P.S. I Loathe You (16 page)

“One more time!” someone shouted.

Alicia!

And the Socc-Hers were doing Cleat Feet again.

“CLEATS!”
(clap-clap)
“ON YOUR FEET!”
(clap-clap)

Who did Alicia think she was, calling the cheers?

“SWEAT!”
(clap-clap)
“ON THE NET!”
(clap-clap)

Did Derrington really like Dylan? Was
Cosmo
wrong? Did boys like funny girls after all?

“SCORE!”
(clap-clap)

Oof!
Alicia smashed into Massie.

“ONE MORE!!!!!!” Alicia yelled. And they clap-clapped.

“Watch where you’re going!” Massie barked.

“Me?”
Alicia barked back. “You’ve been in a total daze since the game started.”

The Socc-Hers slowed down to watch the fight.

“Again!” Massie called.

“Same cheer?” Layne moaned.

“Yeah!” Massie waved her peacock feathers under the LBR’s sensitive nose. “And get it right this time. Ready? And!”

“CLEATS!”
(clap-clap)
“ON YOUR FEET!”
(clap-clap)

Alicia smashed into Massie again. “Turn left! Nawt right!”

“SWEAT!”
(clap-clap)
“ON THE NET!”
(clap-clap)

Massie seethed. “It’s right first, then left! Gawd. Just because you took a few amateur dance lessons doesn’t make you Julianne Hough.” She gave Alicia a shove.

“Opposite of whatever you said!” Alicia shoved her back. “Because I
am
better than you!”

“Are nawt!” Massie fought to catch her balance as Dempsey ran toward them, kicking the ball toward the goal.

“SCORE!”
(clap-clap)
“ONE MORE!!!!!!”
(clap-clap)

But the weight of Massie’s ponytail threw her off, and she smashed right into Dempsey as he passed. He lost his footing and rolled over on his ankle. A stocky guy in a gold and blue jersey captured the ball, sped off in the other direction, and scored one for the other team.

“Dempsey!” Layne shouted, racing to his side, along with his coaches and his parents.

He groaned through gritted teeth while they peeled off his sock.

“Booooooooooo!” the crowd began shouting.

“Alicia!”
Massie squealed, quickly standing. “I can’t believe you pushed me!”

She addressed the crowd. “She pushed me!”

“Opposite of true!” Alicia shouted back.

“Boooooooooo!” the crowd continued, thumbs down, heads shaking in disgust.

“It was an accident!” Massie pleaded while her squad gathered around Dempsey.

They lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him off. Layne and Twizzler scurried after him.

“What are you doing?” Massie called. “The game’s not over!” She had considered following Dempsey as well, but they hadn’t even lip-kissed yet. It wasn’t her place. And if
she
wasn’t going, Layne certainly wasn’t. “Get back here or you’re off the squad.”

“Fine,” Layne shouted over her shoulder. “I’m off the squad!”

“Twizzler! That goes for you too!”

“She’s my partner! We come as a pair.” He followed Layne, his entire body burning red.

Massie was so embarrassed, she had no idea what to do next. Spontaneous alien abduction was looking like her only way out.

The crowd began chanting, “Purse . . . purse . . . purse . . . ,” while pointing at . . .
her
!

Massie’s icy heart melted instantly.
Cancel the aliens!
All was forgiven. They still loved her. They still wanted to be her. They still admired her accessories. Giving them what they wanted, she waved her beautiful custom peacock-feather pom-pom purse in the air and grinned.

“. . . purse . . . purse . . . purse . . . ,” they chanted even louder.

“Here it is!” She waved her purse harder. “Genuine peacock!”

Alicia tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, Hilary
Deaf
.” She smirked. “They’re saying
curse.
” She giggled. “Nawt
purse
!”

Massie gasped.

Just then someone threw a giant No. 1 finger at her back. It was made of foam, but it cut like a knife.

THE PINEWOOD

APARTMENT #10F

Thursday, October 8th
6:47 P.M.

Dune
dehhhh
-finitely had lip-kissing on the brain. And spent most of the soccer game talking about it. Particularly how his surfer friends had lip-kissed some local Tavarua girls and how
he
had held back because
he
was saving himself for Kristen. It was everything she dreamed he’d say when she lay in bed night after night, missing him. But come awn! Did he
have
to bring it up right when Carter Alexander was about to score? It was beyond distracting.

