Sources Say

by Lori Goldstein

  But that was no longer her motivation for winning.

  She rounded the curve.

  Beating Leo was.

  Leo and Tad and donuts and . . . he didn’t even like sweets!

  She focused on her breathing and her heart hammering in her chest, and she drove her calves down and her knees up, picking up speed. She’d completed a full lap before she realized Maxine was no longer at her side.

  “Sorry,” Angeline said, when she met back up with her.

  “So long as you got it out of your system.” Maxine adjusted the wave pendant on her necklace as they started running again at a more sustainable pace. “Speaking of systems, your peer jury is polling well. Emmie thought it might be harder for the school to adopt than her original idea, not that you shouldn’t keep pushing for it.”

  “Since when are you and Emmie Hayes friends?”

  “We aren’t really. Unlike her and your sister. I trust you’ve seen?” Maxine said, and Angeline nodded. “Anyway, Emmie came to me before the primary. Wanted to collaborate on a digital way for students to share their concerns with student council.”

  “Seriously?” Angeline jutted her chin toward the football field adjacent to the track, and she and Maxine crossed the manicured lawn to reach it. “Did you come up with something for her?”

  “Um, hello, loyalty?”

  “But you could. Come up with something.”

  Maxine snorted. “Please.”

  “Acedia Ask an Angel app, here we come.” Angeline grinned. “I so love a good branding opportunity.”

  “For full functionality, time’s tight,” Maxine said. “Even for me.”

  “No worries. Appearances speak louder than reality.”

  They entered through the open metal gate of the football field and wordlessly headed for the bleachers, pounding the metal treads in unison to reach the top, where Maxine bent over, hands on her knees, to catch her breath. Angeline inhaled the scent of newly cut grass and looked out on the bright white stripes lining the field and the larger-than-life ACEDIA in block letters on both ends. She pulled out her phone, checking to make sure her video had uploaded properly before hitting the rounds of Instagram, Snap, and Twitter, which was where she saw it.

  Keep Your Friends Close . . . Unless They’re These Three!

  She was tagged in a tweet. She clicked on the link, which took her to a new online issue of The Shrieking Violet.

  Good leaders know they’re only as smart as those in their inner circle. While it hasn’t always worked in TSwift’s favor, she was totally right about the power of a squad!

  Fortunately for you, my Acedia pretties, Leo Torres shed a hundred-and-something-pound, ombre-haired parasite at the end of the summer, and such a smart move makes our lion the top dog in this cat fight. (Achievement unlocked! Four mammal animals in one sentence!)

  And then there’s Angeline Quinn, who has not a circle but a square. First off is Sonya Robins, who spends all her free time impersonating a pretzel. They say inversions are good for the brain, but hard to advise well when you’re lightheaded from one too many downward dogs. Next up, is RILEY DONOVAN. RILEY is super SMILEY in her all-caps Insta, with and but nary a smidge of .

  Which brings us to Maxine Chen. As attendees and envies of #LastSummerBlastOnTheCliffs know, BFF Maxie has the bank to roll out Quinn in the style her campaign doesn’t want us to get accustomed to. Hmm . . . curious. Even curiouser? Is it any coinky dink that Chen’s Girl Coders Club finally got programmed at the same time as sources say the administration got a hot tub (psst! parents in tech!)? Which was right before Quinn pushed a more restrictive platform, assuring those with the itch to club have fewer options? Collusion?! Conspiracy?! Overload of mixed metaphors?!!? Is this the cloth from which we sloths are made? Only you can decide, dear reader.

  Keep visiting this site and get your SHRIEK on.

  P.S. How’s about we show that #LastSummerBlastOnTheCliffs what a real soiree looks like? #LightUpEggshell beach bonfire tonight!

  “Oh my God,” Angeline said.

  Maxine, who’d been reading over Angeline’s shoulder, pivoted to face her. “That secretary bought our old hot tub. She’s got a bad back!”

