Chas didn’t seem to mind at all that our report wasn’t the best either. And I know that had to be awfully hard for him to risk jeopardizing his grade. But he does have a sensitive side, and I’m thankful for that. I don’t think most guys would have cared to leave Brittany alone. Heck, none of the other guys in our class did. Chas picked me up for an evening of miniature golf and ice cream Saturday night and he didn’t complain once, even when I beat his butt at miniature golf. He’s such a good guy. Sometimes it’s hard to believe he likes me as much as he says he does.
I didn’t get any good shots of celebrities on Monday or Tuesday so I’m getting nervous about our final summation report on Friday. After IPC class on Wednesday, Chas insists on walking me to Chemistry. Not that I’d ever say no, but he says he really has to talk to me.
We walk hand in hand down the hallway and when he thinks no one can hear he leans in and whispers in my ear. “I’ve got a scoop. I need you to follow Garret and Madison.”
“But we already know they were fake dating,” I whisper back. “There’s no story.”
Chas looks around the hallway and then gives me a tug behind the lockers to talk. “Shh,” he says. “They’re pretending not to be a couple. Madison and Garret really like each other, but Madison doesn’t want to lose her best friend because of it. They’re sneaking around. They’re together.”
“Wait. They were dating, but we thought they were fake dating. Then they told us they were fake dating, but they’re actually really dating?” Geez, this sounds like a bad tongue-twister. “How do you know?”
“I have my sources,” he says with a wink. Which I don’t like one bit. Since when are we keeping secrets?
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask hesitantly.
“Tail ‘em.” I want to get some proof that they’re actually together for this week’s report. And if we’re really quiet about it we may be the only ones to get the story.” He gives me a huge grin.
I relent with a smile back. He’s cute when he gets excited like this. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll get the shot.”
Chas stops me at the door to Chem and gives me a long, sweet kiss on the lips before heading off to his class. I watch him walk away and just as he’s turning the corner he catches me watching him and waves. I wave back and think about how lucky I am to have him in my life right now. Well, and how lucky he is to have me.
***
At lunch, I’m picking at my sandwich while Tessa goes on about what she should wear on her date with Joey this coming weekend. While I’m thrilled that they’re finally going to go out, the conversation is kinda pointless, since Tessa has an amazing wardrobe and she already knows she looks great in anything she wears.
I’m scanning the lunchroom for celebrities when Garret catches my eye. He’s doing something at the salad bar. Something he shouldn’t be doing. I only say this because he keeps looking left to right to see if anyone else is watching—and hello, Garret, I totally am. He sets down a square white thing in the crate of forks and walk away. About thirty seconds later, lo and behold, here comes Madison with a craving for salad. She reaches in to get a fork and pulls out the square white thing, and a smile spreads over her face. Oh come on, who are these two fooling?
“Be right back,” I say to Tessa. I get up and inch toward Madison. She gets in the checkout line, unfolds what I now know is a note, and reads it inside a book she’s carrying. She smiles to herself then crumples up the note. As she pays for the salad, she tosses the note into the trash by the cashier. Madison takes her salad and heads for one of the picnic tables outside to eat. As soon as the doors close behind her, I race up to the cashier.
“Oh no,” I say. “My mom’s going to kill me. I accidentally threw my retainer in your trash can. Mind if I look?”
The cashier waves, barely looking at me. Too easy. I carefully grab the note, avoiding the rest of the garbage, and head back for my lunch table.
Tessa immediately starts talking about which purse to bring on her date, and I interrupt her. “Tess, Joey isn’t going to be looking at your purse. You could bring a brown lunch bag and the boy wouldn’t blink. Don’t worry about it.” I spread out the crumpled note and read. It says:
“Hey Baby, Meet me 6th period in the art room. xxoo”
A secret Garrison rendezvous. Heck yeah, I’m going to be there too, and taking pictures. This is exactly what Chas is looking for.
