Can True Love Survive High School?

by Natalie Standiford

  “Have you been just pretending to be my friend all this time, so you could get to Dan?” Lina asked.

  “No. I like you. We're friends. But as you know, I'll do anything to get to Dan. And I also know you too well. You'll never go through with this. Too many scruples.”

  “Obviously you don't know me that well, because you thought I'd chicken out, and here I am.”

  “I still say you'd hide in the closet all night if you had to,” Ramona said.

  “I'm not going to do anything with you hiding in the closet!” Lina said. “Get out! Quick! Before he comes in!”

  “You get out! I was here first.”

  “But we agreed—and it was my idea.”

  “No it wasn't. I think it was my idea.”

  “Look, just go!”

  “I'm not going anywhere.”

  Lina was fuming. Everything was ruined. What would happen when Dan caught the two of them hiding in his closet? They'd look like idiots, or stalkers, or idiotic stalkers.

  “You're having second thoughts,” Ramona said. “I can feel it.”

  “You're right,” Lina said. “I'm getting out of here. Good luck.”

  She moved to get out of the closet, but at that moment the bedroom door flew open. Ramona grabbed Lina's hand. They peeked through the cracks in the closet door.

  Dan stumbled into the room, pulling Camille behind him. “Ugh. Thank god that's over,” he said.

  “I know,” Camille said. “I thought Rod would never leave. And those Goth girls! Lingering around the kitchen, offering to help clean up … I think they have crushes on you.”

  Lina and Ramona exchanged a glance. Siobhan, Maggie, and Chandra, up to no good themselves. Luckily, they weren't as clever as Lina and Ramona. Or was it foolish?

  “Well, they're all gone now,” Dan said, taking Camille in his arms. Lina held her breath. She didn't want to watch, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. They kissed and kissed and kissed until they flopped down on the bed.

  Lina's heart stopped. Camille! She knew it! She'd always wondered if there was something between them, and now it seemed clear that there was. Dan and Camille. No wonder “Beau's” e-mails to Larissa had been slacking off lately—he had fallen in love with someone else. The French teacher. Lina squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from popping out. She felt like such an idiot.

  Ramona yanked on her dress and mimed panic— What were they going to do? They were trapped in a closet, and from the looks of things, they were about to witness two teachers going at it. A terrible experience from which they would never recover. They had to get out some-how—but how? Without looking like spies, weirdos, perverts … you name it.

  Lina peeked into the room. The kissing was intensifying, accompanied by clothes-tugging. Chance of nudity, 100 percent. They had to work fast. Lina wanted to get out of there before anything too disturbing happened.

  Ramona reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out—eureka!—her cell phone. She pointed at it, nodding, in case Lina didn't get the idea. Lina rolled her eyes and nodded. Ramona scanned through her programmed numbers until she found Dan's. Lina couldn't believe Ramona had Dan's home phone in her cell. Did she ever secretly call him and hang up? Probably. Even Lina hadn't gone that far.

  Ramona pressed Dial. Instantly, a phone rang out somewhere in the room. Ramona gave five manic nods, as if to say, See? This will work. But how? Lina wondered. He'll just answer the phone—and then what?

  Dan and Camille broke apart, looking dazed and disheveled. Dan scrambled among the t-shirts and boxer shorts on the floor, feeling around for the phone. It rang again and again. It must be portable, Lina thought, and he can't find it in all the mess.

  “Let the machine get it,” Camille said, pulling Dan back into bed. After another ring the machine picked up. Lina could hear Dan's recorded voice out in the kitchen. Ramona hung up.

  Great. So much for that.

  But Ramona didn't give up. Dan and Camille resumed their makeout session. Ramona pressed Redial. The phone rang again.

  “Damn it,” Dan muttered. He struggled to his feet and pawed through the junk on his desk, looking for the phone. He couldn't find it. The machine picked up again. Ramona hung up on it.

  Dan went back to the bed. Ramona pushed Redial.

  “Just ignore it,” Camille said, looking frustrated. “Come on, you'll never find it in this mess.”

