Busted

by Gina Ciocca

He slung his bag over his shoulder and threw his other hand in the air. “It’s not that I changed my mind about wanting to be friends, okay? It’s like you said—I didn’t know how to react. Things have been shitty for so long that I forgot how to be normal around you. I’m sorry, all right?”

  My comeback, “Sorry is a good word for you,” would’ve been awesome—if I’d had a chance to deliver it. But at that exact moment, my cell phone rang. And since a phone rarely rings with good news at 7:30 a.m., my attention was instantly diverted to the screen flashing Charlie’s name.

  I stepped into the exit alcove and barely got a hello out before she said, “Sorry to bother you, but we need to talk. You’re advertising now?”

  “Advertising what?”

  “I’m hanging up to text you something. Call me as soon as you see it.”

  The call clicked off before I could say another word. I was still staring confusedly at the screen when it flashed with a text message. Charlie had sent me a link to a website. When I clicked on it, my heart went dead inside my chest.

  A website loaded onto the screen. The word BUSTED splashed across the top of the page in bold, fat letters, glinting in red and black stripes, almost identical to the pin I’d made for Charlie. The pin Kendall had specifically mentioned liking. A squat exclamation point punctuated the word, and a jagged split between the S and T made it—along with the heart around it—appear broken in half.

  Beneath the heading, in smaller print, it said Don’t hate the player…bust his ass!

  This had to be a joke. Only one person could’ve been responsible for this, and I knew exactly who it was.

  I called Charlie back, crushing the phone against my ear as I dashed toward the computer lab. My phone was too old and too slow, and the school’s cell service was too spotty to mess around.

  “You’re shitting me,” I said when she picked up. I didn’t so much sit as crash-land in one of the lab’s plastic blue chairs, and my book bag skidded across the floor and toppled over.

  “So you didn’t know?”

  I pulled the website up on the computer and scanned the page as fast as my brain could process it. “‘Suspect your guy has a roaming eye? Our services are discreet, anonymous, and affordable.’” I almost dropped the phone. “She’s advertising me for a fee?!”

  “Keep reading. It gets worse.”

  “Oh my God!” I moaned. “Fake testimonials? Is she on cra—oh my God. Oh. My. God.”

  “Told you.”

  I had reached the spot where Kendall provided contact information for my quote-unquote “services.” She’d listed the email address as OnTheMAP17@yahoo.com.

  MAP. Marisa Ann Palmera. Not only had she used my initials, but she’d followed them with my freaking birth date. Who the hell had taught her the definition of anonymous? To think, earlier this morning I’d felt bad for her. Not anymore.

  “Do you want me to throw a bag over her head and take her out behind the bleachers? Teach her a little lesson?” I could practically hear Charlie’s knuckles cracking.

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m going to kill her myself.”

  • • •

  “I told you I’d make it up to you!” Kendall chirped when she picked up the phone. “Not to toot my own horn, but I rock at web design.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  A second of silence followed. “You don’t like it?”

  I slapped my forehead in disbelief and paced the courtyard. There were three minutes until the first bell, and I wanted that site down before it rang. “You used my initials! Kendall, I do not spy on people for fun! I helped a few people out. That’s it! Catching cheaters is not something I want to do all the time. At least I don’t think it is.” I heard myself and stopped short. “No, no, it’s not. And I especially don’t want to charge people for it! How would I even get the money?”

  “I guess a middleman or something?”

  I took a deep breath and resumed walking, a little slower this time. “Listen, I appreciate the trouble you went to designing a site, but you have to take it down. Helping you and Charlie was one thing, but I can’t be ‘Monroe County Schools’ Ace in the Hole for Girls Dating Guys with No Self-Control.’” I rolled my eyes as I quoted her ridiculous slogan.

  “Wow,” Kendall said softly. “I’m sorry, Marisa. I guess I should’ve asked before I went ahead and put it up. I thought I was doing something nice for you.”

