Watch out. In the realm of love, you won’t get explanations for certain unexpected twists of fate.
FIRE AND ICE
Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. And some say it will end in a hail of malicious gossip.
“I see Mia in something very royal, say, a velvet robe with gold trim,” Coco said as she took her seat at a window table at Bubbies. Whitney sat next to her, with Haley and Cecily and Mia Delgado rounding out the circle. Coco had called the brunch meeting to discuss, among other things, the costumes for the school play, which were being designed by Whitney this year. The production was of Shakespeare’s comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Coco, of course, was the assistant director, and Mia the star, though she already looked bored and they had been sitting at the table for only five minutes.
Mia was used to the little cafés and restaurants of Europe. Bubbies was a bistro in the European style, which meant it had rattan outdoor chairs and a Tuscan-Alpine-Provençal mural on the wall leading to the men’s and women’s restrooms. It was a favorite Hillsdale Heights spot for brunch, and being seen in the window on Sunday afternoon was a status symbol, like being seen on the deck of the country club or getting spotted with an armload of shopping bags near the downtown boutiques.
“I no like blue,” Mia said, pouting. “It is a bad color for me.”
“Mia’s character is a fairy,” Whitney said. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of a long, airy chiffon gown belted with gold.”
“This sounds much better,” Mia replied. “The chiffon, it is nice on my”—and here she looked dismissively at the other girls—“curves.”
Coco sniffed. “I’m the director—”
“Assistant director,” Cecily reminded her.
Coco ignored her. “—and I say Mia gets dressed in velvet. Royal blue. High neck. Empire waist. Stiff bodice.”
“What about Mr. Lyons?” Whitney whispered. “He told me he wanted Titania in chiffon.”
“I’ll handle him,” Coco commanded.
They scanned the menus and kept quiet for a few minutes, until Whitney finally whispered, “Oh my god, girls. Look who it is.”
As if on cue, there was a loud crash, the sound of dishes shattering. Haley looked toward the kitchen and saw that Johnny Lane, Sasha’s slick rocker boyfriend, had just dropped a plastic tub full of plates.
“I didn’t know he worked here,” Cecily said, which was surprising. Of everyone at the table, Cecily probably spent the most time with Sasha these days, and by extension, Johnny Lane.
Coco shrugged. “What do you expect? He’s got to earn his drug money somewhere.”
Whitney frowned. “I thought he earned his drug money selling drugs.”
Just then, the waitress arrived to take their orders. “I’ll have the Cobb salad, dressing on the side, and a diet soda,” Coco said.
“I’d like the grilled chicken sandwich,” Haley said. “And iced tea.”
“Western omelet for me, please,” Cecily ordered. “And lemonade.”
“I’d like an omelet too,” Mia said. “And un café con leche.”
“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger, medium rare,” Whitney said. “With blue cheese. And fries, and a milk shake.”
Coco shook her head. “No she won’t. She’ll have the Caesar salad with grilled chicken on top and a diet soda. Right, Whit?”
“I’m starving, Coco,” Whitney said. “I haven’t eaten since last night.”
“This is brunch, Whitney,” Coco said. “None of us have eaten since last night.”
“Okay,” Whitney said. “But I’m getting dessert.”
“Whatever,” Coco said, handing the waitress her menu.
A few seconds later Johnny arrived to fill their water glasses. He wasn’t used to serving his classmates, so he acted gruff to cover up his embarrassment.
“Hi, Johnny,” Cecily said, trying to act as if he weren’t mopping up spilled water on the tablecloth in front of her.
“What’s up?” Haley said, also attempting to make this humiliating moment easier on the guy.
“Hellllo,” Mia purred, tracing her finger around the edge of her water glass. She took a sip, then let a piece of ice slip into her mouth.
Johnny looked at her, smirked and sauntered away, still cool even with an apron wrapped over his jeans and Clash T-shirt.
“Ohmigosh, how could Sasha do it with that guy?” Whitney whispered as soon as he was out of earshot.
“What do you mean, ‘do it’?” Mia asked. “And who is Sasha?”
