7 Clues to Winning You (24 page)

“Exactly,” she said. “Okay, stop talking or I’m going to accidentally blind you.”

I sat stone still while Jenna worked her designer cosmetic magic. Ten minutes later, she had transformed me into a genuine bad girl. Blythe McKenna: social outcast and teenage delinquent.

I checked my reflection in the mirror of her $25 pressed powder. I looked more like the evil queen than Snow White, but I have to say, it wasn’t bad. Jenna’s technique was flawless. “Jenna, you’re like a makeup wizard,” I said. “Unbelievable. My eyelashes look amazing.”

“Yeah. The trick is to scrape most of the mascara off the brush, then work the bristles into the roots of the lashes and draw it up,” she said.

“God, you girls and your girly-girl talk,” Cy said. “Let me know if you’re going to start comparing your periods so I can shoot myself first.”

Jenna tossed each piece of makeup one at a time back into the case. “You’d better watch your mouth, Cy Mason, or I won’t do your eyes or cut your hair and you’ll look just like your dork cousin Larry.”

Cy held up his hands in surrender. “Never mind. Forget what I said. I’d actually love to hear all about your periods. Are your cramps bad? Do you like tampons?”

Luckily, the bell rang.

I thanked Jenna and got my things together. We filed out of the cafeteria, and I kept my eye out for Luke since I sometimes ran into him here. I thought I caught sight of him back in the crowd, but if he saw me, he didn’t recognize me. Most people didn’t. I was suddenly anonymous, and I liked it.

Jenna’s makeup job stayed so perfect all day that I almost forgot I was wearing it. I was reminded out in the parking lot after school when I found Luke waiting beside my car. When he saw me, he backed away and braced himself against my trunk. “I don’t know who you are, but I can’t let you steal this car,” he said. “Please don’t shank me.”

I stuck my chest out, swaggered up to him, and said, “Then you’d better back up off my ride, beyatch.” Luke feigned terror and slid away from my car. I took his place, leaning against my trunk. “That’s more like it,” I said.

He laughed, then came over and leaned beside me. We watched cars pulling out of the parking spots like a mouth losing teeth. I glanced down the row parked across from us and noticed a hot-pink Volkswagen Beetle. The license plate read: B-U-T QUEEN.

“Oh my God!” I squealed. “
Q!
A
Q
license plate. Look!” I dug frantically in my messenger bag for my iPhone. “That pink Bug! The plate says
Butt Queen
! Why would anyone pick that for their vanity plate? I don’t care. It’s the last letter I need.”

Luke spun around to check out the car. “I … uh … I think it says
Beauty Queen
.”

My phone was hiding between the pages of a notebook. I grabbed it and turned it on.
“Beauty Queen?”
I shook my phone as if that would make it start up faster. “That plate clearly says
Butt Queen
. How could the owner not see that?”

“She probably did, after the fact,” Luke mumbled.

“God, I hope she doesn’t come out before I get the picture.” I loaded the camera.

“Why don’t you let me take it?” Luke’s hand shot out to me. “Here, I’ll take it. Let me!”

I looked at him like he was deranged and headed for the Bug. He trailed behind me, trying to snag my sleeve or the strap of my bag. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll do it for you.”

I waved him off and crouched down behind the car. Just as I aimed the camera, a female voice shouted, “You bastards need to stay the hell away from my car!”

I snapped the picture and stood up, ready to toss some lame apology to the owner, who was jogging over. I didn’t quite get to it. The owner was Karly.

Luke was at my side in a shot.

“LUKE?” KARLY CRIED. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” SHE glared at me. “And why are you with
her
?”

Luke placed his hand on my lower back and steered me away. “Nothing, Karly. Go home.”

“That’s what you left me for?” she screamed. “I wasn’t good enough, so you had to find some snotty little bitch from Meriton? Ha! At least I don’t pick my nose!”

Luke’s hand slipped off my back as he wheeled around. His long legs brought him up to Karly in about five steps. He leaned into her personal space and said, “She’s not a snotty little bitch. I broke up with you because I wasn’t in love with you. And you do pick your nose. I’ve seen it. Many times.”

