“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. You should just—”
“See?” she said. “You don’t trust me. So why should I even listen to you?”
I sighed. “If I tell you, will you promise to keep it to yourself?” She promised and I told her that it looked like maybe Chase was breaking up with Juliana.
“Oh, poor Jules,” Layla said sincerely. She had a weird sort of loyalty to her sisters—it was one thing for her to make our lives miserable, but another thing entirely if someone else did. “He’s an idiot. I’m glad you told me, Lee-Lee. I promise I’ll be extra nice to Juliana.” She was, too, bringing Jules a cup of tea, offering to give her a back rub—which Jules declined—and bringing back a necklace she had borrowed and “forgotten” to return up until then.
“What’s going on with her?” Jules asked me when we were alone again. “Suddenly she can’t be nice enough to me.”
I confessed.
Juliana looked uneasy. “Make sure she knows not to say anything to anyone, will you, Elise? If she goes around telling people that Chase broke up with me, it could be really embarrassing—it makes it sound like I thought we were more serious than he did, and I’ll just look pathetic.”
“I already told her to keep it quiet, but I’ll tell her again.” I found Layla vidchatting with Campbell. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“BRB, Campy,” she said to the computer and shut down the chat. She swiveled to face me. “What’s up?”
I repeated Juliana’s request and she said, “I know, Elise. I’m not going to tell anyone. Give me a little credit.”
“Just wanted to make sure.”
I stood up to go, but Layla said, “Hey, Elise?”
“What?”
“If you knew something—like, that someone had lied to me or Juliana—would you tell us even if you weren’t supposed to?”
“What is this about?” I asked, sitting back down and eyeing her warily.
“Just answer the question. Would you?”
“If I thought you should have the information, then yeah. We’re sisters. We have to look out for each other.”
She nodded soberly and turned back toward the computer. “Hold on. I have to show you something.” She tapped on the keyboard. “Look.” She tilted the screen toward me. I leaned forward so I could see it better: a photo of a man and a girl at a big dressy event. It looked like a father and daughter, although it was probably a mistake to jump to that conclusion, this being L.A. and all.
Then I recognized the girl. “That’s Campbell, right?” She was wearing a dress in a beige shade that wasn’t particularly flattering to her dull skin, but her hair was arranged in a gorgeous (professionally styled) updo and she was wearing a ton of makeup. “Is that her father?”
“Yeah. Remember how I said she was going to some event with him last weekend?”
“Vaguely. He does look kind of familiar.”
“He should. He’s a TV star. And that’s her mother, but you can’t really see her.” She pointed to a bare shoulder, an earring-ed lobe, and a beautifully curled lock of hair on George McGill’s other side. “She’s an actress, too. Campbell said she’s on TV a lot, but just in small roles.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because of this.” She pointed at whoever was sitting on Campbell’s other side. He was slightly out of focus and would have been completely outside of the frame of the picture, except he was leaning in toward Campbell like he was about to say something to her, so a small amount of his profile had been caught by the camera. Something about the wavy hair and the skinny wrist poking out of his suit jacket seemed familiar.
I squinted at the computer. “Wait, is that Webster?”
“Yep. He went with Campbell and her parents to the awards show.”
“I didn’t know he knew her that well.” I shrugged. “Weird. I’ll have to ask him how he got invited along.”
“That’s not the point. This was Saturday night. Saturday night. The night Webster told you he couldn’t go to the dance because he was sick.”
“Oh.” It sank in. “Is this the secret you were talking about, Lay? You knew that Webster lied to me so he could go with Campbell to this?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, Lee-Lee. I would have told you sooner, only Campbell told me not to. She said Webster really wanted to go with her to this, but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“I’d rather have my feelings hurt than find out someone lied to me.”
“Really?” That seemed to surprise her. She shrugged and went on. “Campbell thinks he’s, like, totally in love with her. But there’s no way. I mean, he’s really cute. And she’s—” Layla made a vague gesture in the direction of the computer screen. “She’s my friend and all, but she’s kind of . . . you know. Anyway, I think he just wanted to meet her dad and go to that thing—there were tons of celebrities there.”
I nodded absently, distracted. I was trying to figure out how I felt about discovering that Webster Grant had blown me off so he could go to an awards show with a ninth grader and her showbiz father.
It was actually a little disturbing that I wasn’t more outraged. Something about Webster made it easy for me to accept the idea that he’d lie to get out of a tough situation.
“Are you upset?” Layla was peering at me with concern.
“Nah,” I said, and realized to my relief that it was true. “I’m fine.”
My mother launched a stealth attack as I was heading back up the stairs—sprung out from where she was lurking, grabbed me by the arm, and hauled me into the empty living room. “What’s going on with Juliana and Chase?” she demanded.
“What do you mean?”
“I asked her if they had plans for this weekend and she said she doubted it, and I got the feeling something was wrong.” She shoved her glasses up her nose. “I didn’t want to push her, of course.”
Of course. Fine to tackle me in the hallway and try to get me to betray Juliana’s confidence, but God forbid she ask the girl a simple question herself.
