What If ... Your Past Came Back to Haunt You

by Liz Ruckdeschel

  “Rookie mistake,” Haley said. “Anyone could have done it.” She’d brought a novelty birthday horn to toot in celebration after Annie’s test but thought maybe now wasn’t the time.

  “I’ve never failed a test before in my life,” Annie said, tearing up. “This is the worst birthday ever.”

  Dave put his arms around her and tried to console her. “It’s just a driving test, sweetie. Any moron can pass it.”

  Annie started crying harder. Haley glared at Dave. She knew he meant well but he could be so clueless sometimes.

  “What Dave meant to say is that it’s not a big deal,” Haley said. “You can retake the test in a few weeks. You’re sure to pass it next time.” She glanced past the sobbing Annie at Alex, who shrugged as if to say I wouldn’t be so sure.

  “Do you really think so?” Annie said.

  “Of course we do,” Haley said. Just then she felt her phone vibrate. She turned away from the group and reached into her pocket for a quick glance at the screen. It was a text message from Matt Graham, one of Spencer Eton’s friends from the last boarding school he’d been kicked out of.

  “SIGMA @ Eton’s,” the message said, and gave her a password to get in. “Just like old times.”

  Hmmm, Haley thought. Matt Graham? She hadn’t heard from him in a long time. What made him think of her all of a sudden? SIGMA, Spencer Eton’s exclusive club, was known as the place to go if you were looking for a good time. Anything could happen at a SIGMA party, and anything usually did.

  Haley tried not to show her reaction to the message so that Alex wouldn’t wonder who’d just texted her and ask. She knew Alex didn’t think much of Spencer and his crew—and he might not think much of Haley if he knew she’d be willing to hang out with them.

  “Guess what? This will cheer you up!” Dave said to Annie, giving her a squeeze. “We’re going on a road trip with Alex and Haley. We’re going upstate to see my dad.”

  “Really?” This news did seem to lift Annie’s spirits. “That’s great! When?”

  “Well, we haven’t actually settled anything yet,” Alex said, giving Haley a “Get me out of this” look. Haley shrugged. What could she do? Annie was her friend, and so was Dave. Wasn’t she obligated to help them both out?

  It’s been a while since we’ve heard about SIGMA—Mrs. Eton’s political ambitions may have put a lid on Spencer’s wild partying for a time, but it’s back, baby, and Haley knows the crème de la crème of Hillsdale teen society is going to be there. The question is, does she care? Why did Matt Graham invite her? Is he interested in her, or does he have an ulterior motive? There’s only one way to find out—by going to the party.

  Or does Haley care more about the bookishly cute and very smart Alex Martin? He just asked her to take a road trip with him—that’s a pretty serious date. Of course, with Dave and Annie tagging along, it might not end up being particularly romantic. Haley will have to take her chances.

  If you think Haley should go with Alex on the road trip to STORM KING, even if Dave and Annie are along for the ride, turn to STORM KING. If you think Haley is more curious about Matt’s out-of-the-blue invitation to SIGMA, go to, OLD HABITS.

  Haley may be able to fit in with all different kinds of people, from the most bookish to the most rebellious to the snootiest, but there comes a time when you have to choose your friends and stick by them.

  TATTOO PARLOR

  * * *

  Before you tattoo a name on your heart, be sure it’s true love.

  “This is the place,” Darcy said. She’d led Haley, Devon, Shaun and Irene to Tommy’s Tattoos, the spot that had given her the little star on her wrist. Tommy’s was a dingy storefront in the Floods with a hand-painted psychedelic sign. Everyone followed Darcy inside, clutching the designs they’d drawn in art class. Haley had even brought along her pathetic butterfly drawing, to prove to the others that she was just as serious about getting a tattoo as they were—even though she wasn’t sure she’d really go through with it. It was just that everyone, especially Devon, seemed to think Darcy’s tat was so cool, and Haley couldn’t help feeling that she had to try to keep up with Blondie, even if the girl was only a freshman. Something about the way Devon looked at her rattled Haley.

  Inside, a tattoo needle buzzed over the sound of blaring hip-hop music. A girl with stringy blue hair greeted them at a desk. Tattoos covered every inch of her arms like colorful vines. “You all getting tats today?” she asked.

