PrideandPopularity20July11 Read online

  Holy cow! “You’re serious?” I wonder what my room looks like. I hope it’s clean.

  “Yeah, I’m serious,” Mom said, pushing back her blond curls as she stood up. “This room is disgusting, and she’s going to start taking care of it or suffer the consequences.” I’m pretty sure my room was clean when I left this morning. Maybe a towel on the bed or something? Mental note: Check room ASAP and remove backpack from table. Mom’s gone batty again.

  I’d have to be blind to not see how determined my mom was on this, so I let it go and changed the subject. No reason to get her upset at me, too.

  “Well, today’s Wednesday, so I’ll be out four-wheeling later,” I reminded her. Then, deciding to stay on her good side, I asked, “Do you need me to do anything before I go?”

  “You mean other than your homework and chores?” Mom grinned as she tossed Cassidy’s curling iron in the bag.

  “Uh, yeah.” I wondered how much all Cassidy’s stuff was worth.

  “I am not really going to throw this stuff away. I’m just putting it out by the trash to make her see how serious I am. So stop looking at me like that.” In went Cassidy’s favorite shirt and jeans.

  Well, that’s a relief.

  “Actually, there is something you can do for me. I need you to go and pick your sister up from her ballet class in about fifteen minutes, so I can finish this up.”

  “Oh, okay.” If I started now I could get farther into that book I was reading for English. “I’m gonna do some homework before I head out.” I turned to leave.

  “I almost forgot. There was a call for you right before you came home.”

  “A call?” I turned back. “Who from?”

  “I don’t know. It was one of your friends. I think he said—”

  He? It was a he?

  “You guys were in the same club or something. His name was like Tyler or Tanner or—”

  “Taylor,” I interrupted. “Did he say what he wanted?” What is with this guy?

  “No. He did ask for you to call him back, though. His cell number is on the kitchen counter by the phone. He sounded like it was kind of urgent.”

  “Oh, it’s probably just a question about something in art class today.” I shrugged. “Thanks.” I made my escape.

  He hasn’t even been home a full day, and already he has caused so much havoc to my well-being that I don’t think I’m going to be able to last an entire year. It’s ridiculous.

  I wandered into the kitchen and glanced at Taylor Anderson’s phone number. This is Taylor’s number. I have his personal phone number. How many girls would kill to have this number? Briefly I thought of selling it on eBay or something. I bet I’d make a mint. Ugh. How much weirder can this day get?

  Reaching over, I plucked the cordless phone out of the charger and started to press the buttons with trembling fingers.

  Why does he want me to call? Does he really have something important to ask like Alyssa thinks, or is he just trying to unnerve me again? You know what, I can’t handle this. Before I could push the last digit, I hung up the phone. If he wanted to talk to me that bad, he could call again.

  I collected my backpack and crammed the offending number in my pocket. Then walked in my room and attempted to breathe normally again. Looking at my watch, I saw I only had twelve minutes left. So I picked up the assigned book, crashed on my bed, and tried to lose myself and my crazy thoughts in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility.

  FOUR

  YOU RANG?

  Five minutes into the book, I still couldn’t concentrate. I knew it had nothing to do with Miss Austen’s writing ability and everything to do with a certain “urgent” phone call I needed to make. I pulled Taylor’s phone number from my pocket and stared at it.

  “Ugh. Please go away, Taylor Anderson,” I said out loud. “I don’t know why you find it so hilarious to pick on me, but do me a huge favor and leave me alone. Seriously, you can have any girl you want. Why drive me nuts? It makes no sense.”

  Great, Chloe. Just awesome. You’re having a conversation with a crumbled piece of paper, which won’t answer back no matter how long you stare at it. The only way to truly get answers is to call. So call already!

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Taylor?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Chloe Hart. My mom said you called?” “Uh, sh–she did?”

  “Yeah, she said you called just a few minutes ago and wanted me to call you back at this number.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Are you saying you didn’t call me?”

  “Um, no. Why would I call you?”

