”
    “My mom said your mom called her the other day just to talk.”
    I paused, tongs full of salad poised over my tray. “Really? How’d that go?”
    Stacey didn’t look back at me, but instead kept moving, eyes focused on her lunch tray. Nobody would have known for sure by
     looking at us if we were together or if she’d just been the unlucky one who had to stand next to me in the lunch line. She
     probably wanted it that way. It was so much safer for her to just be unlucky.
    She picked up a bowl of rainbow colored Jell-O and put it on her tray. I did the same. “You know how my mom is,” she said.
     “She told her that she doesn’t want our family to be associated with yours anymore. She thinks your mom is a bad parent.”
    “Wow,” I said. I felt a funny feeling in my stomach. Almost like I felt bad for Mom, which I hadn’t allowed myself to do much.
     The guilt tore me up. It was much easier to think that she thought I was the worst daughter ever who’d ruined her life. “Ouch.”
    Stacey shrugged. “Your mom told my mom to blow it out her ass.”
    That definitely sounded like Mom. Still, I bet she went into her room and cried afterward. She and Mrs. Brinks had been friends
     for about fifteen years. We were both silent. I don’t know about Stacey, but for me it was the stupid lump in my throat again
     that kept me from talking.
    We picked up our trays and paid for our food, then headed out into the Commons to find a seat and eat our lunches.
    Normally this would be a no-brainer. Before last year, Stacey and I would take our trays to the far side, third table from
     the back. I would kiss Nick and sit down between him and Mason and we’d all eat together, laughing, griping, destroying napkins,
     whatever.
    Stacey walked in front of me, stopping at the condiment kiosk for some ketchup. I poured myself a tiny cup of ketchup, too,
     even though I had nothing to use ketchup on. I was just trying to avoid looking around and seeing how many faces were pointed
     in my direction. I had an idea it was more than a few. She picked up her tray again, as if she didn’t know I was behind her,
     and I followed her. Maybe it was by habit, but probably it was more like I didn’t know what else to do.
    Sure enough, there was the gang sitting at the far left table near the back. David was there. So was Mason. Duce. Bridget.
     And Bridget’s stepbrother, Joey. David looked up at us, waved at Stacey, and then sort of wilted as his eyes landed on me.
     He gave me a half-hearted wave that died midway through. He looked very uncomfortable.
    Stacey set her tray down in the one empty spot left at the table, in between Duce and David. Immediately Duce started in on
     some conversation with her—something about YouTube—and she was laughing with him, squealing, “Oh, yeah! I saw that!” I
     stood a few feet away from the table, still holding my tray, unsure of what to do next.
    “Oh, yeah,” Stacey said, looking up at me. She had an almost surprised look, like she didn’t realize I’d been following her.
     Like we hadn’t just been walking together through the lunch line. Like she hadn’t just been talking to me. She glanced at
     Duce and then up at me again. “Yeah. Um…” She pressed her lips together. “Val. We um… ran out of chairs, I guess.” Duce hooked
     his arm around her and again that slithery little superior grin swept across her mouth.
    David started to get up like he