  “And Riley’s the first to shout that her GPA lands her in the top ten percent.”

  “That thing will be eating its words when I’m running Sonya’s IPO for her yoga franchise one day.”

  Angeline and Maxine fluttered their wings, their version of a fist bump.

  “And parasite?” Angeline said. “Seriously? Which isn’t a mammal, by the way. Besides, if anyone was riding anyone, it was Leo.” Angeline watched as Maxine’s eyes widened. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “It’s not you.” Maxine grabbed Angeline by the shoulders and spun her around. “It’s that.”

  Taped to the bench of the top row of bleachers, as far as Angeline could see, were printouts. They alternated in a pattern of three around the entire oval of the football field.

  “Now snap a pic and steal that shrieking thunder,” Maxine said.

  TadIsRad

  Screen this!!

  They’re back!!!! And who knew? Frankengirls like football!

  Tad Marcus @TadIsRad • 10m

  #Frankengirls in da house! Hit my Snap!

  BrosAndBros @brosandbros • 5m

  Replying to @TadIsRad

  Now that’s my OTP.

  The Red and Blue Newspaper @TheRedandBlueAcedia • 3m

  Active investigation under way regarding the reappearance of photographs of what have been dubbed “Frankengirls.” Reports

  say images were taped to bleachers at Acedia’s football field. Follow for updates TK.

  Grady: You forgot the hashtag.

  Cat: I didn’t forget. It’s demeaning.

  Grady: It’s how people find us.

  Grady: The Shrieking Violet’s using it.

  Cat: What? They printed another paper?

  Grady: Gone digital. shriekingvioletacedia.com @shriekingvioletacedia, twitter and insta, no snap yet.

  Grady: They just put out a breaking news alert that says the photos were planted by your sister.

  Cat: What? By Angeline? She only discovered them.

  Grady: Well, according to SV: “Sources say there’s a chance a popular YouTube micro influencer’s more involved than most think.”

  Cat: How unequivocal.

  Grady: You think?

  Cat: Joke.

  Grady: ha

  Cat: This isn’t funny.

  Grady:

  Grady: Need help with the story, Chief?

  Cat: Yes.

  Grady:

  Cat: Stand by to post.

  Grady: Oh

  Grady:

  15

  When Cat Goes Social

  15 DAYS TO THE ELECTION

  Notebook in hand, Cat pushed open the door to Frank’s Pizza. The smell of yeast and a wood fire filled the space, leaving barely enough room for the two plastic tables and three chairs. A cracked fourth rested in the corner, home to a potted basil plant.

  She ordered a plain cheese slice, her mouth already salivating. The homemade tomato sauce and crispy crust that made one believe in magic would have kept this place in business even if it weren’t directly across from the high school. Which was why Cat was here.

  She kept an eye on the likes on The Red and Blue tweet advertising her “to come” article as she waited. So far, those little hearts had barely ticked up. Unlike the ones on The Shrieking Violet’s absurd claim about Angeline.

  How did anyone accomplish anything while logged in to social media?

  Cat shoved her phone into the pocket of her skirt as the
owner, who personally brought out every order, appeared.

  Bald head, deep bronze tan, Frank carried her slice and three pizza boxes out of the kitchen. He set the pies on the counter and handed her a paper plate striped in the green, white, and red of the Italian flag.

  “One plain,” he said.

  Cat nodded her thanks. Steam escaped the bubbling mozzarella and parmesan, and she had to force herself to let it cool. She was here for something more important. “There was an incident at Acedia. I’m not sure if you’ve heard—”

  “Part of me wishes I hadn’t.” Frank stacked napkins and hot pepper packets on top of the pizza boxes. “One of my kids did that, I’d lock ’em up myself. Find out who did it yet?”

  “Not yet, which is why I’m here. I’m writing an article for the school paper, and I noticed that your security camera is aimed directly at the football field. I was hoping I could take a look at your footage, if you still have it?”

