I thought of the “I Am” poem that I hadn’t written the night before.
I was Lilah Covington.
I was a girl who refused to be a victim.
I was still craving cookies and milk.
I smiled. I was the girl who knew Cade’s name.
Cade and Lilah, Lilah and Cade.
The memory, recent and sweet, lived in the air in front of me. I ignored it, but the edges of my mouth tugged up in a smile as I pulled into my parking spot, front and center. Once upon a time, it had been Fuchsia’s, and everyone else had known better than to take it, but that was before I’d gotten a car.
Things changed.
I stepped out of my car exactly three seconds before Fuchsia pulled up. Tracy bounded out of the passenger seat without giving Fuchsia’s pursed lips so much as a second look.
“Did you get my email?” she asked me. “Are you okay? God, Li, we’ve been so worried!”
“Don’t worry,” I told her as I lifted my eyes to meet Fuchsia’s. “I’m fine.”
Not okay. Fine.
“In fact,” I said, hooking my arm through Tracy’s, “I’m fabulous.”
Without a word to my ex–best friend, I steered Tracy toward the lawn, leaving Fuchsia in our wake and never looking back. If she was half as smart as I gave her credit for, she’d be starting to feel nervous right about then.
Just wait, I promised her silently.
As Tracy and I ambled over to the Golden side of the lawn, all eyes were on us. This wasn’t exactly a new thing, but today, I knew there was more at work than just our magnetic appeal.
“Is it true?” Elle Jacobs asked me. She was a third-tier Golden and not anywhere near my normal inner circle, but today, I made a very special exception.
“Is what true?” I asked.
“Did Fuchsia Reynolds really hook up with Jackson’s girl cousin?” Elle asked.
I glanced at Tracy out of the corner of my eye. She looked back at me. Whatever my lead was, I knew she would follow it. Fuchsia was single, and I was not, and that meant that in Tracy Land, Fuchsia was the competition, and I was the most desired ally.
Still, this whole situation was going to take some finessing. Could I have just let the rumors (not to mention the pictures from the party that I hadn’t yet released to the public) speak for themselves? Sure. By lunchtime, half the people at our school would have been convinced that Fuchsia was a lesbian, and Fuchsia, politically correct soul that she wasn’t, would have been horrified.
But that was so not my style. First of all, it’s totally not fair to lesbians everywhere. I mean, who wants Fuchsia as their poster child? Nobody, and the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally hurt someone else when the only person I wanted to stick it to had a stupid name and skanky lips. I was in control, I was in charge, and I was so over hurting people who didn’t deserve it.
I’d just concentrate on the people who did.
“No,” I said flatly in response to Elle’s question. “Fuchsia isn’t into girls.” I gave Elle a disdainful look, playing the role of the overprotective best friend to perfection. And then I put the last nail in Fuchsia’s coffin. “In fact, she’s like totally the opposite.” I lowered my voice. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but she’s hooked up with like fifteen guys this month.”
“Really?” Elle asked, perking right back up.
Tracy stared at me, still dismayed that we weren’t substantiating the lesbian rumors. I mentally rolled my eyes. She’d catch on sooner or later. “Well,” I said delicately, “at least she says she’s hooked up with a ton of guys. I mean, I know that a bunch of the stories aren’t true, because Jackson only likes dark hair, and Tate isn’t exactly over Tracy yet….”
“Tate?” Tracy hissed. “She told you she hooked up with Tate? That is such a lie. He wouldn’t touch her with a…with a…”
“Ten-foot pole?” I suggested calmly. “I know. Fuchsia just likes the attention. It’s sort of her thing. Pretty soon, she’ll be telling people she hooked up with Brock.” I shook my head, oozing sympathy for poor, delusional Fuchsia.
“That is so entirely pathetic,” Tracy said, and I could tell by the look on her face that she’d known about the whole Brock thing and hadn’t said a word to me. Luckily for her, I didn’t have the stomach to deep-six more than one friend at a time, and my sights (no pun intended) were set entirely on Fuchsia.
