“I don’t have a Plan B.”
“What do you mean? Every benefit has a Plan B. That’s, like, Event Planning 101.”
I guess. If you’ve been doing this since junior high, like some people. “I don’t have one. Once we got Angelina, I thought I was done.” I was really done now. “What about DeLayne? She’s heading up PR, right? Maybe she’s got one.” It wasn’t like she’d given me any help with the guest, anyway.
Vanessa went off on me like an atomic bomb, screaming and calling me names, most of which weren’t anatomically possible. But how was this my fault, I ask you? I didn’t know I was supposed to have an understudy in reserve, hanging around waiting to be called on set when the A-list talent didn’t show. Maybe that was standard procedure in Vanessa’s world, but it sure wasn’t in mine.
She finished with a threat, shrieked at the top of the phone’s upper register. “You’d better find someone before I get back, or so help me—” She stopped to take a breath and I grabbed the opportunity.
“Or what? You can’t possibly do anything worse than you’ve already done.”
“What. Are. You. Talking. About?”
“Oh, I think you know, Vanessa.”
“Enlighten me, O brainless one.”
“The webcam? The video? I know it was you. I just want you to know there will be consequences.”
Not that I had a clue what they’d be, but no one could be that cruel and not have it come back to bite them. Someday, somewhere, Vanessa would have to pay up.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you incompetent loon. And if you’re threatening me, I’d use your other brain cell and think twice before you get a visit from my father’s legal team.”
I opened my mouth to call her something choice, and then caught myself. Praying one second and screaming swear words the next? Did I want to be a hypocrite like Vanessa, acting like a friend and then smiling as I deliberately hurt someone? Or did I want to be the person God had called me to be three years ago?
“It’s not a threat,” I said quietly. “Just a reality.”
I disconnected, having gotten nothing out of that conversation but a tiny victory . . . and the last word.
For the first time I realized I was alone in the room. Gillian must have left while I was in the shower, which meant I had no one to fume to about how horrible Vanessa was.
Like Gillian didn’t know.
I slipped the phone into my pocket and got out a piece of paper. Okay, so who did I know who’d be willing to come and guest at a benefit in—I glanced at my watch—nine hours? Particularly when Angelina’s name and not theirs had been printed over the title in the program?
When the door opened fifteen minutes later, my sheet of paper was still empty. But I saw, as my spirits tried to get up off the metaphorical floor, that Gillian’s and Carly’s hands were not.
“We raided the dining room before it closed,” Carly said. “We thought you’d like oatmeal best, but it was all gone.”
“Ha ha,” I said as she and Gillian laid out fruit, bagels, strawberry cream cheese, and paper cups of coffee on Gillian’s desk. “You guys deserve a medal.”
“We were hungry.” Gillian knocked back a gulp of coffee. “And hanging around the caf listening to all the static about the video just made me barf.”
“There weren’t that many people.” Carly was so nice, trying to be encouraging. “The room was maybe half full.”
“The other half are probably at their computers, sending it to all their day-student friends.” With a sense of doom, I bit into a thickly spread bagel. My stomach still felt unsteady, as if I were on a boat in a heavy chop, but that could be because I hadn’t eaten yet. Well, the food would stay down or it wouldn’t. If these guys were kind enough to bring it here so I wouldn’t have to face the dining room, then I’d eat it in gratitude, even if I lost it later.
“Do you think Callum has heard?” Carly asked a little hesitantly. Maybe she thought I’d be mad if she butted in with a personal question. The girl had brought me food. Done what little she could to make a ghastly situation better. She could ask anything she wanted.
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. He’s a day student, so he’s at home.”
The two of them glanced at each other. I caught it. “What? What’s that look?”
“He’s downstairs in the common room,” Gillian said at last.
I caught my breath. “And? What’s he doing? Who’s he with?”
“Those guys,” Carly said. “Rory Stapleton and Todd, and DeLayne Geary’s brother.”
But not Brett hung at the end of her sentence, but I had other things to think about.
“Did he look upset? Is he going totally darkside on them?”
Callum would come to my defense. I didn’t have any kind of clout at Spencer, but he was numero uno. If he said, “Bury that video,” it would disappear faster than Paris Hilton’s movies.
“Uh—” Gillian began, but I didn’t stick around to listen. I took the marble stairs down to the common room three at a time. We were a couple. He would do something to help. I wasn’t sure what, but at the very least, a show of solidarity would go a long way.
I tried to slow down on the way into the common room, but the sight of Callum next to the couch wiped away everything but the need—the compulsion, even—to be in his arms. Protected. Soothed. Told that everything would be all right.
I fit myself against him, wound my arms around his waist, and waited for the comfort of his arms to slip around me.
And waited.
Finally I looked up, into his face. Those eyes held a frown, and the sweet grin I’d expected was a thin line.
“Uh, do you mind?” he said.
I didn’t get it. “Mind?”
“I’m with my friends, Lissa.”
Yeah, I saw that. What did it have to do with anything?
“She’s still hot for ya, bro,” Todd said with a nudge-nudge-wink-wink grin. “After last night, you must have stamina.”