  “Smart thinking, but you’re outta luck. Camera’s just for show. Though maybe with all this nasty business going on there, it shouldn’t be.”

  Disappointment weighed down Cat’s limbs. Another dead end. If only Schwartz would have let her have just one of the Frankengirl pictures she could have at least dusted for prints.

  She nodded politely and picked up her pizza just as a guy with fair skin and short brown hair opened the door.

  “Just three deliveries?” he asked, reaching for the boxes.

  “Devon!” Frank jutted his calloused finger at the kid’s red sweatshirt. “You know we switched uniforms last month.”

  “New one washes out my complexion, Frank.”

  “Oh, really?” Frank covered his heart with his hand. “I’m so sorry. There’s an easy fix for that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, unemployment line,” the kid grumbled, which caused Frank to launch into what sounded like a not-uncommon lecture.

  Outside, Cat sunk her teeth into her slice, willing some of its magic to rub off on her.

  * * *

  Cat arrived home just in time to see Angeline coming out of their bedroom with her long hair in tight curls, wearing dark jeans, a white silk tank, and gladiator sandals. She had a cashmere blanket draped over her arm.

  “Let me guess,” Cat said, “big binge-watch planned?”

  “Streaming’s all yours tonight. I’m off to light up Eggshell.”

  “You really think there’ll be a bonfire? Wouldn’t call The Shrieking Violet the most reliable news source.”

  “Haven’t you seen? Hashtag’s got more followers than your newspaper.” Angeline reached for the car keys in Cat’s hand. “Can I?”

  Cat clenched her fist around them. “And you’re going? After everything it said about you?”

  “Exactly why I have to go.” Angeline’s brow knitted. “And why you should too.”

  “Yeah, no, haven’t quite perfected my keg stand. Maybe another time.” Cat gave her the keys and started for the kitchen.

  Angeline blocked her. “You know what speaks louder than words? Hashtags. You need to be seen.” She grabbed her elbow, and Cat nearly tripped over her own feet as Angeline yanked her down the hall and into their room. “Just make an appearance.” Hangers screeched as Angeline shoved one after another in her closet. “Show this shrieking farce you’re not afraid of it. And anything with the election happens, you’ll be there to report on it, firsthand.”

  Right. That was why Angeline wanted her to go so badly. But as Angeline tossed her a light pink sweater and a pair of black jeans, Cat realized something. “You think they’ll be there? The Shrieking Violet?”

  “For sure.” Angeline bit her bottom lip and traded the sweater for a cut-out-shoulder tee.

  If her sister was right, Cat could use the party to narrow down her list of Shrieking Violet suspects. She’d ranked the biggest pranksters in order of most likely to least likely, but none seemed like the right fit. Gluing fake bloody fingers to lockers on Halloween and blocking the hallways with piles of desks weren’t obvious lead-ins to this. Her best suspects didn’t even go to the school anymore. The Shrieking Violet was on par with last year’s seniors who’d pulled off the Schwartz/Slothy hoax or whoever had orchestrated the spirit week cupcake stunt. This #LightUpEggshell might be her best chance at a little bit of magic.

  Angeline settled on a black tank with a short line of fringe along the hem. “You know who else might be there?”

  “Who?” Cat gave in and changed into the top.

  “Lots and lots of prom date potential.”

  “Like I have any interest in lots of prom date potential.”

  Angeline adjusted a clump of fringe. “Shame, because I’m pretty sure there’s a bit of interest in you. Might try living a little, Cat in the Hat.”

  She’d said the same thing freshman year before the only other high school party Cat had gone to, incidentally also because Angeline had forced her. This time, Cat would be better prepared. She followed Angeline out the door, but not before grabbing her backpack with her computer inside.