Five minutes later, his pinky grazed hers. It was sweet times ten. But weird times twenty. For some reason, her heart didn’t race and her palms didn’t sweat. But they probably would have if Derrington hadn’t been shouting at his teammates and cursing his ankle for keeping him out of the game, right? It was like trying to concentrate on math problems when Alicia was snapping her gum.

Nine minutes post pinky-graze, Dune began feeding Kristen french fries. It was so romantic two girls sitting behind them actually
awwwwed
. Their jealousy filled Kristen with pride, reminding her how completely ah-dorable her crush was. She vowed, from that moment on, to focus less on the game and more on Dune. But then Massie tripped Dempsey, and Dempsey looked hurt. And they put him on a stretcher. And took him away. And, well . . . Dune-appreciation had been replaced with Dempsey-concern. And just like that, the
awwwwww
moment was
awwwwwwl
gone.

Still, Dune had invited himself over to Kristen’s so they could do their environmental studies homework together, and she’d accepted. He’d ah-bviously try to lip-kiss her while they were working, and maybe
that
would take her mind off Massie, Layne, and Dempsey.

Kristen shook the chatter from her brain and slid her key in the front door lock.

“Hello?” Marsha called from the kitchen.

The condo smelled embarrassingly fishy—like salmon.
Ugh!
Why hadn’t she brought Dune on lasagna night? Now he would associate her with that smell forever.

“Krist-mas, is that you?”

Kristen tossed her BFFWC key chain on the front-hall table and then locked the door behind her. “Who else would it be?” She rolled her eyes, letting Dune know the goofy nickname was
soooo
not something she backed.

Dune undulated his hand like a wave: his way of saying “go with the flow.” Kristen clenched her fists. Didn’t anything ever annoy him?

“Oh, hello.” Her mother appeared in the hall wearing mismatched oven mitts and a scowl. “No one mentioned Dune was coming over.”

Kristen opened her mouth to respond but Dune beat her to it.

“Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute thing, Mrs. Gregory.” He smiled sweetly. “I need some help with my environmental studies paper and your daughter is the smartest one in the class, so she offered to help.”

“How thoughtful.” Marsha flashed her I’m-not-buying-it-but-I’ll-pretend-to-for-now-and-we’ll-talk-about-it-later smile. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“No,” they both answered at the same time, neither one wanting this tension to last any longer than necessary.

“We’ll be in my room.” Kristen made a break for the hall.

Dune’s face lit up like a ringing cell phone.

“The light in the dining room is
much
better,” Marsha insisted on her way back to the kitchen, leaving zero room for discussion.

With a defeated sigh, Kristen unwrapped her blue-and-white striped scarf and tossed it by her keys.

“Hey!”
Dune examined her neck like a thirsty vampire.

“What?” Kristen shifted uncomfortably, feeling very Bella Swan–ish.

“Where’s my shark tooth?”

Kristen’s hand rushed to her chest, her fingers spider-crawling around her throat. “I—” Her body flushed with prickling heat. Where was it? How long had it been missing? How could she not have noticed?????

“Did you lose it?”

“What?”
Kristen felt her neck again.
“No!”

Dune folded his arms across his black plaid Billabong hoodie and raised his eyebrows.

“It’s, um, in my locker,” she managed. “Safe and sound. I took it off for gym. I tried to put it back on after volleyball but I had a brutal hangnail and I couldn’t do up the clasp and when I asked for help the bell rang so I—” Someone pounding on the neighbor’s door offered a welcome distraction. “Wow.” She giggled nervously. “They must
really
want to get inside.”

Dune didn’t bother responding.

“Don’t worry.” Kristen undulated her hand like a wave, mimicking his earlier “go with the flow” hand gesture. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

He finally smiled. “I better call my dad and tell him I’m here.”

Kristen nodded in agreement, anxious for a minute to recover.

While Dune pulled out his cell and paced the parquet hall, she struggled to remember the last time she had the necklace. They’d been at Rye Playland . . . about to ride the Dragon Coaster. . . . Dune had said he’d never let anyone else wear it. . . .

Suddenly the hallway knocker was knocking on
her
door.

Kristen got up on her tiptoes and peeked though the peephole. A giant cellophane-wrapped gift being held by pink sequined gloved hands was all she could see.

