6. A boy she likes told her she’s ugly. She’s upset. You:
a reassure her that she’s beautiful and that the boy must be blind.
b tell her he’s right, she is ugly (it’s time she faced the truth).
c hire someone to break the boy’s fingers.
Scoring:
Mostly a’s: You’re a good friend with a good heart and a well-balanced sense of responsibility. Keep on keeping on.
Mostly b’s: You’re a terrible friend and way too mean! Be nicer or soon you won’t have any friends to kick around.
Mostly c’s: You’re a total pushover. You’re practically your friend’s slave! Get a life and let her deal with her own problems.
19
Kissing Is Good
To: linaonme
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: There’s no air freshener on the market that covers the stench of desperation, so you can stop looking.
Oh. You’re here.”
Lina stepped into The Seer late in the afternoon to do some research for Mads. She was hoping the school paper’s old files might hold a clue to the missing yearbook mystery. She’d thought it would be safe; she’d thought everyone would be gone by then. But one lone writer sat in the office, typing on his laptop. Walker. Of course.
Walker looked up. “Yes. I’m here.”
“I’ve got some work to do.” Lina went to a file cabinet across the room and opened a drawer marked 1970-75. She wasn’t about to leave just because he was there. He couldn’t push her around. “If you don’t mind.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Lina riffled through the files, trying to concentrate, but the tension in the office was as thick as hair gel. She struggled not to let her eyes stray across the room to see what Walker was doing. But it was hopeless.
The clicking of his keyboard stopped. She couldn’t help it. She glanced over. Was he looking at her? Not really. The clicking started again. Lina sighed. The old Seer files were sloppily kept and incomplete. She couldn’t concentrate. Maybe she needed some caffeine. She crossed the room to a mini fridge where Kate sometimes kept sodas and juice.
“I’m just getting something to drink,” she said as she brushed past Walker’s desk.
“It’s a free country,” Walker said.
“That’s right,” Lina said. She opened the fridge. Empty.
“You seem to feel pretty free,” Walker said. “Free to spread lies about people on your blog. Free to butt into other people’s business—”
She walked up to him and pressed her hands on his desk. “I never butted into your business.”
Walker stood up to face her. “Oh, no?”
“No,” Lina said. “And I never lied on my blog. I told you, I had nothing to do with that Elvira thing.”
“Then what was it doing on your blog?”
She leaned toward him to make sure he got her point. “Ramona put it there without my permission. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“You can tell it to me a zillion times and I’ll never believe it.”
“Believe whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Now he leaned closer to her. “I will. I believe you don’t care about a lot of things. Like hurting people’s feelings. And messing up people’s lives.”
“I explained that! Why won’t you listen to me? You’re so rigid! You’re unfair!” She stuck her face close to his.
“You’re unfair! And you break your word!” His face came closer.
“What? I do not!”
“You do, too. And you know what else? Your writing is packed with clichés. You overuse the underdog cliché in every story. It’s the hokiest device in sportswriting!” His angry face slowly moved closer and closer to hers. They were like a baseball player and an umpire arguing over a bad call. I do not use clichés! I hate him! Lina thought. I hate him! He’s horrible!
“Well, you like mean, bitchy girls who brag!” she shot back. “And you’re a bad speller!”
“Better than you!”
“I challenge you to a spell-off!”
“You’re on!”
They were nearly nose-to-nose now. Lina could smell his breath—minty. She opened her mouth to say, “I’ll spell rings around you,” but the words never came out.
She opened her lips, and the next thing she knew, his were there, too. And they were kissing.
Lina closed her eyes. Her anger melted away in a wave of delicious kissing. His lips were so soft. His tongue lightly flicked against her teeth.
She opened her eyes. He opened his. They stared at each other, surprised.
That was one hell of a kiss.
She straightened up. Wow. Let’s do that again. She reached for him. What was she so mad about, anyway?
But his eyes were wide with shock. He smiled, then blinked.
“I—I’ve got to go,” he mumbled. He grabbed his things and ran out of the room.
Lina stared at the door. She glanced around the empty room. What had just happened? What was that all about?
Kissing was good! It was a good thing.
So why did he run away?
20
Breaking and Entering
To: mad4u
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: Did you think the universe had forgotten about you? Nah, it was just waiting for the right time to toss a bolt of lightning your way.
El Diario in Exile by Madison “Solzhenitsyn” Markowitz
I am mounting a big defense of the Dating Game and I need your help. First: Please remember to come to the big rally this Thursday at 7! And second: Please write in with any comments or stories about the Dating Game, how it helped you, what you like about it, what you’ve gotten from it, anything! Did you find your true love through us? Did you have a few good dates? Did you at least get some funny stories out of it to tell at parties? We will use your stories to show the parents and administration that RSAGE needs the Dating Game and that it plays an important part in student life.