“But anyway,” I told Elle seriously, “I know she’s hooked up with at least like five or six guys in the past couple of months for real.”
“Hook up” was a wonderfully ambiguous phrase at Emory High. If you kissed someone, you guys hooked up. If you more than kissed someone, you guys hooked up. If you went all the way, you hooked up. So I wasn’t lying. Fuchsia had kissed or at least, you know, had a moment with a ton of guys in the past month. And if people decided that they’d done more than kiss, that was quite simply not my problem, and I refused to let myself even think about it or about the kind of person this whole thing made me.
“Who has she hooked up with?” Elle asked, fascinated.
On the surface, I looked torn. Should I let people continue thinking that Fuchsia liked girls, or should I disclose her hookup history?
Inside, I was smiling. I don’t have many moments of pure evil, but this was one of them.
“Norman Fitzhugh,” I said finally.
“FUCHSIA HOOKED UP WITH PITS EWWW?!” Elle’s voice had a lovely propensity to carry.
I nodded. “Listen, I only told you so you’d know not to believe the rumors, okay?”
Elle nodded. “Yeah. I mean…”
“So just make sure people know that Fuchsia’s totally into guys,” I ordered.
Translation: tell people that Fuchsia hooked up with Norman “Unique Body Odor” Fitzhugh, or, as he was commonly called, Norman Pits Ewww.
Thirty seconds later, Elle was gone, and my work was done.
“Did Fuchsia really hook up with Pits Ewww?” Tracy asked me curiously.
I nodded. “It was dark, and everybody at the party was supposed to be Golden anyway. It totally wasn’t her fault, and I promised I wouldn’t tell, but…I mean, it’s better than people thinking she’s into girls, right?”
Actually, it was much, much worse. Even though it would have taken more power than I had to completely Non a primo Golden like Fuchsia, she was most definitely going to be in popularity quarantine for at least a month. No guy wanted Pits Ewww’s leftovers, and no girl feared the chick that none of the guys wanted.
Fuchsia was still Golden, but she wasn’t untouchable. She wasn’t me. She wasn’t Tracy. She wasn’t, for lack of a better word, Platinum, which anyone who’s even the least bit fashionable will tell you is the new gold.
I considered the term and what it meant, what it stood for, and who I was. There were Goldens, there were Nons, and there were the very hottest of the hot. Maybe I didn’t always feel like I fell into that last category, and maybe I didn’t deserve to, but after the week I’d had, I needed to.
I hooked my arm again through Tracy’s. We were Platinum, and if Fuchsia ever wanted back in, she’d have to come crawling back to me.
14
Scandal
“Scandal” is composed of two Latin words:
Scan, meaning play by the rules,
and dal, meaning no one gets hurt.
I managed to avoid seeing Fuchsia until lunch. Instead, I spent my time doing exactly two things. First, I constructed a plan of attack on the Cade front. As painful as the library visions had been, if I was going to make any sense at all out of my crazy montage dream, I’d have to start somewhere, and the scene of the visiony crime seemed as good a place as any. Long story short, I was library bound in a big way, right after school. I half expected Cade to show up out of nowhere and give me his broody ghost commentary on this plan, but he hadn’t shown up since our interlude the night before.
Interlude. I mulled over the word. It sounded so scandalous.
And speaking of s
candal, I spent the rest of my morning putting the finishing touches on my Fuchsia sabotage. There wasn’t really that much to do. People like to talk, especially when they’ve got my permission to gossip about someone who, quite honestly, has never been very nice to anyone. Ever. In the past three hours, Norman Fitzhugh had become a god among loser guys, and he’d recovered from whatever initial confusion he might have felt and was now relishing the position. Once the rumors started, I didn’t even need Katie and Elle to do my dirty work—good old Norman was doing it for me.