  Ouch. I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. “Taylor, if this is some sort of joke—”

  “Just because I give you a hard time every now and then doesn’t mean I’m the type of guy who would joke like this.”

  “You mean someone else called and left your . . . you’ve gotta be kidding me. I’ve been totally hoaxed! Who in their right mind would do this? Look, I’ve gotta go.” I heard him snicker. “Wait, are you laughing?” That little . . .

  “No.” More snickers.

  “Taylor . . .” I growled.

  “Okay, yeah, I am. You have to admit this is pretty funny.”

  Funny? “You would think so, since I am positive it’s your fault.”

  “My fault? How can this be my fault?” More chuckles. “You’re a smart guy, figure it out.”

  “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you? You truly believe somebody who wanted to play some sort of prank on you, would do so because of me?”

  “Yes.” Duh. “Look, Taylor, this has been fun and all, but I need to go.”

  “Wait. Before you go, will you at least explain yourself?”

  I was beginning to lose my cool. “You know what? I can’t deal with this. You think everything is a game. Don’t worry. I won’t call you again.”

  “You can’t hang up like that. Tell me what’s going on in that fiery little head of yours.”

  “See what I mean? This is a joke to you, isn’t it?”

  “Chloe Elizabeth Hart, if you hang up this phone without telling me what in the world you’re talking about—”

  Elizabeth? “How did you know my middle name? No one knows my middle name.” This is such an invasion of privacy. There has to be a law against this!

  “I have my sources, and if you don’t fess up I’ll be sure to call you that from now on.”

  Blackmail? What, are we in junior high now? How in the world did this day go from bad to worse? This has got to end, and if the only way to make sure it happens is to sit on this phone a couple minutes longer, then—

  “Fine! Don’t you see that every time you talk to me it causes people to think things they don’t need to be thinking? And I’m not talking about me, either—I’m talking about the whole student body, now gossiping about—about this, this . . . situation! When you draw attention to me, then everyone assumes I am free game to torment, which apparently has already begun, hence this phone call. You just came back today. Holy cow, Taylor, if this keeps up I can’t imagine what people will think to do to me next. Thanks to you and your mocking, I am fast becoming the biggest freak in this school!”

  “Let me get this straight,” Taylor said. “You’re angry with me for flirting with you?”

  “Bingo. He has a brain cell.”

  “A brain cell? What is that supposed to mean?” Disbelief and resentment colored his voice. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, princess.”

  “Don’t you dare call me prin—!”

  “There are a whole lot of girls that would love to have the attention you got today.”

  “Of all the egotistical things to—”

  “But I chose to focus on you,” Taylor interrupted again. “Mainly because I thought you were more fun and lighthearted than you apparently are. In case you are not aware, I have a girlfriend.”

  “You—!”

  “So if this is some sort of twisted excuse to make me see you
differently and fall in love with you, then the game is up.”

  This is like talking to a rock. I can’t believe I’m allowing myself to be insulted by a stupid, stubborn rock! Calm down, Chloe. Keep your voice calm. Deep breath. There. “Taylor Anderson, I am only going to say this one time, so listen carefully. You can have Anne. She’s yours. As a matter of fact, you can have any girl in the whole flippin’ town, for all I care. Except me. So seriously, don’t even flatter yourself.”

  “Chloe, wait!”

  I didn’t even bother to say goodbye before I hung up the phone. Jerk! Stupid, selfish, unreasonable imbecile! I let out a weary sigh and began rubbing my temples to try to release the mounting pressure. This isn’t working. As I opened my eyes, I glanced at the clock.

  “Oh, no. Claire! I’m late.” I grabbed the keys to Mom’s Volvo and scooped up my purse, then yelled, “Bye, Mom!” and dashed out the door.

  Reeling over the unbelievable conversation I’d just had with Taylor, I nearly collided with the neighbor’s trash can as I backed up the car. This is so Taylor’s fault. First he makes me late, and then he tries to distract me so I almost crash the car. I wonder if I could sue. I cannot believe the ego that guy has, seriously thinking I was trying to trap him into falling in love with me. As if!

