Jonathan looked up, confused. “The other side of … what? What are you talking about?”
“Well, I mean, she’s all the way in Capri, right?”
“Who is?”
“Lucia. Isn’t that who—I mean, I thought …” Felicity let the sentence hang in the air, half finished.
Jonathan burst out laughing. “Lucia? Wow, no. Where’d you get that idea? Lucia’s my best friend. She used to live across the street from me until her mom got a research grant to go to Italy. I would never— It’s not like that at all.”
“Oh.” Felicity thought back on that day in the art studio, when he had looked so tenderly at his portrait of Lucia, as if he missed her more than anything. But of course you’d feel that way about your best friend. Jonathan had said nothing to imply that he liked her in any other way. Felicity had fabricated their entire romance. The realization sent a curious sensation through her, as if her heart were levitating.
“But then, who—” she started.
Jonathan shook his head and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. So, the pageant’s really soon, right? You must be excited.”
Felicity reflexively plastered on her “I love competing” smile, but as she opened her mouth to give her usual cheerful answer, she realized she didn’t have to lie right now. Jonathan had opened up to her about personal things, and he deserved the same level of forthrightness. She let the fake smile fade. “Honestly? Not really.”
“How come? A lot of people think you’re going to win. Jacob Sinclair from my math class set up this website where you can place bets on the contestants, and I heard that after Madison, the most money is on you.”
Felicity stabbed at her shake with her straw. “Oh great. Now I feel like a racehorse.”
“But at least you’re a winning racehorse, right?”
“I guess.” She shrugged. “Pageants just aren’t my thing. When I’m up there competing, it just doesn’t … it doesn’t feel like me, you know? It’s all just acting.”
Jonathan nodded encouragingly, and she relaxed a little. Now that she had finally found a safe place to express herself, her words came spilling out like water from a broken dam. She told Jonathan about how her mom was obsessed with the pageant and had been pressuring her to win since preschool. She told him about the vomit-inducing Ella-Mae Finch song. She told him she had never really cared about competing and wished she could escape the life her mom had planned for her. Saying it all out loud for the first time made her feel like a helium balloon whose string had been cut, soaring dizzyingly upward.
“I totally get it,” Jonathan said when she was finished. “You want your own life, not a rerun of hers. But she can’t make you do the pageant. Why don’t you just quit?”
“I can’t. She’d never forgive me. Plus, there’s a huge prize if you win, and I could really use the money.”
Jonathan regarded her carefully as he chewed, his head cocked slightly to the side. “Hey, I don’t know anything about pageants or anything, so feel free to ignore me. But what would happen if you just, you know, competed like yourself? If you didn’t pretend to be someone else, or suck up to the judges, or use that horrible music? Could you just … act like you?”
Felicity shook her head. “That’s not really how it works. The pageant’s not about who you are, it’s about how well you can play the game. I just have to suck it up and deal. It’ll all be over in a week.”
“Well, you know better than I do. I just think—I mean, you’re an original person. You drive a bright green car with peace signs on it, and you make the most amazing art, and you don’t always do what people expect you to do. Otherwise you’d be at prom, not here. It’s just—” He shrugged. “I think you’d probably do really well either way.”
“Thanks,” Felicity said. Somehow, hearing him say that meant more to her than all the times her mom had told her that her routine looked perfect, all the times Brent had told her she was hot. An unexpected lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Hey, don’t tell anyone what I said, okay? It’s better if people think I’m excited about competing.”
“What, you don’t want me to write a feature story for journalism about your secret pageant aversion?” Jonathan smiled and offered her the last waffle fry. “I can see the headline now: ‘Tiaras Hold No Sparkle For Beauty Pageant Hopeful.’ ”
Felicity giggled. “I didn’t know you took journalism.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun.”
