Anyway, to prevent another public offering of my private information, I slipped the note into my bra strap.
“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Cindy said.
I snapped my finger in Cindy’s face and said, “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Cindy and I both laughed.
“Shhh!” Mr. Sui said.
The morning announcements started on the PA system. In a few moments, Cindy would become bored of this note and start to check her morning text messages—at least, that’s what I was hoping for. Cindy had girlfriends who spilled their guts about their romp fests to her via text and guy friends who sent her offers for after-school dates via text. She had a busy inbox. There were some guys she liked and some guys that only wished she liked them. So most of those offers went unanswered, but they made good topics of conversation.
I quietly dragged the note from my bosom—as if! Anyway, the note said: “Check the basement at 4 p.m. They who wears a white hat and has taken from you that which they fear, you have re-gained only to shame them will make a Cameo.”
I was sure this had been written by Taekwondo Girl. It was in her same proverb speech pattern. Weird. She must be in this homeroom. Cindy would know. I slipped the note in my back pants pocket.
“Listen, do you know anyone who speaks like a prophet?”
“No. Why?” Cindy asked.
I shrugged, and stood up. Homeroom was going to be over in 30 seconds. Jason started walking toward me when Cindy snatched the note from my back pocket.
“You should keep your jeans baggy if you don’t want every crease or note imprint to show,” Cindy said.
Jason and I stood in each other’s presence without saying a word. I couldn’t read what he was thinking.
“All right,” I said.
I picked up my lone book and left, but not before grabbing the note back from Cindy. Jason followed behind me.
“What makes you think I didn’t let you see that note?” I texted Cindy.
Jason and I continued down the hall, side by side, like an item.
“I hope you know I have no idea where we’re going since I’m walking you to class,” he said.
“I’ll hold your hand to make sure you don’t lose your way,” I said.
“Make sure you want to,” he said.
“Who gave you the note?” Cindy texted.
Unfortunately, I had to let go of his hand to text back. I knew he might not like that, but such is life. “Just on my desk. Ever heard of a popular society that initiates freshmen?” I texted.
“Where did you hear that?” she texted right back.
“Don’t know,” I texted.
“Want to check out?” she texted.
“Think I have to,” I texted.
“What do you mean?” she texted.
“Will explain later,” I texted. I put my phone away. Jason took my hand back.
I was trying to figure out what to say. “Here it is,” I said.
I stopped just shy of the classroom door. As I faced him, I noticed something strange in my eye line. Right across from the classroom door was the word “Cameo” written in red lipstick. I tapped Jason on the shoulder. I couldn’t take my eyes off the writing on the wall. This was downright peculiar.
“Do you see that, babe?”
First he looked at me strangely, and then he turned around to the wall. I couldn’t believe I had the guts to call him “babe.” I could feel my heart fluttering.
“Why does it say ‘Cameo’? Like that song?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
The second bell rang, and that meant it was time to get to class.
“Guess she’s found herself another sucker,” Lucy said.
“Uh, ew-u. Why does every boy want to slum for her?” Michelle asked Lucy.
Jason looked at them angrily.
“She is such a creep,” I said.
“I’m late, and you’re late. I’ll meet you back here, babe.” He winked at me. I laughed. The wink was so cheesy. Not that I was judging him. I was more amused than anything.
Most girls had a boyfriend, went to prom, and lived happily ever after … until summer, that is. Summer always changed relationships. Summer was on its way. Why were we starting this thing up?
Did everything in my life have to be so complicated?
Chapter 7
The day was all too long. Cindy was missing from lunch. I had to sit with some of my AP English classmates. All they talked about was their parents. They quoted their mothers’ every word. Their mom liked this and that. Why did their mom think she could shop at Forever 21? Why did she hate their boyfriend? Whatever, whatever. I had my share of complaints about my trendy mom, but there were far more interesting things to do at lunch than talk about my parents. For one thing, I was bursting at the seams with this “Cameo” secret. And then there was the whole Jason thing. Plus, I wanted to discuss the strategy for 4 p.m. I started to text the whole thing to Cindy after I thought up the name “Project Cameo.” I was even writing in spy code: “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is simple. At 1600 hours you will …” etc., etc., etc.
Fortunately, I remembered that a real spy would never leave a paper trail. The last thing I needed was some trouble getting my cap and gown or a big question mark above my name in the yearbook because Cindy had forwarded the message to a few of her other friends. Sometimes Cindy was a little unpredictable. Plus, Jane had a habit of rifling through Cindy’s cell phone during gym class while the teacher took attendance.
It was 2:05 p.m. Jason should’ve been there to meet me five minutes ago. Conveniently enough, I didn’t know his class schedule. But it was less than two months to graduation; it would be silly to try to learn it now. It was better for him to be concerned with my schedule instead.
I had two hours to kill before the mission. Suddenly, these really big, warm hands covered my eyes. “Guess who?”
“I don’t know. Is it the guy who was supposed to be here five minutes ago?”
“It is if he is talking to the girl who won’t cut him any slack.”
I definitely heard Jason. He let his hands down and met me with an unmistakably gorgeous smile.
