Red

by Alison Cherry

  Oh, right—the art show. The whole thing suddenly seemed totally unimportant. If someone at school knew she was an artie, she could be a social outcast by the end of the day. The art show would be the least of her worries.

  But she couldn’t very well lose it in the middle of the hallway, so she smiled and tried to look normal. “I’ll be done by then. I’ll see you Wednesday, okay?”

  “Great, okay. See you later.”

  As soon as he was gone, Felicity scanned the hall. Whoever had left her this little gift might be lurking nearby, waiting to see her reaction. Gabby was most likely the one who had discovered her secret, considering her mom’s connections with the artie population. But she could have told her friends, and any one of them could have decided to use the information to her advantage. Felicity’s eyes flitted from brunette to brunette, searching her classmates’ faces for signs of guilt or hostility.

  Unfortunately, that was no help—Felicity found hostility on the face of every brunette. Marina and Sayuri were chatting happily at their lockers, but they looked up and glared when they caught her staring. Amanda Westin and Sarah Lowes rolled their eyes at her and turned their backs. Gabby shot her a “What are you gaping at?” look. Did the entire brunette population of Scarletville High know her secret? Or had these girls always given her dirty looks, and she’d just never noticed before? Was this note the only step the culprit had taken, or was a widespread announcement on the way? Gossip at Scarletville High spread faster than head lice at a day camp, so if even a few people knew her secret now, everyone would know by lunchtime.

  Everyone.

  Felicity stumbled through the morning in a fog of panic. She didn’t hear a thing her teachers said about radians, Hemingway, or light refraction, and she completely botched her pop quiz about Vikings in History of Redheadedness. Every time she walked into a room, she expected to be greeted with wide eyes and horrified whispers. But class after class, nothing happened. Felicity felt as if she were in the dentist’s chair, listening to the high-pitched whine of the drill as it approached a cavity. She almost wished the actual drilling would begin, just so she would know how much pain she was up against. Right now, she could only imagine the worst.

  The drill touched down just before fifth-period lunch. When Felicity opened her locker to retrieve her books for the afternoon, a second red envelope landed at her feet, and her heart leapt into her throat. She snatched up the incriminating message before anyone could see it, then locked herself in a bathroom stall so she could read the contents unobserved.

  Starting right now, you will act like you want every brunette in this school to be your best friend. Fail to impress us, and everyone finds out what you really are.

  Felicity swallowed hard. It would be difficult to make that look natural, but she would have to find a way to make it work. The good news was that nobody had spread her secret around yet. Sure, she was being blackmailed, but at least she had the opportunity to protect herself. The situation could be infinitely worse.

  The first thing Felicity saw when she entered the cafeteria was Lorelei Griffin and a crowd of her theater friends standing menacingly around the table where Gabby, Marina, and Sayuri were sitting. That particular table was prime real estate: close to the windows and the vending machines, far from the chaos of the lunch line. “What are you doing here?” Lorelei was saying to the girls. “This is our spot. Get out.”

  Gabby made a big show of inspecting the surface of the table. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a reserved sign with your name on it.”

  Lorelei’s eyes widened—nobody ever talked back to her. “Do you seriously want to mess with me? You’ve had your little joke, and now it’s time to go back where you belong before I get really pissed.”

  “No thanks, we’re good here,” Marina said. “But I see a free table for you over there.” She pointed at a table near the trash cans, right under a banner proclaiming RED IS RAD! Gabby and Sayuri snorted with laughter.

  A dark cloud passed over Lorelei’s face. Then she very deliberately removed the plastic lid from her soda and tipped it off her tray, directly onto Marina’s white shirt. “Oops,” she said sweetly as Marina jumped up with a shout. “So sorry about that. But look, your shirt matches your hair now!” Lorelei’s friends laughed as ice cubes cascaded from Marina’s lap and skittered across the floor. From the far corner of the room, a copper-haired lunch monitor glanced up disinterestedly, then returned to her gossip magazine.

