by Piper Banks
Finally, when I’d finished, I looked at Hannah. “So? What do you think?” I asked.
“I think she sounds like a complete psycho,” Hannah said.
“My mom said pretty much the same thing,” I said. “But even if that’s true, there’s nothing I can do about it, right? Charlie and Finn don’t see her for what she is. And her short story has already been chosen for The Ampersand. It’s not like I can undo that.”
“That’s the really sketchy part,” Hannah said. “Well, no, I take that back. Everything she’s doing sounds sketchy. But the short story is the part that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does. It’s one more thing for her to copy from me. Remember how you noticed that Nora was dressing the same as me? She even bought exact duplicates of some of my clothes. Becoming a writer for The Ampersand was just the next step,” I argued.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Of course she submitted her story because she knew you wanted to get yours published. But the question is, Where did she get her story from?” Hannah asked. “Do you really think she just wrote it overnight?”
“It must have been something Nora had been working on,” I said.
“That Nora never mentioned to you? Not once? Not even when you told her that you write?” Hannah asked. She raised her eyebrows, which had recently grown back after being waxed off for a photo shoot during her short-lived modeling career.
“Yeah, I know. It is strange,” I said.
“It’s more than strange. It’s downright fishy,” Hannah said.
It slowly dawned on me what Hannah was saying.
“Wait. You don’t think she wrote that story herself?” I asked.
“Do you?” Hannah asked.
“I just assumed she had. I mean, submitting a story for publication that you didn’t write . . . That would be really bad. And where would she have gotten it from?” I asked.
“I’m sure she copied it from somewhere,” Hannah said, shrugging.
“But that’s plagiarism,” I said. “She could be kicked out of school for that. She wouldn’t take that kind of risk. Would she?”
“From what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t put anything past her. You know, maybe it’s a good thing Dex is away at school. She’d probably have swooped in on him, too,” Hannah said.
“Actually, Nora’s specifically mentioned how much she’s looking forward to meeting Dex when he’s home for Thanksgiving break,” I said.
“See?” Hannah shuddered. “Incredibly creepy. It’s almost like having a stalker.”
“But no one’s going to believe me,” I said. “She has both Charlie and Finn fooled. And The Ampersand editor, too.”
Hannah sat up straight. “You’ll just have to prove it,” she said. “Prove that the story isn’t hers.”
“How can I do that?” I said. “First of all, I haven’t even read her story. And second, I’m sure that if she is passing a published short story off as her own, she wouldn’t have been dumb enough to pick a well-known one.”
“There must be a way to research it. Couldn’t you get a computer program to do that for you?” Hannah asked.
“Probably. But I wouldn’t know how to create a program that would do that,” I said. Computers had never been my thing.
“Finn could do it,” Hannah said.
“Sure, he could. But I don’t know if he would. He likes Nora. And he thinks I’m jealous of her,” I said.
“How annoying,” Hannah said. “Maybe Emmett could help. I’ll ask him.”
“That would be great,” I said. I hesitated, and then smiled for the first time since the disastrous Ampersand meeting. “Thanks, Hannah.”
“For what?”
“For listening to me. And for believing me,” I said.
Hannah smiled back at me. “That’s what sisters are for,” she said.
Charlie called after dinner. Willow and I were out for our evening walk down the beach.
“Nora told me what happened,” she said.
I wondered whether Nora had called Finn, too. Probably. She was rallying my friends to her side.
“Oh yeah?” I said. I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible, but vented my frustrations by kicking a broken fragment of shell out of my path. Willow started at the sudden movement, and then looked up at me reproachfully.
“She said you seemed really mad,” Charlie continued.
“I have no interest in hearing anything she said,” I said.
“So you are mad.”
“Charlie, I really don’t think you should get in the middle of this,” I said.
“I don’t want to be in the middle. But Nora called me in tears. She’s really upset,” Charlie said. “I think you should talk to her. I know she wants to talk to you.”
“That’s funny, considering she hasn’t called me,” I said. I’d lost the battle to remain calm. Anger leaked into my voice.
“She thinks that if she does, you won’t talk to her. Or that it will somehow make things worse between you,” Charlie explained.
“Did she tell you what she did?”
Charlie sighed. “She told me that her story was selected to be in The Ampersand.”
“And you think that what she did was okay?” I asked.
“I absolutely think she should have been up front with you about her intentions to submit her story,” Charlie said. “But ...”
I gritted my teeth. “But?” I said.
“But I think she had every right to have her story considered,” Charlie admitted.
“I knew you would take her side,” I said. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
“I’m not taking her side! I’m not taking sides at all,” Charlie said.
“Of course you are. You just called to tell me I should talk to her. That’s taking a side,” I said. Willow pulled at her leash, wanting to get closer to a trio of seagulls that was strutting around on the wet sand. I gave her a gentle tug back, and wound the leash around the hand I wasn’t using to hold my phone.
“It’s taking a side to encourage you to work out a problem with a friend?” Charlie asked.
“Nora is not my friend,” I said flatly.
“Just because her story was selected over yours?” Charlie asked. I felt as if I’d been sucker punched. “Is that what you think?” I
asked.