  * * *

  The night sky flashed with a burst of red, triggering whoops and cheers down the beach. Cat trudged through sand still damp from the receding high tide, trying to note everyone who was here, but it was a lost cause—because who was here was everyone. As she watched a group of three guys and two girls—one of whom she was pretty sure was Maxine—in wetsuits paddle out for an ill-thought-out night surf, she had to concede that no one wanted to talk to The Red and Blue. Not during #LightUpEggshell, which half the school was achieving via sparklers, bonfires, or beer.

  All three surrounded Angeline as she addressed a group of girls just beyond the yellow flames of the bonfire.

  “Come listen,” Riley said, gesturing for Cat to follow. As they walked toward Angeline, Riley handed Cat a red plastic cup. “I’m conducting a focus group. It’s spiked green juice. Healthy and fun.” When Cat hesitated, Riley said, “It won’t kill you. At least I don’t think . . .” Then under her breath, “Show that stupid Shrieking Violet I’m more than an Instagram all-caps smiley face.”

  Anticipation shone in Riley’s blue eyes, and the unexpected glimpse into her need for approval threw Cat. She pretended to sip what smelled like seaweed coated in bubble gum, faked an “Mmm,” and watched as Riley’s demeanor shifted back to its usual narcissistic conceit.

  The crowd around Angeline had doubled, and Cat stood on a rock to get a better view of her sister.

  “It’s becoming clear that the school can’t get to the bottom of this,” Angeline said, raising her voice to be heard over the crash of the ocean behind her. Cat pressed record on the app on her phone. “We need a voice. The peer jury system is part of the solution, but we need to be heard in the moment. After I’m elected, my Acedia Ask an Angel app will go live. Student council will be open to you twenty-four/seven. I will be open to you twenty-four/seven.”

  Angeline’s spell left the girls in front of her enraptured. She posed for selfies and handed out more samples, plugging an Ask an Angel giveaway that’d go into effect when she racked up a hundred more subscribers.

  Cat dumped Riley’s drink and moved down the beach to where Leo sat in front of one of the smaller fire pits encircled by rocks, sounding very much like his mom’s son, which Cat knew he’d hate to hear.

  “With all due respect,” Leo said, “my opponent, whom I hold in minimum high regard, is making counterproductive claims for how to handle this unfortunate incident. I won’t go so far as to say she’s disingenuous, but she’s certainly found a way to use what these poor young ladies are going through in every aspect of her campaign platform. Almost as if it were designed that way. Ultimately it will be the voters who interpret these actions.”

  Leo’s insinuation that Angeline bore responsibility for the Frankengirls might not have been clear to all the drunken, sparkler-twirling students of Acedia
, but surely some would pick up on him furthering The Shrieking Violet’s claim.

  Cat stopped the recorder and sighed at the pathetic “he said, she said” that this campaign had become. She searched for a spot by one of the less populated fire pits where she could work on her article and wait for Angeline. But before pulling out her laptop, an invisible force made her check Twitter.

  Someone had retweeted her post about her upcoming story!

  Not someone . . . Ask an Angel. The likes on Angeline’s retweet had already surpassed those on the original Red and Blue tweet. And they kept on coming.

  They went beyond students at Acedia. Though rationally it made sense, a twinge of surprise came at seeing the like from Evelyn’s Epic Everyday. There were also a few from some feminist organizations, both local to Boston and beyond.

  The quoted retweet had Angeline prefacing The Red and Blue’s post with: Look for this article, my angels, for yours truly has a lot to say!

  When didn’t she? She talked. People listened.

  Another heart.

  And another.

  Angeline’s followers dwarfed those of The Red and Blue, and once again Angeline was one-upping Cat, promoting herself more than Cat’s article. Same as both she and Leo had just done in their speeches; they were advancing their campaigns at the expense of real commentary on the Frankengirls.

  Cat needed a quote that would put this whole thing into context and prevent Leo and Angeline’s shiny words and dazzling smiles from spinning this for their own agendas.

  As Cat retrieved her backpack, a streak of light blinded her.

  “You’re it,” Natalie screamed, waving a flashlight in the air.