  Felicity took a deep breath. Then, praying her blackmailer was watching, she grabbed a handful of napkins and headed straight into the fray. “Hey,” she said, dabbing at Marina’s shoulder. “Let me help you.”

  Marina jerked away. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Well, here. At least take these.” She put the napkins on the table, and Marina grudgingly grabbed several. As she blotted at her shirt, Felicity turned her attention to Lorelei. “What is your problem?” she hissed, making sure all three brunettes heard her. “They didn’t do anything to you.”

  “They were sitting at my table. I asked them to move very politely. It’s not my fault if they’re too dumb to follow directions. Why do you care, anyway?”

  Felicity bit back the “I don’t” that was forming on her lips. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” she said instead.

  Everyone was looking at her now, probably wondering why someone with hair as red as hers would stick up for a brunette in a fight. This could be a serious blow to her red cred, and it was time to get out while she was still ahead. She turned away quickly, face flaming, and hurried toward the table she always shared with Haylie and Ivy. Hopefully her blackmailer had seen her selfless act, and everyone else would forget about her strange behavior by the end of lunch.

  But then Gabby, Marina, and Sayuri fell into step beside her, carrying their lunch trays.

  “That was surprisingly decent of you,” Gabby said.

  “Yeah, well, I— You’re welcome,” Felicity muttered.

  They reached Felicity’s table, and Haylie looked up. “Hey, don’t you think Ivy should—” She broke off as she registered that the three brunettes weren’t just walking near Felicity, but with her. A tiny crinkle of confusion appeared between her eyebrows. “Why are you—”

  “We can sit here, right?” Marina said. She looked straight at Felicity, her eyes steely. It was clearly a test, and Felicity’s stomach turned over. It was one thing to stick up for someone when she’d just had a Coke dumped on her and quite another to spend the entire lunch period with a table full of brunettes. But Marina might be her blackmailer, which meant that turning her down could have unspeakable consequences. Felicity knew what she had to do.

  “There’s not really room—” Haylie started, but Felicity cut her off.

  “It’s okay. We can squish.”

  Haylie and Ivy both shot her perplexed looks, but she pretended not to notice. She grabbed another chair from a neighboring table and tried to get everyone seated as inconspicuously as possible.

  Felicity hoped the brunettes would talk amongst themselves and leave her to talk to her own friends, and Marina and Sayuri did exactly that. But Gabby dug into her mini pizza, then looked at Felicity expectantly, clearly waiting for her to say something. “I like your sandals,” Felicity finally said, at a loss for any other common ground between them.

  “Thanks,” Gabby said. “They were on sale at Flame Footwear. Pretty much everything in there right now is covered in glitter and rhinestones, what with prom and the pageant coming up. It’s absolutely vomit-inducing.” She wrinkled her nose as if she’d just found an unexpected anchovy on her pizza. “But I guess that’s all you guys are thinking about right now, huh?”

  “Not really,” Felicity snapped, before she remembered the note.

  Act like you want every brunette in this school to be your best friend.

  She softened her tone. “I mean, there’s still a lot coming up before that, like the art show.”

  “Right, you’r
e curating that. Must be nice to be in charge of something, huh?”

  Felicity nodded, letting the irony of the statement sink in. She had never felt less in control than she felt right now.

  Sometimes Felicity had dreams in which she was performing in a play but had forgotten all her lines, and that’s exactly what the rest of lunch felt like. Her stomach clenched into a tight knot that left no room for her sandwich, which she threw out after only two bites. When Amanda Westin passed their table on her way to the vending machines, Felicity complimented her new haircut, and Amanda stared at her as if she’d sprouted several additional heads. Gabby continued to make disparaging comments about the pageant, and Felicity couldn’t refute them, just in case her blackmailer was listening. She prayed she was getting credit for her self-sacrifice. It was possible her rival didn’t even have fifth-period lunch, in which case she was doing all this for nothing.

  When the bell finally rang, it sounded sweet as a chorus of angels. Felicity finally allowed herself a sigh of relief after the three brunettes had gone.

