by Piper Banks
“Take it from me: it’s really hard to be the new kid in school,” Dex said.
“I know. But you wouldn’t make up stories about yourself just to get people to like you,” I said.
Dex shrugged.
“You wouldn’t,” I protested.
“I probably wouldn’t make up a whole bunch of stuff, no. But if the guys here were hanging out and shooting the breeze about something, I might act more interested in the topic of conversation than I really was,” Dex said.
“I get that. And believe me, that’s what I thought Nora was doing at first,” I said. “But this goes beyond that.”
“Why don’t you just take a break?” Dex suggested. “Stop hanging out with her so much. Tell her you’re busy with school or The Ampersand or whatever.”
“I could do that,” I said. “But now she’s hanging out with Charlie and Finn, too. So whenever I make plans with one of them, Nora suddenly shows up, too. It’s like I can’t get away from her.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew how it sounded: like I was jealous of Nora. And, if I was being honest with myself, maybe I was.
“You know what? Forget I said anything,” I said, flapping one hand. “I’m sure I’m just blowing this all out of proportion.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep talking about it?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. How was your weekend?”
“It was fine,” Dex said.
“What did you do?”
“Same old. Lacrosse practice. Study group,” he said. “There was a Monty Python double feature last night in the auditorium. They showed The Holy Grail and Life of Brian.”
“I haven’t seen them,” I said.
“You have to. They’re hilarious,” Dex said. He grinned at me. “Wait for me, and I’ll watch them with you when I’m home for Thanksgiving break.”
“You’ve got a deal,” I said, smiling back at him.
By the time I got off Skype with Dex, I had just about convinced myself that I was completely overreacting. I shut my laptop, then yawned and stretched.
Bedtime, I decided. After the long car trip home, followed by two hours of intensive physics homework, I was beat. Willow was already asleep, snoozing on her big round bed.
I headed down to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hannah was there, leaning against the counter, talking animatedly into her Bluetooth.
“What do you mean the date was a disaster? What happened?” Hannah asked. She frowned, listening intently. “What are you talking about? Corey is totally adorable. You’re perfect for each other, Leo.”
I wondered who Hannah had set Leo up with. It was clear from Hannah’s furrowed brow as she listened to him that Leo wasn’t happy about it.
“I think you need to adjust your expectations,” Hannah said soothingly. “There are different levels of attractiveness. It’s important to figure out which level you’re on, and date accordingly.”
“Hannah!” I said.
Hannah held up a hand to silence me. I rolled my eyes and poured some water into a glass.
“Remember, you’re not necessarily going to fall in love with the first person you go out with,” Hannah said. “Why don’t we get together tomorrow, and we’ll go over your options. Okay? Okay. Great. Bye. Wait, Miranda, don’t go.”
I’d been on my way to bed, but I stopped at the door and turned back. As much as I hated to admit it, I was itching to hear an update on poor Leo.
“What happened with Leo’s date?” I asked.
“Disaster,” Hannah admitted. “Definitely not a good match. Poor Corey.”
“Why poor Corey?”
“She has an unfortunate excess of body hair,” Hannah said delicately. “I tried to talk her into waxing off her mustache, but she was very much against the idea. I don’t know why. One second of pain, and voilà, the problem is taken care of. Anyway, I didn’t think Leo would mind the mustache so much—I mean, let’s face it, he’s not exactly a perfect physical specimen himself—but I guess he’s determined to be picky.” Hannah shrugged. “I’ll just have to find someone else for him.”
“Why don’t you ask him if there’s anybody at school he’s already interested in?” I suggested.
“I did. Every single girl he named is way out of his league. Even worse, I think he might be developing a crush on Avery,” Hannah said.
“Avery? Seriously? After she was so mean to him and cut off his hair?”
“Yeah, I know, right? Maybe it’s like when victims fall in love with their kidnappers,” Hannah said.
“Stockholm Syndrome,” I said. “But I think the idea with Stockholm Syndrome is that the victim starts to see their abductor as all-powerful. They exert total control over their victims.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how Leo sees Avery,” Hannah said.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, why, exactly, are you hanging out with Avery again?” I asked.
“We’re not hanging out. I just thought she’d be a good addition to the business. After all, Avery’s really good at making people over. She has a great talent for sizing people up and clearly seeing their flaws,” Hannah said.
I just bet she does, I thought. I’d experienced what it was like to have Avery’s sharp, critical eyes looking over me. It always made me feel like I had spinach in my teeth and a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
“But she stole a sweater out of your mom’s closet. Do you really want her hanging out at the beach house?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. I keep a careful watch on her. And it’s purely a professional relationship.”
“Why don’t you get one of the twins to help you instead,” I suggested. Tiffany and Brittany—twin sisters—were friends of Hannah’s. They both seemed to know a lot about fashion and makeup.
“I love Tiff and Britt, but let’s face it, they’re not exactly rocket scientists,” Hannah said.
“And Avery is?”
“Avery’s actually really smart. And she’s very perceptive about people,” Hannah said.
