by Piper Banks
Nora and I continued to walk down the hallway. Undaunted, Finn joined us.
“If you keep spending so much time together, we’re going to have to merge your names, like Bennifer or Brangelina. Mirora? No, that doesn’t sound right. Noranda? That’s not good, either. It would be a lot easier if you could change your name to Brad or Ben, Nora. Then you could be Biranda,” Finn said.
“I sort of like Mirora. It sounds like the name of a high priestess,” Nora mused.
“But Noranda sounds like a prescription skin cream,” Finn remarked. “The kind that zaps zits or hemorrhoids.”
“Or, we could just keep our regular names,” I suggested.
“You’re no fun. So, where are we heading?” Finn asked.
“Out to Miranda’s car,” Nora said. “Or, as I’ve decided to rename it, the Stinkmobile.”
Finn laughed appreciatively. I was momentarily taken aback. I think it was the first time I’d ever heard Nora make a joke.
“Classic,” Finn said. “That car needs to be fumigated.”
“I took it to the car wash this weekend and had them pipe in a deodorizing fragrance,” I said.
“I love that stuff. What did you get? New-car smell? That’s my favorite,” Finn said. “If I could, I’d go around smelling like a new car. I wish they’d make it into a cologne. Do you think someone sells that?”
“No,” I said.
“Note to self: invent a cologne with new-car smell,” Finn said.
“What fragrance did you really get?” Nora asked.
“Strawberry-banana,” I said. “I thought it sounded nice and fruity.”
“Did it work on the stink?”
“Not really,” I said sadly. “The stink is still there, only now with an undertone of artificial strawberry-banana smell. Which, I have to say, is really not much of an improvement.”
“Awesome,” Finn said with relish.
“I told Miranda she could market the smell as a weapon. Find a way to get it into an atomizer, and then spray it at a mugger or something. It would work better than pepper spray,” Nora said, to Finn’s growing hilarity.
What? She’s never said that to me, I thought.
“That’s brilliant,” Finn said. “And then the cops would have an easy time tracking down the bad guy. All they’d have to do is follow the odor.”
Nora giggled appreciatively.
“Thanks, guys. That’s just so helpful,” I said dryly. “No, never mind me. I’ll just suffer with my stinky car while you two laugh at me.”
“Oh, come on, M,” Finn said. He threw one arm around my neck and another around Nora’s. “We kid because we love.”
“And because we really want you to do something about the stink. Seriously, it’s so bad that whenever I’m in your car, I want to stick my head out the window like a dog,” Nora said.
“Ha, ha,” I said as Nora and Finn cracked up. “Don’t forget, without me, you’d be walking home, Nora.”
“No, she wouldn’t. I’d drive you home, Nora,” Finn said.
“Aw, thanks, Finn,” Nora said.
“Wait, no, I take it back. I wouldn’t drive you home. I’m meeting Phoebe at Grounded,” Finn said. “By the way, M, tell Hannah I got her Web site up and running today during calculus class.”
“During class? Didn’t Mr. Gordon notice?”
“Dunno,” Finn said. “I had on my headphones, so I couldn’t really hear what he was saying.”
I rolled my eyes, while Nora snickered. She seemed to think he was kidding. I was pretty sure he wasn’t.
“Let me know what Hannah says when she sees it,” Finn said.
There was something in his tone—and, when I turned sharply to look up at him, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes—that told me he was up to something.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Whatever do you mean?” Finn asked, feigning innocence. Another bad sign.
“Seriously. What did you do to Hannah’s Web site?” I asked.
Finn looked wounded. “I help out your stepsister, generously giving up an entire calculus period, during which I could have been mastering the tenth level of Staroids, and this is the sort of thanks I get? Accusations of skullduggery? I’m wounded, Miranda. Truly, I’m deeply hurt.”
“No, you’re not,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not,” Finn agreed.
“What’s Staroids?” Nora asked.
“It’s a totally rad game. It combines the best elements of an RPG and a first-person shooter. It’s brilliantly violent. I can’t believe I didn’t come up with it,” Finn enthused.
“I love video games,” Nora said.
“You do?” Finn asked. He looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Why have you been hiding this from me, Miranda? You know the rules. All gaming enthusiasts are to be brought to my attention immediately.”
“I didn’t know,” I said. In fact, in all of the conversations I’d had with Nora, she’d never once mentioned video games.
I suddenly had a worrying thought. Was Nora joking around with Finn and pretending to be interested in video games because she was romantically interested in him? I sincerely hoped not. It was bad enough that Charlie was suffering from her unrequited love for Finn. I didn’t want to lose another friend to his inexplicable charms.
Chapter Twelve
That night, after dinner, I sat down at my desk and came up with a list of questions to ask Dex. It was the first time I’d ever interviewed anyone, and I was feeling a little nervous about it.
At seven o’clock, I was in front of my laptop, ready for Dex’s call. He was always very prompt. But as I sat there, staring at the Skype site, waiting for it to ring . . . it didn’t: 7:03 . . . 7:07 . . . 7:09. By 7:12, I was starting to get annoyed. Had Dex forgotten? Or was he too busy to call? No, it couldn’t be that he was too busy—he would at least have texted me to let me know he couldn’t talk.
