Cameo

by Tanille Edwards

  He pulled out a wrinkle-free photocopy from his backpack. “‘The Road Not Taken’ by Frost. It’s supposed to be on the first half of the final.”

  “I know the poem.” I pushed the poem away. I figured it was his original. To confess, a tiny part of me was struck by the fact that he took AP English.

  “This is an extra copy I made. You can keep it,” he said.

  “Can I really?” I said. I meant to be sarcastic, but I don’t know if he caught that.

  For the next hour and a half, I brainstormed, he took immaculate notes, and we both researched. I tried my best to play it cool even when his hand occasionally touched mine for no reason at all—if you call reaching for the same magazine at the same time no reason. Usually, my personal wall was like the Great Wall of China. I wasn’t sure if he liked me or didn’t like me. I had no idea how to act, so I acted platonic … way platonic.

  “So what’s the deal with the chess set?” he asked.

  “You play?” I asked.

  He laughed.

  I remember so well because his smile for a moment felt like it was just for me.

  “You?” He asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve been known to win a few games,” I said.

  He leaned in so close to me I could smell his cologne.

  “You want to?” he asked.

  I leaned back just enough not to be sucked into his puppy dog eyes. “There’s a game going on.” I wasn’t sure how to put it without sounding strange, yet at this point I figured he already thought that.

  “My mom and I keep a game going. We usually move our pieces while the other person is doing something else.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s our thing.”

  He shook his head in agreement. “I used to have a thing … with a girl, not my parents.”

  “You’re the one that asked me to play. You say that as if you’re the one slumming? I have a 3.7 GPA so, yeah, maybe I don’t have a boyfriend, but I invited you to my house. How dare you say that to me?” I could see the wheels in his head turning. He was insulted, as he should’ve been.

  “I’m going to go,” he said.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  He packed his books and walked to the door.

  I walked several steps behind him. I could feel my heart rate drop. Before he opened the door, he turned to me quickly. For a second, I lost my breath. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. I put my hand on his chest. His heart was racing. Good. He was nervous too. Was he going to kiss me? Of course I waited like an idiot to find out, like I had no choice in the matter. He snagged a marker from his backpack and ripped the lid off with his teeth. He wrote on my hand. I looked down to read the … word? Seemed like he was a writing an entire letter. I bit my lips to keep from laughing. It tickled a little.

  SORRY is all he wrote. I looked up to find him staring at me, waiting for approval. I could feel myself becoming flushed. Every bone in my body wanted to slam him against the door and kiss the heck out him. Instead, I grabbed his arm.

  “It’s okay. I overreacted.”

  He gave me the head nod. What did that mean? Was I feeling more out of my league than ever or what? He opened the door, and I let him walk out. On his way to the curb, he turned around.

  “So maybe I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said.

  I tried my best not to show every tooth in my mouth. “Don’t smile. Somebody might think you actually like me,” he continued. I thought I was going to choke on my own saliva.

  I stood there on my porch in shock as he drove away in his red Mustang. I kept wondering what was next. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I took a deep breath and slammed the front door behind me.

  I snagged my Undercover Starlet™ journal to tell somebody about my day. My journal was the only place I was sure a secret could be safe. Before I could put pen to paper, my cell phone was ringing. I knew it could only be one of two people: my mom or Cindy. As I picked up the phone, I recalled the days when I had spent all afternoon text messaging girls I had just met at some party who became my fast friends. I was having popularity withdrawal, which I quickly snapped out of at the sound of my mother’s high-pitched voice.

  “Nia! Hello. I can’t stay long, honey. I’m just calling to check in. Where are you?” she asked.

  “Home,” I said. That was smart. I should think before I speak sometimes.

  “What!” There it was, more of the high-pitched, I’m-in-mortal-shock tone of voice. “I specifically told you, young lady, to go to your grandparents’.”

  I guess this wouldn’t be the time to tell her I had already had a study appointment with Jason and couldn’t break it. “Cindy is coming over right now. You said I could go to her house.”

  “I don’t want to hear another word about this. When I call you after my next appointment, you had better be at your grandparents’. You understand? Or your cell phone and your cable and your closet are off limits!”

  The way she said “off limits” reminded me of one of those deep-voiced villains from those fantasy flicks. She sounded so omnipotent, like if you didn’t follow her orders, she would somehow know.

  “Can I sleep at Cindy’s tonight?”

  There was a long silence.

  “Mom, are you there?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m here. You can stay at Cindy’s. But be there when I call, otherwise there’s going to be a problem,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I love you,” she said. These were the moments where I challenged parental law. How could you love someone you wanted to completely dominate?

  “Goodbye, Mom.” I could hear her sigh on the other end right before I hung up.

  The sun was about to set. And although I thought my mother was a little paranoid, there could be no pranks tonight or I would be dead meat. I could hear her telling my dad about how I disobeyed her and the house got toilet-papered or something. No one could know I was home alone. Unless Cindy told someone? Or if she invited some people over. That was so her M.O. I was torn between closing all the shades and dialing Cindy. Good thing I had voice dialing and speaker phone on my cell, so I could multitask.

