Heather was in the bathroom, running the water in the sink far too long. Heather always ran the water in the sink far too long, and she took too long looking at herself in the vanity mirror, too. Heather didn’t have a bathroom for her own bedroom at home. Heather’s parents thought that would be “spoiling” her. As far as LizaAnne was concerned, Heather’s parents were too retarded for words.
The water turned off in the sink. The swoosh of the air dryer went on. LizaAnne actually hated the air dryer, but so many of the people who came over were impressed with it, she didn’t want to ask her father to take it out.
Heather came out into the room and brushed her hair off her face. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” she said. “My mother says it’s all around the club today. It’s everywhere. They’re going to let Mr. Heydreich out of jail because they don’t think he killed his wife.”
“I don’t care if he killed her,” LizaAnne said. “I don’t care who killed her. I’m only glad she’s gone. Of course, it would have been better if Michael had still been alive to enjoy being able to live a normal life without having her skulking around him all the time, but that’s the way things are. Do they still think he killed Michael?”
“I don’t know,” Heather said. “I was trying to overhear when my mother was on the phone, but you know what that’s like. She doesn’t like me listening.”
“I’ve been thinking about Kathi Colson,” LizaAnne said. “I mean, I know she was at my sweet sixteen party, but I don’t think that should be the standard. I mean, I wanted lots of people at the party, so I let in people who don’t really belong to the A group. I mean, I didn’t let in dweebs or anybody like that. I didn’t let in anybody retarded. But I think Kathi Colson belongs in the B group. Don’t you?”
Heather looked down at the tiny picture in LizaAnne’s hand, and LizaAnne found herself thinking that she had been right all along. These pictures were really wonderful. She could see the faces of everybody in the class, and once she’d seen the faces she would know who belonged where. She was so glad she’d made friends with that retarded dork on the yearbook committee. She’d never have gotten them otherwise. It didn’t matter that she’d have to invite him to a party this year. He’d figure out soon enough he wasn’t wanted, and her own popularity was unassailable. She could never be touched when it came to that.
She put the tiny picture of Kathi Colson in the pile with the B group and searched around until she found the one of Didi Webb. Didi Webb was a special case. Didi had belonged to the A group, but then things had started to happen. First Didi’s father had lost his job. Then the whole family had had to move out of Waldorf Pines, and there had even been rumors that the bank was about to foreclose on the house. Of course, nobody’s house was ever foreclosed on in Waldorf Pines. The club had some kind of fund that stopped that from happening, but it didn’t keep a family in the house they couldn’t pay for. It just bought the house from under them and sold it to somebody else. Didi’s family had actually packed up and moved in the middle of the night, so that nobody would see them.
At about that time, LizaAnne had moved Didi from the A group to the B group, which meant being very careful to make sure that there were no empty places at the lunch table when Didi wanted to sit down. There were musical chairs for a while, until Didi got the hint, and stopped trying. There were awkward moments in the girls’ room, too, but LizaAnne could always cover up for those by concentrating really hard on her makeup. If things had stopped there, of course, Didi would just have descended to the B group, and that would have been that.
LizaAnne put the little picture down in front of Heather and waited. Heather looked away.
“It’s not like it’s her fault,” Heather said finally. “She didn’t make her father lose his job. It was just bad luck.”
“I don’t believe in luck,” LizaAnne said. “And I don’t think anybody ever loses a job unless he’s done something wrong. I mean, think of all the things we don’t know about. Mr. Webb might be an alcoholic. Or he might gamble. And, you know, even if he did those things, not everybody who does them loses his job. And people who lose their jobs get new ones. He’s been out of a job for a year now. There has to be something wrong with him.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with her,” Heather said.
LizaAnne brushed this away. “Of course there does,” she said. “Families count. It’s just like dogs, you know. There’s a breed, and which breed it is determines a lot of things. The Webbs are—well, there must be something wrong with them. My father says that you can fool people for a while, but in the long run it all comes out. That’s what must have happened here. Mr. Webb fooled people for a while, but now everybody knows what he is. He’s no better than a bum, really.”