I considered turning Skype and my cell phone off, so that if Dex called, he wouldn’t be able to get a hold of me. But, no, that would be petty and immature, and, besides, I really did need to interview him. Also, I wanted to hear about his first official day of school. I wondered whether I should text him to remind him of our phone date, but just as I was reaching for my phone, Skype started to ring.
“Sorry I’m late,” Dex said as soon as we were connected. “Practice ran over, and then I had to get dinner before the dining hall closed. I swear, I have never eaten faster in my life, and when I was done, I ran all the way back to my dorm.”
He looked flushed and out of breath. All of my irritation vanished, replaced by a soft glow of delight. He hadn’t forgotten about me. He’d run home to talk to me.
“Don’t worry; it’s fine,” I told him.
“How are you doing?” Dex asked, smiling warmly in the way that always caused a zing to shoot through me.
“I’m great. How was your first day of classes?”
Dex’s smile slipped away. “So unbelievably hard. You wouldn’t believe how tough the classes are here. Actually, maybe you would—that’s probably what you’re used to at Geek High. But I had no idea it was going to be so intense. I’m going to be up half the night trying to get all of my homework done.” Dex ran one hand through his red hair. “I’m probably going to be the dumbest kid in class.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “You always get really good grades.”
“At Orange Cove High. Seriously, this place is on an entirely different level. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up,” Dex said. He did look really stressed out. His face was pale and drawn.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” I said. I hesitated. As much as I wanted to interview Dex, I didn’t want to monopolize his time, especially if he was feeling stressed about his workload. “Do you have to go now, so you can do your homework?”
“No, I don’t want to hang up yet,” Dex said quickly.
“Would you mind if I interviewed you for my article? Or is this a bad time?”
“Are you sure? It’s just that my editor is leaning on me to get it done,” I said apologetically.
“Ask away. My life is an open book,” Dex said. He grinned at me, looking more like himself. “And to answer your first question, no, I don’t have any special beauty secrets. I’m just naturally this good-looking.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, like that’s going in the article. Okay, first question: why did you decide to go to Brown Academy?”
“They offered me a full scholarship. And it’s a really good school and has a great lacrosse program. A lot of the top college teams recruit here,” Dex said.
I scribbled down his answer in my notebook.
“Was it hard to make the decision to leave home and go away to school?” I asked.
“Yes,” Dex said, his voice soft. “Very hard.”
I looked at him. “Care to elaborate?” I asked.
Dex laughed. “Are you just trying to get me to tell you how much I miss you?”
“No! Think of me as a professional reporter,” I protested.
“Okay. Yes, it’s really hard being away from my family and friends. And it’s especially hard being away from my girlfriend,” Dex said.
I wrote it down, trying to ignore the fact that my insides were turning warm and gooey. I had to stay on task, or I’d get another lecture from Candace.
I asked Dex some more questions, covering how his family had reacted to his getting into such a good prep school, what it was like being the new guy on his lacrosse team, what the team’s training regimen was like, what a typical day at prep school was like, and what he was looking forward to when lacrosse season began in the spring. Dex gave me great answers, and I started to feel more confident that my article was shaping up to be pretty interesting. How great would it be if I ended up impressing Candace with my very first piece?
“Anything else?” Dex asked.
I checked my list.
“One more, and I think we’re done. How are you adjusting to your new school?” I asked.
“Pretty well, I think. The guys on the team are all pretty cool. And the campus is really nice. I don’t know how I’m going to handle the winter—I’ve never even seen snow in person before—but since I may end up failing out before then, I guess I shouldn’t worry about it now,” Dex said.
“You are not going to fail out,” I said, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to be conducting an interview. “You’ll be fine.”
“A girl in my history class is forming a study group. She asked me if I wanted to join,” Dex said.
Jealousy hit me like a glowing green laser ray. A girl? What girl? I mean, obviously I knew there were girls at his school. Whom he would at some point speak to. But even so . . . the idea of him hanging out with those girls, joining a study group, smiling his amazing smile at them ...
“Miranda?” Dex asked. “Are you okay? You’re not saying anything.”
“What? Oh, no. I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just thinking about my article.”
I didn’t want him to know that I was jealous. And, besides, I trusted Dex. I’d spent the whole summer worrying that he was going to fall back in love with his ex-girlfriend, Wendy—who was stunning and, unfortunately, too nice to hate—and it turned out that he wasn’t at all interested in her. So I knew I shouldn’t let my imagination run wild. It would just make me miserable.
My door opened with an explosive bang. I jumped in my seat and turned to see my stepsister storming into my bedroom. Hannah’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were slitted with anger.
“You will not believe what your friend Finn did to my Web site!” Hannah announced. She strode across the room and towered over me. “Look at it right now. Matchmade.com. Go on.”
“Hannah, I’m sort of right in the middle of something,” I said, gesturing toward Dex’s face on my computer screen.
“Oh, hey, Dex. I didn’t see you there,” Hannah said.
“Hi, Hannah. How’s it going?” Dex asked.