“Is Gabby in your class?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but she’s been totally slacking lately. She was supposed to be my partner for this project a few weeks ago, and then she bailed on me at the last second, so I had to do the whole thing myself. I heard she’s working on some huge exposé for this internship application for the Chicago Tribune, and Mr. Armstrong likes her ’cause she writes for the paper, so he lets her do whatever she wants. She just sits there in the corner with her headphones on and works on it every day during class.”
“An exposé? What kind of exposé?”
“I don’t know, she won’t tell anyone. It’s some big secret thing. She says it’s a case study, and if anyone knows what she’s doing, it’ll skew the results or something.”
Jonathan kept talking, but Felicity wasn’t paying attention anymore. A finger of cold was creeping down her spine. A secret case study. She had no idea what Gabby was writing or what she was trying to prove, but Felicity knew one thing beyond a doubt.
She was the case study.
She had spent so much time trying to figure out what Gabby had against her, what she had done to deserve the kind of treatment she was getting. But it wasn’t personal. There was no grudge, no jealousy, no malice. Felicity was just a convenient lab rat, running through the maze Gabby had built for her. Gabby was ruining her life, hurting her friends, stealing her boyfriend, controlling her like a puppet, all for the sake of a stupid internship application.
Felicity felt something snap inside her, and her hands balled into fists under the table. Screw her mom’s instructions about finding a way to make the blackmail work for her. She was done being compliant and letting her enemy destroy her world for no good reason.
It was time to take Gabby down.
As the ponytailed artie squeezed by their table on her way out the door, a plan came to Felicity all at once, fully formed and beautiful. The mayor had been trying for years to find Rouge-o-Rama and close its doors for good. And now that Felicity knew there were other places she could get her hair colored, it no longer mattered to her whether the salon’s location remained a secret. If she had to drive to Caldner every few weeks, so be it. It would be a tiny price to pay if she got to see Mayor Redding run the Vaughns out of town. Plus, exposing the salon would destroy Gabby’s credibility with everyone in Scarletville. Once the whole town knew the enormity of the secrets she’d been keeping, any rumor she spread about Felicity would just look like a desperate attempt at retaliation.
All Felicity needed was an audience with the mayor. So it was a good thing she’d see him at the pageant just one short week from today.
“Felicity? Everything okay?” Jonathan’s voice seemed to be coming from miles away.
She took a deep breath and pulled herself back to reality. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m great. Just … sad that the fries are gone.”
“We can get more. Want to? You haven’t tried the curly fries with curry ketchup yet.”
Felicity’s phone beeped, and she dug it out of her bag.
HAYLIE: WHERE ARE U? ivy & i are worried.
FELICITY: not coming back. i’m fine, don’t worry. have fun. talk to you tomorrow.
HAYLIE: WHERE DID U GO??? UR NOT COMING TO THE PARTY???
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” asked Jonathan.
Felicity turned off her phone and dropped it into her bag. “Everything’s perfect,” she said. “Curly fries sound amazing. It’s on me this time.”
Hours later, Felicity and Jonathan were deep in a heated d
iscussion about whether painting a canvas one color constituted “making art” when they noticed that the staff of Fry Me to the Moon was wiping down tables and stacking chairs. The colored lightbulbs above their heads started winking out in sections. “Sorry, guys, we’re closing,” April called as she scrubbed the counter. “You’re going to have to take your debate somewhere else.”
It didn’t seem possible that they’d been talking for four hours, but a chicken-shaped clock on the wall confirmed that it was one in the morning. Felicity stood up to put Jonathan’s tux jacket back on, then groaned at the way her fry-filled stomach strained against her dress. “It’s officially your fault if I’m too fat to fit in my pageant gown next week,” she said.
“Don’t even try to pretend it wasn’t worth it.” Jonathan held the door for her, gently touching the small of her back as he ushered her through. His hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, and Felicity found she didn’t mind at all.