I tried to answer her without saying too much. “There’s been some miscommunication, but I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
“Is it because I suspended his sister? She forced my hand, you know.”
“I know, Mom. And so does Juliana. It’s not your fault.”
“First you and Derek, and now Juliana and Chase,” she said, shaking her head. “Everything started off so well.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “There was never anything with me and Derek. He was only ever Chase’s friend.”
“Well, now he’s not even that,” she said miserably.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure they’re still friends.”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” she snapped. She dropped my arm and turned away. “I need a glass of wine. See what you girls do to me?”
“I’m sorry?” I said feebly.
Back in our room, I asked Jules if she’d gotten any more texts, and she shook her head and said calmly, “I blocked his number.” Then she changed the subject.
It was like she had cut off a fatally infected finger: it was painful, but she’d done what she needed to do.
Chapter Thirteen
Webster greeted me with his usual enthusiasm in astronomy the next day and asked if we could make plans for the coming weekend. “If you’re sad we didn’t get to dance, we could go to a club. I’m the worst dancer you will ever meet in your life, but what I lack in rhythm and grace, I make up for with . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing. But I’d make a fool of myself for you.”
I said lightly, “Maybe you should check your schedule first. I’d hate for you to double-book again.”
He cocked his head at me. “And by this she means . . . ?”
I cocked my head right back at him. “Does the name George McGill ring a bell?”
“Ah,” he said with a long, drawn-out breath. “She found out.” He held his hands up in a plea. “I�
�m so sorry, Elise. I’m a jerk and a coward. I should have just told you right away, but I—”
“Didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I know.”
He paused, and then he said, “Sounds like I made the wrong choice.”
“Yeah, probably.”
At the front of the classroom, Cantori called for everyone’s attention.
“I’m an idiot,” Webster whispered. “I should have told you the second Campbell invited me. But I felt so guilty. And I really did want to go to the dance with you, and was worried you’d think I didn’t if I told you the truth. So it seemed more truthful to lie than to tell the truth, if you know what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“Let’s talk more later.”
I nodded, but class went late and I had to run to my next one.
I think we were both relieved not to have to continue the discussion anyway. I know I was. It wasn’t like there was much to say. Webster had lied and we both knew it.
I wasn’t all that hurt and I wasn’t all that angry. It was more that when I looked at him now, his light blue eyes shifted away guiltily.
And that seriously damaged his charm for me.
The next morning, Gifford grabbed me in English class to inform me—with some glee—that Chelsea was back at school and “totally on the warpath” because of what my mom had done to her.
The lacrosse players also returned that day, in time for afternoon classes. I only realized it when Derek and Chelsea walked into astro together. I instantly wondered if Juliana had seen Chase and what had happened with that, but I’d have to wait to find out.
I was idly watching them from my seat when Chelsea noticed me. She whispered something in Derek’s ear, and his eyes flickered coldly to my face as he nodded. He seemed angry at me, as angry as Chelsea. I had no idea if it was for her sake or his own, but it didn’t really matter—I was even more furious at him. I was pretty sure that he had something to do with the way Chase had treated Juliana, and if I ever got definite proof that he had a role in hurting my big sister—the one truly decent person in the world—his dislike for me would be nothing compared to my hatred for him.
Still, it’s never pleasant being glared at. I looked away pretty quickly.
Webster was MIA for some reason, but the way things had been between us lately, his absence was a relief.
I picked up a book and read until class started, at which point Cantori leaned roguishly against the SMART Board and told a jovial little anecdote about how he and “Mrs. Cantori” had gone for an evening walk, and she had been frustrated not to see any stars, and he’d had to explain that it was almost impossible to see them with the naked eye in a city like Los Angeles, where the lights and smog create a practically impenetrable mask.
“But with a telescope it’s a different story,” he said. “So, guys and gals, we’re going to take a field trip! Next Friday, we’ll set up some telescopes on the beach—”
“A field trip to the beach?” one of the girls said. “Oh my God. Where do we sign up?”
Cantori put up a cautionary hand. “Don’t get too excited—it’ll be dark out. No one’s going swimming, and anyone who shows up in a bikini gets sent home. That goes double for you, Billy.” Everyone laughed.
Billy pretended to be disappointed. “Aw, I was planning on wearing my itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini!”
“Save it for the paparazzi,” Cantori said, with a quick glance at Derek. “Anyway, I know this is late notice, guys, but it should be an amazing experience. The stars are aligned, both literally and figuratively. Does anyone have a conflict? Speak now or forever after—” One girl raised her hand and said she had her SAT prep class that night. Cantori shook his head. “Skip it. I promise you this will be more educational in the long run.”
“My parents will freak.”
“Have a friend quiz you on vocabulary words on the bus.” Cantori gestured to the desk behind him. “Everyone grab a bus form on your way out.”
I ran into Juliana on the way to my next class. She looked awful. Her face was pale, and she had dark smudges under her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.