We’ll post your responses in the space below as they come in:
nuclearautumn: I always thought mads, lina, and holly were kind of, I dunno, nobodies? I mean, they weren’t really unpopular but they weren’t überpopular, either, and basically I didn’t notice them. when I filled out a match-making questionnaire on the dating game I expected to get matched with loser after loser, which I would then throw back in the girls’ faces to make them see how inferior they were. But I was so wrong! On the first try (it took them a while, but still) they matched me with my sweet little vince, and we’ve been together ever since. (hey, that rhymes!) We can’t keep our hands off each other! So I have to admit the dating game changed my life in a big way for the better, and I hate to see poor mads getting punished for it—I mean, alvarado and the parents’ board are going a little overboard, don’t you think? —Autumn Nelson
gogo90: Whenever I feel down, I go to the dating game. Sometimes I think nobody likes me and I’m the world’s biggest loser, but when I read the dating game I see even the most popular people in school are looking for someone or something. it’s a leveler. Everybody’s insecure about something, and the dating game lays it all out there. bring it back, you heartless scum!
throb: I wrote to the love ninja for advice about stuff I was scared to talk to anybody about. like when I thought my girlfriend was cheating on me with my best friend, and the ninja told me not to jump to conclusions and how to tell for sure. It turned out I was wrong, but I could have lost my girlfriend and my best friend if I’d done what I was thinking of doing, which was rolling them up in the wrestling mat and dumping them in the bay (not really, but I was pissed).
bleeblah: The dating game is real, it’s fun, I’m totally addicted to it, it’s like a glue that pulls the school together. Everybody is into it, from the loneliest dillweed to the brainest nerd to the most popular jock. It makes going to RSAGE mean something.
paco: The d
ating game broke my heart. But I still wouldn’t trade my few happy moments with the love of my life, the mind-bogglingly sexy madison markowitz, for anything. And it did inspire me to write lots and lots of poetry.
Mads hovered at the edge of the campus, watching. It was four-fifteen on Tuesday afternoon, and the main school building was quiet. Most of the activity, Mads knew, was taking place deeper into the campus, in the auditorium, the Swim Center, and the athletic fields. Rod may or may not have gone home for the day. Ann Wilson, the librarian, usually left at four.
The yearbook mystery was driving her crazy. Lina had found some letters and articles in The Seer archives that mentioned the yearbook scandal, but they didn’t explain exactly what had happened. The parents’ board meeting was Thursday night. Time was running out. On a whim, Mads rode her bike to school. She was going to sneak into the library and find the missing yearbook.
Mads hurried down the front walk and ducked inside the building. She looked around to make sure no one had seen her before closing the door.
She walked through the quiet halls. The library lights were out, and Mrs. Wilson, the librarian, was gone. Mads slipped inside. She could see just well enough with the afternoon sunlight from the windows. She ducked behind the librarian’s desk and looked around. There were a few books shelved under and around the checkout counter, but none of them were yearbooks.
Behind the checkout counter were the librarian’s office and the door that led downstairs to the records room. Mads tried the door. It wasn’t locked. Thank goodness—she didn’t need breaking and entering added to her list of crimes.
The records room was pitch-dark. Mads flicked on the lights. The room had no windows, so no one would see the light from outside. There were rows of metal file cabinets and shelves of books, old and new—histories of Carlton Bay, of Northern California, and of the Rosewood School. And then, yes, there were the yearbooks. Mads read each year carefully. But once again, 1972 was missing.
Rats, she thought. What the hell—?
Maybe Mrs. Wilson kept it hidden somewhere. Maybe she had a secret place where she stashed controversial, scandal-related items. Mads didn’t know the librarian well, but she had a sense of her as a woman who believed in truth and respected history. Someone who would want to preserve anything that told the real story. But Mads could be wrong.
She turned out the lights and went back upstairs to Mrs. Wilson’s office. She checked the drawers of her desk. One of them was locked. The rest held nothing more interesting than a few paper clips and rubber bands.
Then she saw the cupboard. Hanging over a wall of file cabinets was a small wooden cupboard. It could only be reached with a ladder, or maybe a chair.
Mads pulled a chair over and climbed up. She could barely reach the cupboard. So she climbed up on the file cabinet beneath it and perched there precariously. She opened the cabinet door. Inside were books and papers stashed haphazardly. Mads rummaged through them until she felt a thick, heavy book with a textured cover. She pulled it out. Bingo! The 1972 Garden Gate!
Mads shut the cupboard door, scrambled off the file cabinet, and sat down to flip through the book. What was the big scandal? Why would they hide an innocent yearbook?
Everything looked normal: photos of the teachers, the campus, the underclassmen. A portrait of each senior, and group shots of the sports teams, clubs, and other organizations. Here and there antiwar slogans had been slipped into the captions, and some students flashed peace signs or wore t-shirts with slogans protesting the war or the draft or conformity. Other than that, it was funny to see how the students of those days didn’t look so different from Mads and her friends. A lot of the fashions and hair-styles were similar, though the 1972 boys looked thinner and less buff than the current boys.
There was a picture of Mrs. Wilson in her office, smiling and looking strangely young. Then, near the end, Mads turned the page and found the senior class photo. Her hand flew to her mouth to keep from making too much noise.
