Indigo Blues (17 page)

"Maybe they'd like to say good-bye to you before your untimely death." I pick up the closest weapon, to show
him I mean business, and wave it in his face.

"Drop that pencil." He pushes it away. "Now calm
down and listen."

"You've got thirty seconds."

"The more you refuse interviews, the more people want
to know who you are. I figured if we set up a site, every
time someone bothers you, you can just give them your
web address. Let them know that there is no mystery."

I hate to admit it, but it kind of makes sense. I walk over
to my desk and pull up the site again. "Still, you should've
asked me first. You have to take off that nasty comment on
the first page. It was totally taken out of context and you
know it."

Eli points to the screen. "It's just a little dig to let
people know you're not a loser."

"Thanks, that's so sweet of you," I say. "Now remove
it and while you're at it, change the pic. I want something
more casual and definitely less peach."

He takes out his notepad and jots down what I say.

I'm not even going to bother telling him about my
run-in with Krista because he'll probably sneak it in somewhere on the site. Although it would've been nice if I had
snapped a pic of Krista in her royal gooeyness at the Starbucks Pageant and stuck it on YouTube.

I get up and change places with Eli. He logs into his
Mac account, which is linked to the site. "So what do you
want it to say?"

"Something that doesn't make me seem like a witch,
but not a pushover, either."

"I am woman, hear me roar?"

"Lame." I pace around the room, reluctantly letting
the lyrics to "Indigo Blues" flood my head. I'm stuck on
Indigo, how could you let me go? But I never let Adam in all
the way. Yes, I started to, but he got swept up and clung to
me like static cling. There was no room to breathe.

"I could leave it blank," Eli suggests.

"No, I have things to say too. How about ... trust is
the first step to falling in love."

Eli's typing as I talk. "I like it. Gives the guy hope."

"If that's what you call it. I call it the truth."

"Okay, so now for the new photo." We go through my
digital pictures and finally choose one that Mom took of
me over the summer. We were in Cape Cod for the weekend at my grandparents' cottage. I have a glowing tan and
the sun is setting in the background.

When we're done, Eli asks if I want to see a few comments that were left on the website guestbook. I reluctantly
say yes. I need to know what people think. My eyes can't stay
closed forever. I hold my breath as he brings the page up.

Cherrypop23: OMG. I can't believe you really
exist. I'm sure you're sorry now.

Bikerchickie: u don't need da beyoch, Adam!

Reymanl2l: Indigo's hot!!

Stargazer: Good for you, express yourself.

Kristalight: Indigo is one deranged girl. And
she's not even cute.

I exhale. Kristalight, girl, you messed with the wrong
Indigo. And if the worst she's got to back her up is Cherry-
pop23 and Bikerchickie, bring it on! I poured a four-dollar
drink on Kristalight's head. Nothing can stop me now!

y head is pounding from last night. My eyelids are
heavy like steel drums. I slowly open them, and I'm
blindsided-everything is pink. This has to be a nightmare. I'm talking about the walls, bed sheets, throw pillows, and, oh, even the computer. And there's another bed
in the room. It's pink, too. That must be Erica's. But they
both can't be pink crazy. Can they? Talk about getting in
touch with your feminine side. I sit up and look over to my
left. It's Hannah, sleeping like a baby, except she's clearly
not a baby. I rub my eyes, clear out any fog.

Whoa, my memory is coming back. We had fun last
night-plenty of cocktails and massages. I know it was all
good, but I need to get out of here. To clear my head from
all things cotton candy.

I quietly slide out of the bed and collect my jeans and
T-shirt from the floor. Crap, I only see one shoe. I crawl
under the bed and look for the other one. There are a whole
bunch of beady eyes under there. Stuffed animals. Not just
one or two, but, like, a whole brood. Maybe she's a collector. Weird. I can't believe she would've hauled all these faux
pets with her from Colorado.

I hear some grumbling and then, "Adam? Adam?"

I lift my head up. "I'm here. Just looking for my other
shoe."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, I've got some work to do." I look over by the
window and see brown leather peeking out from under the
pink shirt Hannah wore last night.

I'm reunited with my shoe.

"Stay." She pouts, patting the other side of the flowery
comforter.

I give her a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll call you later."
We're due back in the studio tomorrow to work on "Sugar
Rush." We still have a few kinks to work out and apparently so do I. I don't exactly remember everything that
went on last night, and that's scary.