  After I sped out of the driveway, I felt something wet on my cheek. “What in the—?” I touched my face and realized and I was crying. For crying out loud, Chloe. What are you crying for? I laughed at the double meaning. You’re just angry, that’s all. Sheez.

  My twelve-year-old sister, Claire, was waiting for me on a bench just inside the door of Chavez Ballet Studio. “For your information, Mom usually picks me up at 4:15, not 4:30,” she announced as I opened the studio’s front door. “It’s not good to be late, Chloe. It makes you seem undependable to people.”

  Only half listening, I began to follow her to the car.

  “If this keeps up, no one will be able to trust you.” At the car, Claire turned around and waited for me. Then she surprised me by asking, “Chloe, have you been crying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “A stupid boy.”

  “Oh, I see. I’ve decided I’m never going to have a boyfriend. I find that boys are complete nuisances and idiots, set out and determined to make girls cry. Plus, I don’t want to go through the pains of childbirth.”

  “What?! Er, uh, I don’t think any woman does.”

  “Yeah, well, since technically you need a boyfriend to find a husband to have kids with, my goal is going to refrain from ever getting one.” With that, she climbed into the car.

  “Refrain?” I stared at her from the driver’s seat.

  “It means when you don’t do—”

  “I know what it means, Claire.”

  “Oh.”

  I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Claire said. “Ms. Chavez says you can have your old job back anytime you’re ready. Everybody misses you.”

  “Uh, well, I’ll think about it.”

  Actually, when we’d moved from Denver, I had given up my dream of becoming a ballerina. Moving to a much smaller city had its advantages, but if you know more than your ballet teachers do, it doesn’t work so well.

  Ms. Chavez was so impressed with my ballet skills that she’d offered me a job as soon as I turned fifteen. I had taught for her for over two years, until last summer when the opportunity to work for a professional theater group came along. They were in need of background dancers for their musical. The idea appealed to me—working all summer dancing on stage, meeting new people every night. I really wanted to try something new and exciting, and getting paid for it was just icing on the cake. While I worked at the ballet studio, I met Jordan and his girlfriend Kate, and they helped me learn all sorts of dance moves. They were professional ballroom dancers, so it was like getting really good lessons for free. Since they were both in the musical, I got to teach them a few ballet moves to help make their spins and lifts a bit easier and more fluid. We also became great friends in the process.

  Thinking about it now, I realized I missed ballet. Even though my little sister still took lessons at the studio, I’d never really thought of working there again, but maybe I should. I sure loved teaching the littlest girls. The four- and five-year olds were so sweet and innocent, and all of them dreamed of becoming famous ballerinas. I loved helping them create that reality. So even if I didn’t jump on the job opportunity right away, it was something to think about.

  “Hey, Chloe!” Carson called as he walked up to me. I was talking to his brother about the run we had finished where Ethan had just soundly beaten the other four-wheel-drive vehicles. Ethan and I were both kneeling on the dirt, comparing his tire treads. “I’ve got someone who wants to be introduced to you,” Carson said to me. He turned and yelled toward a group of guys, “Yo, Blake!”

  “Yeah?” a blond guy called back. He was tall and goodlooking.

  Carson motioned toward me. “I’ve got Chloe here to meet you.”

  Ethan and I stood up and brushed off our jeans. “I forgot Blake’s been asking about you since we got here,” Ethan said. “You’ll like him—he’s an easygoing guy.”

  Blake said something as he broke away from the group and started toward us. Wow, is he hot! I thought he’d be my age, but as he got closer I saw he was probably nineteen or twenty.

  “Hi.” He grinned at me.

  My heart was beating so fast that if it had wings it would’ve fluttered away. He’s got dimples! Guys should never have dimples. They get away with everything when they do. Breathe, Chloe.

