My Know-It-All Nemesis: Sweet Mountain High

by Dallen, Maggie

  Ha! As if.

  Her accusing me of not having any ideas of my own.

  I stared down at the blank page. I had ideas. I just...couldn’t come up with them right this second.

  I sighed miserably as I crinkled up the paper and flipped to a new, fresh sheet in my notebook. Why was I even doing this?

  Kate wanted this position, probably even more than me.

  But it was the last thing to check off. The final edge that would ensure I’d get into the school of my dreams on my own terms, with no help from my father and his connections.

  I snuck a peek at Kate on the other side of the classroom, scribbling away. We’d both been given a free period to work our speeches in the library rather than watch our fellow classmates’ presentations in World History.

  I sighed as I fell back in my seat. Well, Kate was preparing her speech.

  Me? I was staring at blankness, less certain of what I was going to say now than I had been before I sat down with the pen and paper. The seconds ticked by, and the sound of Kate’s scribbling was like a new form of torture that was getting inside my head and making me cringe. When the bell rang, I bolted out of my seat, but when I reached the hallway, I stopped.

  I froze.

  Holy crap, who did this? The hallways started to fill with students, and I reached out to tear down the giant poster hanging on the wall, but I was too late.

  “What is that?” Kate was standing beside me, and my hand was still on the corner of the paper, ready to tear it down.

  I glanced over at her and was horrified. Tears. There were tears in her eyes.

  In all the times we’d fought and bickered and made fun of each other, I’d never once seen tears.

  It just about broke my heart in two.

  Then she turned those big, blue, tear-brimmed eyes in my direction. “Did you do this?” Her voice was a whisper, and I reeled backward, tearing the poster down as I did.

  “Are you serious right now? Of course, I didn’t do this.”

  She just stared at me.

  She didn’t believe me, that much was clear.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised, and I definitely shouldn’t have felt...this.

  This hurt that she didn’t believe me.

  “What’s going on here?” I hadn’t even seen him coming, but Mr. Gentry stopped in front of us, his eyes going from Kate’s stricken, tear-filled eyes, to my face.

  Oh crap.

  “This wasn’t me,” I said to Kate under my breath.

  “Really?” she hissed. “Because this seems exactly like you.”

  “Kate,” Mr. Gentry said slowly. “Miller.” He looked between the two of us. “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing,” Kate mumbled, not looking at me.

  I’d give Kate this—she might have been a goody-two-shoes, but she wasn’t a rat or a tattletale. She wasn’t going to throw me under the bus, even though she clearly thought that I’d done this.

  I kept the poster at my side so Mr. Gentry and the gathering crowd couldn’t see the poorly drawn caricature of a half-naked Barbie wearing a cropped top that read Hot and Wild Barbie, with a chicken hat perched on her head.

  “Kate,” Mr. Gentry said, his voice low and filled with concern.

  I couldn’t fault him. I was worried about her too, and I couldn’t stand the girl. But watching her now, seeing her struggle to gather the happy-go-lucky demeanor everyone but me was used to seeing...it physically hurt to watch her.

  You don’t have to protect the idiot who did this. That was what I wanted to tell her. But, of course, she thought I was the idiot, so...yeah. This just got complicated.

  His gaze moved between the two of us. “You two aren’t fighting, are you?”

  “Of course, not,” she said with a smile.

  “Who? Us?” I gave him my best grin.

  He rolled his eyes at both of us. “If you two can’t handle—”

  “Miller and I are fine,” Kate said quickly. “We were just talking about our speeches, actually. Running them past each other.”

  Mr. Gentry didn’t seem convinced, and I... I was ready to drop all pretenses. Her words from the other day wouldn’t quit. The fact that she thought I was trying to buy my way into the presidency, and that she could honestly think I’d put up a crappy poster like this to mock her.

  Guilt nagged at me. Sure, I’d done something similar last spring. But that wasn’t the same at all. That was a spur of the moment joke. I was teasing her for being smart, for Pete’s sake. I wasn’t being gross about her body or mocking the fact that she worked a less-than-glamorous job to make money.

  My joke might not have been funny, but it hadn’t been hurtful. I glanced over at her. At least, not intentionally.

  And yet...she was hurting right now, and she thought it was my fault.

  Worse than that, I felt like I could feel what she was feeling. The injustice. The unfairness of our situations. Her being mocked for doing what she had to do to make money while I was throwing a party for our class.

  Had I been trying to buy my victory?

  No.

  But I knew how it looked. And she’d had a valid point.

  Everything she’d said the other day about buying my wins, it had hit a nerve. That was everything I never wanted to be. That was how my parents functioned in the world, but not me.

  I’d always known that, but I’d never cared if anyone else saw it. I’d never really cared who thought the worst of me...until Kate had said it aloud.

  I cared what she thought. Why?

  No idea, but now standing here under Mr. Gentry’s observant stare...this was not the time to figure it out. This wasn’t a time to think—it was a time to act.

  “Kate’s right, Mr. Gentry,” I said, moving to stand closer to her, as if that could save her from the questioning looks and Mr. Gentry’s concern. I’ve got your back. I tried to show her that, but I had no idea if she got what I was doing. Her sidelong look was curious but hardly trusting.