“My last teacher wanted to go over my term project with me,” he said.
My cell phone buzzed.
“What are you doing?” Cindy texted.
“In hall,” I texted.
“Meet front entrance 3:45,” she texted.
“Inside building,” I texted.
“Who u wit,” Cindy texted.
“New beau.”
“Ew-u, beau so last semester.”
“Feeling nostalgic.”
Jason rubbed elbows with me.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked.
“You have practice today.”
“Word. At three,” he said.
“Let’s get smoothies,” I said.
“You seem like more of a frappuccino girl to me,” he said.
“Ah, you have a lot to learn,” I said. That was my best try at sounding mysterious.
“Can we meet earlier, will be free at 3,” I texted Cindy.
“Who are you texting?” Jason asked.
“Were you looking over my shoulder? You know I have privacy issues as it is,” I said. I put my hand on his broad chest and pushed him away from me. “It was just Cindy,” I said. “Babe,” I added. Then I laughed. It was all so odd.
“You know, I like it when you call me that,” he said.
Was that a joke? I hated it when guys said things like they were jokes but really meant them. It was their sly way of seeing your reaction to how they really felt.
Although we’d just shared our likes and dislikes and hobbies and all that getting-to-know-you stuff at the pizza joint/smoothie palace around the corner, I wasn’t ready to kiss him yet. I’m sure Cindy knew far less about Peter before she had gotten entangled with him, yet I was kind of prudis
h, I guess. I hate that word—prude—it reminded me of a prune, all dried up and wrinkly.
I was about to be bum-rushed by every student celebrating the final school bell of the day in two minutes. Jason and I stood silently in the quiet hallway.
“Well, thanks for lunch.”
“Lunch?” Apparently that was the wrong term in his book.
“A snack,” I corrected myself.
“So can I pick you up tomorrow?” he asked.
I waited five seconds before I answered to add to my mysterious demeanor. “I guess that could work,” I said.
“Guess?”
“That’s right. I guess. Babe,” I said.
“Nia!” Cindy yelled from the other end of the hallway as she spearheaded the student body walking behind her toward the exit. Oh, gosh. I watched his every move as he came closer to me, pretending I didn’t hear Cindy calling me. I found myself leaning back away from him. He came very close to my face. I put my hand on his cheek. I closed my eyes and held my breath. He kissed my cheek.
“Relax,” he said.
I was disappointed. The heck with that stupid note, I wanted to spend the whole afternoon with him. But this was yet another way to burn out a relationship, spending too much time with your boyfriend. I watched Cindy gallop down the hallway after she’d gotten an eyeful of Jason and me. Jason looked at his watch. Cindy waited for me at our locker.
“I’m going to walk you to your locker.”
“Okay,” I said.
He put his arm around me while the crowds of kids passed us. I guessed anybody who didn’t know before would know now.
“This is official. Right?”
Was he asking me or telling me? “If you’re asking, then, yeah, we’re official,” I said.
“Are you hanging around school?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Why?”
“I could’ve given you a ride home.”
Had I just lied to my boyfriend? That must be a record—they were going out for sixty seconds before she lied to him. Ever notice that when you tell a small lie, it feels like you’ve left your body just for the part of the conversation that was the lie and returned just in time for the truth? It’s like when I said “no,” I didn’t really say “no.” I wouldn’t lie to my boyfriend.
“Well, I might be around for a few minutes, you know, but … uh … I won’t be here that late. I’ll get a ride with Cindy,” I said.
“So I’ll call you tomorrow to pick you up.”
“Yes. Bye.” I smiled.
I turned to Cindy who was soaking up every moment of this. I couldn’t shake the smile off my face.
“In case you didn’t realize it, you are now part of the after-school report,” Cindy said.
“What after-school report?” I asked.
“We just started it last week for seniors only. It’s the 411 on everything prom. According to this, you may be back in the running for prom queen. An anonymous person is encouraging people to submit you for the write-in vote,” Cindy said.
I jerked her arm to see what she was talking about. “This is unreal.” I took her phone out of her hand, hit reply, and started to type: “Nia is not going to prom. She’s boycotting it. Do not vote for her. Rumors about her new boyfriend aren’t true.” I pressed send.
“What did you just do?” Cindy was in utter disbelief.
“I’m ensuring that I will not be thrown back onto the popularity bandwagon for one last ride. Having a popular boyfriend suddenly makes me eligible again to be prom queen. It’s absurd!”
“I can’t believe you did that from my phone,” Cindy said.
“How am I supposed to know that you didn’t want me to do that? You were the one dangling your cell phone with the afternoon report on it in front of me. You owe me this. I let you in on the popular secret society stuff.”
Cindy got quiet. She looked down the hallway. The multitude of kids had thinned down to a handful of individuals casually strolling along.
Cindy pulled me to the side. She looked behind her. Then she looked both ways down the hall. She waited for some underclassmen to pass us by before she uttered a word. “You didn’t tell anyone about this, did you?” she whispered.
“No. Did you?” I asked.
“Of course not. Now, I may dibble and dabble in the gossip mill, but I don’t want to be dragged underneath it. There are certain lines you just don’t cross,” Cindy said.