She shook her head and pulled me over to the lockers, lowering her voice. “He’s back and it’s awful, Elise. I’m just trying to stay as far away as possible, but he keeps giving me these looks like he hates me now. And then I saw him laughing with this girl in history—I think she’s probably the one I heard on the phone.”
“Oh, Jules, I’m so sorry.”
“I feel sick. I want to go home.”
“You’re just upset.”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“No one barfs from being sad.”
Half an hour later, Juliana vomited three times in the girls’ bathroom.
Mom officially excused me from my last class so I could drive Jules home. I dropped her off and was about to get back in the car to pick up Layla and Kaitlyn when I was hit by a sudden and intense wave of nausea. I barely made it to the downstairs powder room before losing my lunch.
Juliana and I spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the night taking turns throwing up in the hallway bathroom. At about two in the morning Kaitlyn joined us. It was oddly companionable: we were miserable but not lonely.
All three of us stayed home from school the next day. By early afternoon, Juliana and I were significantly better, and Kaitlyn had perked up by dinnertime.
“I never knew being heartsick was contagious,” I joked to Juliana.
“You were supposed to share my dress, not my virus,” she said with a weak smile.
“Stupid me. At least you got to come home like you wanted.”
“I still have to go back next week and face him.”
“You have the weekend to recover.” We both knew I didn’t mean from the stomach flu. “It’ll be easier after that.”
“I hope so,” she said without the slightest trace of actual hope in her voice.
At lunch back in school on Monday, we sat alone far from our old table, and she said to me, “I think I’m okay now. It doesn’t bother me to see him around. It’s fine.”
“Jules—”
“No, really, Lee-Lee.” A pause. “The only thing that’s weird is how angry he seems. I thought he’d feel bad, but instead he keeps glaring at me. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“It’s easier for people to feel angry than guilty,” I said. “Maybe he’s convinced himself he was justified in acting like an asshole—probably with a little help from Derek Edwards who, by the way, keeps glaring at me.”
“How could anyone be mad at you?” Juliana said loyally. “He must be as big a jerk as you always said. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you right away. I should have.”
“Yeah,” I said, “you should have.”
Chapter Fourteen
As the week went on, the glares turned into pretending we didn’t exist, which wasn’t much better, but both Jules and I worked hard to return the favor, tossing our heads and laughing with other people as much as we could whenever we saw Chase and Derek.
Friday evening, Juliana dropped me back off at school for the field trip, and I found an empty seat on the bus next to a sophomore who had a big crush on Cantori. “He’s the best teacher in the whole school,” she said fervently. “He was my adviser last year, and he’d always take us out for french fries.”
The Best Teacher in the Whole School unbuckled his seat belt soon after we left the parking lot, and wandered up and down the aisle, ignoring the annoyed glances the driver was throwing at him in the rearview mirror and chatting idly with the students like the host of a cocktail party, until we were almost at our destination.
Then he walked back up to the front of the bus, faced the rows of seats, and called for our attention. “Okay, so here’s the plan. I was at the beach earlier today, where, with the help of a couple of friends who are still there waiting for us, I set up four telescopes, each of them focused on a different
planet or star. I’m dividing you into four small groups.” He fixed a couple of the gigglier girls with a look. “Let me repeat that so there’s no confusion. I am dividing you into groups, and there will be no switching. You will stay with your group for the entire evening. You will take turns looking through the telescope, you will discuss what you see, and together you will sketch what you saw and describe it in scientific terms. This is a collaborative project—one finished packet per group.” He eyed those girls again. “And I don’t want to hear that you couldn’t finish your work because one of your teammates wore plaid and you’re wearing polka dots or because you like him and he likes someone else. Try to be grown-up about this, folks.”
Billy Rodriguez raised his hand. “What if one of your team members is just really stupid or lazy? Can you kick them off the team?”
“Don’t you worry, Billy,” Cantori said jovially. “No one’s kicking you off anything.” Laughter from his fans. “Seriously, every person on this bus is capable of pulling his or her own weight, so just make it work, okay? To keep the teams as objective as possible—and, frankly, to make it easy on myself—I’ve grouped you by alphabetical order. Listen closely to your groups. Don’t make me repeat them.” He looked down at the clipboard in his hand. “Group One: Isaac Avenor. Chelsea Baldwin. Elise Benton. Derek Edwards. Sylvie Fine. Group Two: Webster Grant—”
“He’s not here,” someone called out.
“He’s not?” Cantori turned to me. “Is he sick?” I realized he thought I’d know, since I sat with Webster in class.
I just shrugged, distracted. Why oh why did I have to get stuck with both Chelsea and Derek? Could my luck have been any worse? Isaac seemed like a hard worker, but Sylvie Fine was one of the Derek disciples. My only hope was that she and Chelsea would be so busy fighting for his attention that Isaac and I could just plow through the work and ignore the rest of them.
“Oh my God,” said the girl sitting next to me. “You’ve got Derek Edwards in your group!”
“Yeah,” I said. “Want to trade teams?”
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