I had to admit, I could see her point.
“So, what are you going to do about Leo?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Hannah admitted. “Can you think of anyone from your school who might be persuaded to go out with him? A little geekette with a lonely heart and a fondness for short boys with long sideburns?”
“I thought the sideburns were gone,” I said.
“For now. But Leo’s threatening to grow them back out.” Hannah sighed. “Why won’t my clients just take my advice? He’d be so much better off if he just listened to me.”
I slung an arm around my stepsister’s shoulders. “I’m sure all matchmakers wonder the same thing,” I said.
Chapter Nineteen
I cornered Charlie the next morning at our lockers before the first bell rang.
“I stopped by your house last night,” I said.
“Yeah, my mom told me. I think Willow had fun with her Auntie Charlie,” she said. “Did you know that she likes butter pecan ice cream?”
“Willow likes all flavors of ice cream. You didn’t give her any, did you? Dairy upsets her stomach,” I said.
“That probably explains why she had such bad gas,” Charlie said. “She produced some truly horrifying smells.”
I had the feeling she was trying to distract my attention. It wasn’t going to work.
“What’s this I hear about you going out with Chad?” I asked.
“What about it?” Charlie asked. She carefully avoided meeting my eyes as she unloaded the books she’d brought home over the weekend out of her bag and into her locker.
I folded my arms, leaned against the lockers, and waited. After Charlie had dithered as long as possible, she finally closed her locker and turned to me.
“You’re not going to make a big deal out of this, are you?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Is there something to make a big deal out of?” I asked.
“No! It r
eally wasn’t anything,” Charlie said. “Chad called and asked if I wanted to go see the new Johnny Depp movie. And I did, so we went.”
She closed her locker with an assertive bang.
“And that’s it, is it?” I asked. “Finn is newly single, and you just happen to start dating the very same guy you were using before to make Finn jealous? It’s all just a coincidence?”
“Yes, it is. And I never used Chad. I just maybe encouraged him a bit more than I otherwise would have,” Charlie said.
“Oh, please. Do you really think I’m going to buy that?” I asked.
“You don’t have to buy anything. It’s really none of your business,” Charlie said coolly.
I raised my eyebrows. Charlie relented.
“Okay. So maybe the timing of this date worked out to my advantage,” she admitted. “And, by the way? It totally worked. Finn called me last night when I got back from the movies.”
“I’m not surprised. He seemed really annoyed when Nora told us you’d gone out with Chad,” I said.
Charlie smiled. “Good,” she said. “He was pretty worked up about it when I talked to him.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“You know, typical Finn stuff. Insulting Chad’s intelligence, insulting my taste in guys in general, saying he’s pretty sure he saw Chad’s photo on America’s Most Wanted. You know, basically trying to get under my skin,” Charlie said, looking pleased with herself.
“Charlie,” I said.
“What?”
“You know what I’m going to say,” I said.
“If I already know, there’s no point in telling me,” she said.
“Stop playing games. Tell Finn how you feel,” I said.
“No way,” Charlie said.
“Yes way. Tell him, and find out if he feels the same way about you. If he does, you guys can finally stop this craziness and just be together. If he doesn’t, you can move on,” I said.
I’d told Charlie this enough times—and she’d ignored the advice enough times—that I didn’t expect her to suddenly agree with me now. So I wasn’t surprised when she shook her green head and looked obstinate. Charlie was the most stubborn person I knew.
“Just drop it already, Miranda,” she said.
“I just think—” I began. But before I could finish, Nora bounded up.
“Hey, guys,” she said enthusiastically. “Charlie, how did it go last night?”
“Which part?” Charlie asked, her face softening into a smile. “The date part, or the part where Finn was totally jealous when he called me after I got home?”
“So it worked! I was hoping it would. I let it sort of just casually slip out about your date,” Nora said.
“Excellent job,” Charlie said. She and Nora slapped hands.
I just stood there, looking from Charlie to Nora and back to Charlie again as they chatted animatedly about the details of Charlie’s date with Chad and the phone conversation she’d had with Finn afterward. I knew Nora had guessed that Charlie had feelings for Finn, but I was surprised that Charlie had confided in Nora. She’d been paranoid about anyone knowing. In fact, up until now, the only people she’d told were me and Hannah.
I couldn’t help it—the now-familiar flash of jealousy shot through me. I went away for one weekend, and suddenly Charlie and Nora were best friends? Going to museums and sharing secrets?
I grabbed my backpack off the ground and slung it over one shoulder.
“I have to get to class,” I said.
Nora and Charlie looked up, startled out of their confidence sharing.
“The bell’s about to ring,” I said.
Charlie checked her watch. “Miranda’s right. I should get to class. I’ll tell you the rest of it later, Nora.”
“Yeah, tell me at lunch,” Nora said.
“No, not at lunch. Finn will be there,” Charlie said. “We’ll go to Grounded after school.”
“Great,” Nora said.