Dibble and dabble. Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? She was the Gossip Mafia. The text I had sent from her phone would be in the morning text probably at the top of the page as an answer to this new after-school report.
“Forget this prom queen nonsense. Let’s get a move on. Where were you at lunch today?” I led the way to the point of the mission: namely, the basement.
“With Peter.”
“Really, are you guys …?” I asked.
“Yup, pretty much like you and Jason. At least until prom anyway. I’m an independent girl. Who knows whom the summer will bring,” Cindy said.
“Yesterday I wouldn’t even admit I liked Jason, and today I’m calling him babe,” I said. I was even smitten that he liked it.
“Like you never thought you two would end up together,” Cindy said.
“I just got wind of this popular society thing like yesterday. I’ve been thinking about it. It’s like if you’re not inducted into it in freshman year, you’re left in social limbo for the rest of your years here! Unless you date a popular guy. That’s the only loophole. It’s completely ridiculous,” I said.
“Is it? I mean I don’t mind going to all the hot parties and dating the guys with the best cars,” Cindy said.
I had realized that there were many issues on which Cindy and I wouldn’t see eye to eye. I found myself with nothing more to say. There was no further delaying the upcoming task. I checked my cell phone for the time. It would take us nearly half an hour to navigate through the dark, dingy basement quietly in heels. You could barely see anything with the cheap fluorescent lights they put down there.
“We should’ve put on our gym sneakers.”
“I don’t think so. What if someone saw me looking like one of those athletic girls?” Cindy said.
We went quietly down the back staircase—the staircase behind the main staircase. No one ever used it. Good thing, because if anyone spotted us in the basement they would definitely wonder what we were doing there. No one went to the basement without a reason, which led me to wonder: Whoever these secret society people were, how were they getting to the basement?
“Do you think they take the elevator down here?” I whispered to Cindy.
It was weird. The basement was like two flights down from the main floor—kind of scary, actually. Why was it so far underground, like a bomb shelter? Probably another reason why it was so undesirable to go down there.
“Why are you saying ‘they’? That note referred to one person, as I remember,” Cindy said.
“A society implies more than one member,” I said sarcastically.
I was starting to think I had brought the wrong person along for the job. “Did you ask anyone if they knew anything about this?” I asked.
“No,” Cindy sighed, disappointed. “Why?” she continued.
“Well, we need to know where to look. The note was vague. Is it on the east side of the building or the west side? We can’t just go walking through the center of the basement, because if someone comes, we’ll be in plain sight,” I said.
“True. But what if the person coming is one of them?” Cindy said.
“Precisely! I knew I brought you along for a reason,” I said.
“Whatever. I don’t know the deal on this society, but I have heard of two girls being blacked out from the yearbook in the past three years,” Cindy said.
“Well, they sought me out. I’m not trying to blow the whistle.” I couldn’t believe I had just stolen a cliché from Taekwondo Girl.
“Could you say it any lo
uder?” Cindy said.
“It’s one of the members who’s following me and doing scary stuff,” I whispered.
“Like what?”
“That sticky Kool-Aid in the bathroom. ‘Cameo’ in red lipstick on the wall across from my bio class. Do you need more?”
“So you think this is connected to the person you saw in your house?”
“Of course!”
We slowly crept through the stairwell. Cindy pointed to the door. We hid behind the stairwell door. Cindy pushed me in front of her. If there was a sacrifice to be made, it was clear who was going first.
“What if we stay in the stairwell and follow someone to the meeting? I mean, freshmen are so clueless, they wouldn’t think to look back behind them to see if we were following them,” I said.
“You’re so right,” Cindy said.
My cell phone started to ring. I quickly whipped it out of my pocket and flipped through the modes to turn it on silent. Why were there five modes to go through before you reached silent? Shouldn’t they prioritize that list by most commonly used? By the time I did activate the silent mode, my phone had stopped ringing.
“Hear that?” Cindy texted.
Plunk, plunk, plunk went the sounds of someone’s big feet as they hit the steps. Someone was on their way to the basement.
“Is that one?” I texted.
“Wait and see,” she responded.
It was all so covert and operative-like, ducking down near the staircase door so no one could see us and then having to constantly check my cell phone for messages.
“Society,” she texted.
“No,” I texted. This kid was such an oddball. He had red, wiry hair, braces, chapped lips, a hunched back, and he was like seven feet tall.
“I think so. He’s on a team.” Cindy was becoming insistent. Most of the popular guys in our class were cute even in freshmen year.
We followed the freshman out of the stairwell and down the hall. The basement was architecturally structured like a hospital. It was made up of four long hallways that created a rectangle with a connecting hallway in the middle. Between that and the pale green on the walls, that place had “institution” written all over it. I couldn’t believe this kid didn’t suspect anything. If I were a member of a secret society, I would double and triple check to make sure no one saw me doing anything—not even breathing funny, let alone walking to a meeting. This guy hadn’t looked over his shoulder once. Good for us. We were able to covertly follow him down the hall. Walking quietly in heels was an art.
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