“Oh, my god—”
The class had posed under a banner that said CLASS OF 72 SAYS DRAFT THIS! But that wasn’t the shocking part. The shocker was that the whole, entire class was mooning the camera!
Mads started laughing. This was the big scandal? No wonder the library didn’t want to make this public. But still, it wasn’t that big a deal. Just a joke. The school ought to have more of a sense of humor. Then Mads thought about her own situation and realized it wasn’t so different.
Then she remembered that Rod was in this class. Was he in the picture, too?
No faces were visible, obviously. Just bottoms. Mads flipped to the front of the yearbook and found the mast-head, where the editorial credits were listed. Aha!
Editor in Chief: John Alvarado!
Rod was the editor of the yearbook. He was actually responsible for the scandalous photo! She laughed again. They never had naked butts on the Dating Game—not even close! What a hypocrite!
Mads got to her feet and stuffed the yearbook under her coat. Mission accomplished. Time to get out of there.
21
Pea-Green Wedding Cake
To: hollygolitely
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: Is it my imagination, or has your good judgment flown right out the window?
Tuesday afternoon, Julia dragged Holly back to the cake designer to confirm the cake details. But now Holly had a plan. All Julia lacked was a little confidence. She needed to see that her own taste was as good as Holly’s. Holly planned to make the point as clearly as possible.
“Okay,” Carmen said. “You’ve finally settled on chocolate cake with vanilla icing. Right? Please say yes.”
Julia glanced at Holly, who nodded and tried to wave the responsibility for answering away from herself and back toward Julia. “Yes,” Julia said.
“Good. Now for the decorations. We can tint the icing any color you like.” She looked at Holly expectantly, as she was used to the answers coming from her.
“Julia’s the bride,” Holly said. “Julia?”
Julia looked at Holly and panicked. “Any color? Any color I want?”
“Well, there are certain colors we don’t recommend,” Carmen said. “But it’s your call.”
Clearly Julia was not going to pick up the ball. “We’ll just sit down over there and think about it a minute,” Holly told Carmen.
“Fine,” Carmen said. “But I’m not letting you leave without a decision.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Holly said. She led Julia to a little sitting area. “Do you have a color preference?” Holly asked her. “Think back to when you were a little girl, dreaming about your wedding. What color was the cake?”
Julia closed her eyes and thought back. “Um, I can’t really see the cake. The groom, George Clooney, is blocking the way.”
Holly sighed. Here we go, time to start Plan A. “I have a great idea. What do you think of this: pea green.”
“Pea green what?”
“Pea green wedding cake,” Holly said. “Do you love it? Remember that article we saw in Bride’s magazine about unusual colors for cakes? All the celebrities are doing it. I think Jennifer Lopez had a puce cake at her last wedding.”
“Really?” Julia said. “Pea green?”
She’ll never go for this, Holly thought. She’s got to realize that pea green cake is a terrible idea. And then she’ll see that she doesn’t need me so much after all.
“You think pea green might be good?” Julia seemed doubtful. Good, Holly thought. Trust your gut, Julia. Trust your instincts for once, for god’s sake.
Holly nodded. “Mmm-hmm. It’s, like, so ugly, it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Julia said. “I can see that.”
“Have you decided?” Carmen asked.
“Yes, I have,” Julia said. “The icing should be pea green. With what color flowers, Holly?”
“Mustard yellow?” Holly sank into her seat in despair. She couldn’t beli
eve Julia would actually go for a pea green wedding cake. I can’t let her do this, she thought. I’ll have to call Carmen later and change the icing color again. She’ll probably hang up on me. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
On to the dress shop. Julia still hadn’t decided on the bridesmaids’ material.
“It’s an evening wedding, isn’t it?” Melissa asked. Holly had a feeling Melissa was getting as impatient with Julia as she was. “What about a dark color?”
Julia flipped through the fabric samples. Holly didn’t need to look at them—she had the whole sample book memorized. “Yeah,” Julia said, stopping on the last swatch: solid, plain black silk. “What about black? It’s kind of elegant.”
“Black could be good,” Holly said. “Julia, I’m sure whatever you decide will be great. Just pick something. Anything.”
“I think … black. But, wait—midnight blue!”
Holly couldn’t take any more. She was afraid the top of her head was going to blow off from all the steam building up inside her. “You know what I think would be so cool?” she said, snatching up the sample book. She let the book fall open at random. Whatever fabric showed up, that’s what Julia would have. And then it would be settled and they could get out of there. Holly hoped she never had to set foot in that dress shop again.
The book opened on polka dots—white silk with big red and blue polka dots. It was hideous. Holly didn’t care. She barely even looked at it. She presented it triumphantly to Julia as if it were the answer to their prayers. “This is what your bridesmaids should wear,” Holly said. “Gigantic polka dots!”
Julia blinked. Melissa sighed, said, “I’ve got a few calls to make,” and left the room. Holly understood. The fabric was ridiculous. It looked as if it were made for a clown suit. If this didn’t spur Julia to start making her own decisions, nothing would.
“Polka dots?” Julia took the book and stared at the swatch. “I don’t know—”
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