by Mary Strand
“Dad!”
He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Odd. I got the same reaction from Liz when I taught her how to drive a manual transmission.”
Chapter 20
“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter Eighteen
I pulled into the school parking lot Tuesday morning in the driver’s seat of Alex’s Lamborghini, every inch of my body in a cold sweat. Except maybe my eyebrows.
The car didn’t lurch or grind or otherwise embarrass me, but I wondered what the hell I was doing. It was February. It wasn’t like anyone would be hanging out in the parking lot, talking or making out or checking to see if Cat Bennet happened to drive up in a black Lamborghini.
I pulled into a free parking space before I realized that Tess’s cherry-red Firebird was next to me on the left. Tess was sitting in it. With Amber.
I blinked, noticing the drastic change in Tess. Gone was her imitation of Jane’s blond bob—and I had a good guess why. In its place? Tess’s natural auburn, freshly cut in a short, tousled style that actually looked a lot better on her. Not that I’d ever tell her.
Now or never. I unbuckled, pushed open the driver’s door with a shaky hand, then grabbed my backpack from the passenger seat as the cold sweat congealed on the back of my neck. After a moment’s petrified hesitation, I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder and slid out of the car. My legs wobbled but didn’t give out, which was good, because Tess and Amber climbed out of Tess’s car an instant behind me.
I slammed my door and headed toward the building. As if I hadn’t seen them. As if Tess and Kirk hadn’t humiliated me in front of a bunch of kids a week ago. As if Liz hadn’t done Tess the same favor on Friday night.
I could hear them talking behind me, though. I resisted the urge to turn around, let alone check to see if I had toilet paper or worse stuck to my boot.
“Cat!”
Eyes straight ahead, I kept walking as fast as I could without doing a full-on sprint.
“Cat!” The girl’s voice was closer now, right behind me, and it didn’t sound like Tess or Amber.
I flicked a glance over my shoulder. Megan, matching her pace to my Olympic one. So much for driving the Lamborghini to look cool. She’d just wiped out whatever tiny benefit Alex’s car gave me, just by being herself. An art freak.
I sighed.
“Nice car. Your mom’s or dad’s?”
I laughed despite myself. “Not in a million years.”
“You didn’t—”
“Swipe it?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a criminal. Besides, I’m pretty sure the alarm on that baby goes off if you even look at it funny, let alone try to hotwire it.”
“Well, it’s cool.” Megan picked up her pace, and I almost had to run to keep up with her. We zoomed inside the building, and Megan slammed the door after us. “Your friends liked it, too. They were totally jealous.”
“Tess and Amber?” I almost glanced back to see how close they were, but I didn’t want to risk it. “I doubt it. And they’re not my friends.”
Megan’s eyebrows went up. After what happened with the band, though, I don’t know why she was so surprised.
“Anyway . . .” She trailed off and stopped when we reached the corner where I had to turn to go to my locker. Hers was in the opposite direction. “I just wanted to say hi. I’m glad you’re back. And, uh, I hope you don’t get mad.”
“Mad?” I frowned. Mad at Megan? As she took off down the hall, I suddenly remembered the weird voicemail message she left me in the Dells, as if she’d done something to me. But what? Megan never did anything wrong. “Hey, Megan!”
But she’d already scooted around the corner.
“Sweet ride, Cat.” Tess gave a fake laugh as she swooped into English class right behind me. “Steal it? Or was that a gift for bad behavior?”
A few kids snickered and, with Ms. Mickel nowhere in sight, the rest just watched us. As if we’d be wrestling in Jell-O or mud any moment, ripping each other’s hair out.
Actually, not a bad idea.
I glanced over my shoulder at Tess. Casually, as if she was bird poop on a windshield. “You should know, Tess. If they give out gifts for bad behavior, you’d probably have your own private jet instead of that broom you flew in on.”
As Tess’s eyes narrowed, the whole class erupted in laughter and whistles. But not at me. At Tess!
“You tell her, Cat!”
“Busted!”
“Hey, Tess, you taking a break from drooling on Kirk?”
