Cameo (6 page)

I walked into the bathroom. I looked back down the hall in his direction, and his eye caught mine. I abruptly turned my head only to get knocked in the nose by a freshman on the opposite side of the door pushing the door outward.

“Ouch!” I said.

“Oh, I am so, so sorry,” the freshman stuttered.

I looked in the mirror. Not a bruise in sight. “It's okay.” I smiled.

“Are you …”

Was this freshman going to ask me the age-old question every senior worth a grain of salt in the popularity stratosphere had seen fit to ask me just a mere four weeks ago? I eyed her like a hit man eyes his mark.

“… Going to use that stall? Cause ain't no toilet paper in there,” she continued.

“Thanks.” I turned my back and let out a sigh under my breath. I thought she was going to ask me if I was the girl Craig had dumped.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. The sound of her voice was beginning to make me flinch—and what was with the dramatic echo in that bathroom?

When I looked her way, she was gone. The bathroom door swung back and forth. My mother had put all that forensic stuff in my head, so the inner skeptic in me had to check underneath each bathroom stall to make sure no one else was there. The moment I stood up, there was a howling sound coming from the window. Had that been open before? Just as I closed it and intended to get right down
to the business of using the bathroom and getting the hell out of there, out of the corner of my eye I spotted something on the mirror. It wasn't my reflection that did it. It was the red letters that spelled C
AMEO
. That was it for me. Proof! Finally!

I ran to the door swiftly and gave it a good push. It was stuck. It felt like there was a 500 pound hill on the other side. I kept pushing as hard as I could until I realized I was sliding. I had to perch on the corner of the boyfriend graffiti wall, an old roster of who used to date whom, to prevent myself from falling into the pool of red … punch? Had that punch mysteriously accumulated at the bottom of the doorway in the past three minutes while I'd been in the bathroom?

Someone was trying to punk me. Why? I gained my balance by leaning my back against the wall by the door. I kicked the door as hard as I could. It swung open so fast I had to quickly leap out of the bathroom for fear it might swing back the other way and knock me down. I guess that 500 pound rock standing at the door was now gone. Suffice it to say I tracked red sticky footprints all the way to my next class.

By the end of the day, I had a sense of terror inside of me. I rinsed off my tennis shoes and settled for squeaking up and down the hallway rather than sticking to it. Jason was waiting for me at my locker. This boy was like concierge services. Did he intend to drive me home?

“So,” he said. He bobbed his head up and down while he thought of something to say.

“So,” I said. Naturally, I bobbed my head like him and thought of what to say next. “Did you have anything to do with the prank that went on in the bathroom earlier?” I asked.

“No. What prank?” he asked.

“How would you know that I was going to go to the bathroom at that time, is what I'm trying to figure out,” I continued.

He laughed. “I don't know what the deal is with the bathroom, and who said I care what you do?” he said.

I shoved my books into my locker and quietly closed it. I didn't want my slamming it to be mistaken as anger. “I'm …” I couldn't believe I was saying this. “… Sorry,” I said.

He laughed. “Was that hard for you?” he asked.

“That and having someone lock me in the bathroom and pour punch underneath my feet. Not to mention thinking I saw someone in my bedroom the other night.” I paused for a breath, knowing that I had said too much. Note to self: Learn how to keep a secret. I could see the wheels in his head turning. “Did you tell this to the dean?”

“By the time I would've gone to show them, it probably would've been cleaned up!”

“Tomorrow I'm walking you to all of your classes until we find out who this is,” he said. For a moment, the concerned look in his eyes had me going. We walked side by side out the front entrance. That's when it hit me—maybe it was Carolina. She had seen me go into the bathroom, and she was definitely obsessed with Jason. But I wasn't the reason Jason wasn't into her.

“Oh, in English, this girl, Cathy, you know her?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“She told me that the final is going to be on this poem. I thought you might want a heads up. You have the same class behind me, right?”

