“Poster’s ready to print! Milo, would you?” Fern had come over with the finished poster. She stood behind me as I looked it over. “Looks lovely, doesn’t it? It feels like it’s really happening. We’re going to have a formal.”
“Of course, it’s happening. And it’s going to be great,” Victoria assured her. “With you organizing, how can it be anything but?”
“I haven’t done all that much. Without the volunteers and Taylor—”
“Oh, Taylor.” Maria was dismissive.
“Didn’t we tell you? Once again, Fern ends up doing all the work—”
“If I’m going to be accused of doing any work at all, I’m going to need a pair of scissors.” Fern took my vacated seat. “Any questions, Milo?”
“You said one hundred copies, right?”
“That’s right. We can start putting them up immediately.”
With a feeling of misgiving, I went to the computer room. When I returned with the finished posters, it was to find that Fern, Maria and Victoria had vanished.
“For people who like to talk about how busy they are, they sure haven’t done a lot today.” Alexis snorted, putting down her scissors and reaching for the stack of posters. “Soon as these are up, I’m going home.” There was a general chorus of agreement from the Feministas.
“I signed up to help a good cause. Not hear how hard AP History is! If you struggle so much, why didn’t you just switch to history? It’s not rocket science!” Sarah Choi held out her hand for a pile of the posters. “Milo, let Fern know we left.”
“Do I get a choice?”
The slamming of the door answered that question.
The art kids who were working on the silhouettes stayed as long as they could before needing to leave to catch their train. By this time, me and the few remaining members of the drama society were almost done with tickets.
“You live locally, right, Milo?” Stacey stood. “You mind? It’s just that I’ve got a long commute—”
“Go ahead,” I said gloomily. After all, there was nothing waiting for me at home but a dark apartment and an empty sofa.
It was about half an hour after that, Fern returned. “What happened, Milo? Where is everyone?”
“They had to leave. Trains.” I took the opportunity to stretch. “Don’t you commute, Fern?”
Fern looked at the clock. A horrified expression crossed her face. “Fudge! I totally lost track of time— don’t laugh, Milo! This is serious! I’m not going to get home until after ten, and Daddy doesn’t want me using public transport alone that late at night!”
“I’m sorry, Fern, really I am.” I wiped tears out of my eyes. “But fudge?”
Fern put her hands on her hips and glared. “Be a bit more sensitive! I’m going to be in a lot— a lot of—” With the most undignified noise I’d ever heard her make, Fern dissolved into giggles.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said at last, when we’d both laughed ourselves out. “I shouldn’t be laughing at all.”
“You probably needed that more than you realized.”
“You might be right. Still, I don’t think Daddy’s going to be laughing.”
I lingered as Fern called her father. “Yes, I know— I’m really sorry! I was so busy I lost track. What? Well, I can ask, but I don’t know if the school will still be open when you get here.”
“You could wait at my place,” I offered.
“What? Oh, really? That would be wonderful! Did you hear that? Milo says I can go to his house— yes, he’s a boy, but— I don’t really think— all right, I’ll ask.” Fern cradled her cell phone against her blazer, making an “I’m so sorry” face at me. “Dad wants to know if your parents will be home.”
I shook my head. “Mom works nights.”
“It’s just Milo— no, Daddy! Absolutely not— this is the Milo who wrote the article! Yes— so can I please visit?” This time Fern’s grin was triumphant. “What’s your address?”
I gave it to her.
“No, that’s Taylor’s house— they’re neighbors. No, Taylor won’t be there. He’s in L.A. for the weekend— of course, I’m sure!” Finally, Fern was allowed to hang up. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m the only girl in the family. He gets a bit protective.”
“I’m just glad that you’re not going to meet my mom,” I said, praying I would be in time to clear the whiteboard of any embarrassing messages before Fern saw it. “Taylor’s in L.A.?”
“Oh! Fud—” Fern grimaced. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He’ll be back at school Monday.”