I waited for one of them to invite me along to Grounded, too, but neither of them did. Instead, they said their good-byes, and then Nora turned to me and said, “Come on, we’d better go. We’re going to be late for lit class.”
“Right. We wouldn’t want to be late,” I said, wondering if I sounded as sour as I felt.
My day didn’t get better. In fact, it only got worse.
I had to endure physics class, then lunch, with friction at an all-time high between Charlie and Finn. Actually, it was pretty one-sided. The more Finn sulked and tried to goad Charlie into sparring with him, the more pleased with herself Charlie seemed. And Charlie and Nora kept exchanging meaningful looks, as if this was all exactly the reaction they’d been hoping for when they cooked up their little scheme. I just sat there stewing and feeling completely left out.
Then, just before last period, Candace Ruckman tracked me down.
“Miranda, I need to talk to you about your story,” Candace said.
I could tell from the way she was glowering at me—round blue eyes disdainful, pink-glossed lips pursed, arms crossed—that she had not sought me out to shower my article with praise. My heart sank. I thought I’d done a good job.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked nervously.
“Is it true that the guy you interviewed for that piece is your boyfriend?” Candace asked.
She was, as usual, perfectly pressed—today’s wrinkle-free outfit was a striped oxford shirt tucked into skinny white jeans—which made her even more foreboding.
I nodded. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes, it’s a problem!” Candace said. “It’s a breach of journalistic ethics!”
“It is?” I bleated. “Why?”
“Because you did a complete profile on this guy without disclosing that you have a personal relationship with him. That’s completely unacceptable,” Candace said. “You’re lucky it was just a profile and not a news piece, which would have been far worse. Anyway, we can’t run it. I’m cutting it from the issue.”
My first real publishing credit was slipping away. I made a desperate attempt to grab it back.
“But I could add a disclosure,” I said. “I’ll just put a paragraph in the beginning saying that I know Dex. Besides, does it really matter? Like you said, it’s not a news piece. Just a profile. My knowing Dex doesn’t make it less interesting.”
Candace shook her head. “The Ampersand may be a high school magazine, but I still expect all of my writers to conform to the highest standards of professional journalism. And that certainly does not include doing a profile on your boyfriend and adding in a sloppy, after-the-fact disclaimer.”
My cheeks were burning hot and red. I couldn’t believe it. I’d worked so hard on my article. Not only had it not impressed Candace, but it had actually made me lose credibility with her.
“Are you kicking me off the magazine staff?” I asked. My mouth felt very dry, and my tongue felt large and unwieldy.
“No. But I’m also not going to give you a new assignment for the second issue. Instead I want you to redo your student-athlete piece,” Candace said. She cocked her head to one side, and her eyes softened. “You know, your concept was good. I like the idea of the profile. You just need to find someone to interview who isn’t your boyfriend.”
I nodded, my face still flaming. “I understand,” I said.
“Good.” Candace turned, as if to leave.
“Wait . . . Candace?” I asked.
She looked back at me. “Yes?”
“Who told you that Dex is my boyfriend?” I asked.
Candace frowned, clearly not sure why I was wasting her time with such questions. But then she shrugged and said, “That new girl on layout. What’s her name again? Nora, I think. Nora Lee.”
Chapter Twenty
As I walked out of school to the student parking lot, my head buzzed with anger. Why had Nora told Candace that Dex was my boyfriend? Had she deliberately set out to sabotage me? And, if so, why? Had she known from the time she spent workin
g on the student newspaper at her old school that telling Candace would get me in trouble?
I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, and tried to talk myself out of jumping to conclusions. Especially such far-flung, paranoid conclusions. Maybe Nora just mentioned my relationship with Dex in passing, not realizing that Candace would have a problem with my interviewing him for my story. After all, I hadn’t known I was doing anything wrong. So how would Nora?
By the time I reached Bumblebee, I had calmed down somewhat. I just needed to talk to Nora, to hear her side of the story. Remembering that Nora and Charlie had made plans to meet at Grounded after school—the fact that they hadn’t invited me along, too, still stung—I decided to drive straight there and talk to Nora immediately. Before my anger and suspicions had time to fester.
When I walked through the glass front door of Grounded, I saw Nora and Charlie sitting at a table in the back, their heads bowed close together, deep in conversation. They didn’t notice me until I was standing right at their table, towering over them. Then Charlie looked up.
“Hey, Miranda,” she said, surprised.
“Hey,” I said. I glanced at Nora, and thought that for just a fraction of a second, I saw a flicker of annoyance pass over her face. But a moment later, it was gone—replaced by a welcoming smile—and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“Hi, Miranda,” Nora said. “Have a seat. Or are you going to get a coffee first?”
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Charlie said.
“I didn’t, either,” I said. “But something happened that I need to talk to Nora about.”
I sat down across from Nora and tried to think of how I should begin. I didn’t want to sound like I was accusing her of anything. Maybe I should have practiced what I was going to say on the drive over, I thought.
“I just talked to Candace. She’s pulling my article from the first issue of The Ampersand,” I said.