  “Chloe, this is Blake Winter. He just moved here from Boulder, Colorado. His truck’s the nice black one over there.” Carson nodded toward the parked vehicles. “Blake, may I introduce you to Chloe Hart, the prettiest, craziest, and funniest girl in the West?”

  “You forgot to mention orneriest, feistiest, and meanest.” Ethan smirked. “Don’t be fooled by that sweet smile. She’s inherited her red hair and temper naturally.” Ethan and Carson both burst into guffaws.

  “Hey, I prefer to be described as sassy.” I smiled as I looked up at Blake.

  “Hart, eh? So, are you the queen of hearts?” he teased.

  “A lady never reveals her secrets. But if I must be a queen, then I want to be the queen of four-wheeling.”

  Carson laughed. “Chloe, the four-wheeling queen!”

  “Why don’t you want to be the queen of hearts?” Blake asked me.

  “Because that’s boring. I would much rather be known for something more fun and adventurous.”

  “Make way for the queen,” Carson announced as he dragged me away from Blake and presented me to the rest of the guys. “Here’s Chloe, the four-wheeling queen.”

  I glanced back. Blake was staring at me.

  The guys all laughed and elbowed each other while they attempted to bow as well as they could on the uneven dirt. Then one of the guys, Jacob, surprised me by asking, “So, Queen Chloe, what are ya doing Saturday night?”

  “Why?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Because I really want to see the new Ryan Reynolds action movie, and you scream louder than any of the other girls. It’ll make the movie more exciting if you go.”

  Oh, that’s just great.

  Jacob walked toward me. “So what do you say? You comin’?”

  “Sorry, Jacob.” The sound of Blake’s deep voice behind me tingled all the way down my spine, and then frizzled back up to the ends of my ponytail. “I believe Chloe’s going out with me on Saturday.”

  Raising my eyebrow, I turned around to face him with hands on my hips and challenged, “Really? You think so, do you?” Blake’s dimple made an appearance and I was lost. “Well, if you’re serious, then you’ve have to come over Friday and meet my parents. I can’t go on a date with someone until my folks approve.”

  “I’ll be there. What time?” His warm, chocolate-brown eyes sparkled right
into mine.

  “Better come for dinner,” I managed to squeeze out of my suddenly dry throat. “Get my number from Carson or Ethan, then give me a call later and we’ll work it out.” I scanned the crowd to keep myself from staring too long into Blake’s disconcerting eyes. I settled on Jacob.

  “Okay, so if Blake’s going to be with you Friday night and Saturday night,” Jacob said, “then you’ve got to come with me Saturday afternoon. Besides, I’ve already met your parents, remember?”

  I giggled. “Okay, okay, I’ll come.”

  FIVE

  WINDS OF CHANGE

  Thursday morning when I walked into the main building to head to my history class, all glorious thoughts of Blake Winter skipped my mind. The first fission of doubt on this “perfect day” had begun. Everyone was whispering to each other in the halls.

  “Did you hear . . . ? Taylor . . .”

  Or, “Taylor Anderson . . . girlfriend . . .”

  “His phone call . . . Taylor . . . not happy . . .”

  What is going on? Suddenly, I was brought back down to earth

  as I remembered the phone call from the day before. Determined not to panic, I slid into my seat at the front of the room.

  By the end of my second-hour health class, I had heard enough to realize my name wasn’t connected to the Taylor gossip. That’s when I knew something major had happened to him yesterday that had nothing to do with me.

  It was all over the school by the time my art class rolled around. Everyone was talking about it, and no one felt the need to whisper anymore.

  “Did you hear?” Emma Bradford gushed to her tablemates as she set out her art supplies. “Taylor Anderson got dumped by his girlfriend last night. Isn’t that so exciting?”

  I gasped as I turned to Madison and Alyssa, who were getting their pastels ready before the bell rang. They must’ve heard the news already, because they both nodded their heads at my stunned look. “You’re kidding.” I felt horrible. Why do I feel so horrible? I wonder which phone call he got first, mine or hers? No way. I totally forgot to tell Maddi and Alyssa about the phone call!