My Know-It-All Nemesis: Sweet Mountain High

by Dallen, Maggie

  “Nope. Just enjoying the fine service at this lovely establishment,” I said.

  The weasely looking teen didn’t look satisfied—or even like he believed me—but he did walk away. Kate, I noticed, slumped slightly when he did.

  “Hey, Kate, I didn’t—”

  “Just go,” she said, her tone lacking in heat, which was...weird.

  Unnerving, even.

  “I’m not going to—”

  “I said go,” she hissed.

  Now there was the spitfire I knew so well. I held up my hands as I backed away to join my teammates. “Fine. I’m gone.” I gave her an obnoxious wink because... Well, because I liked angry Kate a whole heck of a lot more than self-conscious, blushing Kate.

  Spitfire Kate was scary, but an insecure Kate?

  That was terrifying.

  3

  Kate

  The next day I flipped through the racks at the Goodwill with a frown. “It was humiliating.”

  My older sister, Daphne, might have been listening to me, but it was hard to tell, what with her head buried in a rack of winter coats. “It doesn’t sound like it was that bad,” her muffled voice said from inside the rack.

  I turned to stare at her back. “I was wearing a chicken hat.”

  She gave a grunt of acknowledgement—or maybe it was a muffled laugh.

  “What are you doing in there?” I asked.

  “I thought I saw…” She gave another grunt before falling back out of the rack with a triumphant grin. “Calvin Klein,” she said, holding the pale green coat up like a prize.

  I nodded thoughtfully. “That has potential.”

  She beamed as she looked from me to the coat. “Doesn’t it though?”

  Daphne was home from college for the weekend, and the minute I’d walked in the door from work this afternoon and started whining about my day, she’d declared it a shopping emergency.

  This was what we did—what we’d been doing since I was in the fourth grade and Daphne was in junior high. We’d head to Goodwill, scavenge for all the best pieces and then take them home and go all Project Runway on them.

  It was our version of retail therapy.

  And apparently all that thrift shopping and the homemade alterations had made me the butt of yet another joke, thanks to Miller-freakin’-Hardwell. I gave the next row of clothes a shove and the metal hangars screeched against the rack.

  Daphne dropped the coat in her basket and gave me a no-nonsense stare that I had no doubt would do her well in law school next year. “Let’s be real, sis. It was just jeans, a T-shirt, and a silly hat. Not that big a deal. I mean, it’s not like he saw you in that ridiculous gorilla costume—”

  I winced at the memory of my summer as a cartoon character at the nearby amusement park.

  “And it’s definitely a step up from anyone seeing you in the baby-barf brown uniform you used to wear at the diner, remember?”

  I pulled my lips back in a grimace and shuddered. “Don’t even remind me.”

  She nudged my shoulder. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Nothing, it’s just…” Everything. I couldn’t shake the image of Miller and the way he’d looked at me. Like he’d never seen me before. Like he was revolted by the sight of me. Eyes wide, jaw slack, he’d gaped at me like I was a sideshow attraction.

  Nope. Just me. Dressed like a hooker.

  So humiliating.

  “You’re overreacting,” Daphne said.

  I huffed in irritation. Okay, fine, so maybe I hadn’t looked like a hooker, but I’d felt way more exposed than I liked. And in front of Miller, of all people.

  That had been the real kicker.

  It would have been a little embarrassing in front of the other guys, but most of them had known me since grade school. I considered each of them a friend, of sorts. Or friendly acquaintances, at the very least.

  But Miller?

  Ugh. It was bad enough that I had a rival. I certainly didn’t want said rival to see my navel. Was that so wrong?

  I didn’t think so.

  Daphne came to stand beside me and flicked through the hangers faster than me going in the opposite direction. She was more of a hasty grazer, and I was a thorough searcher. Alone, we were both excellent thrift store foragers, but together? We were unstoppable.

  “I still don’t see the big deal,” Daphne said.

  I sighed loudly, my wispy, eternally frustrating bangs flying in the breeze as I did. Of course, Daphne wouldn’t get it. She’d had it so much easier. She’d flown through high school the way I had before Miller came along. She’d been the unstoppable force who’d given me huge shoes to fill. She’d set the path and shown me that even if we didn’t come from The Heights, we could set our sights just as high as anyone else—if not higher. What we lacked in money and connections, we made up for in willpower, drive, and the will to succeed.

  I still believed that, but none of the lessons I’d learned by watching Daphne had prepared me for Miller Hardwell.

  He wasn’t content to sit back and watch me win.

  Ever.

  Not once could I ever get ahead of him without some massive battle, and even then, it wasn’t a guarantee that I’d win.

  It was exhausting, to be honest. I was tired. So tired.

  “It’s just not fair,” I said to Daphne for what had to have been the twentieth time.

  “I know,” she said. “And it’s not.”

  We shared a quiet moment as we stewed in the unfairness of it all. No matter how hard I tried, when it came to Miller Hardwell, I’d always have to fight harder and work more because the deck was inherently stacked in his favor.

  I stopped mechanically flipping when I came across a felt skirt. “No way,” I muttered.

