Pride and Popularity jad-1 Page 4

  Without thinking, I answered, “Good grief. Can you imagine what she’d have to put up with? The last thing I would want to be is popular. Sure, having friends is cool, and having a lot of friends is even better. But to have to be constantly in the spotlight because you’re part of the ‘in’ crowd? Er, no thank you. My stint on stage was limited just to dancing, and personally, I would like to keep it that way.”

  Madison was the first to catch my blunder. “So you’re worried Taylor will ask you to join him, huh?”

  “What? No!”

  “Methinks she protests too much,” Alyssa said, misquoting Shakespeare.

  “Ha ha, you two,” I replied as we maneuvered our way through the crowded hallway. “You don’t know the half of it. I was so busy describing every detail of Blake this morning that I forgot to mention about the phone call I had from Taylor yesterday.”

  Alyssa’s “What? You’re kidding!” was overpowered by Madison’s “No way!”

  “Yep. I wasn’t home when he called, and I had an urgent message to call him back on his cell phone.”

  Madison gasped. “Shut up. You have Taylor Anderson’s cell number?”

  “Yeah.” Wait, I think I do. Did I throw it away?

  “Tell us quick what happened. Did you call him back? What did he want?” Alyssa said as we approached my English class.

  “It was a prank. Someone else posed as him and left his number, so when I called it was actually really embarrassing.”

  Alyssa nearly choked. “What? Why would someone do that?”

  “Was he nice about it?” Madison asked. “I mean, I imagine him just laughing it off, you know. He’s always so happy.”

  Okay, now I feel really guilty. “Yeah, he was nice. Really nice. I was mad, though, and totally lost my cool. It ended up getting ugly—you have no idea. I blamed the whole thing on him, and then he said stuff to me. Anyway, we got into a big fight.”

  Alyssa sighed. “Chloe, I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to us sooner. You—”

  “So that explains that look you two shared,” Madison interrupted. “I have to say from where I sat, it was a pretty intense.”

  “Yeah,” Alyssa said. “I know you really like Blake and all—plus he sounds amazing!—but I have to say there’s some serious chemistry between you and Taylor.”

  Whatever. “Y–you’re crazy. Too much romantic drama for one day can leave everybody on the edge of their seats. Besides, even if I wanted him—which I don’t—there is no way Taylor likes me or ever will like me. Mark my words he’ll have another cheerleader girlfriend within a couple of days.”

  “Uh, guys?” Madison said. “When did the bell ring?”

  I looked up and glanced around the empty hall. We had stopped walking about five feet from my classroom door, which was shut. Everyone else was in class. “Uh-oh!”

  “Bye!” Madison and Alyssa chimed, then hurried toward their classes.

  I sneaked through the door and grabbed an empty desk in back. A few people noticed me, but no one decided to nark me out.

  “Thanks,” I mouthed to a couple of the students and then shrugged at Ethan’s questioning look. I glanced to the front of the room. Mr. Young was proficiently writing a novel on the blackboard. As I hastily removed my AP World English book from my backpack, a folded piece of paper fell out of it. What is that? I leaned over and picked it up. On the outside it read:

  For: C. Elizabeth H.

  From: T. Darcy A.

  There, now u know my middle name, so we’re even. Blackmail, only IF necessary. PLEASE KEEP SECRET.

  You’ve got to be kidding me. He must’ve sneaked this in during art class. Quickly, I slouched down in my chair and glanced back at Mr. Young, who was still furiously writing. I opened my English book, unfolded the note, and placed it inside the book. Snuggling the book next to me, I pretended to be totally engrossed in English literature.

  Dear C,

  First I would like to apologize for being such a jerk on the phone yesterday. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Honestly, I didn’t mean it. It was just the heat of the moment. Do you ever wish you could just rewind sometimes and start over?

  Right after you hung up, I received another phone call from Anne. She’d had her own call from someone (maybe the same person who called your house?) who told her that not only had I been flirting with you at school, but they also made up some crazy story that I was cheating on her with you. I won’t go into all the gory details— just believe me when I say they were bad.

  I kept trying to get Anne to listen to me. But after a good thirty minutes of listening to her rant and rave and viciously attack someone she didn’t know, someone who I explained didn’t do anything, I decided it was time to break up with her. How can I have a girlfriend who won’t trust me?

  I am writing this as a warning, I guess, because what you said last night was true. People talk about me and whatever happens to me. It’s kind of annoying, I know. I’m sorry to put you in the middle of it all. I will find who did this. But until then, I wanted you to know the real story behind all the other stories you’ll hear today.

  Thanks for reading.

  So sorry,

  T

  “Miss Hart? Excuse me. Ahem. Miss Hart!”

  “What?” I jerked forward. As I sat up, I almost dropped my English book in the process. Mr. Young and the rest of the class were staring right at me. Oh, no! I’ve been caught.

  “Would you like to share what you were reading just now with the class, Miss Hart?” Mr. Young leaned up against his desk with his arms folded and waited.

  “No, sir.” I gulped. Please don’t make me read it.

  “Miss Hart, are you aware of the rules in this room?”