“You haven’t met her yet?” Cecily asked. “Just wait.” Haley knew exactly what Cecily meant. Mia squaring off against Sasha in competition for a guy would be about the most evenly matched pairing Mia would come across at Hillsdale High. The sporty golden girl Sasha had all the fun and warmth Mia lacked, while Mia’s smoldering, dangerous appeal made even the rebellious Sasha seem safe.
“Johnny and Sasha went camping in Virginia this summer and totally went all the way. In a pup tent,” Whitney dished.
“That’s such old news,” Coco said.
“I wouldn’t go spreading rumors, Whitney,” Cecily added. “That’s not quite how their little camping trip went.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “You Americans are so hung up on sex. What is the big deal? She likes him, he likes her…it’s the nature.”
“What about you and Sebastian?” Whitney asked. “Have you…you know…?”
Haley tensed slightly, waiting for the answer, but Mia laughed it off, as if to say, Of course we have, amiga.
“You want to know the real story?” Coco said, arching an eyebrow. “Sasha and Johnny almost did it, but Sasha chickened out. I always knew she didn’t have as much guts as everyone thinks.”
“What do you mean, she chickened out?” Whitney asked, frowning at the possibility her sources might have given her bad information.
“She cried like a baby and said she wanted to wait,” Coco said. “They broke up over it, from what I hear. It’s like I always say, the words romance and camping do not belong in the same sentence.”
“That doesn’t sound like Sasha,” Cecily observed. “Sasha doesn’t cry.”
“No, she just does everything but,” said Coco, snickering as Johnny reappeared to set a basket of bread on their table. The other girls quickly clammed up. He must have sensed the awkward silence, but he certainly didn’t try to break it. As Johnny silently walked away, Mia excused herself to go to the restroom.
“I don’t see what’s so bad about Sasha wanting to wait,” Cecily suddenly began. “Big deal. I think it’s sort of admirable. Besides, it’s not really anyone’s business but theirs.”
“Honey,” said Coco, “if you think that boy with the apron is in the kitchen right now holding out for his precious Sasha, and not downstairs in the restroom making out with the slutty new addition to our junior class, you are sorely mistaken.”
Haley gasped. Could it really be true? Were Johnny and Mia getting it on in front of everyone’s noses? Coco seemed to have silenced Cecily’s defense of Sasha. The girls finished their brunch without speaking, though Whitney did giggle a little when Mia emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, her face flushed, her hair askew. She ordered an espresso, prompting Whitney to ask for a hot fudge sundae.
“What?” she whined as Coco glared at her. “It’s a sundae on Sunday. So it’s okay.”
“Rationalize it any way you want to,” Coco warned. “It’s still a thousand calories your butt doesn’t need.”
“Don’t listen,” Mia said, diving her own spoon into the bowl of ice cream when it came. “Your butt is magnífico.”
“Merci, Mia,” Whitney said, gloating at Coco. “Mia, did you really model in Miami all summer?”
“Sí, sí, of course,” Mia said. “I was in magazines, commercials.”
“Really?” Coco said. “Which ones? We’ll look for your pictures.”
“Oh, you cannot get them here,” Mia said defensi
vely. “They are special European fashion books, European commercials, very avant-garde.”
Coco still seemed suspicious.
“Uh, I just love whipped cream,” Whitney exclaimed. “It’s like my favorite thing on the planet. It’s got everything: light, sweet, creamy, fluffy…” A bit of cream landed on her nose. She stuck out her tongue, trying to lick it off, but couldn’t quite reach it.
“Here, Whit.” Cecily passed her her napkin.
“Sometimes when I’m kissing a boy, I pretend I’m eating whipped cream,” Whitney said. “It makes the whole thing so much better. Because, you know, some boys’ mouths don’t taste all that great—”
“Amiga, you are crazy,” Mia said.
“Okay, Whipped Cream Queen,” Coco said. “Whenever you’re finished making out with your hot fudge sundae, can we get the check? Spencer’s picking me up for a drive.” They glanced out the window just as Spencer pulled up in his brand-new sports car.
“But we never finished talking about the costumes,” Whitney said. “For the play? I’m supposed to buy fabric this week.” Whitney was now chasing Coco out the door.