  “What was that about?” Haylie asked as soon as they were alone. “Since when are you all buddy-buddy with Gabby Vaughn and her weird friends?”

  “I’m not,” Felicity said. “I just felt bad ’cause Lorelei was being so awful. She dumped her entire drink on Marina.”

  “That stuff happens all the time,” Haylie said. “Since when is it our problem?”

  “I guess it’s not. But they were standing right here being like, ‘Can we sit with you?’ What was I supposed to do, say, ‘No, please leave so I can talk to my friends?’ ”

  “Well, yeah. That’s what anyone would have done. That’s what I was trying to do, before you were all, ‘Please sit down and be my BFF.’ ”

  “Sorry,” Felicity said, a little desperate. “I didn’t know you would care that much. I was just trying to be a decent person.”

  “It’s fine,” Ivy said. “It’s not a big deal. I think it’s nice that you stood up for them.”

  Haylie tossed her bag over her shoulder. “Whatever. But if you want to be friends with brunette freaks, could you maybe do it on your own time?”

  Ivy started laughing. “God, Hays, you’re such a jerk.”

  “I am so not! I don’t see what’s so terrible about wanting to eat lunch alone with my own friends!”

  Felicity followed Haylie and Ivy out of the cafeteria, only half listening to their bickering. Her head was starting to throb, and she closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She couldn’t let a simple conversation with a bunch of brunettes rattle her like this. After all, this was probably just the beginning of what was in store for her.

  She was going to have to toughen up.

  Felicity was exhausted by the end of the day, and she had to force herself not to skip the prom committee meeting after school. She had only joined the committee because they’d needed an artist to design the decorations, and it had seemed like the perfect compromise. Felicity could spend hours painting after school, and her mom never complained that she was wasting her time making art when she was surrounded by popular people, working for a “worthy cause.” She was always bored to tears by the meetings, but at least there were no brunettes on the committee, so she didn’t have to worry about being ambushed.

  When she arrived, everyone except Madison Banks was grouped around Cassie, who was showing off something on her phone. Madison was perched on the teacher’s desk, sorting through a stack of papers and ignoring everyone. Their faculty adviser, Mr. Mulligan, was nowhere to be found. He had failed to show up so many times that most people had forgotten he had anything to do with the prom committee.

  “Hey, Felicity,” Cassie called. “Come check out the pageant dress I’m ordering!”

  Felicity squeezed into the huddle between Savannah King and Topher Gleason, the only boy on the committee, to get a look at the dress. It looked more like a large baby-blue shower loofah than an article of clothing. “Wow, Cassie,” she said. “That’s … pretty amazing.”

  Cassie beamed. “I know, isn’t it? Have you gotten yours yet?”

  “Not yet. I’m going shopping this weekend with Haylie and Ivy.”

  Topher sighed dramatically. “Why can’t boys be in the pageant? I’d make a killer Miss Scarlet.” Felicity didn’t doubt it. Topher had better legs than most of the girls in the school, and he knew it. The majority of his pants were so tight, they looked as if they’d been spray-painted on.

  Savannah stroked Topher’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Toph, you can dress up for prom.”

  “Prom will be nothing but a disappointment unless I can borrow Cassie’s dress.” Topher looked at Cassie with big, pleading eyes. “Cass? What do you think?”

  “Honey, if you can fit into it, you can wear it,” said Cassie, and everyone but Madison laughed.

  Despite her ambivalence about the committee, Felicity was genuinely excited about prom night—she had never been to a formal event that didn’t involve being judged. Brent was sure to look spectacular in his tux, and they were meeting Haylie, Ivy, and their dates beforehand for dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant. Post-prom, they were throwing a party in Haylie’s backyard. Ivy was going with Darren, the captain of the boys’ swim team, who had been quietly pursuing her for months. Haylie’s date was Lorelei Griffin’s older brother, Ryan, who was the drummer in a band called The Crucial Douches. Felicity hoped Haylie would dispose of him after prom. His band was shockingly bad, and she didn’t want to have to feign enthusiasm for their screamy, atonal “songs.”