I whirled around, sure that last one sounded like Jeremy, but I just caught him grinning. I blinked. His hair was dark blond, which might even be his real color, and neatly combed. Had the whole world gone crazy?
The hoots and nasty comments continued until Ms. Mickel stepped into the room in a pair of bright-green nosebleed heels. Tess glanced out the door as if she wanted to bolt, but she and her crimson face finally slunk to her desk on the far side of the room. I sat down amid clapping, a few pats on the back, and loud whispers.
“Glad you finally figured her out.”
“She’s such a bitch, Cat. Find some new friends.”
“Love the car. Is it your boyfriend’s?”
I frowned at the girl who made that last comment, even though I’d wanted to create exactly that impression. She’d already turned toward Ms. Mickel, though, who was blathering about homework even though I still hadn’t finished all the stuff she assigned last week. I rolled my eyes at Jeremy, but he scowled at me. As if he was pissed.
Huh? Hadn’t he been grinning at me five seconds ago?
“Cat, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Ms. Mickel had her hands on her hips and her toes tapping, which was actually sort of a relief after the way she treated me so carefully yesterday. As if I was gonna break or cry or maybe even swipe her car for a road trip.
I shook my head and straightened my books and pens on my desk. Even without looking, I could feel the anger coming off Jeremy in waves, and I didn’t want to feel it from Ms. Mickel. Her anger tended to come with homework or detention.
“No? Well, do you think Kitty Bennet ever just wanted to escape? To, say, run away?”
I flinched. Was she giving me shit, in a teacher-acceptable way, for bolting last week?
“I, um—” As my brain scrambled for an answer, I tried to ignore all the murmurs. “I mean, did girls do that back then? They couldn’t go anywhere, could they?”
Like, say, to Wisconsin Dells?
Ms. Mickel tilted her head. “Lydia Bennet seems to have done it. As I recall, Kitty was jealous of her adventure.”
“Even though today it’d land her in reform school.”
My head whipped sideways, toward the only person bitchy enough to say that out loud, even if some of the other kids—like me—were thinking it.
Ms. Mickel aimed a cold stare toward the other side of the room. “Tess, I think you might want to learn the distinction between fiction and reality. I suspect Mr. Paymar will be only too happy to help you. Now.”
The smirk flew right off Tess’s pinched face. “Ms. Mickel, I was just—”
“Trying to slam Cat’s sister Lydia and, by extension, Cat. You’ve been doing it all term, both in school and out, as I understand it.” She gave Tess a knowing look, as if she’d heard exactly what went down at the band’s jam session. “I think some time in the principal’s office would be well spent.”
“She and her sisters—”
Ms. Mickel held up a hand. “I understand they occasionally fight back? We’d all want to have sisters like that, wouldn’t we? But I don’t believe it’s relevant.”
She pointed at the door. Finally, Tess pushed away from her desk and slammed her hand on the top of it.
“Take your books and other items with you, Tess. You won’t be back here today.”
Tess sauntered
toward the door, empty handed. “I’ll be back as soon as I make Mr. Paymar call my parents.”
“Trust me. You won’t.” Ms. Mickel gave Tess a look so sugary sweet it almost made my teeth hurt. “Take your things, Tess. If you don’t want them, perhaps I should let Cat take them for you?”
With the whole class’s laughter buzzing around her, Tess flounced back to her desk, hit it a few more times, and grabbed her stuff.
When the door slammed after her, Ms. Mickel turned back to me. “I would normally do this privately, Cat, but I owe you an apology.” She held up her hands, as if she was surrendering, and her bright red lips twisted into a grimace. “Ever since I had your sister Jane in class, I’ve been fascinated by the fact that your parents named all of you after the Bennet sisters of Pride and Prejudice, as well as the parallels between your two families. Even though, yes, one of those families is fictional and would’ve lived two hundred years ago.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I know. You’re less fascinated.” She laughed, and for once it didn’t even sound brittle. “But in many ways Kitty is the most fascinating character to me, and I’ve always wondered how you felt about her.”