Not good. Our next publication date was Tuesday. “What’s he doing in L.A.?”
“He didn’t say. But why don’t we take the tickets with us? We can finish them while we wait for Daddy.”
****
“We’ve got hummus,” I reported from the kitchen. “And pita.” Was pita vegan? I squinted at the ingredients.
“I’m fine! You don’t need to feed me,” Fern called back from the lounge where I’d got her set up with scissors at the coffee table.
“You have to eat something!” I added a jar of olives to the tray I was making. This would have to do.
When I carried the food into the living room, I found Fern flipping through the yearbooks. “How did you get a copy of these? I thought only seniors—”
“One of the perks of the newspaper club,” I told her. “Since we organize it, we each get a copy.”
“We look so young, don’t we? It was only a few years ago, but already everyone’s grown up so much…” Fern spread some hummus onto her bread, looking at the pictures. “Look at Lily and me in chess club. You’d never recognize us now, would you?”
I took a piece of pita for myself. “You’re both so different,” I said slowly. “It’s hard to imagine you ever being friends.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Fern corrected me. “We both care a lot about the same issues— the environment, living sustainably, eliminating discrimination. We just approach it in different ways. Don’t tell anyone this, but under her hard exterior, Lily’s a big softie.”
“She fooled me.” I bit my lip. It wasn’t my place to ask, but I was curious. “Did you have a falling out? Over your different approaches?”
Fern shook her head. “I suppose we just… grew apart. It’s sad, but it happens sometimes. In freshman year, Lily was my only friend, but in sophomore year, I tried new things, met new people, and Lily… didn’t. I think she took it personally. The final straw was when I dropped chess club.” She sighed. “It’s really hard, trying to keep up with everything. In some ways, I miss freshman year. Life was a lot simpler then.”
“I don’t.” That had come out much more bitter than I’d anticipated. Before Fern could ask, I stood, making my way over to the TV. “How about a movie while we work?”
“Some Like it Hot? After all Taylor’s told me about it, I’m curious.”
I fumbled, almost dropping the DVD. “What? Taylor told you?”
“Yeah.” Fern beamed at me. “He told me the two of you watched it together his first night here.”
I swallowed. “Did he tell you why?” Not my script. The thought of anyone, even Fern, knowing about my script—
“You came over to see if he needed help with his homework and ended up staying.” Fern smirked. “And then ended up getting so distracted by the movie that you entirely forgot about the time. I think that’s really sweet— and so does Taylor. Did you know he’s watched it twice since then?”
I breathed out in relief. He hadn’t told— “He what?”
“He said the first time he ended up watching you instead of the movie, so he had to watch it again to see what he missed.” Fern sighed happily. “And the third time, he watched it to see it how you saw it. That’s so romantic.”
I stared at her.
“What’s the matter? Was that supposed to be secret?”
I shook my head. “Fern.” I made an abortive gesture with the remote. “I— Taylor doesn’t like me.”
“You’re kidding, right? Of course he does.”
“Did he say so?”
“Not explicitly. But it’s obvious, the way he talks about you. I’m serious, Milo.”
“So am I.” I sank into the nearest armchair, feeling dizzy. “You don’t understand— I ruined everything!” And before I quite knew what I was doing, I was spilling the entire saga of my ineptitude to Fern.
Fern was as good at listening as she was most things. “Once you explain to Taylor that you didn’t realize how your article could be taken out of context, he’ll forgive you,” she assured me, patting my arm. “Assuming he is even mad at you to start with.”
I groaned. I’d allowed myself to slide limply down the armchair and now rested against its base, my legs stretched out on the floor. “You didn’t see how he looked at me.”
“You haven’t heard how he talks about you when you’re not there.” Fern paused. “I’ve never seen anyone look so much like a limp noodle as you do now. Is that why your mom calls you Spaghetti-O?”
“Oh my god.” I’d forgotten the whiteboard.
****
Monday, I caught sight of a familiar black-suited figure lingering in the hall outside AP English, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Harper was back.