  “Um, yes.” I glanced over and caught Ethan winking at me. I think he thought it would make me feel better. It didn’t.

  “Then you do realize that if you don’t read that letter out loud to the class, you must forfeit it to me?”

  “Yes, Mr. Young.”

  “By not reading it, you will also have to face any consequences I choose to give you. Are you willing to face anything I give you, or would you rather read it now?”

  “I’m willing to face the consequences.”

  “That must be one very interesting letter, Miss Hart.”

  “Yes.”

  “Bring it here, Miss Hart,” Mr. Young commanded, holding out his hand.

  Slowly, I walked to the front of the room. I could hear snickers and whispering behind me. Red-faced, I handed Mr. Young the letter and watched as he read it silently to himself. Can this get any more mortifying?

  “You’re correct,” he said. “This is a very interesting letter. Should I share it now with the rest of the class?”

  “No. Please don’t.”

  “Look at how curious the class is. I want to remind you that if you can’t give me a good excuse why I shouldn’t share this with the class, I will read it to them anyway.”

  “Please, Mr. Young, I’ll do whatever it is you want— detention, extra homework, whatever—just please don’t read that note out loud.” I was getting desperate. I couldn’t even face the class.

  “Why not, Miss Hart?”

  I looked him in the eye. “If you do, it could hurt someone, someone other than myself. It is my fault for reading that in here when I knew better and knew the rules. Completely my fault. I would hate to have someone get hurt because I was impatient. Please, please, please punish me, but don’t punish someone who doesn’t deserve it.” My hands had begun to shake. I held my breath for Mr. Young’s answer.

  He took off his glasses and rested them on his receding hairline, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Congratulations, Miss Hart. In the last eight years I’ve taught at this school, no one has ever given me an excuse as worthy as that one.” Half of his white mustache rose into a smile, and I nearly died of relief. “Your secret is safe,” he said. The class erupted in groans. “I do however, expect you here precisely at 3:00 this afternoo
n.”

  Oh my gosh, I think I’m gonna cry. “No problem. Thank you, Mr. Young.” I headed back to my seat.

  “Oh, and Miss Hart?”

  “Yes?” I turned around to face him.

  “Please don’t be late for class like you were today.” The other students burst out laughing.

  “Yes, sir.” Nothing like trying to stay hidden. Sheez, this guy doesn’t miss anything.

  As soon as the last bell rang at 2:55, I was out the door and headed toward Mr. Young’s classroom. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Alyssa and Madison about my punishment yet. They would probably be waiting for me, but it was too late now. I definitely didn’t want to upset Mr. Young more by showing up late because I’d tried to find my two best friends. This was one of those frustrating moments when I wished my parents would relent and let me have my own cell phone. Their overprotectiveness was pretty annoying. After all, didn’t cell phones actually save lives? When I scurried into the classroom, I noticed I had two minutes to spare. Phew.

  “Welcome back, Miss Hart. Please come in and have a seat.” Mr. Young pointed to a desk at the front of the room. I nervously sat down. “If you don’t mind, we’ll wait just a moment,” he said. “I’m expecting another visitor.”

  Obviously, someone else had gotten in trouble today too. But what if I had to sit through detention or something? Oh, no, I thought suddenly. I can’t make Alyssa and Madison wait that long. I’m going to have to call my mom to come get me. “Mr. Young? How long am I going to be here?” My voice sounded squeaky like it always did when I was nervous.

  “Just a minute, Miss Hart. That is still to be determined.” Oh, please, I hope I get off for good behavior.

  Mr. Young looked behind me, then smiled and exclaimed, “Welcome to the class, Mr. Anderson. Would you please take a seat next to Miss Hart?”

  I whipped my head around and saw Taylor standing there. What? Oh, kill me now. This is by far the most humiliating day of my life! I could tell by the questioning look Taylor gave me that he had no idea what this was about. I couldn’t make up my mind if that was good or not.

  “Mr. Bradford, if you would be so kind as to shut the door and to wait outside,” Mr. Young said.

  Zack’s here too? I glanced at Taylor, who looked back at his friend and shrugged.

  “I promise you will see your friend alive and safe in a moment. Thank you,” Mr. Young said just before Zack closed the door.

  Six

  Detention Or Not? That Is The Question!

  Mr. Young cleared his throat.“Well, first I must say thank you for coming. And yes, Miss Hart, I will be informing Mr. Anderson of what happened today. Welcome to consequences.”

  Beyond mortified, I could feel Taylor watching me as I leaned forward and put my head in my hands, wishing I could just hide there until it was over.

  “Mr. Anderson, do you recognize this?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the teacher hand Taylor the note. I have to admit that apart from a slight gasp, Taylor barely betrayed any emotion at all, even though he had to be as sickly stunned as I was.

  “Yes, sir, I wrote it,” he replied.

  At least he’s honest . . . or brave. I couldn’t decide which. The teacher chuckled. “So your middle name is Darcy, Mr. Anderson?”

  That is so cruel. Mr. Young is way Old School. I sat up in my chair and looked over at Taylor, but he didn’t meet my eyes.

  I am so sorry, Taylor, I thought. If there was anything I could take back, it would be this moment. No, it would be reading that note in class.