  Mr. Gentry folded his arms. “Is that right? You two are standing out here looking ready to start a war because...you’re working together?” Rueful amusement tinged his voice, and I couldn’t blame him for not buying it.

  He wouldn’t have been much of a vice principal if he had.

  Still, I wouldn’t be much of a class leader if I let him win. If I let whoever had hung that sign win, for that matter.

  Wrapping an arm around Kate’s shoulders, I felt her stiffen. “We were just talking about the party we were going to throw this weekend to announce that we’re both running.”

  Kate’s head whipped to the side to stare at me, and I got smacked in the face by her ponytail in the process.

  Fair enough. I deserved that. I didn’t do this latest prank, but I’d teased her enough over the last two years to warrant a smack or two.

  “What?” she snapped.

  At the same time, Mr. Gentry said, “Pardon me?”

  Kate’s eyes widened, her gaze ordering me to explain, and I cleared my throat. “Yup. I was already planning a Halloween party for the class at my house this weekend, and Kate and I figured—what better time to announce that we were running against each other? Again.”

  “I see.” Mr. Gentry looked like he did, in fact, see. Right through my lies. “Well, that’s very…” He looked between the two of us with open suspicion. “Sporting of the two of you.”

  I smiled, and Kate beamed.

  Man, she could turn on that megawatt smile so easily it was a little frightening.

  It was also...stunning.

  I mean, she never used that weapon on me, and even now, the blinding light of her smile was aimed at Mr. Gentry, but I was close enough to feel its power.

  What would it feel like to have her smile at me like that? A genuine smile.

  A happy one.

  One filled with laughter and—

  Kate smacked my arm the moment Mr. Gentry walked away. “Okay, jerk, what’s your deal?”

  Her eyes
were narrowed, her smile gone, replaced by pursed lips.

  “What do you mean ‘what’s my deal?’” I shrugged. “I meant what I said. We should host the party together.”

  Her cheeks and nose squished up in clear confusion. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Her blank stare made it abundantly clear how dumb she thought that question was.

  “Look,” I said, shifting so she and I could stand near the wall, away from the prying eyes of fellow students who were passing us on their way to their next class. “Just hear me out—”

  “It’s guilt, isn’t it?” she demanded.

  Ugh. This girl. She was infuriating. Such a know-it-all that she never gave anyone a chance to explain. To speak. Why listen when she already knew the answers?

  “Guilt?” I repeated. “Why would I feel guilt?”

  Her eyes dropped meaningfully to the poster in my hand, and I sighed. “I told you, this wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “It was one of your friends, then.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and I couldn’t deny it. It was most likely one of the guys from the football team, and I already had a suspicion about who it was.

  Her lips pursed again, this time in a superior look that said, See? I knew I was right. You were behind this.

  I drew in a deep breath to temper my annoyance. “I don’t feel guilt, all right? This wasn’t my fault.” I met her gaze evenly. “But you weren’t...entirely wrong the other day.”

  Admitting she was right, even in a roundabout sort of way, felt like shards of glass moving through my throat.

  She tilted her head to the side like a brat, making me spell it out.

  “Maybe it’s not altogether fair that I have certain...benefits.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Admit it, you have it easy.”

  “I... I…you think I have it easy?” The words came sputtering out of me in open disbelief.

  She glared at me, and apparently that was her response.

  The bell rang, and I was grateful because my head was spinning from her blatant hypocrisy.

  “So,” I said, shifting the poster so I could adjust my bag on my shoulder. “Are you going to help me host the party or not?”

  Her lips worked like she was debating saying no but couldn’t quite bring herself to.

  Ha! Miss High and Mighty I-don’t-need-to-buy-my-classmates’-votes wasn’t above showing them a good time, after all.

  5

  Kate

  “So wait,” my friend Bella said, her brow furrowed as she leaned across the aisle separating my lab table from hers. “You’re co-hosting a Miller Hardwell party?”

  Her best friend, Gigi, leaned over too. “The Miller Hardwell party?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek as I nodded. I couldn’t blame them for gaping at me like that. I was just as stunned by this new turn of events.

  Bella tilted her head to the side. “Kate, have you ever even been to a Miller Hardwell party?”

  I shook my head. “No time like the present, right?”

  Bella and Gigi shared a look I couldn’t quite interpret. It was the kind of look that passed between besties, which meant it was outside my realm of experience. I had friends—lots of friends, actually—and even more friendly acquaintances. But I’d never had a best friend.

  Unless you counted my sister.

  Something told me sisters didn’t count.

  When our teacher came in and started class, I was actually kind of grateful. I mean, I was having a hard enough time wrapping my head around the fact that I was now hosting this weekend’s biggest event. What did that even mean? Was I supposed to bring something? Appetizers, maybe? Punch?

  I had no idea what one brought to a party let alone what one was supposed to offer as a host.

  I mentally added it to the running list of questions I had going.

  More questions came at the end of class when I was hit with a stream of inquiries, first from Bella and Gigi, and then from some of the other girls in our class.