  “Guys, can we please have our meeting?” snapped Madison. “We have a lot to talk about, and I have to get to cheerleading practice.” She sounded exasperated, as if this were the forty-fifth time she had called them to order instead of the first.

  Felicity rolled her eyes and sat down next to Savannah and Kendall Forsythe, a senior from her art class. She tried to keep her mind from wandering as Madison ran through the items on her agenda, but it was a losing battle—she had no interest in deposits, dessert platters, printing costs, or sound systems. After forty-five minutes, Madison finally released them to meet with their subcommittees, and Felicity, Savannah, and Kendall headed to the art studio.

  This year’s theme was “Paint the Town Red,” and Felicity had suggested a 1920s look. She’d designed an Art Deco–style cityscape backdrop to cover one of the gym walls, and the other three would be draped in gauzy red fabric she had borrowed from the drama department. They were renting replica 1920s streetlamps from a theatrical-supply company, and they planned to hang red paper lanterns between the basketball hoops and along the tops of the bleachers.

  “God, I’m so glad you’re in charge of the decorations this year,” Kendall said as they unrolled the half-finished backdrop on the floor. “Last year was just embarrassing. The theme was ‘Moulin Rouge,’ but the dumb-ass strawbie designer made a New York City skyline and an Eiffel Tower and put them up on the same wall.”

  Savannah piled her long coppery hair on top of her head and stuck a pencil through it to keep it from falling into the paint. “How did a strawbie even get to be the designer in the first place?” she asked.

  “Who knows? But it’s not a mistake we’ll be making again any time soon. Right, Felicity?” Kendall gave her a wide, friendly smile and offered her a paintbrush.

  Felicity’s stomach clenched. “Right,” she said, accepting the brush. “Of course.”

  “Speaking of embarrassing, how did Ariel Scott get into the pageant?” Savannah asked. “Her hair is practically blond.”

  “They always put one strawbie in,” Kendall said, echoing Ivy’s words from Scarlet Sunday. “Jillian Wells competed last year, remember?”

  “I don’t get that at all. It’s the Miss Scarlet Pageant. Hey, should I start painting this part at the bottom, Felicity?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Felicity tried to focus on painting, which usually soothed her, but it was impossible to relax. She couldn’t very well stand up for Ariel, but joi
ning the strawbie-bashing seemed equally awful. “Don’t worry, Ariel won’t win,” she finally said.

  “Damn right she won’t. Not with us in the picture.” Savannah rewarded her with a grin. “Hey, did I tell you guys I’m singing ‘Red-Letter Day’ by Invisible Stallion for my talent?”

  Felicity stayed quiet as Savannah and Kendall chattered on. She wondered whether either of them would ask her why a bunch of brunettes had been sitting at her lunch table, but nobody brought it up—fifth period was eons in the past, and new gossip had already eclipsed the old. Felicity spoke up only to answer questions about the drop, which was taking shape exactly as she’d planned. The girls deferred to her opinions automatically, letting her artistic vision guide their hands.

  If they only knew they were taking orders from another “dumb-ass strawbie designer,” Felicity thought, her life would be over.

  4

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 5

  Felicity was terrified to open her locker. She was staring at the metal door, trying to imagine what fresh hell might be lurking behind it, when Haylie and Ivy arrived.

  “Are you okay?” Ivy asked, reaching for Felicity’s mocha. “You look pale, even for you.” That said a lot—Felicity’s complexion was almost transparent. You could read the road map of her veins right through her skin without even trying.

  “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well.” Felicity took a deep breath and spun the dial on her lock. Her hands were trembling so much that it took her three tries to get the combination right. When the lock finally clicked, she said a silent prayer and pulled open the door.

  A little red envelope tumbled to the ground at her feet.

  “Ooh, what’s that?” Haylie asked, reaching for it.

  “Nothing!” Felicity frantically snatched the envelope out of her friend’s fingers and shoved it deep into her pocket.

  For a moment, Haylie looked wounded, but then her eyes lit up. “Oh my God, do you have a secret admirer? What is Brent going to say?”