  “What is it?” Daphne shifted beside me to see what I was looking at. “It looks like someone’s old costume. Probably a dance company or something, or the local theater’s Grease production.”

  I nodded because I knew she was right—we were always coming across weird old costumes in this place. It was part of the fun. But right now? This felt like a sign. Or maybe an omen. Whatever it was, it made me inexplicably angry.

  “The quality’s not great,” Daphne said, eyeing me oddly. “Not sure what you could do with it.”

  “This party,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  I gripped the skirt tighter and pulled it off the rack. “This stupid party that Miller is throwing.”

  “Ah,” she said. Like suddenly it all made sense. I hadn’t even told her what he’d said about me dressing like I came from the fifties, so I imagined I sounded totally nuts right now. I met her gaze evenly and tried to explain. “Do you think it’s just coincidence that he’s planning a party the same week we’re announcing our candidacies?” I said.

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I mean, it is Halloween—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I interrupted. “He’s doing this on purpose. He’s going to throw the super fun party that everyone will be talking about, and he’ll be doing it as a way to gain favor and win votes.”

  Daphne stared at me for a second. “Okay.” Her tone was uncertain. Possibly even scared of me, or maybe for me.

  It was possible she was questioning my sanity, but right at this particular moment, I’d never felt more sane. I was seeing the world with the stark light of clarity that came from far too little sleep and way too much caffeine, and I was about ready to make some changes.

  He wanted a fight?

  Fine.

  He’d get a fight.

  I might not be able to compete with big parties, but I had my strengths…and I knew how to use them.

  * * *

  Miller’s voice behind me in Spanish class cut through the hum of conversation going on around me. “You promised the football team off-campus lunches on game days?”

  I had every intention of ignoring him, but he wasn’t having it. I heard him shifting in his seat. “Making promises you can’t keep again, huh, K
ate?” He gave a scoff of disbelief. “Why am I not surprised?”

  I sucked in a quick inhale and whipped around. Stupid, smirking jerk. So cool, so calm. Such a stinking know-it-all. “I didn’t promise anything,” I said. “I merely threw it out there as one of many ideas I’m considering and promised that if elected I would try to make it happen.”

  “Try, huh? Convenient wording.” He leaned all the way forward over his desk so his face was right in mine. “Gentry would never go for it, and you know it.”

  “Which one?” I snapped.

  “Both of them.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t know that. I’ve been talking to them both about ways we can boost school morale and—”

  “Blah blah blah,” he cut me off with a harsh tone. “You’re doing it again. This is exactly what happened last time. Everyone here might believe you’re some sort of saint—some miracle worker. But even you have your limits, Kate.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you tell me what my limits are. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  His glare matched mine. “I guess I don’t. Here I’d always thought you were above lying to win votes. Guess I was wrong.”

  I held my breath to hold in a scream. “How dare you? I’ve never lied.”

  “You’re throwing out ideas you know very well will never happen,” he shot back. “Maybe that’s not outright lying, but you’re splitting hairs, Kate.”

  I huffed, annoyingly at a loss for words. I wasn’t lying to people. I wasn’t! I had every intention of trying to make some changes that would make everyone happy. Was I sure I could do it?

  No. Not necessarily.

  But I hadn’t promised results, just efforts.

  Ugh. Yeah, okay fine. Even in my own head, the justification sounded weak. But that didn’t stop me from fighting back. When it came to Miller, nothing could keep me from fighting back.

  His expression was one of such disdain it made it hard to breathe. “You’re fighting dirty,” Miller said. “It’s beneath you.”

  I slammed my hands on his desk as rage overrode that niggling guilt that said maybe he was right. I might not have made outright promises, but I did have a reputation for getting things done. My word was good in this school...and I was about to trade in on that in order to win votes. A sick sense of guilt and shame slithered through my intestines.

  Even so, his judgy stare made me fume. “How dare you accuse me of fighting dirty?” I snapped.

  His eyes went wide with innocence. Ignorance, at the very least. “What are you talking about?”

  “You,” I said. “And that stupid party.”

  He looked so confused I almost laughed.

  “My Halloween party? What about it?”

  I let out a sigh of exasperation. “What about it?” I echoed, my tone taunting as I mocked him. “It’s all anyone is talking about. It’s the biggest party of the semester.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. Please. He couldn’t possibly be that dumb. He did almost as well as I did in every class, he wasn’t an idiot—much as I hated to admit it.

  After a second he leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “What are you trying to say, Kate?”

  “You’re throwing the biggest party of the fall right as you announce your candidacy,” I said slowly. “What do you think I’m saying?”

  His expression made my stomach clench. I’d seen a lot of looks from him. Disdain, often. Mockery, always. His knowing smirk? That was a constant. But this...he looked almost…

  No, he couldn’t be hurt.

  “You seriously think I’m trying to win people over with this party?” he asked.

  I glanced away for a second because his glare was hard to hold. It was demanding an answer, and when he put it like that…

  I shrugged. “Maybe not outright, but don’t tell me you’re not aware of the effect. You have your rich parents throw some huge party for the whole class, and they look at you and see wealth, power, and fun.” I matched him sneer for sneer as we both leaned in. “You’re trying to buy the election. Again.”