  “I can't take that ringing. It's too distracting,” Dan said. His hair stuck up around his head, his shirt was untucked and half-unbuttoned.

  “If it's important they'll leave a message,” Camille said.

  “It's not that,” Dan said. “It's the noise. If I can't find the phone, I can't turn the ringer off.” He stomped barefoot out to the kitchen. Camille got up and slipped into the hallway. Lina saw the bathroom light go on and the door close.

  They heard Dan's voice from the kitchen. “Hello?”

  Ramona hung up. Lina pushed open the closet door and they scrambled out. Luckily, the bedroom window was open. Lina pulled the screen out, tossed it on the grass below, and dove out the window. Ramona tumbled out behind her, nearly landing on her head.

  “Lucky there's only one floor,” Ramona whispered as they ran through the shadowy yard, around the house to the street. Lina looked back. No one was following them.

  She was pretty sure they hadn't been seen. Still, they didn't stop running until they got to the end of the block, just to be safe.

  “That was this close to turning into a porno movie right in front of our eyes,” Ramona said after she'd caught her breath.

  “That was the stupidest thing I've ever done,” Lina said quietly.

  “Don't beat yourself up. If it had worked it would have been great.”

  “That's the stupid part. Thinking that plan could ever have worked.”

  They sat down on a bench at a bus stop. Neither one spoke for several long minutes. Lina was lost in her own thoughts.

  Seeing Dan with Camille—a woman his own age, one of his colleagues—struck a nerve in Lina. It was horrible to see him kiss another woman. But it made Lina realize how foolish she'd been, too. She had a crush on her teacher. It wasn't love. It was silly. How could she ever have taken it so seriously? How could she and Ramona have let it go so far?

  “You know what?” Lina said at last. “I think it cured me. That nightmare we just narrowly averted cured me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I'm over him. You want to keep obsessing, be my guest. But I think I'll bow out before I do something really stupid.”

  “Have no fear,” Ramona said. “New reasons to do something stupid are plentiful. All we have to do is stumble over one.”

  “Until then,” Lina said, “no more nutty Dan plans. I'm going straight.”

  Just saying the words—and knowing she meant them, really meant them this time—made her feel better.

  16

  Blind Item

  To: mad4u

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: There's no law against plotting and scheming … unless you count karma.

  * * *

  Stupid Rod,” Mads muttered as she slammed her locker shut and trudged down the empty hallway. It was late on Wednesday afternoon, and almost everybody had left school for the day. At lunchtime, Principal Alvarado had asked Mads to come talk to him in his office after school. Mads was shaky and nervous for the rest of the afternoon. She couldn't eat. What could the principal want to talk to her about? Had she done something wrong? Was she in trouble? She racked her brain trying to think of what it could be. That C she got on her Geometry quiz? Something she wrote on the Web site?

  By the time the day ended and she wound up at his office, she was pale and shaking. “If you don't hear from me by nine tonight, tell my parents to call the cops,” she said to Lina before she went in. “And send dogs. Those sniffing kind.”

  Lina waved this away. “Rod won't hurt you. You'll be fine. But IM me
as soon as you get home. I'm dying to know what you did.”

  The principal smiled at her as she opened the door and waved her to a seat. “Thanks for coming, Madison,” he said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Well—” It depended what for, obviously. But what was she going to say, “No”?

  “I just wanted to talk to you about your extracurricular activities.”

  Oh god. Did he mean that beer she'd had at Nick Henin's party? Did he somehow hear about her crazed quest to lose her virginity?

  “Your mother's play. I'm a big theater buff. What's it about?”

  Oh, that. He kept Mads in his office for almost an hour discussing Touched: The Story of a Sensitive Girl, how the costumes and sets would be handled, who the director was, and if Mads thought he was any good. It turned out Rod was working on a play himself (tentative title: Learning Curve, a Principal's Private Struggle), and he was hoping to have it produced.

  He finally let her go when she pretended to look at the watch she wasn't really wearing and said her mother was expecting her at rehearsal soon. Suddenly she was starving. She hadn't eaten lunch—for this? All that terror for nothing.