“What am I supposed to think? You’ve been jealous of Tabitha Stone ever since her book was published,” Charlie said.
I couldn’t help myself. “Self-published.”
“Whatever. Then you were jealous of Tabitha when she got the fiction spot in the first issue of The Ampersand. And you were thrilled when she lost it. And now Nora has it, and you suddenly hate her,” Charlie said. I could tell she was building an argument, much as a lawyer would. “And Finn told me that the other night when you were at Grounded, you were complaining about Nora. That you had some paranoid theory that she changes the way she acts around different people. Which is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous,” I repeated. For the second time that day, I went cold all over. It felt like my body had been dipped in ice water.
“Yes, it’s ridiculous. Nora’s the same person whether she’s with you or me or Finn or anyone,” Charlie said. She sighed again. “Miranda, don’t you think that you might be a little jealous of Nora, and you’re letting that color the way you see her?”
I couldn’t speak. There was no point telling Charlie how wrong she was, or explaining how manipulative Nora had been. No matter what I said, Charlie would just turn it around and say that I was jealous.
And, okay, sure, maybe I’d had a problem reining in my jealousy in the past. Maybe I was jealous that Tabitha Stone was always singled out for her writing ability. And maybe I had worried too much that Dex’s ex-girlfriend was trying to get back together with him over the summer, or that he’d end up liking one of the girls in his study group. But this situation with Nora was completely different.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I fin
ally said, my voice an emotional croak. It was hard to get the words out past the lump in my throat. “Look, I have to go.”
“Miranda, don’t go. We should talk about this,” Charlie said.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”
I ended the call, and stuck my cell phone back in my pocket.
Chapter Twenty-four
The next day, I got to school early and headed straight for The Ampersand office. Today, I was glad to find the office empty. It would make my job much easier. I got out the file where the completed articles were kept and paged through it. Nora’s short story—titled “Lamp Light”—was near the top of the stack. I made a copy of the story and then put the original back in the folder. Five minutes after I’d first entered the office, I left with a copy of “Lamp Light” tucked in my backpack.
I haven’t done anything wrong, I told myself. After all, I was on the magazine staff. I had every right to read the articles. In fact, Candace encouraged us to do so, so we could give the authors feedback. But, at the same time, I didn’t want anyone—especially Nora—to know what I was up to. Probably because I had no intention of giving her constructive feedback. To the contrary, I was planning on using it to bust her.
The more I thought about Hannah’s reaction, the more I thought she was right. What were the chances that Nora, who had never once expressed any interest in writing, just happened to have a short story on hand, ready to submit? Much less one that was good enough to blow Candace away?
I was dreading the morning ahead of me. Nora was in my lit class, and both Nora and Charlie were in physics. I didn’t particularly want to talk to either of them. Especially not until I’d had a chance to investigate whether “Lamp Light” was an original work of Nora’s.
Luckily, Nora was already there, sitting in her usual seat, when I arrived at Mrs. Gordon’s room. I sat across the room from her. It meant having to sit next to Tabitha Stone, but that was vastly preferable to sitting next to Nora. Besides, Tabitha seemed much more quiet and withdrawn than usual, and her eyes looked suspiciously red.
“Hey, Tabitha,” I said as I took the seat next to her.
She glanced up at me, startled. “Oh. Hi, Miranda,” she said. I thought she looked a bit wary, as though worried that I would say something unkind to her about the lost fiction assignment. Guilt flooded over me. Why had I been so happy to hear she’d failed? Sure, Tabitha could be cocky, but that didn’t mean I should take pleasure in her unhappiness. It really wasn’t very nice.
I hesitated. “I’m sorry about your short story getting pulled,” I said.
Tabitha shrugged and looked glum. “I really liked my story. I don’t understand why Candace hated it so much,” she said.
“I’m sure she didn’t hate it,” I said.
“No, she did. She actually said, ‘I hated your story,’” Tabitha said.
“Really? That’s harsh,” I said. “But it’s just her opinion. You never know why one person likes a story, and another doesn’t.”
“Hates it,” Tabitha clarified.
“You know my mom’s a writer, right?”
“Yes. She writes romances, right?” Tabitha said. To her credit, she managed not to sound snotty, even though I knew she probably considered commercial genre romances to be beneath her literary tastes.
“Yes,” I said. “And Sadie always says that she ignores the reviews, both good and bad, because you’re never going to make everyone happy all of the time.”
“That’s smart,” Tabitha said, nodding slowly.
“And if it makes you feel any better, my piece got spiked, too,” I said.
“It did? Why?”
I nodded. “It was my own fault. I interviewed my boyfriend for a piece on student athletes, and didn’t disclose that I have a personal relationship with him. I didn’t know I had to.”
“Really? Well. That’s not so bad,” Tabitha said.
I smiled. I could tell that she didn’t approve, but was making an effort to be nice.
“No, I screwed up. I should have known better,” I said. “I understand why Candace pulled the piece.”
“The thing that worries me is, what happens now? Will she ever give me another chance?” Tabitha asked.
“I know what you mean. I’m worried about that, too,” I admitted.