"I'll be waiting for you." She drops the top of the comforter, exposing her luscious breasts. Ooo, tempting! I've got
to get out of here before I jump back in. Pieces of last night
are quickly coming back to me and I'll give it to Hannah,
she's a wild ride. But I'm not sure if that's what I need right
now. I'm finally on track and don't want to be derailed.

"Sounds good." I smile and walk myself out.

Only after I leave do I realize that I know how she feels.
That's usually me, begging the person not to go. Begging
Indigo.

want to go to school today as badly as I want to get a triple
root canal (do those even exist?). Cat has talked to Krista,
and she promised to lay off me in exchange for an exclusive
interview next Monday. So basically I've got a week to cross
the Mexican border and never look back. I knew I should've
taken four years of Spanish instead of French.

Eli tamed down the website, too, and changed my picture, so maybe it's not going to be that bad. I slide into spot
143 by myself. I actually wish Eli was here to walk in with
me today, but he came to school way early for math tutoring-nerd. I head toward the side door by the art room,
where Cat promised to meet me.

Tripp and a few of his friends are hovering around a
red Hummer a few spots over from me. It has that shiny new glow to it. I haven't seen him since Saturday. I should
stop and say hi, because I don't want him to think of me
only as the crazy frappuccino-dumping girl.

Oh, great, Sam's there, too. I wonder if he already has
me labeled as a wacko. After all, I'm sure he had to deal
with Krista's whining for the rest of the night.

"Hey, Tripp." I stop and sling my backpack over my
shoulder.

He walks toward me. His eyeballs do the talking, zoning in on my boobs. "We'll have to pick up where we left
off on Saturday."

"Sure," I say, before I realize what he means. As long as
we don't have to hang out with Krista, I'm game.

"I can pick you up tonight after practice." He winks and
goes back to pet the Hummer with the rest of his buddies.

"Cool." I think. I hope the guys didn't hear that.

Cat's over by the art door waving at me. I speed up to
meet her. "I saw you talking to Tripp," she says.

"Yeah, he was just making a booty call for tonight."

She laughs. "Sweet."

"Right." I nod.

"And he keeps your mind off of Adam and the whole
song thing."

"True, and he's pretty yummy." I lick my lips.

She pats me on the back. "There's my little slut."

A couple of girls emerge from the art room carrying
portfolio cases. They're giggling. And the paranoid freak
that I am, I can't tell if it's about me or something entirely
different. Surely Krista kept her mouth shut about the coffee incident. It would only make her look like a total
loser. Unless she plays the part of helpless victim, but that
is totally going against her strong, independent, clean, TVqueen persona. And there is still a slight chance that she
might try to retaliate, although she assured Cat that if I did
the interview, she'd stay away from me. I better keep an eye
on her at all times.

I lean my head on Cat's shoulder. "What would I do
without you?"

"Need me to walk you to class?" she asks.

The bell rings and we move toward the front of the
school.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

We split and promise to meet up at lunch. I make it to
first period without incident. There is no Wanted poster of
me on the classroom door. No gum on my chair or people
sticking pins in voodoo dolls with my likeness. I scan the
class and no one is staring at me, either. So Krista hasn't
turned the whole school against me over the weekend. They
don't all know about my website. But I'm sure she's not going
to let me off that easy-she must be planning something for
the big interview. Maybe she'll rig a bucket of pig's blood to
a rope and pull a string to dump it on my head. Whatever
it is, I know she still wants to come out as an Emmy-awardwinning reporter.

I wade through Mr. Macintosh's sociology lesson and
even manage to answer a couple of his questions on population growth and management. I know of at least one person that is not contributing to the overall goodness of peace on
earth. Krista.

After class, I throw my massive history textbook into
my locker and rush to English before Krista gets there. If
I'm already seated, then there's less damage she can do.
I swing open the door and see her and Elle standing by
my desk. I look around the room. Mrs. Stead is grading
papers, and half a dozen students are talking. Doesn't this
scene strike anyone else as odd? Two mega bitches have put
a hex on my seat, and to these people it's just another normal day. Wake up, people!

I garner my strength by repeating the word frappuccino under my breath. Maybe if I just sit down, they'll go
away.

Krista strikes first, slapping a piece of paper down on
my desk. "You will pay."

I open up the little folded slip. It's a receipt. "Jerry's
Dry Cleaners? Thirty dollars?"