As Luke strode back to me, I watched Karly’s gaping mouth open and close like a fish’s on a hook. Luke’s hand landed on the same spot on my lower back and we walked away. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly.

“It’s not your fault.”

“She’s hurt.”

“Obviously,” I said. “Now I see why you wanted to be the one taking the picture.”

“She’s had like fifty juniors following her car around for the clue. She’s embarrassed because she hates that plate.”

“That’s how you knew it was supposed to be
Beauty Queen
,” I said. We got to my car and I unlocked it.

Luke nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t notice the other way to read the lettering when she bought it. She wasn’t supposed to get it in the first place, but she went behind her dad’s back, and now he won’t let her change it.”

“Ouch.” I dropped my bag on the backseat. I glanced over at Karly, but her car was gone.

“Anyway …” Luke shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and shifted his weight back and forth. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee or something.”

Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“I wish I could,” I said. “But I have to go volunteer. At the nursing home. I told you yesterday, remember?”

“So you weren’t making that up just to impress me?” he teased. He tipped one shoulder toward me as though he was reaching out, but his hands stayed rooted in his pockets.

“Very funny,” I said. I was riveted to my car door. It was like Luke and I were suddenly two of the same magnetic poles and we couldn’t force ourselves together, no matter how much we wanted to.

“You can come with me if you need proof,” I joked. “Although, I believe you have a certain article to write.”

Luke pushed up his glasses and then slid his hand right back in his pocket. “Yeah, yeah. And an underground scavenger hunt to run. So that was your last plate for the clue?”

“Yup.” I fiddled with a loose thread on the cuff of my hoodie so my hands had something to do. “Clue number four is mission accomplished.”

“You’re going to love clue number five,” he said.

I eyed him sideways. “Oh, no. Is it bad?”

Luke smirked. “Let’s just say it’ll thin out the field of contestants. Although, you might have an advantage. Then again, it could be extra challenging for you to do.”

“That sounds bad,” I said.

“You’ll see.” He winked. “Just remember, I had nothing to do with the clues. They were made up a while ago.” He hooked his fingers through mine, gave them a small squeeze, and said, “I should let you get going.” He backed away until our hands pulled apart. I smiled and flashed a wave goodbye. He turned and walked off. We didn’t kiss.

I was so distracted at Shady Acres that I accidentally put Ms. Eulalie’s Jean Naté After Bath Splash on Ms. Franny. She wouldn’t stop barking about it until one of the nurse’s aides came to give her a sponge bath. I cut out early so she’d have her privacy. Plus, I wanted to get home quickly, to get the fifth clue. I uploaded all twenty-six license plate pictures onto the Revolting Phoenix, careful not to delete my picture of Luke. Not because I needed it for anything; just because he looked adorable and that was the only picture I had of him.

My forehead hit the keyboard. Now I understood what Luke had meant. Either I had an advantage because of my connections with Meriton or this clue was going to be especially hard for me because Meriton used to be my school. God, if this was only the fifth clue, how bad was ten going to be?

There was a knock at my door, and I flipped my laptop closed. “Yeah?” I called.

Mom poked her head through the door. Her eyes bugged at the sight of my makeup. “What’s on your face? Never mind. Listen, I have to go meet Dad over at Marjorie’s office to deal with the inspection report. It might take a while, so there’s a frozen lasagna in the oven for dinner, okay?”

“What’s up with the report?” I asked. The home inspector had come on Saturday and spent three hours going over every inch of our house. It took him two days to write up the twenty-four-page inspection report.

Mom sighed and leaned against my door frame. “The buyers are asking for all sorts of concessions—money that they want back at closing to cover repairs that the house apparently needs.” She rolled her eyes. “According to the inspector, anyway.”

“How much are they asking for?”

Mom puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “Ninety-five hundred dollars.”

“What? That’s almost the entire amount they added on during the bidding war! They’re allowed to just ask for it back?”

“If the report says that the repairs will cost that much, then yes.”

“Oh my God, that’s such a scam. Can we say no?”

She nodded. “But then the buyers can back out of the deal if they want, and we have to start all over again.” Her pallor was dull and pasty, like plaster. She was barely even wearing any makeup.

I leaned back in my desk chair. “Isn’t all this killing you?” I asked.