***
At the end of 5th period, I ask to go to the bathroom and make my way toward the art room. I know I’m going to get in trouble for skipping out on 6th hour Math class but if I can just get this shot…whoa. What’s this? Fifty feet ahead of me is Talia’s mom signing in at the front office. That’s odd. What’s she doing here in the middle of the day? She looks really nice too: low-cut V-neck sweater, flowy short skirt and knee-high brown leather boots. I think back to the last e-mail Echo sent me, about Talia’s mom doing extra credit in chemistry. Maybe I should follow her instead of Garret and Madison? Argh, what do I do? What’s the better story? Okay, I have to make a quick decision—Mrs. Daniels is on the move. The Garrison story has been running for a while, really the whole duration of the project, and I’ve gotten squat on Talia this entire time. No one has. Not to mention this entire project was her idea. Why shouldn’t she play too? Although Chas is counting on me for Garrison shots. But this could be bigger. Much bigger. Okay, I’m following her mom.
I tail Mrs. Daniels to Chemistry, careful to stay at least thirty feet behind her at all time. She only turns around once and luckily there’s a locker left open and I stick my head in it, acting like I’m looking for something. Mrs. Daniels turns the corner right before the classroom. I peek around and watch her go through the main door then shut it behind her.
Obviously I can’t walk in right behind her but I’ve already thought of a plan. There’s a small lab off to the side of the classroom and it has two exits, one into the classroom and one into Dr. Harris’s office. I check the door on the office; it’s unlocked. I quietly let myself in and squat-walk into the tiny lab. The one wall is mostly glass with a view into the classroom, and I don’t want Mrs. Daniels or Dr. Harris to see me. Dr. Harris likes to stand in here with the lights off during quizzes because then he can watch us and we can’t really see him. I think he’s hoping we’re going to try and cheat, and then he can jump out and catch us. But duh, we all know he’s standing back there. I still don’t want to take the chance of them seeing me, so I stay down low.
“Ooof.” Ow, ow, ow. There’s boxes of equipment back here, and I just smacked into one with my knee. I sit quietly, listening to see if I’ve been found out, but I don’t hear any footsteps coming in my direction. They seem to be laughing about something. At least, I can hear Mrs. Daniels’s high, tinkly laugh.
I power my camera on and slowly rise up, peering into the classroom. Dr. Harris is leaning against the counter of sinks, his legs crossed in front of him and his white lab jacket swung open. He’s giving Mrs. Daniels a big, goofy smile. She’s walking around the room picking things up to look at and putting them back down. First the graduated cylinders, then a couple of the glass stirrers and a large test tube. She’s putting things back down all in the wrong places, and I’m wondering why he’s letting her mess around with our supplies. She’s smiling at Dr. Harris too, but more like she’s got a secret.
She picks up a pair of safety goggles and puts them on. She grabs a test-tube cleaning brush in each hand, walks toward Dr. Harris, and starts poking him in the stomach with them. She looks ridiculous. I take a picture and bite my lip to keep from laughing. He apparently doesn’t like to be tickled and grabs Mrs. Daniels around the waist, pulling her in close to him.
Oh my gosh. I take another picture.
Mrs. Daniels wraps her arms around Dr. Harris’s neck, pulls him toward her, and kisses him hard like she wants to devour his face.
Holy crap! Old people hooking up! I shouldn’t be seeing this. I am young and innocent and…hoo, boy. Oh God, my mother
is going to kill me. I don’t know whether to take pictures or cover my eyes. Oh, Hail Mary, full of grace, I wish I’d listened better in religious education classes and could finish this prayer. My feet should carry me away, out of here fast. But oh, the pictures! The report! This is far too brilliant. I snap a few more.
Dr. Harris yanks Mrs. Daniels sweater up off over her head and thank the Lord she has on one of those Spanx body suit deals so not too much is showing. Yet. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This is unreal! I’m taking pictures as fast as I can. I don’t want to forget a thing when I tell Chas. Chas! Oh wow, he’s going to flip. We’re going to have the summation report to end all summation reports. And the timing is perfect, since it’s the last week of the project. Talk about going out big.