My only remaining problem was finding a replacement. Three is a magical number, and if I really wanted Fuchsia to squirm, I was going to have to pick a new second-in-command. There were a few viable contestants. I needed someone who was ready and willing to have my back, not because she thought I needed her, but because she wanted me to need her. There were about four or five girls who seemed like potentially good choices, and I ultimately decided to try a few on for size before I made my final decision.
“Hey, Bridget. I love that skirt. It’s so you.”
Bridget Stone scored high on all my important criteria. She was hot. She had an impeccable sense of fashion, she was scared of me, and there was a distinct chance that with a little help from me, she could land Jackson Hare. Perfect.
“Lilah,” Bridget said, her eyes lighting up. “Hi!”
I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Listen,” I said. “Tracy and I were talking, and…” I leaned in for the kill. “Would you like to eat lunch with us today?”
And that’s how Fuchsia found us at lunchtime. Bridget, Tracy, and I were deeply involved in a conversation about Tate’s upcoming party, and the boys were throwing wadded-up napkins at each other. I had my hand in Brock’s hair, and Bridget was expertly playing footsie with Jackson under the table.
There were no extra chairs.
“You would not believe the day I’ve had,” Fuchsia huffed.
Tracy, Bridget, and I continued talking.
“Lilah,” Fuchsia hissed. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m talking to you.” She turned to Bridget. “And hello! You’re in my seat, sweetie. Move along.”
“Why don’t you go sit with loverboy over there?” Bridget asked, gesturing toward the Non side of the cafeteria, where Pits Ewww was doing what could only be described as a rendition of “Who da man? I’m the man!”
I had to give it to Bridget. She was good.
“Lilah,” Fuchsia said, gritting her teeth. “Why is she in my seat?”
I smiled at her. “Because I asked her to sit with us.” I turned from Fuchsia to Jackson. “You’re coming to Tate’s tomorrow, right?” I asked.
Jackson nodded.
“Bridget’s car broke down. Can you give her a ride?”
Bridget played along like a pro, leaning over to reveal more of her cleavage.
“Sure,” Jackson said easily.
Bridget twirled her hair.
Fuchsia glared at me, and then, without another word, she stomped off to sit with Katie, Elle, and a handful of other second-tier Goldens. Within minutes, she’d be regaling them with stories about what a horrible friend I was and how I was spreading lies about her because she’d hooked up with Brock, and they’d tell her that I was the only one who had stood up for her that morning. Once she left, they’d talk about how sad it was that she was still claiming to have hooked up with my boyfriend, when I was clearly the only real friend she had left.
On some level, I realized that in a perfect world, I would probably be using my powers for good rather than evil, but…
“And the princess defeated the wicked witch, and they all lived happily ever after.” With a slight ripple of the air, Cade appeared at my side and leaned against the table directly in between Brock and me. “Isn’t that how the story goes, Princess?”
Just seeing him made my heart beat faster, harder.
“There’s more at stake here than popularity.”
The fluttering in my chest was rapidly replaced with a strong feeling of complete and utter annoyance.
Who was he to make me feel guilty for spending one morning getting my life back on track? He was the one who’d wanted me to fight back. He was the reason I felt strong enough to do it. And now, he was criticizing me for it. He didn’t want me to be a victim, and he didn’t want me to be a bitch.
Then what, pray tell, did he want?
“Lilah.”
His use of my real name started the fluttering right back up again. I tried to remember that I was annoyed with him, that I was supposed to be in charge here, and that nobody told Lilah Covington what to do.
Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.
“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt him, but if you don’t take your hand out of his hair, it’s going to happen…right…now.”
I raised a single eyebrow in a silent question. It was all I could manage without the people around me figuring out that I was seeing and hearing things that they weren’t, but I knew Cade would understand what I was asking: what was going to happen right now?
“I don’t know how it happens, or why,” Cade said. “All I know is that sooner or later, the two of us…” He gestured to Brock with his eyes. “…are going to fight, and when we do, I’m going to win, and he’s going to die, and I’ll have to live with that until the next one comes around.”