Callum told him where to shove it, and took me out into the hall by the arm like a little kid.
The crash between expectation and reality still had me stunned and confused. “Callum?”
“In case you missed the memo, Lissa, we are done. Don’t tackle me in front of my friends. It makes me look lame and you look desperate.”
“What?” I whispered. Not keeping up here. Not keeping up at all.
“I mean, you are one needy chick, but I can handle that. Most days. But after I told you twenty times that I like to keep my private life private, you still went ahead and did it. What was it, some kind of joke? Or a souvenir for you to watch whenever you want?”
“Did what?”
He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he was a parent at the end of his rope and I was a stupid two-year-old. “Hello? The video?”
“You saw it.”
“Of course I saw it. The entire world saw it. It’ll be on YouTube next. But that probably doesn’t bother you, since all you care about is yourself.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it. We were set up.” Was that me whining, almost in tears?
Had I really thought it couldn’t get worse?
“Sure, we were. You got me in a room and videotaped us! Who set up who?”
“Vanessa,” I whispered. And then a thought hit me with all the force of truth. “She hates me because she wants you for herself.”
He swore, something I’d never heard him do before. “That is the lamest, sorriest—” He took a breath, then said very slowly and deliberately, “Vanessa is my friend. You’re not going to pin this on her. She is also a hundred miles away. About where I wish you were.”
My lips trembled, and tears flooded my eyes. “Callum, please let me—” I whispered, but he cut me off.
“Don’t talk to me anymore. I can’t deal.”
And he turned and left me. Alone. With the laughter of everyone in the common room ringing in my ears.
I
don’t know how long I stood there. Probably only a minute or two, but it seemed like hours. Then a couple of freshmen walked by and elbowed each other, and exchanged the kind of grin that made me feel like I was covered in slime.
I speed-walked down the hall, through another corridor, into the deserted classroom wing.
Aha. The French classroom. No one would come in there voluntarily.
I didn’t want to go back to my room, where Gillian and Carly were probably waiting and wondering what on earth was going on downstairs. They were my friends, but what I needed really bad right now was the kind of friend who’d known me for years and who liked me anyway, in spite of my mistakes.
I needed Kaz.
I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket and scrolled to Kaz’s name at lightspeed.
“This is Kaz Griffin. You know the drill.”
I disconnected and tried again. Four more endless rings.
“This is—”
Arghh. I called his house and his dad picked up. “Hi, Mr. Griffin. It’s Lissa.”
“Hey, Lissa. How’s it going in the big fog?”
“It’s okay. Today could have been better. Is Kaz home? He’s not answering his cell.”
“As a matter of fact, the big galoot deserted me just when I needed him to crew. He took off for the weekend.”
Took off? Kaz never took off. He hung out with us, or else he holed up in his bright, sunny loft and drew scary graphic novels about spiritual warfare that someday, some editor would get a clue and buy.
“Do you know where he went?” Like it would make a difference. My mouth was on autopilot while my brain replayed today’s horrors over and over.
“I can’t say, Lissa. I’m sorry. Can I take a message?”
Weren’t parents supposed to know where their kids were? Did Kaz know what a clueless dad he had? “If he checks in, just ask him to call me.”
“I will. Keep on rockin’ in the free world.”
“Right. Well, bye, Mr. G.”
I hung up and sat, hands drooping hopelessly between my knees, under a poster that showed how to conjugate a dozen irregular verbs.
How was it possible that my life could go from all shiny and golden to slimy and hopeless in a single day? All I’d wanted was to show Callum how much I cared about him. That’s all. How come everyone else on the planet got to make out like minxes with their boyfriends, and I got ground into the dirt like a bug under a boot heel?
And then, as though someone had hit a remote, my memory recycled a bit of audio. “All bets are off when we deliberately book a room and walk into it,” Gillian said. And then Kaz, right on top of it: “If this were right, would we even be talking about broken rules and broken promises?”
Kaz had a chameleon character in his novel—one who shapeshifted whenever he needed to, but who was essentially a lizard underneath. He was one of the most successful agents of evil, because you never knew if you were talking to a friend or this character wearing the friend’s face. Vanessa had assured me there were ways to have fun and still stay pure—technically. But that was like saying I could be a technical Christian, wasn’t it? I might follow the letter of the law, but as soon as I started doing that, the Spirit leached right out of it and I was stuck with the consequences.
Now I figure this out.
Now, when it was hours too late and the consequences were way too hard to face, let alone live through.
Elbows on my knees, I buried my face in my hands. Whether I deserved to ask or not, I had no place else to go.
I’m sorry, Lord. You sent me Gillian and Kaz when I needed them. Your timing was perfect. But I ignored them and listened to the chameleon instead. All I can do is drag my sorry self in front of You again and ask You one more time to forgive me.
And I know it’s a stretch, but if there’s some way You can help me get through the rest of today, tonight, and maybe even next week, I’ll be a different person. I’ll listen, Lord. I need to stay close to You so You can help me discern who’s a chameleon and who’s real. And so You won’t have to reach so far to give me a shake and tell me to change what I’m doing.
Help me, Father. I really need You. Amen.