  Why’d Miller ask me to help him?

  That was asked with more than a hint of a jealous glare from Claire Muncy, one of the mean girls—better known as the MG’s of Sweet Mountain High. A lot of girls had a crush on Miller, but he was a renowned player—never with the same girl for long. Claire, apparently, hadn’t gotten that memo. I briefly recalled them being attached at the hip and swapping saliva at the end of our junior year, but from the glare I was getting from Claire, it seemed she was hoping for another turn at being Miller’s other half.

  He’s all yours! That’s what I wanted to say, but I figured the less said the better. I had zero interest in involving myself in Miller’s love life, thank you very much. He was doing a perfectly awful job of going through the girls of this school on his own.

  The most terrifying question came from a girl in PE later that day.

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “Um…” That was my oh-so-eloquent response. The party of the century was less than twenty-four hours away, and I had no clue what to wear.

  Later that night my sister tried to help me via videocall. “No. Just, no.”

  I scowled at her on the screen, shaking her head so fiercely her glasses looked like they might fall off.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I looked down at the pale blue poodle skirt that was swinging around my shins. “This was what I was going to wear to help Mom pass out candy tonight.”

  Her groan had me frowning at my reflection again. “I thought it was cute.”

  “It is cute,” Daphne said. “It’s adorable.”

  I wrinkled my nose in her direction. Only Daphne was capable of making that word sound like an insult.

  “If you’re going to this party tomorrow night to announce you’re running, you need to think very carefully about the image you’re projecting.”

  I sniffed, toying with the edge of the skirt, which I’d managed to clean up into decent condition. “Does it look too cheap?”

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “Dude, you bought it for fifty cents. It is cheap.” She shook her head. “But that’s not what I mean.”

  I turned to face her image and caught her shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth like she was watching Real Housewives on her screen and not her little sister trying on costumes. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you mean?”

  When Daphne hesitated, I stiffened. She only ever hesitated when she was afraid she was going to hurt my feelings.

  “I mean, you want people to take you seriously, right?” She tilted her head to the side, and her gaze was unwavering even with two screens between them. “I know how much it gets to you when Miller doesn’t take you seriously—”

  “It’s not just Miller,” I interrupted. I knew what she was trying to say, but my protest still seemed valid. This wasn’t about Miller—it was about my classmates.

  Classmates who were making fun of me behind my back.

  Classmates who thought I was cute and sweet and friendly, but who’ve never once asked me to a party.

  Not that I wanted to party.

  I didn’t.

  I didn’t even want to go to tomorrow’s party, and I was the freakin’ co-host, whatever that meant.

  “Daph, how exactly does one host a party?” I asked.

  I saw her try to smother a smile. “Being the host means being in charge, the person people look up to,” she said.

  I nodded. That I knew how to do, and my sister knew it. She’d always been good at speaking my language, phrasing things in a way I’d understand.

  “I still need to talk to Miller, by the way.” I met my own gaze with pursed lips. “I need to figure out what, exactly, he’s up to.”

  “Maybe he’s just trying to level the playing field,” Daphne offered.

  My response was a bitter scoff.

  “You barely know the guy,” Daphne started.

  “I know enough.” I knew more than enough. Two years of being neck and neck, of being o
n opposite ends of every competition, and an ongoing rivalry—there was no better way to get to know a person.

  If there was one thing I knew about Miller, it was that he was devious. Underhanded. There was no way he was offering to host this party with me out of the goodness of his heart. He probably had some sort of epic humiliation in store.

  A vision of Carrie flashed through my head before I could shake it off.

  Alright, fine, maybe I was a little paranoid, but when it came to Miller, it was always better to be prepared.

  Which was why I needed to talk to him—without Mr. Gentry hovering around, and without a classroom full of people who worshiped the ground he walked on.

  One party, and I was suddenly feeling the love from everyone too. I’d never had so many people go out of their way to talk to me in the halls before, not unless there was some sort of crisis that I needed to help sort out. A certain freshman year carwash disaster came to mind…

  But no one had ever come up to me to gossip, or ask me what I would be wearing, or if I was dating the party’s main host.

  I still couldn’t believe Mia Jackson had asked me that, right there in the parking lot on my way to the bus. Granted, I knew very well that Mia was angling for a spot on the newspaper staff, and I respected that—I truly did—but the question still had me reeling.

  Me? And Miller?

  Ew.

  I mean, not to be childish about it, but…gross.

  Sure, he was handsome. No one would ever deny that. It was an empirical fact. Miller Hardwell played on the football team, lived in The Heights, and was more attractive than the average man.

  Fine, he was about twenty times more attractive than the average high school senior.

  Empirically speaking, of course.

  But that didn’t mean I was attracted to him, or that I ever could be. In order to be attracted to someone, I’d have to like them first. As a human being. It was imperative. That was just how I worked. In order to really fall for someone, I’d need to find that perfect balance between respect, physical attraction, and honest to goodness affection.

  Sometimes that trifecta seemed like an impossible order. There was no doubt I had yet to find it, which was how I’d managed to get through three solid years of high school without a single date, a boyfriend, or even a kiss.