“I’ll e-mail you later,” Coco said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I should be spending more time at Bubbies,” Spencer said, peering over his aviators to get a better look at the hotties spilling out of the restaurant.
“Helllo,” Mia purred, looking back at Spencer seductively.
Uh-oh, Haley thought, bracing herself. Coco might toy with Mia among the girls, but around Spencer, the younger De Clerq had a no-mercy strategy.
“The car, it’s Italian?” Mia asked, her mouth curving into a pout.
Spencer was about to respond when he caught himself, patted Coco on the knee and said, “Later, girls,” before speeding away.
Whitney seems to be in heaven, immersed in gossip, whipped cream and costumes. But wait a second here…did Sasha and Johnny actually “do it” in Virginia, or did Sasha freak out instead? Will Whitney be known as the Whipped Cream Queen from now on, thanks to her bordering-on-fetishistic love of the fluffy stuff? And what about Mia? Did she really model in Miami, or is she exaggerating her credentials?
There is a lot more gossip where that came from. To send Haley to Whitney’s house to find out more dirt, go to "RUMOR MILL". If, on the other hand, you think Haley is sick of Coco and the gossip grind, send her running to Sasha on "FREEDOM ROCK".
Sometimes you hear things you wish you hadn’t. It’s up to you to decide whether you’ll fan the flames with more hot air.
BUYER’S REMORSE
When in doubt, seek retail therapy.
“Brrr! Feel that chill in the air?” Sasha said as Haley climbed into the front seat of Sasha’s vintage Mustang. “Sweater weather. Time for some new clothes.”
“Hello, Haley,” Sasha’s mother, Pascale, said from the backseat. “How do you like Sasha’s new wheels?”
Haley knew “the Stallion” had been a gift from Pascale and that she should therefore be complimentary, but she really meant it when she said, “Sasha’s got the coolest car in Hillsdale.”
The first stop on their shopping trip to find a new fall wardrobe: Mimi’s Boutique, which had just begun carrying Whitney Klein’s new fashion label, WK. (All the labels had hearts around the initials.)
“It’s pretty impressive that Mimi’s has picked up Whitney’s line,” Pascale said supportively as they pulled up in front of the former fast-food chain that Mimi had converted into a groovy fashion mecca.
“Yeah,” Sasha said. “Whitney’s living proof that nobody’s bad at everything.”
“Sasha!” Pascale scolded, even though she too was laughing. “That’s not nice.”
“Maybe a little of Johnny’s sarcasm is rubbing off on you,” Haley said, only half joking.
“Ha,” Sasha said vaguely. “Like I’ve seen enough of him lately for anything to rub off.”
The trio sauntered into the store. Mimi was busy with a couple of taut, tanned middle-aged women covered in gold jewelry. Haley couldn’t help but notice that Pascale put them to shame. Pascale was about their age or even older, but she seemed ageless, while they all looked beyond their years, and worse, foolish for trying so hard to cling to their youth. Pascale’s figure was still long and lean. The simple, neat bob of her hair and minimal makeup only enhanced the overall appearance. Sasha, Haley was sure, would age well.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Mimi said, glancing up at them. She nodded at a rack of clothes along one wall. “Have you girls seen the new WK line? It’s doing very well.” The “girls” was meant to include Pascale. Mimi assumed she was Sasha and Haley’s age.
The girls headed for the WK rack while Pascale looked at cashmere sweaters. “This stuff isn’t too bad,” Sasha said, holding up one of Whitney’s pieces, a blue silk top with a loose tie at the front. “Kind of says sassy secretary.”
“What about this, Sash?” Haley pulled out a chemise made from old soccer jerseys that had been ripped apart and resewn into a sporty minidress. “It’s so you: it says soccer and rocker at the same time. I bet you’re what inspired Whitney to make it.”
“I doubt that,” Sasha said. “Whitney’s idea of inspiration was always more Coco and country club than me.”
“I don’t know,” Haley said skeptically. “This looks like I pulled it straight out of your closet.”
“Oh, that is adorable.” Pascale came over and held up the minidress. “Try it on, chérie.”
“I bet Johnny would love it,” Haley offered.