Sitting there in that deserted classroom, with no sound except the hum of the air conditioner and my own sniffly, running nose, I finally felt as if I’d done the right thing.
I know. One out of ten ain’t bad.
Chapter 26
DADDY, I NEED HELP.”
My father leaned on my wardrobe door and surveyed Gillian’s and my room. Mom’s flight hadn’t landed yet, but when it did, she’d come straight here and change for the ball. Only my mother could pack a designer evening gown in a carry-on, whip into the nearest ladies’ room, and come out looking fabulous.
“I figured you might. I heard your mom’s best girl fell through.”
So she’d told him. But had he heard from Ms. Curzon yet? I shivered and decided not to bring it up. Better not ruin their day until I had to. “Yes. Rumor has it that I was supposed to have a Plan B, but I don’t.”
“And rumor also has it that George is on location and a ball player I know has a gig of his own tonight.”
“You checked?”
“Yeah. I’m kinda used to playing second fiddle, so I thought I’d check the rest of the fiddles while I was at it.”
Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of this. My father was not the poor-me type. “Daddy, is everything okay?”
“Oh, sure. Don’t mind me—I’m just twelve hours short on sleep. Been busy up at the Ranch. We’re probably going to start shooting in December. How do you feel about Scotland?”
“How do I feel about it? It’s wet and cold and most of it’s above the Arctic Circle.”
“Gosh.” He glanced admiringly at the architecture. “You really are getting an education in this place, aren’t you?”
“Why?”
“Oh, I was just wondering if you wanted to spend Christmas with me in Edinburgh, is all.”
Christmas. Only seventy-two shopping days away. On a whole different continent. Where I’d need a parka, but who cared?
“That could be doable, Dad. I wouldn’t mind getting away from here for the holidays.” Focus. “But that still leaves me with no host.” And then I had it. “Unless you did it.”
“Me? Did what? Went to Scotland?”
“No. You can be my celebrity host. Every kid in school saw Crossing Blades. They all know who directed it. You’re as good as a movie star any day.”
“Probably more articulate, too.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I had to get my tux out of mothballs. I may as well make it worth my while.”
I let out a long sigh and hugged him. “I know you hate it in front of cameras, but thanks for being here for me.”
“If I let you down, at least you’d know where to send the hit men. What does this entail, exactly?”
“We have a script for you. All you have to do is read it off the TelePrompTer. Just like at the Oscars.” I smiled at him, happy that one thing—just one—had gone right on The Day from You-Know-Where.
“Speaking of performances,” he said, though we hadn’t been, “I got an interesting call from your headmistress as I was driving over here.”
Oh, no. My single little ray of light winked out.
“I can explain.”
“I hope so,” Dad said mildly. “Smuggling boys into your room?”
“Not my room. Another girl’s. But, yeah. Smuggling about covers it.”
“And he was what, helping you install a stereo system?”
I sighed. “No, Dad. We wanted some privacy.”
“Oh.” Clearly my dad has been in denial about the fact that I’m sixteen, despite all the evidence.
“And did it have the desired result?”
I took a deep breath. “The result wound up on the school server. On all the monitors in every classroom. Probably, by now, on YouTube. It was a beautiful evening with my boyf—my ex-boyfriend—that w
as digitally manipulated from webcam footage, and now the whole school is laughing at me.”
I waited for him to say something. “I told you so,” maybe. Or “How dumb can you be, Lissa?” Or even, “Next time you visit, you’re grounded.”
Dad scrubbed a hand over his hair, making the cowlick stand up straight. Then he looked at me, and his eyes held all the disappointment I’d been dreading. And they held something else. “I don’t suppose dismemberment would be an acceptable addition to tonight’s program?”
“I’d rather you did it in private, Dad. I’ve had enough humiliation to do me for the next decade.”
“I didn’t mean you.”
Dad pulled me roughly into his arms. His face felt hot, and his arms moved in jerks, as if he was struggling for control. I pulled back a little to look, and there they were.
Tears in my dad’s eyes. For me.
The dam broke then. I won’t tell you how long we stood there, or who comforted who. But by the time Gillian slipped into the room, I felt as though a tsunami had gone over me, and my little personal beach was washed clean.
So was my face. I detoured into the bathroom to splash cold water on it and try to get a grip. When I came out, Gillian’s appearance had helped Dad rein in his emotions, too.
“This isn’t finished,” he said. “Is there something we can do?”
“I can’t prove a thing.” I was getting to the point where I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Moving on was the plan. Moving out would be better. “Vanessa was a hundred miles away with her boyfriend. Callum seems to think I’m the one behind it. Like I want the whole school thinking I’m some kind of skank.”
“Lissa,” Dad said in a muffled tone.
“I want out of here, Dad. I want to go back to Santa Barbara.”
He pulled a tissue out of the box on Gillian’s dresser and blew his nose. “Not happening, baby. We all agreed that we’d live here for two years.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t count on me being so stupid and Vanessa being . . . Vanessa. I was happy in Santa Barbara. If I go this week, I won’t miss very much school. The term’s got seven weeks to go.”
“You can’t just run away,” Gillian said.
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