As she settled into the truck, she realized how exhausted she was from the stress of the day. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes as Jonathan drove back toward the highway. What seemed like moments later, he touched her shoulder, and she was shocked to see that they’d already reached the Scarletville town limits. “Am I taking you home, or is there a party you want to go to?” he asked.
Felicity didn’t want her evening with Jonathan to end, but she couldn’t very well show up at Haylie’s party with him. “My car’s in front of Mamma Leoni’s,” she said. “Can you just drop me off there?”
“Sure. Will you be okay driving, though? You seem really tired.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” she teased. “My house is like four minutes away.”
They reached Mamma Leoni’s too quickly; Felicity wouldn’t have minded another few hours of driving through the dark with him. “This is perfect,” she said as Jonathan pulled up behind her car. “Thanks for the ride, and for taking me out.”
“My pleasure. It was really fun.” He tapped the stereo. “I’ll bring you a CD on Monday.”
“Awesome. I really love that cookie-cutter-girl song.”
“That’s my favorite, too.” Jonathan put the truck in park, then turned to face her. His eyes reflected the streetlights, and they looked soft and vulnerable without the protective shield of his glasses. “Hey, Felicity?” he said. “I’m sorry your prom night didn’t turn out like you wanted.”
“Are you kidding? Nobody at prom got fries or milk shakes or one of these.” Felicity pulled her windup hamburger out of her purse, and it feebly kicked its little plastic feet. “I had a great time. Seriously. I hope I was able to salvage your night a little bit, too.”
Jonathan smiled. “Actually, my prom night was pretty much perfect.”
For a minute, it looked like he might lean over and kiss her.
For a minute, somewhere deep down, Felicity hoped he would.
But he didn’t. Instead, he reached out, took her hand, and squeezed it gently. His palms were warm and dry and a little calloused, his fingers long and delicate. Somehow, holding hands with him seemed much more intimate than doing the same thing with Brent. “Good night, Felicity,” he said quietly. “Sweet dreams.”
She squeezed his hand in return, surprised by her reluctance to let go. “You too.”
She didn’t realize she still had Jonathan’s jacket around her shoulders until she got home. Her mom and brothers were sleeping, so Felicity kicked off her heels just inside the door and tiptoed upstairs to her bedroom. She hung the jacket on the back of her desk chair, unzipped her dress, and left it on the floor where it fell. She didn’t even bother to remove her makeup before she crawled into bed in her lobster-print pajamas.
Bits of the evening whirled through her mind when she closed her eyes: Jonathan laughing at a joke she’d made; Jonathan’s eyes lighting up as he talked about art school; Jonathan driving through the night with that adorable half smile on his face; Jonathan squeezing her hand. Things he’d said played over and over, fitting themselves together like puzzle pieces.
“The girl I really wanted to ask was indisposed.”
“Lucia’s my best friend. It’s not like that at all.”
“Actually, my prom night was pretty much perfect.”
She reached out and took hold of the cuff of his jacket, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She was still holding on to it when she fell asleep.
14
SUNDAY, MAY 23
Felicity slept until one in the afternoon. When she finally woke up, the house was silent, and she found a note on the kitchen counter explaining that her mom was out buying new sneakers for the twins. She was shuffling back up to her room with a bowl of cereal when her phone beeped.
BRENT: hey sexy u home? can I come up?
Felicity’s heart did a strange little stutter that was half relief and half disappointment. The text indicated that Brent wasn’t mad at her for the whole Gabby fiasco, which was reassuring. But he would probably expect her to make it all up to him now, and she was way too sleepy and confused to be in the mood. Last night had given her a lot to sort through; she had even thought about kissing someone else. But she couldn’t tell Brent to go away when he had just sacrificed so much for her. So she told him everyone was out and that he should come around to the front door.
He rang the bell a minute later, and Felicity abandoned her cereal and let him in. She was about to apologize for her pajamas and messy hair, but Brent swept her up in his arms before she even had time to say hello. His embrace was warm and strong and familiar, and she relaxed into it. It suddenly seemed ridiculous that she had been having fluttery feelings for Jonathan when her body clearly craved no one but Brent. He pressed her up against the wall and kissed her hard, and all thoughts of last night melted away.
