Stealing Bradford

“She’s going to call your parents.”

Casey sort of laughed. “I’m here like three days and she’s already kicking me out? That should impress my parents. Maybe they’ll send me to boot camp after all.”

“Oh no, they wouldn’t do that, would they?” Casey had already told DJ a bit about boot camp, and it sounded worse than prison.

“Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure they would.”

“Then can’t you just try to fit in here?” begged DJ. “Would it be that hard?”

“Conform to the Barbie-doll standard?”

DJ didn’t say anything. She knew that slam was meant for her.

Casey was walking toward the door now. “I need some fresh air.”

“Or some smoke.”

“Whatever.”

DJ just sat there for a few minutes after Casey left. It seemed pretty hopeless. Really, what was someone like Casey doing here in the first place? Other than the fact that she was an old family friend. Because she really was a total misfit when it came to Mrs. Carter’s expectations. DJ grabbed up her bag and pulled out her homework. Fortunately, it wasn’t much. Still, she didn’t want to get behind in the first week of school. Also, it was a good way to distract herself from thinking about Casey’s problem. Anyway, she wasn’t DJ’s responsibility. DJ could barely take care of herself.

She was just finishing her geometry when she heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called as she closed the book.

“Hey, DJ,” said Rhiannon. “You better get down for that meeting.”

DJ glanced at the clock to see it was a little past eight. “Yeah, right.”

“How’s it going?” asked Rhiannon as they went down the stairs.

“I need to talk to you about some things,” said DJ.

“After the meeting.”

DJ was curious as to whether Casey would be there or not. For all she knew, the girl might’ve hot-footed it out of here…although DJ suspected she wouldn’t leave her beloved laptop behind.

“Thank you for coming,” said Mrs. Carter. “Now let’s get started.”

She gave a little speech that was similar to their original welcome speech, saying how she expected them to act like mature, polite, young women. How she would respect them and expected them to respect her. Yada-yada-blah-blah-blah. DJ tried not to yawn.

“And on that note, I wish to tell you that I am making you a self-governing body.” She smiled at the group in a self-satisfied way. Like that was all.

DJ raised her hand now.

“Yes, Desiree?”

“Can you explain that a little more fully?”

She placed a manicured finger on her chin as if contemplating. “I want you girls to take some responsibility for the actions, attitudes, and appearances of one another. If you know that one girl is doing something inappropriate—be it coarse language, ill manners, inappropriate dress, or simply a negative pattern behavior—I expect you girls to help guide that particular girl to a higher path.”

Someone snickered. DJ suspected it was Taylor, but Mrs. Carter didn’t seem to notice.

“I think I have made myself clear.” Mrs. Carter looked out over the group and smiled again. “Now, I leave you ladies to discuss this amongst yourselves.”

“Discuss what?” asked DJ.

Her grandmother looked slightly irritated. “I believe you know what I am speaking of, Desiree. In fact, I place it upon you to introduce the topic that I presented to you earlier this evening. Thank you.” Then she glided out of the room, just like she was going down a New York runway, with only the scent of her expensive Cartier perfume left behind her.

Taylor started snickering louder now.

“What is she talking about, DJ?” asked Eliza with a confused expression.

“She wants us to call the shots,” offered Taylor.

“What about the rules?” asked Kriti with concern. “Do they still apply?”

“Yes,” said DJ. “The rules still apply.”

“This is like that book, Lord of the Flies,” said Taylor.

“How’s that?” asked DJ.

“You know, the rich kids get shipwrecked on the island and they govern themselves,” she laughed wickedly, “and when they run out of food, they resort to cannibalism.”

“That is so nasty,” said Eliza with a look of disgust.

“Maybe we’ll eat Casey,” teased Taylor.

“That’s enough,” said DJ. She looked at Rhiannon, who was sitting on the couch with her, and wondered what she was supposed to do next. Then she remembered what Rhiannon had said about prayer. Just then, with Taylor still making crude jokes about naming Casey “Piggy” and tossing her into a barbecue pit, DJ shot up a quick prayer, begging for some help.

7

DJ POINTED A WARNING FINGER at Taylor. “Give it a rest, will you?”

“Well, why don’t you tell us what it is your grandmother wants us to do,” said Taylor. “Seems like you know something that we don’t, Desiree.”

DJ glared at Taylor and then looked from where she was sitting over to where Casey was standing in the back of the room with her arms folded tightly across her chest and a scowl darkening her face. DJ was surprised she was even still here.