Cautiously, Kristen opened the door.

“Layne?”

“Hey.” She stepped inside, her face completely distorted by the iridescent plastic.

Kristen rushed to help her set the giant basket on the table. “What
is
all this?” she asked the asphyxiating menagerie of Webkinz and tightly packed Wonka candy.

“A get-well basket for Dempsey,” Layne trilled, massaging her cramped arms. “His parents wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance with him so I thought I’d meet them back here.” She removed an enormous silver clip-on hoop and pressed her ear against the door. Her narrow green eyes shifted back like she was being hypnotized.

“I hope they’re not keeping him overnight for observation.”

“He hurt his
ankle
,” Kristen snapped, angry with herself for not having gotten him anything.

Layne clipped her hoop back on. “Anyway, is it cool if I hang until he gets back?”

Before Kristen could answer, Layne unzipped her fake-leopard bomber jacket and hung it on the doorknob. “Salmon?” She sniffed.

Kristen lowered her head in her hands. “Is it
that
bad?”

Layne tugged the shark tooth around her neck and nodded yes.

“Ehmagawd, you found it!” Kristen hugged Layne, inhaling her Neutrogena sesame body oil–scented skin. “Give! Give! Give! Before Dune sees it!” She wiggled her fingers as if tickling a baby’s chin.

In the dining room, Dune said goodbye to his father, then closed his phone with a victorious snap.

“Oh! Good. He’s here.” Layne’s half-smile spread to full.

Kristen speed-nodded. “Yeah, hurry—give it back before he sees you wearing it,” she whispered.

“Are you sure it’s yours?” Layne asked casually as Dune shuffled toward them.

“Yeah. Where was it?”

“Under the Dragon Coaster.”

Kristen couldn’t believe it had been gone for four days and she hadn’t noticed.

“Is that
Layne
?” Dune called, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Hurry, wear
this
.” Kristen tossed her striped scarf at Layne’s chest.

Layne stepped back, letting it fall to the floor.

“What are you—”

“You’ll get the tooth when I get Dempsey.”

“Huh?”

“Hey.” Dune appeared, grinning.

Layne smiled hello, casually covering her neck.

Was this
seriously
happening?

“What’re ya doin’ here?” His smile faded, probably because her visit meant he wasn’t going to be getting his lip kiss—something he probably should have realized after his run-in with Marsha.

Layne’s pink sequin–covered thumb gestured to the gift basket. “Dempsey.”

“Ahhhhh.” Dune nodded like he completely understood.

“Well, we were just about to study, so if you want to take your jacket and cover up and wait in my room until he gets home, you’re more than welcome.” Kristen tossed the faux fur at Layne’s chest. “It’s super cold in there.”

“No deal, banana peel.” Layne tossed the jacket back.

Another knock on the door interrupted them. Maybe it was Dempsey. Then Layne would leave before Dune noticed the necklace! Kristen once again lifted herself up to the peephole.

A big amber eye stared back.

“No!”
Kristen gasped. Her knees turned to liquid. Her tongue felt like machine-washed cashmere. Her heart pounded like it was trying to escape.

How would she ever explain why Layne was there?

“Hide!” Kristen ducked, pulling her friends away from the door.

“Who is it?” Dune whispered.

“Kids selling cookies,” she blurted, despite her overwhelming lack of saliva.

“We should buy some,” Layne blurted. “For Dempsey.”

“Can’t,” Kristen insisted, ignoring the knocking. “Mom hates cookies.”

“But—”

“And kids.”

The knocking finally stopped. Kristen exhaled, her heart slowing to a jog.

And then the top lock clicked left.

Impossible!

And the bottom lock clicked right.

Just an adrenaline-induced hallucination, right?

“Dad?” Kristen whimpered, hoping it might be her father returning early from his golf trip. And that his left eye had happened to change color while he was gone.

The brass knob jiggled.

“Baghead?”
Layne whimpered.

And then turned.

“Ahhhh!” Layne scurried behind Dune.

Slowly, the door cracked open, and the suede toe of a jingling moccasin appeared.

“Smells like salmon.” Massie winced, smugly pinching a key between her thumb and index finger.

“That answers my first question,” Kristen managed, despite her extreme shakiness.

“What’s your second one?” Massie dropped the key in her
GREEN IS THE NEW BLACK
gym tote.