She turns him around, and they stumble toward one of the lab tables. He half-falls onto the table, knocking some beakers over, but neither seems to notice. She still has the freaking goggles on. She climbs up onto his lap, and I snap one last picture and then sink down to the ground. Okay, I’ve got enough for the report. I’m so not sticking around to watch old people doing it on a lab table. And ew, we do experiments on that table. I’m bringing a giant package of anti-bacterial wipes to class tomorrow. A weird moan comes from the classroom. I cover my ears. Oh God, I’ve gotta get out of here. I crawl out of the lab, into Dr. Harris’s office and then out in the hallway. I stand up and race down the hallway, trying not to giggle.
Did that really just happen?
Chapter 25
I take a seat at our normal table in the library after school and wait for Chas. The library is pretty empty right now. There are only two kids using computers in the corner. The school librarian keeps looking up at me. I suppose I should pretend to read a book, but I’m freaking out waiting for Chas to arrive. Five minutes pass, and he’s still not here.
Chas finally comes through the library door, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry,” he says. “I got held up by the guidance counselor. What’s going on? You look excited.”
“We have a major scandal on our hands,” I tell him. I bring up the pictures of Dr. Harris and Mrs. Daniels and quickly tell Chas everything. How I set out to catch a Garrison make-out session but instead witnessed Talia’s mom hooking up with Dr. Harris.
Chas covers his mouth with his hand and I can see he’s trying hard not to laugh. “This is crazy,” he finally says.
“I know! We’re going to have the best final summation report.”
Chas shakes his head, smiling. “These pictures are hysterical, but we can’t use them.”
“What?” Has he lost his mind?
“We can’t do this to Talia’s mom, Livvie. Besides, she’s not the celebrity, her daughter is.”
“But…but…I’m the paparazzi, and you’re the tabloid. We have no boundaries. We can go after family,” I say. “I know the real celebrities always say ‘leave my family out of this’ but no one ever does.” Hence the million and a half pictures of Suri. And really, a little girl in heels? So wrong.
“Yeah but not for a class project, Livvie,” Chas says.
I frown at him. “But it’s the first time we’ve got anything good on Talia.” I plead. Where’s the ruthless Chas who will do anything for an A? When did he go soft?
“I just, I don’t want to, okay?” he says, signaling this is the end of the discussion.
Hmph. I wonder why he really doesn’t want to. Is he trying to protect Talia? Maybe I was right in the first place. Maybe he does have a crush on her. Well, he can keep the pictures out of the summation report, but that doesn’t mean no one will ever see them.
Livvie’s Reflective Journal: Entry #21
Mrs. B., I think you and I have a good relationship going on here in my journal even though you’ve yet to respond to any of my posed questions (and really, you can. There’s plenty of room in the margins. I know it’s my reflective journal and all, but it would be helpful if you did respond, at least this time.), so I’m hoping you can help me with a situation—a completely hypothetical one, of course. Okay, let’s say there’s a tabloid that doesn’t run a story, even though they know that they should. And it’s not like last week, when I thought Chas was being so sweet in giving Brittany a pass. I mean, what if a tabloid (no one you know—fictional, of course) had a story, a big story, but then didn’t run it because they thought it would get them in trouble. That’s wrong, right? Do the real tabloids only print stories that only benefit them? If, say, Star had a big story, one that would probably get out someday anyway but would make them look really bad, would they not run it? What would you do if you had a big story but the tabloid wouldn’t run it? Remember, this is all hypothetical. Please respond.
Chapter 26
I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, when I hear a knock.
“Come in.”
Tessa bounds into the room, clutching a piece of notebook paper in her hand. “Livvie! You’ve got to read this. Mike wrote me a poem, trying to woo me back. It’s hysterical. I’m totally going to post it on Facebook.” Tessa plops on the bed and looks at me. “What’s with you? Sick or something?”
I momentarily debate whether or not to tell Tessa what happened. But she’s my best friend, and this is huge. I have to tell someone. I sit up and turn toward her. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something but you have to swear, I mean swear, Tessa, that you will not tell another living soul. And don’t come back to me later with a lame story about talking to your stuffed bear and someone overhearing you,” I add.