  “Cin, did you tell anyone my mom wasn’t home?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “I know it’s weird, but can you just answer the question?” I said.

  “Whatever. Do you think of me as a blabbermouth? Because I so am not. I never told anybody about your crush on Jaden.”

  “You swore never to mention that. It wasn’t a crush. It was a momentary lapse of judgment.” Jaden was this super tall, geeky type of boy who was kind of annoying. Kids either liked him or hated him. All he did was crack jokes about people. He had liked me since junior year and, for like one day, in a desperate, post-Craig moment, I had thought I liked him. After I thought about telling him, I realized I found him annoying. He was too silly and immature. What reasonable boy blows spit balls and pranks people with whoopee cushions?

  “Whatever. I can’t let your cloud of negativity get me down because I have some rad news.” Occasionally, Cindy took a trip to the valley to learn “slang.” I went to the front windows to close the curtains. That’s when I saw this girl standing by a tree across the street. She took out a mirror and shined a reflection of the sun into the window.

  “Okay, Cin, tell me when you see me. Bye.” I hung up abruptly. I moved to the windows in the dining room. She was there, but she was on the other side of the tree with that same mirror, now reflecting the sun into the dining room window. What was she doing? Trying to burn a hole in the glass? She turned around. I had to admit those big Jackie O–style glasses were to die for. But what the heck was she doing standing on the street dressed to the nines? She waved at me, and I quickly shut the curtains. This was not good. This was so not good.

  The doorbell rang. My breathing became intense, like when I thought you-know-who was going to you-know-what me on the lips (I’m trying to block that memory of him, with hop
es of this not turning into a full-blown crush). I slowly looked through the peep hole. Nothing! No one was there. I thought of pressing the panic button on the alarm. I ripped the cordless phone base out from the wall in the living room to use as a weapon. The bell rang again. Then my cell phone started to ring. So this creep had my cell phone number.

  I lifted the cordless phone and heavy base over my head and swung the door open. I jumped out. And there was Cindy, standing at the door dressed in a white skirt and a shirt like the girl across the street.

  “What the hell are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?” I yelled.

  “Excuse me? Do not go ballistic on me. I had to walk here. See, my dad let his car run out of oil. His engine has some problems, so he confiscated my car to run that one into the ground as well,” she explained.

  Although it sounded real brutal and all, I had bigger problems. “Get inside quick.” I searched the street to see if anyone was watching. Something was coming. I could feel it. “Were you standing across the street?”

  “Whatever, I just got here.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Shouldn’t I ask you why you are holding the phone over your head?”

  “You tell me. If you’re part of some prank, you better tell me now. I hate weird surprises. I am not kidding. I will not speak to you again if you …”

  “Are you threatening not to speak to me? I’ve told you things not even my mother knows. She thinks she’s my best friend. I’m practically betraying her by telling you.”

  “Talk about shallow.”

  “I’m not shallow,” Cindy said.

  “Right,” I said.

  “You talk a real good game, Nia, but you’re acting pretty shady. I don’t know anything about a prank. What do I look like? If it doesn’t involve a fine guy, I’m not wasting my extracurricular time on it. Any best friend of mine would know that!” she said.

  “I knew it. The poem, the bodyguard act, the hand holding, Jason liking me all of a sudden is some kind of hoax.”

  “Jason likes you?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Someone is punking me.”

  “Why would somebody do that?”

  “Are you wearing a hat?”

  “Um, by the lack of one on my head, I’d have to go with no on that one.” Cindy was the only person I knew who was more sarcastic than I was.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “I’m not punking you. Get that in your head. And I’m appalled that you think I would do something like that to you without telling you about it.”

  I plopped down on the couch and threw my head into my hands. “What if it’s Carolina?” I said.

  “Hmmm. What is she doing to you exactly?” Cindy asked.

  I nervously flipped my hair around. Just the thought of Carolina having any power over me made my blood boil. I didn’t even know if she had the brains to do something like this. “I slipped on some Kool-Aid in the bathroom while someone held the door shut right before lunch.”

  “What! Who even touches Kool-Aid! That is so ’80s. Besides the fact that it doesn’t have any vitamins. No wonder she’s gross. She’s malnourished,” Cindy said.

  “Oh, gosh!” I said.

  “Then again, she doesn’t have the wherewithal to put something like this together. It’s too complicated for her. Look how basic her insults are,” Cindy said.

  “Since when did we start measuring intelligence by the intricacy of one’s insults?”

  “FYI, she couldn’t get Jason to do anything. Especially not fake-like you. Nia and Jason sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” Cindy added.

  If she only knew the half of it. “There will be none of that.”

  “There might be if he shows up to the party tonight.”

  “I knew it!” I shouted.

  “Who told you?” she asked.

  I was careful not to accuse Cindy. This time she was going to admit it. “A little birdie.”

  “So you want to go?”

  “Well, how could I not go?” Especially if it was going to be at my house.

  “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

  “Maybe. You’re not expecting me to play hostess, are you?” I couldn’t believe I was entertaining this.

  “You’re not making any sense. Peter is hosting. I fully intend on being with Peter the whole night, but not as a hostess.”

  “I have to stay over your house tonight.”