Mom stared blankly out my window. “Yes. No. Some ways.”

“Then why did you agree to any of it?”

She took a moment to answer me. Probably because she was deciding whether to give me the same old answer or an honest reason. “Because it’s the right choice for our family. And it’s important to Dad.”

Same old answer.

“Please,” I said. “The only thing important to Dad is impressing people.”

Mom’s eyes snapped to me. “That is absolutely untrue,” she said firmly. “This family is your father’s top priority.” More compulsory parent-speak.

“Ha,” I said. “What a joke.”

Her eyebrows knitted together and she scowled. “Why is that a joke?”

I spun my chair around to face her full-on. “Because he’s hiding behind us! He’s using his family to justify his own ambition.”

She reared back. “We ARE the reason for his ambition.”

“No, we’re not!”

“Oh, really? What else is then, Blythe? What else do you think it is?”

I should have stopped myself. I should have said, “Whatever,” and shut my mouth. But I didn’t. “It’s his insecurity! His own insecurity is driving his ambition, not love!”

Mom threw her arms wide and stepped toward me. “And so what? If that were true, so what? Nobody’s perfect, Blythe, including your father. If there’s a hole in him that needs fixing, we’re going to help him fix it.”

“But it’s such garbage!” I said. “Instead of fixing it, why can’t you just convince him that he doesn’t have to do this stupid alpha-male crap?”

“I’ve been trying to for twenty years!” she yelled. “It doesn’t work! He has to physically
get
there! He has to get to a place where he feels good enough. That’s the only way he can stop. The only way he can make peace with himself.”

“For what?” I cried. “What’s he done that was so bad? Nothing! He has nothing to make up for!”

“You don’t understand!” Mom screamed. Suddenly, she halted. She lowered her arms and drew herself upright. She took a cleansing breath and then shuttered the conversation. “There are things between your father and me that don’t
concern you, Blythe. I know this move is hard for you, but you must trust that Dad and I know what we’re doing.” She glanced at her gold and diamond watch. “Now, I have to run. I set the timer for the lasagna. Feed Zach too, please.” She sent me a dry, emotionless air kiss and disappeared.

My cell phone rang. It was Tara.

I DIDN’T EVEN SAY HELLO. I JUMPED RIGHT IN WITH:

“Are you still mad at me, T? I’m still sorry.”

“I’m over it. But you’d better have a good reason for blowing us off.” Her voice was amicable and sounded absolutely fantastic to my ears.

“Does making out with a guy count?” I said.

“WHAT? Wait. Which guy?”

“Luke Pavel. He’s a senior.”

“Isn’t he the one you mentioned in the coffee shop?”

“Yup.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I like him now. A lot. You’ll never guess where he kissed me.”

“Uh, it better have been on the lips, or there’s gonna be some trouble.”

“No! I mean you’ll never guess where we were.”

“In your car?”

“No.”

“Under the bleachers? How 1965 would that be?”

“Nope.”

“In your parents’ bed?”

“Ew! No.”

“In the stacks at the library?”

“No. I’m telling you; you’re never going to guess.”

“In your dad’s office.”

“No. Listen …”

“Oh!” She gasped. “In detention? Did you have your own personal
Breakfast Club
?”

“No. Tara, stop. You’ll never …”

“In a dirty gas station bathroom?”

“Tara, SHUT UP. You will NEVER EVER guess.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Oh my God. Forget we made up. Let’s go back to not talking.”

She started snickering.

“You’re evil,” I said.

“I know. Someone has to be. So get to the smooch details already. God, why are you stalling?”

We talked on the phone for over an hour. Normality achieved. She had a dentist appointment after school the next day, so we made plans to meet for coffee on Wednesday and to go to the Meriton basketball game on Friday night. I immediately started scheming a way to get the Blue Stallion picture. I couldn’t tell Tara about the clue. Even if the Senior Scramble hadn’t been under a strict code of secrecy, news of this particular clue wouldn’t go over too well at Meriton. Especially if it came from me. Nope. I’d have to do it on my own. I’d go to the game, get in, get out, upload the picture, and be done. I knew Tara would help me if she
could, so I figured out a way for her to be my accomplice without even knowing it.