“All right, all right. Gawd, don’t be so serious. Spill.”
I take a deep breath and tell her the entire story, showing the pictures I took. When I’ve finished, she’s staring at me with her mouth slightly opened. “So now I don’t know what to do,” I conclude.
“Print it, print it, you have to!” Tessa says. “Are you kidding me? A teacher and a mom doing it to boost her daughter’s grades? Hello? This is tabloid gold!”
“I know! But Chas won’t print it. He said we’re not a real tabloid and we should leave the family alone.”
“Oh, boo, hiss! You can’t not do anything either, because then you’re covering it up,” Tessa says. “Why should Talia get grades she didn’t earn just because Mommy likes to throw around Chemistry equipment and get freaky in the lab?”
I rub my forehead with my palm. “I know, but Chas won’t do it.”
“Then put it up on your blog,” Tessa says, putting her hands on her hips.
I give her a shocked look. “My…blog?”
“Uh, yeah, Livvie. The Thompson Tattler. I know it’s you.”
I gasp. “But, how? I mean, do you think others…?” I trail off.
“Nah, I doubt it. I only figured it out because I noticed none of the earlier Denise stories made the blog. I’d asked you not to tell anyone. If the blogger were someone else, he or she would have totally put the pictures of her up.”
Oh, yeah.
“What’s up on not telling me about it though, huh? What kind of best friend are you?” Tessa asks.
“I’m sorry,” I say in all seriousness. “I know I should have told you at least. It was just this, I don’t know, little secret thing I had.”
“Yeah well, don’t do it again.”
“I won’t. Do you think it’s terrible? I was planning on pulling it down. Everyone in IPC has been freaking out about it so much and demanding it come down. It has a huge following though. I’m up to fifteen-hundred followers and I get loads of comments and e-mails. But I should just take it down.” I glance at Tessa, trying to read her face.
“Since your project is about over, yeah, you might as well. But you’ve got to put up this one last story. Don’t let Talia get off scot-free.”
I consider this. She has a good point.
***
God bless wikihow.com and their awesome how-to article on how to fake sick and stay home from school. I uploaded all of the pics of Talia’s mom and Dr. Harris onto
the blog last night, and there was no way I was going to IPC today and facing Chas or Talia or anyone else. I texted Chas when Tessa was still over yesterday afternoon and told him my camera got stolen sometime after school. That I had left it in my backpack in the cafeteria while I walked away to get a soda and when I’d gotten back, the bag was open and the camera gone. I said maybe it was a competing paparazzo who stole it. That was all Tessa’s idea so Chas wouldn’t blame me for the pictures going up on the blog. He would hate me if he knew I was the one behind the Tattler. And I couldn’t sit through what is certain to be the Talia Tirade of all times in IPC today. She won’t be happy about those pictures one bit.
My mom is pretty smart, so I had to be extra convincing in getting her to let me stay home this morning. I piled on extra layers of clothes last night to make it look like I had the chills. I set my alarm for 1:00 a.m., 3:15 a.m., and 5:00 a.m. to make fast and loud, clumsy, knocking-things-over dashes to the bathroom, and ended early this morning with the big finale, fake vomit in the toilet. Chewed-up cereal mixed with apple and orange juice. It was perfect. I don’t know how old people like my parents faked being sick before the Internet was around.
Dad wouldn’t come near me because he didn’t want to catch what I had, but Mom seemed a bit reluctant to leave me home. She stuck around until about 8:45 but then finally left me alone to drop Emma off at school and head to work. Chas left me several voicemails on my cellphone, but I didn’t respond to any of them. I don’t want to know about today’s IPC class and everyone’s reaction. Not yet. I also don’t want him to try and come over because I’m sure the word GUILTY is written across my forehead. I finally did send a short text saying that I was sick and he’d have to work on this week’s summation report on his own. I have no idea what he’s going to use for the report, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out.
The Paparazzi Project Page 13