  “Yep, all of us,” Shaun said. “Me first.”

  “Cool,” the girl said. “Go see Viper.” She pointed to a booth manned by a bald guy in a leather vest with no shirt underneath—the better to show off the blue mermaid on his chest. “You can all go watch if you want. It’ll be a while before we can fit the rest of you in.”

  Shaun sat down at Viper’s table while the others gathered around. “What can I do you for?” Viper asked. “Is this your first?”

  “Yes, sir. I am a tattoo virgin, but I promise I will be back for more.” Shaun pulled out the tiger he had drawn, stared at it and shook his head. “I wanted to get this on my butt, but then I changed my mind.”

  “You’re chickening out already?” Darcy asked.

  “No, I just want a different picture for my first tattoo. It’s got to mean something.” He waved at Irene to hand over her octopus doodle. “Rini, do you mind if I brand your octopus on my forearm?”

  Irene grinned. “I’d be honored.” She gave her drawing to Viper to copy. Viper nodded appreciatively. “Nice work. Okay, kid, let’s do this thing.”

  He started tracing lines on Shaun’s arm, outlining the future tattoo. Irene homed in, watching carefully, as if she was worried that Viper might somehow screw up her drawing. “Don’t make the tentacles too short,” she warned.

  “I got it, honey,” Viper said, sternly. “I’ve been tattooing skin for a long time. I know what I’m doing. Now, this may hurt a little. . . .”

  Irene squinted at him. She wasn’t about to take his word for it. She had to keep an eye on him or Shaun could be scarred forever by poorly drawn body art.

  “Check this wall of unicorns,” Darcy said to Devon, pointing at a panel tacked to the drywall that formed Viper’s booth. At least a dozen varieties of unicorns lined up among the stars, dragons, anchors, pinups and other suggested tattoo designs. Pink ones, white ones, unicorns with flowers on their heads, with barefoot princesses riding on them, with angel’s wings, ridden by cats . . .

  Devon laughed. “I had no idea unicorns could have pierced tongues.”

  Darcy laughed too, conspiratorially, and turned away from Haley as if to leave her out of the conversation. “I know, right? I hate unicorns. They’re so lame. And I hate the kind of girl who loves unicorns, you know what I mean? They’re like the horsey type, only a hundred times worse.”

  “I call them fairy children,” Devon said. “There was a whole clique of them at art school. Big users of glitter gel pens.”

  “And dotting their is with hearts,” Haley said, trying to find a way in. “Or stars. And putting sparkles on everything . . .”

  Darcy and Devon just stared at her as if she’d said the dumbest thing they’d ever heard. But why was what she’d said any stupider than their dopey unicorn comments?

  “So what kind of tattoo do you think I should get next?” Darcy asked, very pointedly to Devon and only Devon.

  How about a witch? Haley thought. Or a tiny, tiny, annoying little mosquito, right where your brain is supposed to be?

  “I don’t know,” Devon said. “Do you want a little one, like your star?” He picked up her wrist to look at the star again. He seemed to take every opportunity to touch her tattoo. “Or a big one, like a dragon or something?”

  “I think I’ll stick with small and subtle for now,” Darcy said. “It’s sexier, don’t you think?”

  Devon nodded. “How about a half-moon, to go with the star?”

  Haley yawned. Irene and Shaun were completely caught up in watching V
iper work, and Devon and Darcy were off in their own little ink-colored world. She had nobody to talk to, so she decided to try to insert herself between D and D again. “Are you really getting a tattoo today, Devon?”

  “No,” he said. “They’re cool, but I’m not into spending all those Benjamins on body art.”

  “Little tats don’t cost so much,” Darcy said, and just like that they fell back into an exclusive conversation. Haley realized Darcy was a tougher opponent than she’d thought. Devon had been a little short with Haley, as if he was impatient with her constant interruptions. How dare he? Was he really that into this Darcy chick? And was he done with Haley for good?