  “It’s cool. Just make sure you don’t dress like that.”

  We made our way up to my bedroom. “Turn on the hallway light,” I said. “Why are you so scary about everything?” she asked.

  “Look, I said I was never going to go to any of these popular circuit parties again. If there’s anything to be scared about, it’s that!”

  “Just think of it as a favor to Jason.”

  “And will Roger be there?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “I think he’s sort of eccentric. I mean, he’s nice,” I said.

  “Yuck! He’s like a techie,” she said.

  “Appearances can be deceiving. I’m learning. He could be some undercover hottie,” I said.

  Cindy burst into laughter. I sifted through my segregated closet. One side was sexy, with my boyfriend-type gear, and the other side was I’m-cute-in-my-skinny-jeans-and-fitted-sweatshirt type of gear. I wore the sweatshirt-type gear nearly every day.

  “No jeans, lover girl. It’s all about the dress. Fluffy at the bottom to leave something to the imagination and super tight at the top. I say that if you can bounce a quarter off your belly, you got to show it off. It’s all about the waist!” Cindy said.

  She wanted to be a fashion editor at a teen magazine. Her sole purpose in life was to tell people how to dress for the season. I pulled out a hot black dress I had worn out with Craig once for our two-week anniversary.

  “I’m in.”

  I wanted to see Jason’s face when he saw me in that dress. Though I hadn’t forgotten how he hadn’t called me that summer. It felt like I was holding on more than remembering. Hadn’t he apologized? Too bad. I couldn’t just unleash myself and throw myself into his arms.

  Chapter 5

  “You are so kidding me,” Cindy said.

  “No, I would never kid about gossip, cross my heart and hope to die. Peter smiled when he found out that you said you were coming. It is a must hook-up,” Jane said.

  “PG, of course … for tonight, maybe,” Cindy said, as if she had actually thought about how far she would go. They called Cindy and Jane the Gossip Mafia. Jane had better intelligence sources than the CIA, and Cindy always got the word on corroborating evidence to support Jane’s gossip.

  They had met in freshman year when they had both tried out for the school drill team, until they realized that the team did not practice anywhere near the basketball team. Add to that the fact that practice was a grueling three hours each day with social bottom feeders as the boy assistants to the team. It was more than enough to make them ditch the tryouts. They clicked instantly, Cindy says. Me? I was just an innocent bystander—a friend, if you will. When I hung with them, it was less of the Nia show and more of the circuit news. I used to love it when I dated a boy who was hot on the circuit, but now I was just an observer. People just started calling them the Gossip Mafia. It could’ve been because that’s how they signed the original morning text messages: BY GOSSIP MAFIA.

  Anyone who was anyone in school got the morning gossip text, and all you did was pray your name wasn’t in it. Of course, anyone who replied back to retaliate against any of the accusations of lust and betrayal would only incite more flagrant news about them the following morning and their phone number would somehow get deleted from the forward list. Eventually, word spread not to respond when you received the gossip text, as it could never result in anything pleasant. Jane was sweet, though. She was the type of clever girl who never bought the shirt she tried on at a store. She always put that one
back and got a new one in the same size to take home. She was the only person I knew who had an official jaywalking strategy. She only stood off the curb when attempting to jaywalk if she was standing behind someone else who took all the risk out of getting hit if a car jumped the curb because they were in front. Whoever heard of a jaywalking strategy? Jane was creative.

  “Thanks again, Jane, for the blended latte!” I said.

  “Oh, no worries. You’re gonna need it if this is your first rendezvous on a weeknight since …” Jane said.

  She looked at Cindy and whispered, “Is it cool to mention his name now, or are we still all mum’s the word since, you know, the Craig thing?”

  Cindy looked at me. I shrugged like it was cool. Cindy tried to inconspicuously nod her head to tip Jane off.

  “Great! This brings me to my latest and greatest piece of meat,” Jane said.

  Cindy gasped. Were they drama queens or what?

  “So, the word is …” Jane paused to take a sip of her latte. Cindy and I waited in anticipation. “Michelle wants to break up with Craig.”

  “No! She was just bragging about him in our section of the hall. Where did you get your info?” Cindy asked.

  “Swear not to tell anyone,” Jane said.

  Cindy looked at me, and I knew she would swear not to tell anyone but she would dare to tell everyone. That was kind of their thing. They liked to pretend that the gossip was sacred, but we all knew Jane would begin texting that to everyone in the morning.

  “Swear,” Cindy said.

  “Lucy was whispering it to someone in the D3 bathroom,” Jane said.

  D3 was, like, this half floor where the girls’ gym class was.

  “Check it. We’re about to roll up to this party in an over-priced foreign sports utility vehicle, dressed like supermodels,” Cindy said.

  “I’m poised for a comeback,” I said.

  “In that outfit? I’d say it’s going to be epic,” Cindy said.

  I took a deep breath. I hoped I was ready for this. Jane jammed the breaks on her SUV in front of the house. My mouth dropped open maybe two nanoseconds before Cindy’s.

  “What is she doing?” Cindy was as serious as a high school senior being interviewed for the college of her dreams, though even then she probably wouldn’t have sounded so direct.