I sighed, even though no one was laughing, which surprised me. “Let’s just say she doesn’t do it for me. And she’s not fascinating. Jane Austen barely mentioned her.”
“That’s what makes her so fascinating.” Ms. Mickel nodded when I frowned at her. “Jane Austen made each of the other four sisters a type, and I’ve watched your older sisters—even Jane and Liz—struggle against that type.”
“They don’t struggle against anything.”
“Perhaps from your perspective.” Ms. Mickel gave me a knowing smile. “But Jane Austen gave you—or, rather, Kitty—a world of possibilities. A blank slate to draw upon however you want. This makes it such a fascinating coincidence that, of all your family, you’re the one who draws. You’re the artist, much as Jane Austen was an artist of words.”
I groaned. “I’m no artist.”
On top of everything else going to hell in my life, I needed Ms. Mickel publicly proclaiming me as some great artist? Argh! This wasn’t an apology. She was digging my hole even deeper.
“You are an artist, Cat. You’re already drawing on that blank slate Jane Austen gave to Kitty, and with marvelous results.”
Megan’s tiny voice floated across the room. “She’s really good.”
Ms. Mickel smiled at Megan, but I wanted to shoot her.
“Thank you, Megan. I’ve heard it from Mr. Reiman, too, but I’ve also seen Cat’s portraits.” Her gaze swept the rest of the class. “As will everyone, since Cat has been selected as the featured artist at this year’s art show.”
While my face flushed beet red and I opened my mouth to deny it, a bunch of kids started clapping. Even Jeremy. The guy’s constantly changing attitude was giving me whiplash.
But I hadn’t even entered my work in the art show. For all the wrong reasons, I admit, but I’d made my decision. And you can’t win the lottery if you don’t buy a ticket.
“I’m not even in the show. I didn’t enter.”
The last of the applause died at that moment.
Ms. Mickel stared at me for a long moment. “Cat, I’ve seen your work. I’ve also seen your name on the announcement of the upcoming show. Obviously, you entered your work.”
I exhaled a shaky breath. “But I didn’t.”
Ms. Mickel looked across the room. When my gaze followed, I saw Megan. With her hand raised. When Ms. Mickel called on her, Megan looked at me. “Like I said, Cat, I’m sorry. But your portraits are so cool, I thought everyone should see them.”
“You entered me in the show? How?”
She nodded as her own face flushed scarlet and all the ramifications hit me. I hadn’t entered so I wouldn’t be labeled an art freak, so another art freak entered for me. Which was against the rules. Which meant Megan was going to be doing time in Mr. Paymar’s office. With Tess.
Megan started packing up her things. When she stood up, though, Ms. Mickel held up a hand. “Unless you have other pressing plans, Megan, you can stay right here. I think Mr. Paymar already has his hands full with Tess, and I’d rather not set a new school record for the most students sent to detention in a single period.”
Megan stayed standing. “But I broke the rules.”
“You can sort that out with Mr. Reiman. Perhaps while you and Cat are getting ready for the art show.” Ms. Mickel smiled at Megan. “You made it, too. Congratulations. Apparently your skill with watercolors is as good as your ability to discern talent in others.”
The class started clapping again, this time for Megan, who slipped back into her desk and sat there staring at the top of it. Megan, who was so quiet and shy that no one knew her. Megan, who didn’t crave attention or cool friends or much of anything else.
Megan, who was suddenly kinda cool.
I sat by myself at lunch.
I obviously couldn’t hang with my old table of friends, since they weren’t my friends. In a way, when Tess finally made it crystal clear, she’d done me a favor.
Not that I’d thank her for it anytime soon.
Megan was missing from the art geeks’ table, but they weren’t my crowd, either. I wasn’t sure I had a single true friend, even if everyone clapped for me in English class and a few kids said nice things today as they passed in the hall.
After grabbing the last empty table, I glanced over at Mary, sitting with Josh and a table full of seniors. Against my will, I checked out my old table and caught Jeremy’s eye for a second before he turned away and talked to Amber. I sighed.
“Okay if I join you?”