Tabitha and I smiled shyly at each other. I realized that this was the first time I’d ever really talked to her without feeling consumed with jealousy. It made for a nice change. Tabitha and I might never be close friends, but there was no reason we couldn’t be friendly.
Mrs. Gordon came in then, just as the bell rang. Her hair was, as usual, falling out of its sloppy bun, and as soon as she walked in the door, half of the papers she’d been carrying dropped to the floor.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Gordon said.
“I’ll get them for you,” Sanjiv said, bounding over to help her pick them up.
“Thank you, dear. It’s the homework you all did on the themes that arise in Tom Sawyer. Everyone did a wonderful job. If you wouldn’t mind handing them out, Sanjiv, I’d appreciate it,” Mrs. Gordon said brightly. “And we’ll get started on today’s topic, which is to discuss how Tom’s character evolves over the course of the book.”
Since the desks in Mrs. Gordon’s classroom were arranged in a circle, Nora and I were in full view of each other, and even though I did my best to avoid meeting her gaze—I busied myself getting my laptop out, and then began to studiously take notes—I could feel her eyes on me. Finally I gave in and glanced in Nora’s direction. She gave me a half smile and raised one hand in a meek wave. I raised my chin and looked coldly away.
Nora had messed with the wrong geek.
Charlie was harder to avoid. Our lockers were side by side, and we always sat together in the classes we had together. But I managed to avoid her until physics class. I considered moving to a different table and hoping that Mr. Forrester wouldn’t notice, but then I decided that would be childish. And besides, Nora would probably just end up taking my vacated seat, and I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. So I sat down in my usual seat.
“Hey,” Charlie said, plopping down next to me.
“Hi,” I said.
“Are you still not talking to me?” Charlie asked, pulling out her physics book and setting it on the table with a thud.
I glanced sideways to the right. Nora wasn’t there yet.
“I’m not not talking to you,” I said.
“You hung up on me yesterday,” Charlie pointed out.
“You weren’t being particularly supportive,” I said. “At least, not to me.”
“That’s not true. I do support you,” Charlie said.
I turned to look at her, my eyebrows arching. “Really? Because that’s not what it sounded like to me last night. It sounded like you were totally on Nora’s side, and wouldn’t even listen to what I was trying to say.”
Charlie sighed. “I just thought it would help if you heard another perspective,” she said.
“I didn’t need perspective. I needed a friend,” I said.
Before Charlie could reply to this, Finn arrived, looking grumpy. Even his Mohawk seemed extra prickly, sticking up in overly gelled spikes.
“Holla back, girlfriends,” Finn said with an edge to his voice, by way of greeting. Then he slammed his books down on his desk and slumped down in his seat.
“Hey,” Charlie and I said in unison.
“Why are you so grumpy today?” I asked.
Finn shrugged and kicked one sneaker against the leg of the table. Finally, he said, “I found out last night that Phoebe’s dating someone else. Some football player at Orange Cove High.”
Charlie’s smile died. I could tell the news that Finn was feeling jealous over Phoebe’s new boyfriend didn’t make her overjoyed.
“I’m sorry, Finn. That’s a really tough thing to find out,” I said. “So I guess that means there’s no chance you’ll be getting back together, huh?”
“What? I don’t want to get back together with her,” Finn said with surprise.
“You don’t?” Charlie asked.
“Then why are you so upset?” I asked.
“Because it means that she won the breakup. She got a new boyfriend before I got a new girlfriend,” Finn said.
“It’s not a contest,” Charlie said.
“Yes, it is. It’s totally a contest. And I lost,” Finn said. “I hate losing.”
“Hey, guys,” a voice said from behind me. I looked up to see Nora standing there. She was smiling nervously and shifting from foot to foot. “What are you all talking about?”
I turned back around, ignoring her.
Charlie looked worriedly from me to Nora and back again, and said, “Hey, Nora.”
Only Finn seemed oblivious to the tension between Nora and me. “We’re discussing the best strategy for how to beat my ex in the breakup wars.”
“Nora should be able to help you out with that. She just went through a breakup, too. Right, Nora?” I said, still not looking at her.
After an awkward pause, Nora said, “That’s right. But my ex-boyfriend and I aren’t at war. Our breakup was all very . . . mutual.”
“How convenient,” I said.
“Miranda!” Charlie said. “Look, can’t you guys just—”
But before she could finish, the bell rang. Mr. Forrester, who had been sitting behind his desk, stood and said, “Come on, everyone. You know the rules. When the bell rings, you’re to be in your seats, ready to get started. Nora, please sit down. Now.”
Nora had no choice. She took her seat at the table next to ours. Charlie gave me an exasperated look, but I ignored it. Nora was bad news. And sooner or later, Charlie would figure that out.
Chapter Twenty-five
Emmett, Hannah, and I sat around the kitchen table at the beach house, each of us with a laptop and a copy of “Lamp Light” in front of us. I’d made duplicates of the short story on my way home after school.
“Nothing’s coming up under the title ‘Lamp Light,’ ” Hannah said. “There’s a Lamp Light company that the sell lamps—big surprise. And there’s a Lamp Light Ministries. But no short stories with that name.”