  He shook his head. “It’s just a party.”

  I tilted my head to the side. I saw his mind reeling, I watched the same flare of guilt as he realized I was right.

  “Just a party, huh? Same week that we announce our candidacies? Now who’s splitting hairs?”

  He eyed me for a while. “Careful, Gidget. Almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

  I jerked back as if I’d been struck. Jealous? Of him? But the horror of that accusation was replaced by fury because...that nickname. I’d been hearing it from everyone this week. Of course, he was the one who’d started it. When I’d returned to school on Monday, I’d waited for the teasing about the uniform. I mean, I had been wearing a chicken hat. A little mockery was to be expected.

  Instead, everyone had latched onto Miller’s comments about how I look like I came from a different era, and then the nicknames started. I’d heard Sandy from Grease, and a bunch of old, patronizing terms of endearments like baby-doll and sweetheart, but it was Gidget that stuck.

  Which was stupid because if any of these idiots had actually seen the movie, they’d know she was a surfer. Sure, it was a movie from the fifties, and maybe my penchant for Peter Pan collars and full skirts had gone too far, but that was where all ties ended.

  He met my glare unabashedly, the jerk.

  “I knew you were behind that nickname,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Actually, I had no part in perpetuating that stupid nickname,” he said, folding his hands over his chest. “It doesn’t even make sense unless you’ve taken up surfing recently.”

  I sneered at him, and he had the gall to laugh.

  “Uh huh.” I tossed my ponytail over my shoulder. “Just like you weren’t behind the chauvinistic Brainy Barbie stunt, right?”

  “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for that?” he snapped.

  I blinked in surprise at the genuine anger in his eyes. Normally when we bickered, it was all lazy smiles and taunting smirks. Like nothing I ever said got through to him. I recovered quickly. “Once,” I said, holding up a finger in his face. “Just once.”

  He grabbed my finger, holding it in his fist and lowering it. For a second, I forgot where we were, and my heart kicked into overdrive as he shifted even closer so his face was inches from mine.

  We were both breathing heavily as our gazes clashed and held, fire and anger seeming to build between us as he held my hand in his.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I jerked back like he’d hit me. “What?”

  “You’re right. I guess I never did actually say it,” he said with a shrug. Like that was it. Like it was that easy.

  “You’re sorry,” I repeated, not buying it. There was a trick here, I was sure of it. I narrowed my eyes and watched him as he sank back in his seat.

  “I’m sorry.” He arched his brows. “Is that what you’ve been wanting to hear?”

  “Yes, actually,” I said, my tone stiff while I crossed my arms defensively. Was it so bad to want to hear an apology after he made me a laughingstock? I didn’t think so.

  For one millisecond, I thought maybe we had a truce forming. Then he had to go and ruin it.

  “It was just a joke, Kate. You need to lighten up.”

  “Jokes are supposed to make people laugh, Miller,” I shot back. “Maybe you need to learn how to be funny.”

  To my surprise his lips twitched up a bit at the corners like he was trying not to laugh. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Silence.

  There it was again, this weirdness. Almost like a slack in the tension that was forever between us.

  “For what it’s worth, I thought you looked really cute in that chicken hat.”

  Moment ruined. Again. I narrowed my eyes at him, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m serious. And there’s nothing wrong with dressing like you’re some lady from another decade, I don’t care what anyone says.” H
is voice was all earnest sincerity.

  He was totally mocking me. Except this time, his eyes were twinkling with laughter, and for the first time ever, I didn’t get the feeling that it was at my expense.

  I found myself fighting a laugh again. Which was crazy. I mean, this guy wasn’t funny, he was just a bully. A smirky know-it-all who breezed through life without a care.

  “Why, Kate…” He leaned forward again, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you find me amusing.”

  I glared. “Never.”

  His grin made me want to smack him.

  There. Now we were back to normal.

  “Eyes up front!” Our Spanish teacher, Ms. Carson, clapped her hands, marking the start of class, and I shifted to face forward, opening my book to the requisite chapter.

  The class was...less than stimulating. Everyone knew Ms. Carson was super close to retiring, and she taught like she was already one foot out the door. I could see the boredom on her face as she started to conjugate a new set of verbs.

  I was only half listening, the other part of me was too busy rehashing everything Miller had just said. Mainly how he’d accused me of making promises I couldn’t keep.

  I wasn’t. I hadn’t!

  So why were his words nagging at me, making me want to spin around and start smacking until that knowing smirk fell right off his face?

  It wasn’t my fault I had ideas. And no, I couldn’t guarantee I could make it happen, but it was good to have goals, right?

  I’d bet money he was just jealous because he didn’t have any original ideas, farfetched or otherwise.

  4

  Miller

  I had nothing.

  For the second time this week, I found myself staring down at a sheet of paper, my mind a blank and my head spinning with words.

  Not useful words.

  Not ones that I could form into the talking points I was supposed to be preparing for the school assembly next week.

  The words in my head were Kate’s words. They were in her voice, all condescending and smug.

  Me. Buying the election.