Zach cast her a suspicious glance. “How about you talking to me?” he replied.
Stevie laughed as if he’d actually said something witty. “Good one,” she said. “But listen, I just wanted to talk to you about Scott Forester, the action candidate for student body president …” She plunged into her usual speech, mentioning the dance briefly and then moving on to describe the trip fundraiser idea as well as Scott’s plans to update the software in the school computer lab.
“Yeah, yeah.” Zach cut her off before she could finish. “I heard all about it. The action candidate, man of action, blah blah blah. I’ve got it. Veronica talked my ear off about it in homeroom.”
Stevie’s jaw dropped, and for a second she couldn’t respond. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Veronica had been spouting off to friends like Nicole about all her big plans for Scott’s presidency. But Zach Lincoln? Stevie doubted Veronica had ever spoken to him before in her entire life, unless it was to taunt him.
“Oh, okay then,” she said, trying to be patient. “Did you know that Scott also intends to distribute a survey once he’s elected to find out what issues matter to you?”
“Uh-huh.” Zach looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown three or four extra heads. “Veronica told me that, too. Don’t you guys talk to each other? I thought you political manager types were supposed to be so organized.”
“Yeah,” Stevie snapped, not even caring if Zach thought she was obnoxious. “We held a secret summit meeting and agreed to make sure we told everybody in school the same thing at least twice. After that, we’re going to get to work on taking over the world and creating a benevolent dictatorship.” She stalked away, leaving Zach staring after her.
I’m supposed to be Scott’s campaign manager, she fumed as she strode toward the stairs. Thanks to her fruitless little chat with Zach, she was probably going to be late for English lit. He asked me, and only me. So where does Veronica get off electing herself to share the job?
In the cafeteria a little while later, Stevie was telling the students standing near her in the lunch line about all the plans Scott had for the marching band’s budget problems, when she felt a hand on her arm. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” Veronica diAngelo said smoothly, inserting herself into the center of the group before Stevie quite realized what was happening. “I thought you all might like to know the latest. I was having a private talk with the candidate just before lunch, and he told me he really wants this year to be special here at Fenton Hall. That’s why he came up with his latest plan.” She paused and glanced around, making sure that everyone was hanging on her every word.
Stevie shot her a suspicious glare, wondering what she was up to. As far as she knew, Scott hadn’t come up with any fabulous new plans, although she had to admit she hadn’t spoken to him much that day.
“What are you talking about, Veronica?” she asked sharply. “I was already telling them about how the cost of the new band uniforms is—”
“Is totally boring,” Veronica interrupted with a smile for her audience. She shrugged and casually ran her fingers through the ends of her shiny dark hair. “I don’t know how you guys feel about it, but I’m not really that interested in all that budget stuff.”
Stevie gritted her teeth. It took all her self-control not to tell Veronica off right then and there. But, she reminded herself, it wouldn’t make Scott look very good if his campaign manager blew up at his supposed girlfriend.
Veronica didn’t even seem to notice Stevie’s consternation. Her pretty, high-cheekboned face still held that self-satisfied smile. “One thing I do care about, though,” she said, “is where we’re going to have our prom this spring. I mean, the public high school holds theirs at the Creekside Hotel every year—it’s ridiculous that ours is always right here in the stinky old Fenton Hall gym. That’s why Scott has promised that this year, ours will take place in the ballroom of the Willow Creek Country Club.” She paused just long enough to let what she’d said sink in. “Scott and I think that would be a much more romantic place for the prom.”
Of course you do, Stevie thought bitterly. Your parents practically own the place. But remember, the hard part will be convincing Miss Fenton, the queen of tradition, to change the way we’ve always done things.
She opened her mouth to explain that she was sure all Scott was really doing was discussing options for the prom—after all, it was still months away. But it was too late. The other students were already chattering excitedly about Veronica’s announcement.
Stevie was still brooding about Veronica’s outrageous comments as she grabbed her American history textbook out of her locker just before last period. Her mood had been swinging all day between elation at Scott’s blossoming popularity and annoyance at the way Veronica kept trying to insinuate herself into the campaign. But the closer the dance loomed, the more she simply found herself wishing that she could go to it instead of staying home and working her fingers to the bone.
Why was I so stupid last weekend? she wondered helplessly. If only I hadn’t taken that first sip of beer … I’m sure Mom and Dad would have been a lot more forgiving about the mess and everything if—
“Stevie.” A familiar voice broke into her thoughts. “Earth to Stevie.”
“Scott!” Stevie slammed her locker shut and grabbed him by the arm. “Listen, do you have any idea what Veronica’s telling people now?” She paused and peered at him more closely, noticing that his usual friendly, jovial expression had been replaced by a more somber, thoughtful look. “What’s the matter with you?”
Scott ran a hand through his hair and glanced from side to side. “I want to ask you about something,” he said. “Come on, let’s duck in there for a minute.” He nodded to an empty classroom across the hall.