Funny, he said he wasn't a stalker, but he knew a little too much about my schedule. “I guess,” I said.

He pulled out a wrinkle-free photocopy from his backpack. “‘The Road Not Taken' by Frost. It's supposed to be on the first half of the final.”

“I know the poem.” I pushed the poem away. I figured it was his original. To confess, a tiny part of me was struck by the fact that he took AP English.

“This is an extra copy I made. You can keep it,” he said.

“Can I really?” I said. I meant to be sarcastic, but I don't know if he caught that.

For the next hour and a half, I brainstormed, he took immaculate notes, and we both researched. I tried my best to play it cool even when his hand occasionally touched mine for no reason at all—if you call reaching for the same magazine at the same time no reason. Usually, my personal wall was like the Great Wall of China. I wasn't sure if he liked me or didn't like me. I had no idea how to act, so I acted platonic … way platonic.

“So what's the deal with the chess set?” he asked.

“You play?” I asked.

He laughed.

I remember so well because his smile for a moment felt like it was just for me.

“You?” He asked.

“Yeah, I've been known to win a few games,” I said.

He leaned in so close to me I could smell his cologne.

“You want to?” he asked.

I leaned back just enough not to be sucked into his puppy dog eyes. “There's a game going on.” I wasn't sure how to put it without sounding strange, yet at this point I figured he already thought that.

“My mom and I keep a game going. We usually move our pieces while the other person is doing something else.”

“Why?”

“It's our thing.”

He shook his head in agreement. “I used to have a thing … with a girl, not my parents.”

“You're the one that asked me to play. You say that as if you're the one slumming? I have a 3.7 GPA so, yeah, maybe I don't have a boyfriend, but I invited you to my house. How dare you say that to me?” I could see the wheels in his head turning. He was insulted, as he should've been.

“I'm going to go,” he said.

“I think that's a good idea,” I said.

He packed his books and walked to the door.

I walked several steps behind him. I could feel my heart rate drop. Before he opened the door, he turned to me quickly. For a second, I lost my breath. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. I put my hand on his chest. His heart was racing. Good. He was nervous too. Was he going to kiss me? Of course I waited like an idiot to find out, like I had no choice in the matter. He snagged a marker from his backpack and ripped the lid off with his teeth. He wrote on my hand. I looked down to read the … word? Seemed like he was a writing an entire letter. I bit my lips to keep from laughing. It tickled a little.

S
ORRY
is all he wrote. I looked up to find him staring at me, waiting for approval. I could feel myself becoming flushed. Every bone in my body wanted to slam him against the door and kiss the heck out him. Instead, I grabbed his arm.

“It's okay. I overreacted.”

He gave me the head nod. What did that mean? Was I feeling more out of my league than ever or what? He opened the door, and I let him walk out. On his way to the curb, he turned around.

“So maybe I don't have a girlfriend,” he said.

I tried my best not to show every tooth in my mouth. “Don't smile. Somebody might think you actually like me,” he continued. I thought I was going to choke on my own saliva.

I stood there on my porch in shock as he drove away in his red Mustang. I kept wondering what was next. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I took a deep breath and slammed the front door behind me.

I snagged my Undercover Starlet
^™
journal to tell somebody about my day. My journal was the only place I was sure a secret could be safe. Before I could put pen to paper, my cell phone was ringing. I knew it could only be one of two people: my mom or Cindy. As I picked up the phone, I recalled the days when I had spent all afternoon text messaging girls I had just met at some party who became my fast friends. I was having popularity withdrawal, which I quickly snapped out of at the sound of my mother's high-pitched voice.

“Nia! Hello. I can't stay long, honey. I'm just calling to check in. Where are you?” she asked.

“Home,” I said. That was smart. I should think before I speak sometimes.

“What!” There it was, more of the high-pitched, I'm-in-mortal-shock tone of voice. “I specifically told you, young lady, to go to your grandparents'.”