“Have you heard? Logan’s been banned from wrestling for the rest of the month.” The Feministas were crowded around a desk. I couldn’t see the occupant, but I was confident I knew who it was.
“That’s not all. I saw him Friday afternoon, with the custodian, picking up trash. Apparently, the principal’s calling it school service—”
“Like community service?”
Alexis nodded. “It’s supposed to make him more school minded.”
“Let’s drop the subject.” Taylor sounded just like he usually did. It was a relief, after all the time I’d invested into worrying that weekend, and I placed my books on my desk, letting the familiar cadence of his voice reassure me. “Logan’s been punished. Whether or not he learns from it is up to him, but we’re not helping matters by rehashing it. Tell me about the formal plans?”
“We’re a day behind. Tickets were supposed to go on sale at lunch today, but they weren’t ready—”
“Fern says they were, and that someone took them out of her bag. Personally, I think she never finished them—”
“She did,” I cut in. “I know because I helped her. We finished them at my place after you all went home.”
Alexis, Sarah Choi and the others all stared at me. “But that still makes no sense. Who would steal tickets?”
“Maybe she lost them and couldn’t say,” Sarah Choi suggested. “She got sent to the nurse during first period. Stacey has Japanese with her; she said Fern looked awful—”
“We’d better do our best to make sure the tickets don’t cause her any stress then,” Taylor said. “I’ve got a copy of Fern’s master document. We’ll have an emergency meeting after school. If we all pitch in, we can make this happen.”
It was the way he said it, his implicit confidence that we would not let him down. Nobody could say no to that tone. Nobody did.
Logan scowled as he entered the room and saw Taylor present. There was a moment’s pause, and then he chose the row that Taylor’s chair was on to swagger down, making a point of bumping into it. Taylor didn’t react, but Logan’s action did not go unnoticed.
“How immature.” Sarah Choi frowned.
“Seriously. What does he think this is— elementary school?” Alexis tossed her braids scornfully.
Logan bristled. “I fight my own battles! I’m not the one hiding behind a bunch of girls.”
“Two things,” Taylor said, calmly setting his binder on the desk. “Before you accuse me of hiding behind my friends, remember I saw you without yours in the principal’s office, and you were not nearly this tough. Second, you’re either implying that women are less capable of defending themselves than men, or that you consider them inferior— neither of which is an opinion I would be proud of.”
In the pause that followed, every girl in the class turned to look at Logan.
Mr. Perry cleared his throat. “Before Logan says anything else he may regret, perhaps we should turn to today’s worksheet— the women of Wuthering Heights and what we think Brontë communicates about gender roles in her work.”
I opened my binder, but I couldn’t concentrate. Tucked amongst my notes was my front-page article for the paper and something that had been even more difficult to write— a formal invitation for Taylor. I glanced across the room at him.
Taylor listened to Mr. Perry, but as if he felt my gaze, he looked up at me. Our eyes met for an instant, and then he turned back to the class, leaving me infused with a happy glow. How had I ever imagined this was professional interest? If Fern was right and Taylor felt the same way—
As the bell rang and as our classmates filed out the door, I caught Taylor’s arm. “Can I talk to you a moment?”
He nodded to Emily. “I’ll catch up with you. Well?”
I held out my article. The formal invite was mixed in with the papers. “My article for tomorrow’s paper. I thought you might like to see it before I give it to Candice.”
Taylor’s fingers bumped mine briefly as he took the papers. “Students Rally Around Class President?”
I fought the urge to blush, looking down at the desk between us. “Candice decided to do an issue exploring discrimination at Bernhardt. I thought I’d offset the negativity by concentrating on something positive.”
“And that something is me?” I head the rustle of papers. “You make it sound like I’m the center of everyone’s attention.”
I nodded. Logan and his friends would think twice about messing with Taylor if they thought they’d be observed. “Going from new kid and knowing no one to class president, you’re kind of an inspiration.”