Stevie followed, feeling worried. As soon as they were alone, she turned to him with her hands on her hips. “What’s the problem?” she demanded, knowing there was no time to beat around the bush. Her history class started in less than five minutes. “Does this have something to do with Veronica and the prom?”
“Prom, no. Veronica, yes.” Scott leaned against the edge of the teacher’s desk and furrowed his brow. “Callie started me thinking yesterday, and well, now I’m just not sure what I should do.”
“What do you mean?” Stevie wasn’t following him. “Do about what?”
Scott shrugged. “Veronica, of course.”
“Well, unfortunately, murder’s against the law,” Stevie said tartly, tapping one foot impatiently against the hard tile floor. “Otherwise, the solution would be simple. I understand that they’re working on personality transplants, but you know how slow the FDA is.…”
Scott smiled, but it looked a bit forced. “No, really,” he insisted. “I don’t have much time. I mean, if I don’t ask her to the dance soon, she’ll probably ask me—she’s been dropping some pretty obvious hints as it is—and then I’ll have to figure out what to tell her, and no matter what I say—”
“Wait a minute.” Stevie held up a hand to stop him, struggling to catch up. “This is about asking her to the dance? What, did you suddenly come down with a case of shyness?” She shook her head in confusion. “I assumed you’d already asked her. She’s certainly acting as though you two are a couple.” She couldn’t help shuddering slightly at the very idea.
“But that’s just it.” Scott spread his hands out before him helplessly. “I haven’t asked her. I don’t really want to ask her. But if I don’t, what will people think?”
“They’ll probably think you have some taste,” Stevie replied. Then she paused. “Wait a minute. Did I just hear you right? You don’t want to ask her? Then why have you been letting her think you’re into her?”
Scott looked sheepish. “I guess I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing,” he admitted, picking at the pockmarked surface of the desk. “Not until Callie said something yesterday. She doesn’t think it’ll look good if I take Ronnie to the dance and then tell her I don’t want to get seri
ous. It’ll look like I was using her all along. You know, for her family connections or whatever.” He shrugged. “I don’t want people thinking that about me, and I certainly don’t want to lead her on.”
Stevie blew out a noisy sigh. “Oh, wow,” she said blankly. “This is a hell of a time to start thinking about this. Why couldn’t you have just blown her off when she first started hanging around and batting her eyelashes at you?”
Scott shrugged again, not quite meeting her eye. “I think she’s an interesting person. And, you know, attractive. I kind of like hanging out with her. I’m just not interested in getting involved in some kind of romantic relationship with her right now.”
I get it, Stevie thought, feeling a bit frustrated with him. You kind of like hanging out with her, because you kind of like having pretty girls following you around, hanging on your every word. Unfortunately, you misjudged this particular girl in a big way, and she’s probably going to make you pay for it.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of satisfaction that Veronica’s charms hadn’t won Scott over. Veronica wasn’t used to being rejected by guys—Stevie would love to see her face when Scott blew her off.…
But she stopped herself from that line of thought. This was no time to be thinking of her own personal entertainment. She had to be practical—they had an election to win.
“Listen,” she told Scott, going over and perching beside him on the desk. She was so busy trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say next that she hardly noticed as the bell rang, signaling that she was officially late for history class. “I hear what you’re saying. But I really think you’re making too big a deal of this. I mean, Veronica goes through boyfriends like most people go through candy bars. So you might as well make things easy for yourself and just take her to the dance.”
Scott was already shaking his head by the time she finished. “I don’t want to be like that,” he said stubbornly. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
Stevie gritted her teeth, tempted to grab him and shake him. “Look, I don’t like giving this advice any more than you like hearing it,” she told him bluntly. “But you’ve got to be realistic about this. You know that saying about the fury of a woman scorned, or whatever?” She scowled. “Well, it was practically invented for Veronica. If you tell her you’re not interested, she’ll make your life miserable. It’s just not worth it, especially now, so close to the election.”
“I see where you’re coming from,” Scott said. “But I’m not going to pretend to have feelings for her when I don’t.”
Stevie raked her hands through her hair. “I know, I know!” she exclaimed. “I’m not saying you have to propose or anything. I mean, come on—I’m the last person who’s going to say you ought to like that stuck-up snake. But can’t you just play along a little longer? If you really don’t want to take her to the dance, maybe you could come up with an excuse, like saying you need to be free to concentrate on campaigning or something.” She shrugged. “But if that doesn’t satisfy, you may need to just go out with her this once. You can figure out how to deal with it after you’re president, if a miracle occurs and she doesn’t get bored with you by then.” She winced as she said it, feeling more like Cinderella than ever as she pictured smug Veronica holding court at the dance by Scott’s side while Stevie slaved away at her endless chores at home.
Scott stood up and nodded. “Thanks for your input, Stevie,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Sorry, I’ve made you late. I forgot not everyone has a study hall this period.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Stevie stood, too, trying to get a look at Scott’s expression. He was a good six inches taller than she, so it was hard for her to see his eyes. “So what are you going to do?” she asked cautiously.