Nodding, I pasted a smile on my face as I glanced up at the unfamiliar voice. A skinny blond guy I recognized but didn’t know held a tray in one hand and a sketchpad in his other.
He set his sketchpad to one side and his tray in front of him. “Hey, I heard about the art show. Cool.”
“Thanks.” I stared at the guy’s burger and fries, wishing I hadn’t decided to go on a health kick after straying so wildly with licorice and Cheetos last week. Even wishing I weren’t a vegetarian.
“I’m Zach. You sang with us.”
Ohmygod. Zach. The guy who played bass guitar in Mary’s band. The guy with the Cat in the Hat tattoo on his arm, but he was wearing a hoodie today, so I hadn’t seen it. Still, how could I not know him? Because I’d been so busy staring at Kirk—and not looking at Jeremy—when they played?
I felt myself flushing, something I did a lot lately. “Hey. Yeah, I guess I did sing with you guys. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” He bit into his burger, and I closed my eyes a moment as the aroma wafted into my nostrils. “You were fine. And your portraits are sick. Loved ’em.”
I frowned. “How could you love them? You’re not in my Drawing class.”
“I have Mr. Reiman second period. He has some of the artwork from the upcoming show in his room, and he bragged on about you.”
I glanced at his sketchpad. “Are you in the show?”
A quick nod as he stuffed a few fries in his mouth. “Finally. I tried last year, but Mr. Reiman said my drawings weren’t mature enough. Whatever that means. Want a fry?”
“I, uh, no, I mean—”
“It’s cool.” He pushed his tray a few inches closer to me. “You’ve barely touched that salad, and I can’t blame you. I go with a burger and fries every time.”
Even though he was skinny as a rail. Guys.
“Zach.”
My head jerked up to see Jeremy, arms crossed, looking pissed. At Zach or me, I had no idea. I also had no idea why Jeremy kept going hot and cold. Was it the haircut? Had a forced trip to the barber changed his whole personality?
“Jeremy.” Zach waved a hand at the chair next to me. “Have a seat.”
“I was just leaving.”
As he did just that, Zach and I both stared after him. Zach gave me a funny look before biting into his bur
ger.
He chewed a few moments, swallowed, then gave me a quirky grin. “So you and Jeremy are pals?”
“Not exactly.” I reached over and grabbed one of his fries off his tray. “He sits next to me in English.”
“And plays in the band.”
I shrugged. “So do you. And my sister Mary.”
“And Kirk.” Another funny look. “You don’t hang out with Mary, but you come out to listen to the band.”
I wasn’t about to admit I’d started hanging out with the band because Mary was babysitting me. “I like music, and there’s not much to do in February.”
He laughed, head back, then glanced around the cafeteria before looking at me again. “Gee, thanks. But I bet there’s more to do here in February than you realize.”
My gaze followed in the direction his head was tilting. Jeremy was standing over by the soda machine, his arms crossed. Glaring at us.
Whatever. “Like what?”
Zach grinned. “I’m just guessing.”
I drifted into Drawing class in a happy daze after a fun lunch with Zach followed by a Math Studies class in which I’d actually done well on a pop quiz. Reaching my table as the bell rang, I realized that Megan was missing, just like she’d been at lunch. Had Mr. Reiman shipped her off to Mr. Paymar’s office? Was she going to be booted from the art show?
Was I?
“Cat? Could I see you a moment after class?”
I glanced up into Mr. Reiman’s face. He didn’t exactly look happy, but why was I so worried? I hadn’t entered the art show in the first place!
Megan arrived, gave Mr. Reiman a meek little nod, and took her seat without a glance at me. Mr. Reiman was now standing at the front of the room with a blond guy with sparkling blue eyes and a weak chin who looked to be in his late twenties.
I almost said something to Megan but couldn’t decide what. Besides, I already had to see Mr. Reiman after class and didn’t need to rack up more detention points.
Mr. Reiman introduced the guy—a friend of his wife’s cousin’s nephew, or something—and told us it was time for us to work with live models. To work on portraits.