“Really.” Something in Taylor’s tone— I looked up, but was not in time to catch his expression. “You’re hanging out with Fern now?”
“After the formal committee meeting Friday.” I watched as Taylor’s grip tightened around the papers. “The next page—”
“I’ve read enough.” Taylor took the papers and ripped.
It felt like I’d been slapped. “Taylor! You can’t—”
“Watch me.” Taylor put both halves of the paper together and tore again. “You’re very good at manipulating public opinion, Milo, but I haven’t forgotten how you talked down the Spirit Squad when we first met— and here you are, best of friends with Fern and Declan.” He ripped the remaining quarters once more and threw the pieces at the bin. “Thanks to me.”
I watched helplessly. “That’s not it at all—”
“For the good of the school?” Taylor’s smile was thin. “I actually believed you meant that. And all the time, this was your plan.” He turned, picking up his bag. “It ends here. You want to be popular so badly, fine. Just don’t use me.”
It wasn’t until he had reached the door that my body caught up to the instructions my mind was screeching at it. I stumbled after him, reaching for his arm. “Taylor! You’ve got everything wrong—”
I collided with a wall.
Mr. Harper blocked my way, his hand on my arm, unmoving. “None of that,” he said. “You want to calm down.”
I was too stunned to respond, only dimly aware that the students in the hall had stopped to stare.
Taylor paused, not looking back. “When we first met, I didn’t think my opinion of you could get any lower. Guess I was wrong.” He walked away.
My head spun, and my knees shook. I shook myself free of Mr. Harper’s arm, staggering toward the bathroom. I was going to be sick.
****
My day did not get better.
Jordan turned up to the cafeteria with a pizza box decorated with ribbons. “This is full of cheese, but Stacey, be my formal date, please?”
Stacey squealed, setting off a chain reaction of screaming that brought the cafeteria to a standsti
ll. “Oh my god, Jordan, I can’t believe you! Yes!”
“Disgusting,” Lily said. “I am going to physically vomit.”
I smiled wanly. I had only managed a bite of my apple before realizing that food was not happening for me today. “If Stacey actually eats that pizza, you won’t be the only one. Isn’t she lactose intolerant?”
Lily brightened. “I’d totally forgotten. Thanks, Milo.”
I bit my lip. Before Jordan had been picked for the JV team, he’d been dating Lily. “Are you— um.”
“Fine,” Lily said. “These artificial social constructs are interesting from an anthropological perspective— but not much else. Dressing up an excuse to flaunt how much happier you are than your peers in the guise of supporting charity? Count me out.”
“The shelter’s a genuinely good cause.”
“So I’ll donate my time as a volunteer. Get more out of it that way than standing around all night regretting my life choices.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
Lily had picked up her iPod, and now she put it down. “You can’t say that. You and Boomer were easily the most sickening thing to happen at homecoming.”
I looked over to the Spirit Squad table. “Yeah. We were pretty gross.”
“You’re not supposed to agree with me.” Lily hesitated, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. “You don’t— miss him at all?”
I looked down at my apple. “Not as much as you’d think. We were such an easy fit… But then he ended it so easily, I just— can’t imagine myself feeling the same way about him again.”
“Brutal.”
“Honestly? I’m glad it— we happened. You don’t want to know how long I spent wondering how he felt and if I’d ever have the guts to say something. Doing it, actually making the move…” I pressed my mouth together. It wasn’t Boomer I was thinking of. “If I hadn’t done that, I might still be chasing a ‘never going to happen.’ For that reason alone, it was a good thing.”
I expected something bitter. Instead Lily bit her lip. “So if there was someone you knew that you had no chance with— way, way above your level, smarter, tougher, cooler, everything you wish you were and aren’t, someone with no reason to want to go with you— and you knew that but still?”
I grimaced. Taylor? “It’d be really hypocritical of me not to say go for it. You’ll never know unless you do. And since I think I turned my own stomach with that, I’m gonna go.”
The Biggest Scoop Page 11