  Ugh. Guilt pierced through me at the dejection in her voice.

  “It was a nice gesture, Kendall. It was. I appreciate the time it must’ve taken, and honestly, the design is awesome. I loved the way you made the heart in the background look sparkly and broken.” Might as well butter her up with the truth if I had to do it at all.

  She let out a small, forced laugh. “That was my favorite part.”

  “Mine too, for sure. Maybe you can print that out for me or send me the image before you take it down? I bet I could design a necklace out of it.” Not that I needed a picture to help me redesign something I’d technically created, but flattery seemed to be softening the blow of my rebuff.

  “Um, Marisa, I guess I can take down the site if you really want me to, but it might not be that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you already have emails from girls who want you to help them.”

  I froze midpace. “I what? How long has that site been up?”

  “Since midnight, but I sort of sent the link to everyone at Templeton.”

  My knees went weak. “Everyone?”

  I could practically hear her biting her lip. “All the girls anyway. I’m on student council and I have a directory of email addresses. I’m really sorry. I sent out a blast this morning, and since you’re calling me, I’m guessing word already traveled outside the school.”

  The bell rang, but I couldn’t move. I stood in the middle of the courtyard with my mouth hanging open, frozen wisps of my breath floating off into the air.

  “Marisa? Are you still there?”

  I croaked out a yes.

  “Listen, I’m so sorry. I’m going to text you the password to the email account so you can check it out. If you want, you can ignore all of the messages and I’ll shut down the site. But you never know. One of them might spark your interest. If not, say the word and I’ll take it down as soon as I get home, okay?”

  I closed my eyes. “Fine.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “So you’ve mentioned.”

  “I have to get to class, but call me later.”

  We hung up and I shoved open the glass door to go back inside, pounding out a text message to Charlie as I burst into the warm, fluorescent-lit hallway.

  For real. I’m going to kill her.

  13

  I sat with the palm of my hand pressed against my forehead as I scrolled through Kendall’s OnTheMAP17 emails. There were already sixteen of them.

  Six. Effing. Teen. Did anyone not suspect her boyfriend of cheating?

  Most of the messages were immediate throwaways, with some outright ludicrous requests like, Can you get a picture of my boyfriend looking at another girl so I can use it as blackmail? One girl wanted me to key her boyfriend’s car and the car of the girl he had already cheated with. Instant delete.

  I had a handful left to go when one of the emails at the bottom of the screen caught my attention. It had the subject line “Dating a Player” and the username was SaraCat42. I scanned the computer lab one more time for creepers before clicking on it.

  Hey,

  My name is Sara and I am talking to one of the hottest guys at my school. I think he likes me, but I know he’s a player, and let’s put it this way, I don’t share. His ex is still in his face all the time and I want to make sure she’s not in his pants too. I really like him and I need to know if he feels the same or if I’m being pl
ayed. Can you help?

  SaraCat42

  Sara Cat?

  A Sara who’d recently started seeing one of the hottest guys in school. The image of Jordan checking out Sara Mendez’s cleavage flashed through my mind. What were the odds that she and SaraCat42 were the same person?

  I looked at the clock. I’d cut out of lunch early to use the computer lab, and I still had a few minutes to test out my theory. Part of me hoped I was way off base, because if SaraCat42 was Sara Mendez and the guy in question was Jordan, then that made me the ex who was supposedly in his face all the time. What a load of crap. I wondered if he’d told her that or if she’d jumped to her own conclusions after one stupid wave at Kevin’s party.

  I gathered my stuff and triple-checked that I’d logged out of the Busted account before heading over to the yearbook room. When I slid into place in front of my computer, I pulled up the layout for the junior class pictures and scrolled through to the M’s. Sara looked amazing in her picture—perfect smile, fabulous hair. Exactly the kind of girl Jordan loved to chase.

  Next to the picture was her name: Sara Catarina Mendez.