I withdrew my hand from Brock’s hair. Under the table, I let my fingers graze Cade’s legs. He was a ghost, but I could see him. I could feel him.
Flutter-flutter.
“We can’t do this, Lilah,” he said softly. “This is how it starts.”
His lips on mine. That was how it had started. The memory played out on the air in front of me. My head held high, my cheeks pink with outrage, his lips closing over mine for the briefest second before he disappeared back to the past.
Back to the bodies, cold and dead and motionless.
I brought my eyes up to meet his once more, searching for the answers to my bazillion questions.
“I wish I could, Princess,” he said, and his body started flickering in and out, chopping up his words. “But I can’t.”
Flutter.
I set my lips and concentrated on bringing him back. I was tired of this crap. He’d leave when I said he could leave, and not a second earlier. No guy—dead or alive—was going to walk out on me. Not today. Not after everything else.
Blue. Purple. Pink.
The colors invaded the static that only I could see.
Three girls holding hands. Fresh dirt on an open grave.
Not this, I thought firmly. Not now. Show me Cade. Cade-Cade-Cade.
With a flash of bright light, I saw him, but this time, he didn’t see me. He was in a cafeteria—this cafeteria, but things were different. The walls were white, not faded yellow. The tables were new.
He leaned against one of them, the same way he’d leaned against my table the moment before. His dark hair was in his eyes; the expression on his face was nothing short of dangerous. I followed his smoldering gaze across the cafeteria. In reality, Fuchsia was sitting over there, shooting darts at me with her eyes. In the vision, offset a few feet from reality, a girl with bright blond hair pulled into a high ponytail worked a poodle skirt for all it was worth. She played with the white ribbon in her hair, and next to her, a guy roughly the size and build of a buffalo put his arm protectively around her shoulder.
And from afar, Cade watched.
Don’t look at her, I told him silently. Look at me.
The scene jumped, but as much as the movement jarred me, I didn’t show any visible signs of what I was seeing. Vision Girl…who? Me?
“You called, Princess?”
I smiled at Cade’s dry, incredulous voice and said nothing. He was here, and he was now, and he was looking at me. All was right with the world.
“Lilah, I need to talk to you.”
The words broke my concentration, and Cade faded away again. I turned to the person who had interrupted my little ghos
tly rendezvous, half expecting it to be Fuchsia, back for another round. The moment I saw Lissy James, I groaned internally. This lunch period was crucial. It was the Lilah Show, wherein everyone realized that I was still the definitive Golden Girl. Vacating my seat for a one-on-one with Lissy would give Fuchsia an opportunity, albeit a small one, to make her next move, and talking to Lissy in public so wasn’t in my script.
“No offense, but I’m kind of busy right now,” I said, reaching again for Brock’s hair and hoping she’d get the point. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her. Strangely enough, I kind of did, but that didn’t matter. I couldn’t talk to her. Not now. I couldn’t even bring Cade back or venture into his world again, as much as part of me wanted to. I had to be here and now and perfect.
“Lilah—”
“Look, sweetie,” Bridget said, adopting the tone of voice Fuchsia had used with her almost exactly. “She said she’s busy, so why don’t you run along and play with your little Non friends and leave the big kids alone, okay?”
I’d wanted a sidekick who’d back me up. So why did I feel like smacking Bridget upside her ponytailed head?
“Give us a second,” I told Bridget, and she wisely shut her mouth.
“I can’t do this right now,” I told Lissy. I really, really couldn’t. She didn’t leave, and I waited for her to understand.
Without a word, she took a step back, and I understood that she didn’t.
“Lissy—” I said her name, but she cut me off.
“Lexie said you needed my help. I guess she was wrong.”
I felt several pairs of eyes on me. I wasn’t about to give Fuchsia any grounds on which to mock me and stage a comeback, and so I said the only thing there was left to say. “I guess she was.”
The silence between us was thick, and I could feel the air trembling with the history Lissy and I shared. I so wasn’t in the mood to see any of it, and I forced the memories to stay back, out of sight.