Haley thought Sasha paled at the second mention of Johnny, but she couldn’t be sure. “I dress to please myself, not Johnny,” Sasha said emphatically.
“Of course you do,” Haley said, backtracking.
“French women always dress with a man in mind,” Pascale said. “And I have the overstuffed lingerie drawer to prove it.”
Haley laughed, but Sasha just frowned and took the minidress into the dressing room.
“Haley, I think this green skirt would look just darling on you,” Pascale added. “Why don’t you try it on?”
“Thanks.” Haley took the skirt, grateful for any input from Sasha’s überfashionable mom. There were only two dressing rooms, and one of them was occupied by a member of the middle-aged lady tribe, so Haley poked her head through the curtain of Sasha’s booth and said, “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Sasha pulled the curtain aside, now wearing the minidress.
“That looks awesome,” Haley said, even though there was very little that didn’t look amazing on the supertall, naturally thin Sasha.
“I don’t know,” Sasha said. “Maybe soccer jerseys are best left on the field.”
Haley stepped into the dressing room and tried on her find, while Sasha changed out of the WK ensemble. The skirt, true to Pascale’s fabulous eye, fit Haley perfectly. But somehow she couldn’t enjoy the moment. Not with Sasha so obviously preoccupied.
Haley decided to take advantage of the dressing-room privacy to find out what was on Sasha’s mind. “So fess up, what’s up with Johnny?” she asked. “You two having problems again?” A certain story was currently making the rounds, about Sasha and Johnny’s summer camping trip to Virginia.
“It’s just junior year,” Sasha said unconvincingly. “You know how it is. It’s messing with all of our brains.”
Somehow Haley wouldn’t have thought junior-year craziness would affect supercool Johnny. She wasn’t even sure he was planning on applying to colleges next year. But before she had a chance to probe further, Sasha changed the subject. “On to more important matters. I heard some gossip about you, Haley. Someone has a crush on you….”
Haley couldn’t believe her ears. Someone had a crush? On her? “I don’t believe you. Who?” Haley asked tentatively.
“Alex Martin,” Sasha blurted out. “He’s a senior, but I heard he has a severe case of Haley-itis.”
“Alex Martin? Really?” Haley blushed, totally flattered. Alex wa
s cocaptain of the debate team and brilliant. He was also very cute, in a clean-cut prepster sort of way. “Who told you?”
Sasha shrugged. “It came through the grapevine, a very reliable grapevine. So, do you like him or what?”
“Um, I don’t know,” Haley said. “I mean, I guess I’d have to think about it.” She was excited by the idea that Alex liked her, but disturbed to know people were talking about her behind her back and finding out things about her before she did. Who was on this “grapevine,” anyway? And what else were people saying about her?
Haley was smart enough to know that rumors could fly around Hillsdale High like lightning in an electrical storm. The talk was usually bad. And often not true.
“Have you heard anything else about me lately?” she asked Sasha.
“What—that’s not enough for you?” Sasha teased. Haley blushed. She hoped if something bad did ever circulate about her, Sasha would tell her.
“Haley, how is the skirt?” Pascale called from outside the dressing room.
“Perfect,” Haley said. “I’m going to get it.” She scooped up the green garment and exited the dressing room, heading toward the register. She still had a feeling that Sasha was hiding something, but Johnny’s name didn’t come up again for the rest of the afternoon. Haley wondered if maybe she hadn’t heard the last of Johnny Lane for a while.
Looks as though Sasha just pulled a fast one on Haley. What is going on with her and Johnny? Are all the rumors true? Did they really go all the way in Virginia, or did Sasha chicken out? And why won’t Sasha talk about it?
Haley may soon have boy troubles herself.
What’s with the report about Alex Martin’s crush? Does he really have a thing for Haley—or was Sasha just making that up to get out of the hot seat? And what will Reese Highland have to say about that?
If you want Haley to stick with Sasha and make sure everything’s okay in the rocker-relationship realm, go to "FREEDOM ROCK". If you think Haley should tend to her own relationships instead, send her off on a library date with Reese on "SOLVING FOR EX". Finally, if you think Haley is getting addicted to gossip and needs another quick fix, go to "RUMOR MILL".
What If... All the Rumors Were True Page 11