  I couldn’t help but smirk. Not wanting to get ahead of myself, I clicked on a few more files until I found the one I wanted: girls’ field hockey. I opened up the team photo and found Sara right away. She stood at the end, all the way to the right, smiling that perfect smile. Her long black hair hung in a high ponytail, and her hands were behind her, emphasizing her generous chest. And the number forty-two was splayed across it.

  I sat back in my chair, too satisfied with myself to be properly indignant over her email.

  Gotcha, SaraCat.

  Busted indeed.

  • • •

  “Mom, I’m going to meet Charlie at Fudgie’s!” I called on my way to the door.

  I was supposed to be studying, but with all the Busted drama, I was having a hard time concentrating on the properties of igneous rocks. So I’d called Charlie, and she was more than happy to ditch homework for a snack break.

  “Wait a minute, Marisa.” Mom’s head poked out from the kitchen, and I didn’t like the look on her face. Especially when she followed it with, “Your father and I need to talk to you.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen again, and I approached the room like something might jump out and scream at me. Whatever they were about to tell me, I was sure I didn’t want to hear it.

  Sure enough, my father sat at the kitchen table with my spreadsheet of colleges in front of him. We’d made it together. I’d listed out my top choices, and Dad had itemized the cost to attend each one. The very first school on my list was Lehigh University. Even with grants and financial aid, it pulled at the seams of our budget, but Dad had seemed confident that we could make it work.

  At one point anyway.

  “Marisa,” he said, his lips frowning beneath his thick mustache. “I’ve been looking at the numbers for these schools again. I was joking the other day when I said we might have to cut Lehigh from the list, but—”

  He ground his thumb and middle fingers into his temples and Mom swooped in to finish. “They’re talking about closing the store where Daddy works.”

  “Again?” There had been rumors about the Herring Cross Big M closing before, but the rumblings had eventually died off and the store stayed open.

  Mom eyed my dad, nervously giving the floor back to him.

  “It’s not looking good, honey. Corporate says they’ll place our employees at other branches, but until I know for sure, we can’t take any chances.” He shifted in his seat. “We’re not trying to make your life difficult,” he said.

  I felt a lump rising in my throat, more because of the stress and worry and defeat that were rolling off him in waves, rather than the news he was giving me. That part hadn’t quite sunk in yet. “I know how badly you want to go to Lehigh and how hard you’ve worked, but…I think we might need to consider your other options.”

  I dropped my gaze to the floor, unable to look at either of my parents, and nodded. If they couldn’t afford the tuition and financial aid wouldn’t be enough to close the gap, there wasn’t much I could do. What could I really say?

  So, without saying anything, I walked out the door.

  When I got in my car, I threw my bag on the passenger seat. And of course, because I needed more annoyance when my nerves were already fraying like an old pair of jeans, my bag toppled over and spilled. I plucked up the folded piece of paper I’d almost forgotten about and opened it.

  How Far Would You Go to Get the Story?

  In a heartbeat, I knew the answer. I picked up my phone and clicked on Kendall’s name.

  Leave the website up.

  • • •

  “I can’t believe you told her to leave up the site,” Charlie said for the hundredth time since we’d arrived at Fudgie’s. She licked the back of her spoon and shook her head. Kendall had texted back right as Charlie and I had slid into the cushy blue booth.

  “Only for a couple of days. It’s not like I have to take every case that comes along.”

  Charlie flailed in disbelief. “Are you hearing yourself? ‘Every case that comes along’? You’re not really a private investigator, Palmera, and doing this so you can keep an eye on Jordan is a bad, bad, bad idea.”

  I sat back against the booth and sighed. “It’s not that I want to keep an eye on him. I don’t even want him anymore.” I hurried to finish before Charlie could challenge me with words in addition to her raised eyebrows. “I swear, I don’t. There’s only so much abuse a person can take before she should be forced to wear a dunce cap. A bedazzled, jeweled dunce cap, but you get the point.” I rubbed at my temples. “I can’t explain it. It’s like I want to catch him hurting someone else so I know I wasn’t the problem.”