“I have to do what I think is right.” He finally looked Stevie in the eye, and her heart sank when she saw the determined set of his jaw. “I don’t want people getting the idea that I’m some kind of user. I shouldn’t have let things get this far with Veronica.” He nodded firmly. “I’m going to talk to her right after school, let her know where things stand with us.”
“But Scott—”
He cut her off before she could say anything more. “My mind is made up, Stevie,” he said. “Callie’s right—I’ve got to do something about this right away.”
Oh, Callie, Stevie thought desperately as she followed him out of the empty classroom. Why did you have to speak up about this now of all times?
She was sure that Callie had meant well. Maybe she would even be right—if they were dealing with anyone but Veronica diAngelo. The Foresters were still new enough to Fenton Hall that they didn’t know how vindictive she could be when she thought she’d been wronged.
As Stevie hurried through the silent halls toward her history classroom, she knew she ought to start figuring out what she was going to say to Mr. Carpenter to explain her tardiness. Instead, all she could think about was Scott’s decision.
Crossing her fingers, she decided that all she could do was hope for the best and see what happened. I don’t know what good that will do, though, she thought ruefully, staring down at her crossed fingers. My luck hasn’t exactly been the greatest lately.
FIVE
Wow, Carole thought at the beginning of her seventh-period class. This must be my lucky day! She could hardly contain her joy as she stared at the quiz her history teacher had just returned, particularly the big A—95% written in bold red ink at the top of the page.
“Nice work, Carole,” Ms. Shepard said quietly, pausing on her way back up the aisle after distributing other students’ papers. She patted Carole on the shoulder. “You’ve really turned things around in the past few weeks. This quiz brings you up to a solid B-plus for the semester.”
“Thanks,” Carole replied softly. She glanced at the grade again as the teacher moved on. She knew she deserved the A—she’d read this week’s assignment three or four times in study hall.
Still, she found herself quickly folding the paper in half and stuffing it into her backpack. She was starting to wonder if she would ever be able to simply enjoy a good grade again after what she’d done. Several weeks had passed since the day she’d given in to temptation and cheated on a history test, but her feelings of guilt hadn’t ebbed much in that time. Whenever she thought about how she’d peeked in her textbook when the teacher was out of the room, she felt her face grow hot with shame.
At least nobody ever has to know, she told herself, but that thought wasn’t much comfort. She knew she would have been in big trouble if she’d been caught. But not being caught seemed almost as bad, because it meant she had to live with the knowledge of what she’d done all by herself, with no one to help her through it.
Carole wasn’t used to keeping secrets from the people she loved—she and her father had been close ever since the death of her mother years earlier, and it felt horrible to keep something so major from him. Then there were her friends. Until the test, there had never been anything she’d felt she had to hide from Stevie and Lisa. But this was different. It could change the whole way they thought about her, and she definitely didn’t want to risk that.
I really didn’t have a choice, though, she thought helplessly. If I’d failed that test, my average would have fallen way below a C. That means Max would have banished me from Pine Hollow until I brought the grade up. Plus Dad would have been so disappointed—he probably would have chained me to my desk until I memorized the entire history of the world.
She slouched in her seat and gnawed on her lower lip, hardly hearing as her teacher started reviewing the quiz. Thinking about how she’d tricked the people she cared about still hurt, no matter how certain she was that she’d only done what she’d had to do.
There’s one more thing I need to remember, she told herself firmly. If I’d let that grade slip, I wouldn’t be getting ready to ride Samson at Colesford right now. That’s got to be worth all this guilt and then some.
That thought made her si
t up straight at her desk. No matter how guilty she felt about what she’d done, she couldn’t imagine how horrible she would have felt if she’d blown the chance to take Samson to the big show.
Stevie’s comments the day before floated uninvited through her mind. Carole still wasn’t sure what to think of her friend’s remark, but she knew that at least part of it was true. She really did love spending every possible minute with the big black horse. They made a great team—obviously Max had seen that, since he’d asked her to ride Samson at Colesford. Stevie had seen it. Even Ben seemed to have noticed, though she still wasn’t sure what he’d been driving at the day before during that awkward almost-conversation in the stable aisle.
Knowing that she’d done what she’d done at least partially for Samson didn’t make everything totally better, of course—only more time would do that, if she was lucky. But at least it gave her something else to think about.
She smiled slightly and shifted her thoughts to the jump course she planned to set up for Samson’s training session that afternoon. Settling back in her seat once again, she started running possible combinations through her mind as her teacher’s voice faded slowly away.
Stevie glanced at her watch for the fourth time. “Come on, Alex,” she muttered impatiently under her breath. “Some of us have ovens to clean, you know.”
She leaned against the hood of the small two-door car that she and Alex shared and crossed her arms over her chest. Kicking at a stone on the cracked asphalt of the student parking lot, she decided she’d give him five more minutes before she left without him. For all she knew, he might have spaced out and gone home on the bus or caught a ride with friends.
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