“Let’s go to your room,” he whispered against her neck, then took her by the hand and led her up the stairs.
As Felicity followed him, she realized this was the first time she and Brent had ever been alone in an empty house. She was surprised by how nervous she was all of a sudden. I want this, she told herself. It’s okay. I’ve wanted this for a while. Everything’s going to be fine.
The moment Brent entered her room, he froze, and Felicity crashed into his broad back. “What are you doing?” she giggled, her voice high and anxious. “Come on, let’s go in.” She pushed past him and reached out to pull him toward the bed, but she stopped when she saw his face, which had suddenly gone cold. “What’s wrong, babe?” she asked.
“What is that?” Felicity had never heard Brent use that tone before. There was hurt and confusion in it, but it was laced with a quiet anger that made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“What’s what? What are you talking about?” She looked around, but nothing in the room seemed out of place.
“That.” Brent pointed accusingly at her desk chair.
Jonathan’s tux jacket was still hanging on the back.
Oh no.
“It’s a jacket,” she said carefully.
“Yeah, I know that, Felicity. Whose jacket is it?”
She swallowed hard and reminded herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had eaten some fries with a friend. They had talked. He had driven her to her car. They hadn’t even hugged. It had all been totally innocent.
“It’s Jonathan’s,” she said.
“The guy who was hitting on you at the art show?” Brent’s hands balled into fists at his sides. Felicity didn’t think he would hurt her, but she had to fight the impulse to step out of his reach.
“He wasn’t hitting on me. We were just having a conversation. Last night I went outside for some air, and I ran into him, and I was cold, so he gave me his jacket, and I forgot to give it back. It’s just a jacket. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I thought you’d gone to Haylie’s when you disappeared last night,” Brent said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “But you didn’t, did you? You came here, with him.” It wasn’
t a question.
“I didn’t, Brent! He’s never been here. I just wanted to get away because everyone was staring at me. So Jonathan gave me a ride to my car, and I came home. By myself. That’s it, that’s the whole story. Okay?”
“He gave you a ride to your car? That doesn’t even make sense. You couldn’t walk to the parking lot?”
“It wasn’t in the parking lot. It was in front of Mamma Leoni’s. Ivy drove me from the restaurant to school. I was going to pick up my car today, after Haylie’s party, but I didn’t end up going to the party, so Jonathan gave me a ride.” She reached out to touch Brent’s shoulder. “Honestly. That’s all that happened.”
Brent jerked out of her reach and looked at her with eyes full of ice. “You seriously expect me to believe that? Why wouldn’t you drive you own car to prom? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
Felicity nearly laughed—she’d told so many lies lately, and Brent was fixated on the one part of her story that was totally true. “I swear to God I’m not making it up. Ask Ivy or Haylie.”
“Oh yeah. Because I’ll definitely get the truth out of your best friends.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Felicity. I know you were lying to me all along. That whole ‘prom committee hazing ritual’ thing is complete crap. You made me take Gabby to prom so I’d look like a douche and you could run off with your other boyfriend.”
“Brent, no. It’s not like that at all!” She tried again to touch his arm, but he just backed away as if she had some contagious disease.
“I was trying to help you! Do you think I wanted to go on a date with Gabby? And now I find out you’ve been cheating on me. How do you expect me to react to that?”
Righteous indignation rushed through Felicity. “I have never cheated on you,” she said, her voice more forceful than before. “I would never do that. Don’t you trust me at all?”
“Why would I trust you after this? Seriously, Felicity, do you think you’re the only one in this relationship who’s had other offers? Because I could have had anyone I wanted, any time. But I didn’t, because all I wanted was you. I actually cared about you. But I guess that wasn’t enough, since you ran off with some brunette behind my back.”
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