  With nothing better to do, Haley checked her cell for messages. To her surprise her in-box was flooded with texts, and most of them had the same subject line: “Boob Tubing Babe.” Great. The last thing she wanted to think about was the humiliating Hillsdale Hauntings video of her ten-year-old self losing her bathing suit at Lake Tahoe. She skipped all the “Boob Tubing” messages and went straight to the two with nonembarrassing subject lines.

  Re: Party on

  From: Matt Graham

  SIGMA @ Eton’s pad, just like old times. Be there!

  Huh, Haley thought. Matt Graham? Spencer Eton’s friend from boarding school? Haley hadn’t heard from him in a while. What made him think of her all of a sudden?

  Next she read:

  Re: Road trip

  From: Alex Martin

  Haley, I’m headed up to the Storm King sculpture gardens this weekend. It’s a beautiful drive. Want to go?

  Haley had never been to Storm King, but it was famous for having acres of rolling fields dotted with some of the best examples of modern sculpture in the country. Her father had once mentioned wanting to see it.

  With a glance at Devon, who was still deep in some enthralling story with Darcy, Haley announced loudly, “Look at this, Irene. I’ve got invitations from two different boys for this weekend.” If Devon was so intent on flirting with Darcy in front of her, why not go ahead and torture him right back? “Alex Martin wants me to go out of town with him, and Matt Graham is begging me to come to the next SIGMA.”

  She glanced at Devon to make sure he’d heard. He hadn’t. Haley’s plan seemed to be backfiring.

  “Of course you’re popular,” Irene said. “They both probably saw that video of you naked online—like everybody else in school.”

  Haley’s face flushed and she wanted to sink right through the floor. She hadn’t thought of that response from Irene. But then, Rini always did like to cut the tall trees down. Of course—all these messages, this sudden burst of attention, was probably just the aftermath of that stupid video.

  “Ow!” Shaun cried. Viper was really working the needle on his forearm now. “Ow! Dang it, that hurts! Rini, come back and hold my hand. Viper, dude, why didn’t you warn me?”

  “Um, I did,” Viper said over the whine of the needle.

  “You said a little,” Shaun said. “You said it might hurt a little! You didn’t say you were going to burn my arm off!”

  “Calm down, you’ll get through it,” Viper said. “Look at me, I’ve been through this dozens of times and I’m still breathing.”

  “Hey—remember what I said about the tentacles!” Irene snapped.

  Left to herself, Haley glumly watched Irene fuss over Shaun’s tattoo while Devon and Darcy talked and laughed. Devon seemed so relaxed with Darcy, and Haley had never seen him so talkative with anyone, certainly not with her. What was it about Darcy that made him so different around her?

  “Okay, you’re done,” Viper finally told Shaun.

  Shaun got up groaning from the table. “This better look amazing.”

  “It will, trust me,” Viper said. “Okay, who’s next? Irene?”

  Irene nodded at Haley. “I’d better nurse Shaun for a few minutes. You want to go?”

  Darcy looked over to hear Haley’s response. It was almost as if she were saying I dare you.

  Haley looked at Shaun, overacting a bit but obviously in some pain, and then at her lopsided butterfly drawing. Was she really ready for this?

  A tattoo for Haley? That’s about as permanent as you can get. Her parents won’t be thrilled, but maybe she doesn’t care what her parents think anymore. Maybe she’s in the mood for a little rebellion, tired of always being the overlooked good girl. Of course, she hasn’t been exactly overlooked lately; the “Boob Tubing” video has made her kind of locally famous. Or even infamous. Maybe she should get a tattoo, if only to live up to her new reputation. Then she’d be more like Darcy, and some guys—Devon, for example—seem to find that type very attractive.

  Is Haley’s newfound reputation as Miss Naked what’s really behind the sudden flurry of invitations, or are Alex and Matt seriously interested in her? Alex doesn’t seem like the lascivious type, but then, he is a boy, so you never know. Matt Graham is another story, but he doesn’t invite just anybody to those SIGMA parties. They’re the most exclusive events in town.

  If you think Haley is feeling competitive with the tattooed Darcy and is raring to rebel, have her GET THE TAT. If you think Haley shouldn’t even consider getting a tattoo for one second, that she has enough problems to deal with at the moment and is getting plenty of attention already thanks to that video, go to, DON’T DO IT.

