Jealousy (12 page)

Khloe:

No! What?

Lauren:

She was asking me abt Taylor and

I shoved my phone under my desk and put my gaze on the front of the classroom as Mr. Davidson entered.

“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted us.

“Good morning, Mr. Davidson,” we all said back.

The rest of
the forty-five-minute period wasn't good. At least not for me. Lacey only looked at me once during class, and when she did, her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pressed together. Her attitude had spread via whispers and under-the-desk texting to almost every other girl in class.

One by one I got a stare and then a look of disgust from my classmates. I'd never counted down the seconds until a class's end the way I did in today's English period.

Thirty seconds left.

I tore my eyes away from the second hand on the clock and did something I knew Mr. Davidson hated—I started packing before he finished talking.

Clare and Khloe had BBMed me during the entire class, telling me not to let Lacey and her friends make me feel bad. We'd been on our phones so much, I couldn't believe we hadn't gotten caught.

I closed my notebook. The lined page was blank except for a date and
Notes.
I doubted that Khloe and Clare had taken notes either.

“. . . and that sums up today's discussion,” Mr. Davidson
said as I tuned back in. The blond teacher stood, smiling at us. “We'll pick up with the final chapter of
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
on Wednesday. Heads up—there will be a quiz tomorrow on today's discussion.”

Mr. Davidson let his gaze linger on me. Then Khloe. Then Clare. Then Lacey.

“If you didn't take notes,” he said, “I hope you'll be able to borrow a friend's. See you all tomorrow.”

Oh, mon Dieu.
The way Mr. Davidson had looked at me made me wish I could evaporate. He
knew
I hadn't been paying attention, and he was disappointed. Letting down a teacher made me feel awful.

I gathered my book and notebook into my arms, not even bothering to put them into my backpack. In a daze I bolted for the door, barely avoiding a collision with a classmate. I was
not
going to let a mean girl make me cry. But even as I repeated that over and over to myself, tears blurred my vision as I waited for Clare and Khloe outside the classroom.

BY LUNCH I FELT LIKE I WAS A CHARACTER IN
a teen movie. I was the Liked Ten Seconds Ago Girl who had done or said something that caused all of my Used to Like Me Friends to become the Whispering Mean Girls.

I didn't look up from my spot at the corner table in the back (
very
back) of the caf, which Khloe and Clare had chosen. Lexa had joined us, and while everyone else's lunch trays were almost empty, I'd eaten a forkful of mac 'n' cheese before pushing away my tray.

“Lacey was ridic,” Khloe said.

She, Clare, and I had been giving Lexa the details of the awful English class.

“I'm just glad that Taylor doesn't have lunch during
our period,” I said. “That sounds so mean, but it would make things harder to have him in the room and want to sit with him but feel like I can't.”

“Not because of Lacey, right?” Lexa asked. Her black curls were held away from her face with two rhinestone butterfly clips. The butterflies' red wings matched the reddish tint in Lexa's hair.

“Never,” I said, shaking my head. “Lacey can pout and be mad at me all she wants, but it wouldn't make me ditch Tay. I was thinking about Drew. It would be awkward to have Taylor sit with us for lunch, and if he had it this period, I'd
want
him to.”

Clare took a bite of pumpkin pie. “I told you that I had pre-algebra with him before lunch.”

Khloe nodded so hard that I thought she'd bounce right off her seat.

“You dangled that in front of us, Clare Bryant, and that's all you said!” Khloe pretend-chastised her friend.

“We sat together,” Clare said. “Our teacher was a few minutes late, so we talked a little.” She smiled at me. “He talked about you, Lauren, and how coming here was the best thing that had ever happened to him.”

“Did Taylor say he wants Lauren back?” Lexa asked.

“Yeah, did he?” Khloe asked.

“Guuuys. Taylor's not like that,” I said. Then I shifted my eyes to Clare. “Well . . . what
did
he say?”

“Taylor was like you told us—totally cool. I asked him a bunch of questions about himself, what he liked to do for fun, et cetera, et cetera.” Clare smiled.

I felt relieved, even though I knew Taylor wouldn't kiss and tell.

“I'm glad he had someone to hang out with during class,” I said. “I know what it felt like to be the newbie.”

For the rest of lunch my friends shared gossip, made me laugh, and helped take away the sting of Lacey's behavior.

“Sorry I missed
you at lunch.”

I finished putting my just-emptied tray on the rack and turned toward the familiar voice.

Drew, in a red crewneck sweater and jeans, leaned against the wall and smiled at me.

“Me too,” I said, unable to hold back what I was sure was a silly grin. “I thought you might have switched lunch periods to hang with the cool people.”

Drew laughed. “I tried that, but Ms. Utz said I
had
to have lunch this period. Major bummer.”

I grinned. “Maybe I'll be lucky enough to catch you at the stable sometime.”

“Hmmm. That might work out,” Drew said. His blue eyes caught the light as he flicked them to me. “Or we could switch up our workouts if you're game.”

Drew and I had been running together on mornings when we were free before school. We'd connected over our mutual love of jogging as a way to clear our heads.

“Try me, Adams.” I folded my arms, giving him my best
bring it on
face.