  Charlie’s face softened. “Marisa, anyone can see that Jordan was way less of a craphead when the two of you were together. Unfortunately, he’s also a huge chickenshit, and I think it scared him to care about someone that much. So he did what any chickenshit would do and went back to what he knew. I wish he would’ve done it before he let you have such high expectations of him.”

  “The higher the expectations, the harder the letdown. I have a feeling Sara Cat is going to find that out the hard way.”

  Charlie snorted. “Well, she doesn’t share, so I feel bad for any other girl you find him with. That email made it sound like she’d dismember anyone who went near him and then feed her limbs through a wood chipper.”

  “Maybe we’ll find out.”

  Her face fell. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

  I watched my spoon tunnel through my ice cream. “It’ll make an interesting essay for Story Break, right?”

  “Now suddenly that’s a good idea too?”

  I set the spoon against the side of the bowl and twisted my hands in my lap. “My parents took Lehigh off the table. Too expensive.”

  Charlie’s shoulders fell and she swore softly. “I’m sorry, Marisa. That’s the worst.”

  “I know. So the scholarship’s worth a shot, right? I mean, Sara will never even know it’s me doing the investigating. The nice thing about Kendall’s website is that all of the correspondence can be done through email. I still wish she hadn’t used my initials and my freaking birthday, but I doubt anyone will make the connection. And the money…working at Prints Charming three months a year and random weekends doesn’t exactly put me in the running to buy a Ferrari.”

  “You mean a Corvette?”

  I pursed my lips at her Kendall jab. “Come on. How bad could it be?”

  “Famous last words. I hope you at least changed the password to the email.”

  “Give me some credit. Of course I did.”

  When it came down to it, I knew turning down this mission would eat me alive. Padding my wallet while sending Sara photos of Jordan caught in the
act of cheating would give me boatloads of pleasure. If I couldn’t catch him… Well, there was always the possibility that he wasn’t cheating. I hadn’t stopped to think about how I’d feel if Sara wound up being the next Marisa in Jordan’s life. And I wasn’t about to start.

  14

  By the next afternoon, shit was hitting the fan from every direction.

  Nick had taken the bus home so I could stay after for a yearbook interview. When my cell phone rang with a call from him not two seconds after I’d jotted down the last of my notes, I was surprised—but not nearly as surprised as when he told me why he was calling.

  “Um, Charlie’s here,” he said. “And she’s pretty upset. I think you should come home.”

  He, Charlie, and Mindy were sitting at my dining room table when I got there. If I hadn’t been so concerned, I would’ve laughed at the way my brother had his arm wrapped around Charlie as she sniffled into his shoulder. Holy opportunist.

  “What happened?” I rushed to the table and took the seat Mindy vacated for me.

  “I wish I knew.” Charlie gulped. “I’m going to be expelled.”

  “For what?!” I said in disbelief.

  “Because Mrs. Pace is a douchette, just like I said,” Mindy piped up.

  I cringed. Nick must’ve noticed, because he said, “Mom’s grocery shopping.” My mother hated “unladylike” language.

  “A couple weeks ago, I stayed after class for extra help,” Charlie explained, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “Mrs. Pace had a virus on her laptop, the one where she keeps all her lesson plans and school stuff, and I helped her fix it. Then today I got called down to the principal’s office. They told me the grades on our last class exams were ‘unusually high.’” She stopped to wipe her nose and I jumped in like a lion on a gazelle.

  “Mrs. Pace and your principal think you cheated?”

  Charlie’s face contorted and she nodded. “Pace thinks I stole answer keys and all this other stuff from her computer when I had access to it. Marisa, she was there the entire time! I didn’t take anything!” She buried her face in her hands, and my brother rubbed her arm as he squeezed her against his side, murmuring words of comfort.