  Mads left the school building, not really thinking about where she was going. She found her feet moving in the direction of the swim center. Funny, because Sean was on the swim team and would probably be finishing practice soon. What a coincidence.

  Sean burst out of the swim center, hair wet and smelling of chlorine, just as she was passing by. Finally a little luck.

  Now was her chance. She'd been waiting for a moment alone with him all week, and this was perfect. Mads was going to do it. She was going to tell him. About Jane. And wait for him to fall into her arms.

  Soon she would be on the escalator to ecstasy.

  “Sean!” she called, waving to him. He stopped on the swim center steps. She ran over to him.

  “Hey, kid, whatup?” Sean said.

  This was it. Did she have the guts to do it? You bet she did.

  “I have something important to tell you,” Mads began.

  “Hey, whatever happened to that article you were supposed to be doing about me. For the Seer? Did that ever come out?”

  Uh-oh. Mads had gotten Lina to pretend to interview Sean for the paper so Mads could take a picture of him in his bathing suit. But it was just a scam. There was no article. And Mads didn't expect Sean to remember it.

  “Um, Lina's still working on it,” Mads lied. “She's a terrible procrastinator. I don't know how she ever gets an article published.”

  “Maybe she's got A.D.D.,” Sean said. “I used to be that way, until I started swimming. If I don't swim, I get spacy.”

  “I'll mention that to her.”

  “Or you can take the drugs,” Sean said. “But Ritalin made me sleepy.”

  “Huh.” Mads was beginning to wish he'd never brought this up. “Anyway, um, this is something I think you'll be very interested to know.” She paused, trying to come up with the most effective way to say it. A way that wouldn't make her look like a gossip, but like someone who had his best interests at heart. “You know that play I'm in, with Jane?”

  “Oh, yeah. The Touched thing. Jane says it totally blows.”

  Mads was caught short by this. It was one thing for her to say that her mother's play sucked. And another thing for Jane to say it to Mads in the spirit of actorly camaraderie. But the thought of Jane going home from rehearsal and telling Sean that Mads' mother's play was bad … that was different. That was crossing a line. Somehow.

  Put that out of your mind, Mads told herself. You have a mission to accomplish. And if she accomplished it, it would get Jane back for the mean comment.

  “Speaking of Jane—” Mads began, but at that moment a gang of boys trooped back from the lacrosse field, dangling their helmets from their sticks.

  “Sean!” one of them called, and soon Sean and Mads were surrounded by five sweaty lacrosse players. “Dude, when are you going to quit splashing in the pool like a sissy and play a real sport?”

  “Sissy?” Sean poked the guy's shoulder pads. “Look at you, helmet, pads…. Yo u can't step on the field until your mommy says it's safe to play.”

  The guys all laughed.

  “It's better than wearing a thong,” another guy said.

  Sean snatched his wet Speedo out of his backpack and aimed it at the guy like a slingshot. “Watch it or you'll get it right in the face,” he joked.

  “Hey, don't wave that thing at me.” The boys backed up, hands in the air, laughing. Then they marched toward the gym locker room. Sean twirled the bathing suit around his finger like a six-shooter and dropped it in his pack.

  “All right, kid, I gotta go,” he said, starting to walk away.

  “Wait!” Why was it so hard to talk to him? He couldn't seem to keep his mind on one thing. “This won't take long. I saw something at rehearsal that—”

  The swim center doors burst open and three girls, green-haired from too much chlorine, tripped down the steps, chattering and laughing. Sean turned his head toward them. Mads tried to ignore them. She should have known better.

  “Hey, Sean.” The girls slowed their pace, walking past Sean and Mads as if on display.

  Sean grinned. “Hey, girls. Good practice?”

  “Excellent practice,” one of the girls said. “Shaved two-tenths of a second off my hundred-meter freestyle.”

  “All right,” Sean said. “Coach says I need a little work on my breaststroke. Maybe one of you could tutor me?”