“Instead of running tomorrow morning, what about swimming? The pool will be deserted, and it'll be a good change for our muscles.”

“I'm in,” I said. No hesitation. “I'm being wimpy, since it's barely November, but I'd rather go swim in a heated indoor pool than jog in the cold that early in the morning.”

“Done.” Drew smiled, flashing dimples in both cheeks.

I suddenly realized I'd gone from having my arms folded to hugging myself like a dork. Boys
never
had that effect on me. Until Drew.

“Cool. BBM me a time later?” I said.

“Sure thing. See you at riding.” Drew smiled again before heading to the lunch line.

I waved and joined Khloe, Clare, and Lexa, who were waiting by the caf exit.

“Someone looks a little happier,” Clare said, bumping me with her shoulder.

I had to force myself
not
to skip toward the door. “I just talked to Drew, and he was so great.”

“Tell, tell!” Khloe said. “We're not leaving this cafeteria until you spill, LT.”

“Mmm,
okay
,” I said. “If you really want to know . . .”

Simultaneously my three friends shot me dirty looks.

I laughed. “Okay! He said he was sorry he'd missed our lunch period.”

“Awww,” Lexa said with a happy sigh.

The girls stared at me with wide, round eyes, waiting for me to finish my Boy Story.

“Then he asked if I wanted to shake up our usual morning runs.”

Clare stopped mid-gloss, the pink wand hovering above her bottom lip. “Like how?”

“Like, Drew asked if I wanted to go
swimming
tomorrow morning instead of running.”

Clare, Lexa, and Khloe let out ear-piercing squeals.

“Omigod! Laureeen!” Khloe said. She grabbed my forearm and fanned her face with her other hand.

“This. Is. Huge,” Lexa said. “That's Drew's other thing. He has riding and he has swimming. He wants to
introduce you to his other fave thing to do!”

“I know!” I said. “I'm so excited! I'm so glad I took swimming lessons when I was a kid. My mom made me go when I was little, and I
hated
it. The pool was always freezing, and the floaty arm things pinched my skin. But after I learned, my parents probably regretted it. I was always begging to go swimming.”

“You guys,” Clare started. She'd given up on glossing and had tucked the Ulta gloss back into her pocket. “I think you're forgetting one, oh I don't know,
tiny
thing.”

I couldn't think of anything . . . . I stared at Khloe, then at Lexa. Both girls shook their heads at me.

Clare's cheeks went pink. She leaned closer to us. “You're going to see Drew . . . with his shirt off!”

OH, mon Dieu!

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep a squeak from coming out. Lexa and Khloe, though, didn't even try.

“Omigod, omigod!” Lexa said. “We can't talk about this in here! Drew's getting his lunch. C'mon.”

Linking arms, we all burst into giggles and scurried toward the door.

AFTER CLASS I HURRIED BACK TO MY DORM,
alone, and went to change for my riding lesson. Khloe's advanced class wasn't until after mine, so she didn't have to rush back to Hawthorne. She'd gone to meet a group of friends from theater, and they were running lines for
Beauty and the Beast.

Inside my room I dropped my backpack beside my desk and plugged my BlackBerry into the charger.

I slid out of my school clothes and went to the section of my closet that contained my riding clothes. Layers were key for today to stay warm. Tan breeches. Wool socks. Black tank top. A black-and-gray rugby-stripe sweater and a black toggle coat.

As I dressed, I thought about Khloe at practice. She'd
been prepping for her role as Belle ever since Riley had left campus. Khloe's theater rival had landed the coveted lead as Belle, and Khloe had been given the part of Mrs. Potts and was Riley's understudy. It had looked as though Riley would be the one to lead the drama club's fall production, until a few weeks ago. Without telling anyone, even her so-called best friend Clare, Riley had landed a role on a TV pilot shooting in New York City and had decided to leave Canterwood.

I had a gut feeling that Riley wouldn't be the successful actor she strived to be. She didn't care about acting like Khloe did. Khloe approached acting like she did riding—she cared about the craft, read a zillion books on the topic, and practiced. Riley, on the other hand, had only wanted to be a star. A celebrity. I knew from my time spent around girls like that on the A circuit, who wanted to be superstar riders without really loving the sport, that it could only take them so far.

I sat at my desk chair, lacing up my boots. On Khloe's message board she had
FIRST PERFORMANCE!!!
written in sparkly blue gel pen. The date? One week. Cliché nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach for my best friend.

“Okay,” I said aloud. “Time to get out of here.”
I unplugged my phone, slipped it into my coat pocket, and shut our door behind me. I walked down the hallway, beautifully decorated for fall with pumpkins, fake leaves, and gourds on the tables. I peeked inside Hawthorne's dorm monitor Christina's office as I walked by. She was on the phone, sounding as if she was talking to a parent about Parents' Weekend activities.

That
gave me a case of my own butterflies. In less than two weeks my parents and Becca would be on campus. I'd be showing them around, introducing them to my friends, and giving them a taste of Canterwood life.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, making me jump as I walked. I laughed aloud at myself for being such a dork. Navigating the campus courtyard was like walking the streets of bustling New York City. No one had noticed my silly freak-out, nor were they staring at me like I was a crazy person for laughing at myself.