I guess this wouldn't be the time to tell her I had already had a study appointment with Jason and couldn't break it. “Cindy is coming over right now. You said I could go to her house.”

“I don't want to hear another word about this. When I call you after my next appointment, you had better be at your grandparents'. You understand? Or your cell phone and your cable and your closet are off limits!”

The way she said “off limits” reminded me of one of those deep-voiced villains from those fantasy flicks. She sounded so omnipotent, like if you didn't follow her orders, she would somehow know.

“Can I sleep at Cindy's tonight?”

There was a long silence.

“Mom, are you there?” I asked.

“Yes, I'm here. You can stay at Cindy's. But be there when I call, otherwise there's going to be a problem,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I love you,” she said. These were the moments where I challenged parental law. How could you love someone you wanted to completely dominate?

“Goodbye, Mom.” I could hear her sigh on the other end right before I hung up.

The sun was about to set. And although I thought my mother was a little paranoid, there could be no pranks tonight or I would be dead meat. I could hear her telling my dad about how I disobeyed her and the house got toilet-papered or something. No one could know I was home alone. Unless Cindy told someone? Or if she invited some people over. That was so her M.O. I was torn between closing all the shades and dialing Cindy. Good thing I had voice dialing and speaker phone on my cell, so I could multitask.

“Cin, did you tell anyone my mom wasn't home?” I asked.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I know it's weird, but can you just answer the question?” I said.

“Whatever. Do you think of me as a blabbermouth? Because I so am not. I never told anybody about your crush on Jaden.”

“You swore never to mention that. It wasn't a crush. It was a momentary lapse of judgment.” Jaden was this super tall, geeky type of boy who was kind of annoying. Kids either liked him or hated him. All he did was crack jokes about people. He had liked me since junior year and, for like one day,
in a desperate, post-Craig moment, I had thought I liked him. After I thought about telling him, I realized I found him annoying. He was too silly and immature. What reasonable boy blows spit balls and pranks people with whoopee cushions?

“Whatever. I can't let your cloud of negativity get me down because I have some rad news.” Occasionally, Cindy took a trip to the valley to learn “slang.” I went to the front windows to close the curtains. That's when I saw this girl standing by a tree across the street. She took out a mirror and shined a reflection of the sun into the window.

“Okay, Cin, tell me when you see me. Bye.” I hung up abruptly. I moved to the windows in the dining room. She was there, but she was on the other side of the tree with that same mirror, now reflecting the sun into the dining room window. What was she doing? Trying to burn a hole in the glass? She turned around. I had to admit those big Jackie O–style glasses were to die for. But what the heck was she doing standing on the street dressed to the nines? She waved at me, and I quickly shut the curtains. This was not good. This was so not good.

The doorbell rang. My breathing became intense, like when I thought you-know-who was going to you-know-what me on the lips (I'm trying to block that memory of him, with hopes of this not turning into a full-blown crush). I slowly looked through the peep hole. Nothing! No one was there. I thought of pressing the panic button on the alarm. I ripped the cordless phone base out from the wall in the living room to use as a weapon. The bell rang again. Then my cell phone started to ring. So this creep had my cell phone number.

I lifted the cordless phone and heavy base over my head and swung the door open. I jumped out. And there was Cindy, standing at the door dressed in a white skirt and a shirt like the girl across the street.

“What the hell are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?” I yelled.

“Excuse me? Do not go ballistic on me. I had to walk here. See, my dad let his car run out of oil. His engine has some problems, so he confiscated my car to run that one into the ground as well,” she explained.

Although it sounded real brutal and all, I had bigger problems. “Get inside quick.” I searched the street to see if anyone was watching. Something was coming. I could feel it. “Were you standing across the street?”

“Whatever, I just got here.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“Shouldn't I ask you why you are holding the phone over your head?”

“You tell me. If you're part of some prank, you better tell me now. I hate weird surprises. I am not kidding. I will not speak to you again if you …”