  The girls giggled. Mads rolled her eyes at his lame joke. How could he be wasting his time flirting with these floozies when his relationship with Jane was in deep trouble? Maybe this was why Jane was restless. Mads was beginning to sympathize with her.

  “Sean, you're terrible.” The girls waved coquettishly as they ambled away. Mads could tell they were all very aware of how they were walking, in case Sean was watching them. And he was.

  When they'd rounded the corner out of sight Sean said, “Okay, time to head home—”

  “Sean, stop.” Mads grabbed him by the wrist, surprised at her own boldness. He must have been surprised, too, because she'd finally gotten his attention. “Listen to me. At rehearsal the other day I—I saw Jane, backstage, and she was kissing—”

  “Jane!” Sean's face lit up. Mads turned and saw Jane walking toward them.

  “There you are,” she said.

  “See ya, kid,” Sean said. He yanked his wrist out of Mads' grip and walked away from her. Right in the middle of a sentence. Even after she had said the word “kissing.” Didn't that interest him? “I saw Jane, and she was kissing …” Who? Another boy? Mads' mother? An orangutan? Didn't he want to know? Had he heard a word she'd said? Did he ever listen to her?

  He grabbed Jane, kissed her, and said, “Way to surprise me.”

  “I was driving by and I thought I'd give you a ride, if you were still here,” Jane said. She waved at Mads. “Hi, Madison! See you at rehearsal later!”

  The two of them walked off arm in arm. Mads stood alone on the path between the swim center and the main school building, crushed.

  What was it with Sean? Why did he always act as if she were invisible?

  She fumed about Sean and Jane all the way home. Later that night, in her room, she came to a decision.

  That's it, she thought. Sean didn't want to listen to her? She'd make him pay attention. And she knew the perfect way.

  El Diario

  Today's blind items: What bookish junior is head-over-heels in love for the very first time with a dashing college student?

  What sophomore girl went totally yellular in the lunch room yesterday, screaming at her father so loud on her cell that the whole room could hear? Think of seasons, back to school, leaves falling, certain blog that's atomically popular …

  I saved the best for last. What leggy blonde is cheating on her sexy swimmer boyfriend? Here's a clue.

  The answer rhymes with pain.

  17 />
  Good-bye, Dan. Hello, Donald Death.

  To: linaonme

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: Welcome back to Planet Earth. It sucks, doesn't it?

  * * *

  Dear Larissa,

  How are you? Hope things are great in India. I'm writing to explain why I haven't been e-mailing you so often lately— and will probably be in touch even less in the future. I've kind of fallen for someone. Someone I work with. We have to keep it quiet for now, until the end of the year. But since I'm leaving anyway, we're not too worried about getting caught.

  I know you might be surprised, but after all, you and I have never met. We've never even spoken to each other. Though I have to say I fell for you, too, in a way. I wish things could have worked out between us. I was upset when you told me you were moving to India. It's so far away. But much as I treasure your friendship, I need a real live person to be with, in the flesh. I'm sure you understand. I've often had the feeling that you were involved with someone—or more than one person—during our correspondence. Maybe that's why you were a little reluctant to meet.

  I'd still like to hear from you once in a while. Let me know when your first screenplay is produced! I'll go see the movie and be your biggest fan.

  Love,

  Beauregard

  Lina got up from her computer, sighed, and flopped down on the bed. This kiss-off e-mail was the final straw. It was over. Really over.

  In a way it was a relief. All the lying, the plotting, the scheming, the daydreaming—it took a lot of energy. And what did she ever get out of it? Nothing, really. But she felt sad, almost as if she'd lost a real boyfriend. There was a hole in her life now. Dan was gone. Lina wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

  She printed out the e-mail, stuffed it in her bag, and rode her bike to Ramona's house. Ramona had invited her over for a Cleansing Ceremony. She had a shrine in her room called the Museum of Dan, filled with pictures of him, papers he'd graded, his used coffee cups, even a pizza crust he once threw away. Ramona and her friends used to perform love ceremonies at the shrine, hoping to make Dan fall for them. Proof, Lina thought, that all that stuff was crap.