  Then there are the boys. If you’re sure Haley would love to go with Alex to see the sculptures at STORM KING, turn to STORM KING. If you think Haley would be more interested in seeing the kind of sculptures Spencer and his private-school buddies make with their empty beer cans, turn to OLD HABITS.

  Fate has brought Haley to an impasse: good girl or rebel? Should she go with the flow and give up on her reputation, or should she fight for it tooth and nail?

  TEA AND SYMPATHY

  * * *

  Tuxedos do not gentlemen make.

  “We’re here,” Whitney said. “Birthday central.”

  Sasha pulled up to the De Clerqs’ palatial Hillsdale estate, which had been transformed to look like, well, a palatial English estate. Haley stepped out of the car and admired the over-the-top decorations. The house was surrounded by gigantic heaters to stave off the new Jersey December chill and create just the right balmy summer atmosphere. My mom would flip, Haley thought, glancing at the ginormous kerosene lamps. The house’s front columns were draped with garlands of English roses in creamy whites and, in honor of the holidays, a few rich reds. A liveried footman greeted the guests at the door with a tip of his hat, and a maid dressed in nineteenth-century attire led them through the house to the vast formal “gardens,” flown in especially for the event. A huge glass conservatory had been erected near the pool, and all the planted paths leading up to it were lined with more gas heaters. Haley knew Coco, of all people, would be able to figure out a way to make it possible for them all to wear sundresses in December.

  The double doors of the conservatory opened onto a lavish scene. Skirted tables were laden with platters of tea sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, jams, croissants and a tiered silver tower filled with macaroons, tea cakes and delicate pastries. Earl Grey was served in antique bone china cups with real silver teaspoons and fine linen napkins. Everything was perfect, and gorgeous, including the hostess.

  “Hello! Hello! Come in. You brought a gift? You shouldn’t have. There’s a huge receiving table set up over there for presents.” Coco greeted her guests like the princess she was, dressed in an Empire-waist ivory silk Josephine gown. She was in her element, basking in the attention and the glamour, and it suited her.

  Haley set her present down next to the towering pile on the gift table. She paused to take in the impressive room. English country flower arrangements bloomed over every table, and braids of blossoms dripped from the chandeliers. The place smelled heavily of cake and perfume. Coco had meticulously attended to every detail, to an almost fanatical degree. If Haley hadn’t known it was a mere birthday party, she might have thought this was Coco’s wedding/debutante ball
.

  She was surprised, too, at the number of adults mingling among Coco’s school friends. Friends of the Etons, perhaps, Haley thought, or maybe adults invited by Coco to appeal to Mrs. Eton. Eleanor Eton, the future governor herself, was resplendent in an ice blue silk day suit. She was clearly crazy about Coco and led the girl through the room, introducing her to the adults as “the charming birthday girl, my almost daughter and the best thing that’s ever happened to Spencer.” Coco beamed and practically curtsied at each introduction.

  After a few minutes, the string quartet took a break and a dj took over the speakers. A few of the younger guests started dancing, though the music was still pretty staid, much too slow to dance to. They more sort of hugged and slowly rocked back and forth. Well, here goes, Haley thought. She couldn’t spend the whole party watching from the sidelines. She took a deep breath and plunged into the packed conservatory to mingle.

  As she waited for a crystal cup of punch, Haley heard a girl’s voice behind her, whispering her name. Another girl hissed something back and giggled. Haley turned around and caught three well-dressed freshman staring at her and gossiping about the boob tubing fiasco. Her cheeks grew hot. So people were still talking about the video of Haley that was circulating online. She took her punch and looked for someone she knew.

  “There you are, Buffy.” Spencer Eton, wearing a dove gray suit and holding a glass of “orange juice,” slapped Haley rudely on the back so that she almost spilled her drink. “Tally ho.”

  Haley recoiled from Spencer’s eyelash-curling liquor breath. His orange juice was obviously spiked with something a lot stronger than soda water. Spencer confirmed this theory by discreetly pulling a silver flask from his jacket and pouring a little more vodka into his glass. “Seen any good videos lately?” he said, slurring slightly. He wasn’t just drinking—he was out and out drunk.