“I’m in the middle of a crisis. I need Miranda,” Hannah announced.
“Can this possibly wait?” I asked.
“No,” Hannah said, with a firm shake of her head that sent her pale blond hair swinging. “It can’t.”
“It’s okay, Miranda,” Dex said. “I should probably get started on my homework, anyway.”
“Okay,” I said. I was a little disappointed that our conversation was ending so abruptly, but it was probably for the best. I knew Dex was worried about his schoolwork. Besides, Hannah was clearly not going to leave until I saw what Finn had done to the Web site.
“Have a good day tomorrow,” Dex said.
“You, too. Bye,” I said.
“Bye,” he said.
“Bye, Dex,” Hannah said.
As soon as the call ended, I typed in the URL for Hannah’s Web site. Then I sat back, staring in openmouthed horror. The screen turned a fluorescent pink, so bright it hurt my eyeballs to look at it. MATCH MADE scrolled across the top in a hideous curly font. A cartoon cupid flew across the screen in the opposite direction, shooting arrows up into the name, which stuck into the Ms. I was so distracted by this garish display that it took me a few moments before I was able to focus on the text:
Hey, Orange Cove High students. Are you a loser at love? Are you too unattractive to find a date on your own? Do people laugh hysterically when you ask them out? Have no fear—help is on the way! Hannah Moore is here to help you find romance.
Underneath, there was a picture of a beaming Hannah, with the words CALL ME blinking over her head. And then, under Hannah’s picture:
Results guaranteed. If you’re not entirely satisfied with your new romantic life, we’ll double your money back.
“I hate to say I told you so, but . . . no, wait, I take it back. I don’t hate saying it at all. I told you so. I told you not to trust Finn with this,” I said.
“‘Too unattractive to find a date’ ... ‘Double your money back’ . . . the stupid cupid,” Hannah said. “It’s just horrible. So, so horrible. Why would Finn do this to me? I was nice to him, wasn’t I? I offered to pay him for doing the work!”
“Finn doesn’t really need the money. He’s made millions developing computer games,” I said.
“Even so! Why would he want to ruin me?” Hannah bleated.
“First of all, this”—I gestured toward the computer screen—“does not ruin you. And second, this is how Finn amuses himself.”
“Then why are you friends with him?”
I considered this. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it. He is pretty funny.”
“This is not funny,” Hannah said.
It actually was a little funny, but I knew Hannah was not in the best state of mind to see the humor in it.
“We’ll just take it down. I doubt anyone has seen it yet,” I said.
“You think?” Hannah asked doubtfully.
“Didn’t Finn say he just launched the Web site today? We’re probably the only ones who’ve seen it.” Along with everyone he’s told, I thought, but didn’t say out loud. Instead, I said, “We’ll just take it offline, and it will be like it never happened.”
This turned out to be easier said than done. Much easier. In fact, an hour later, Hannah and I were still trying to figure out how to disable the Web site. Finn had changed all of the passwords on Hannah’s Web site software. Hannah tried calling Finn, but he—probably sensing her wrath—didn’t pick up.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know enough about computers to fix this,” I said. “Why don’t you try contacting a computer repair shop? Maybe they have programmers on staff.”
“No, I’ll just find some computer geek at school and get him to do it for me,” Hannah said moodily.
“How?”
She shrugged. “You know. I’ll just talk to him. Smile at him. That’s pretty much all it takes.”
“And that worked out so well for you the last time,”
I said dryly. When Hannah looked confused, I clarified. “Wasn’t Finn the last computer geek you tried charming into doing your work for you?”
“That’s true. Maybe I should just hire a professional Web designer,” Hannah said.
“Wise decision,” I agreed.
Chapter Thirteen
The following Monday morning, I ran into Charlie in the school parking lot. She pulled into the space next to mine, just as I was climbing out of Bumblebee. Charlie was driving her family’s ancient station wagon, which had once belonged to her mom before it had been passed down, in turn, to each of Charlie’s older sisters, and finally to Charlie.
“Hey, Miranda,” Charlie said, pulling her backpack out of the car and slamming the car door shut. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen me in forever,” I said. “I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a conversation outside of class.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “I’ve been a bad friend lately, haven’t I?”
“No, it’s okay. I know you’ve been busy painting,” I said. We turned and walked toward school together.
“Yeah, but even so, I didn’t mean to blow you off,” Charlie said. “Especially since I know you’ve been bummed out ever since Dex left. What are you doing after school today?”
“Actually, nothing,” I said. “My article for The Ampersand is due tomorrow, but I wrote it over the weekend. The only thing I have left to do is check it over for typos.”
I was pleased with how my profile on Dex had turned out. He’d given me a lot of great quotes during our interview. I thought I’d succeeded in showing how conflicted he was over going away to school, while also highlighting his excitement at the opportunity to play for a top high school lacrosse team. I’d e-mailed the piece to Dex after I finished it to make sure he approved and that there wasn’t anything in it that would embarrass him. He’d given it a big thumbs-up.
“Good for you,” Charlie said.
“So do you want to do something?” I asked, perking up at the idea.
“Sure. Do you want to go to Grounded?” Charlie asked.