  “Yes, Mr. Young. I was named after my great-grandfather, Darcy Taylor.”

  “I see,” the teacher said. “Well, that is nothing to be ashamed about, son.”

  Taylor looked up. “Yes, I know. I just don’t like people making fun of him, you know?” He glanced briefly at me and then back at his desk.

  What kind of consequence is this? Is this some sort of reverse psychology, making me watch this guy get tormented? Okay, I get it. I’ll never read another note in class, ever.

  “Well,” Mr. Young went on, “it seems we have a problem. Miss Hart was caught reading your letter in my class today. As you are well aware of, Mr. Anderson, I have consequences for students who refuse to read a letter to the rest of the group. Of course, this never stops me from reading the note out loud anyway.”

  I looked up at Taylor, but he was staring at his desk and chewing on his lower lip.

  “Mr. Anderson, in eight years, every letter or note I have found in my class has been read to everyone.”

  From Taylor’s expression, I could tell he was mortified that the whole school would soon know all about the letter. This is the most brutal lesson ever!

  “Until now,” Mr. Young said.

  Confusion and disbelief flashed across Taylor’s face as he glanced back up at the teacher.

  “Yes, Mr. Anderson. Miss Hart’s reason for not reading to the class out loud was not because she was embarrassed for herself, which I’m sure she was.” Mr. Young paused and looked down at me. “She was concerned for you, Mr. Anderson.”

  I stared at my desk and felt my face turn red. Oh, no, I’m blushing. Don’t blush. Don’t blush.

  “Miss Hart did not want you to feel the aftermath and gossip that would no doubt have come from reading it. To put it in her own words, ‘I would hate to have someone get hurt because I was impatient.’”

  Please let me die right now. Please.

  “Mr. Anderson, I asked you to come here this afternoon to make you aware of this young lady, who will now be sitting in detention until 4:30 p.m. on your behalf.”

  Four thirty! I have to be here until 4:30? Mom is so gonna kill me.

  “No, she’s not.”

  Taylor’s statement caught me by surprise, and I think it shocked Mr. Young, too.

  “Oh . . . oh really?” he sputtered.

  “I’ll stay—”

  “Taylor—” I interrupted.

  “Mr. Young, it was my fault. I owe her one anyway.”

  For the second time that day, I found myself staring into Taylor’s eyes. Except this time they were sky blue and full of relief. But I still wasn’t convinced he was making the right choice. “Thanks, Taylor, but you don’t have to do this.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Hart,” Mr. Young interjected. “I find this very enlightening and magnanimous. It gives us insight into Mr. Anderson’s character, and it is the correct and gentlemanly thing to do. In my day, a gentleman was always allowed to be a gentleman. Therefore, Miss Hart, you are free to go and enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

  “But—”

  “Go, Chloe. I don’t have a carpool waiting for me like you do,” Taylor said. “I have my own car to get myself home when this is over. Besides, I have a ton of homework to catch up on, so really, it’s okay. Just go.”

  He did have a point. Now I wouldn’t have to have my Mom come and rescue me, or make Alyssa and Madison wait any longer. “Thanks.” I smiled. Karma can be good sometimes.

  “We’re even.” Taylor grinned. “Oh, could you tell Zack to head off without me? Let him know I’ll talk to him tonight, okay?”

  “Sure, no problem. And Taylor? There’s one more thing. About the phone call, I’m really sorry I lost my cool like that. It was, as you said, in the heat of the moment.”

  “You mean you’re usually much nicer when you tell people off?” he teased.

  “Something like that. Sorry.”

  “Forgiven. Am I?”

  “I don’t know, we’ll have to see.” I grinned and winked before I turned to Mr. Young. “Thanks. I, uh, have definitely learned my lesson.”

  “No more notes in class?” His twinkling eyes belied his gruff voice.

  “No more notes ever.” I headed for the door.

  I found Zack on a bench at the end of the hallway. He was listening to some music on his iPod and bouncing a basketball to the beat. With his eyes closed, jamming to the rhythm, he looked like he could hold his ow
n on any court. I could definitely see what Alyssa saw in him.

  He didn’t hear me the first couple of times I called out to him. Finally, I walked right up to him and touched his shoulder. “Zack?”

  “Uh, yeah?” He quickly removed one of the earpieces and turned down the volume. “Sorry. Did you need something?”

  “Taylor wanted me to tell you he’ll be in Mr. Young’s class until 4:30. He said you could go ahead and he’ll talk to you later tonight.” I began to walk away, but to my amazement Zack started to follow me.

  “No way. Is he in trouble or something?”

  “No. Actually, he was rescuing me.”

  “Really? Sounds like Anderson, always helping the ladies.” Zack fell into step with me. “Um, you’re Chloe Hart, right?”

  I wonder if this is leading to Alyssa. “Yep,” I said as I walked toward the hallway door.

  “Oh. Do you have a friend named Alyssa Ming?” Man, I’m good.

  Zack opened the door for both of us. “She plays the cello,” he added when I didn’t answer right away.

  “Yeah, I’m hoping she’s still waiting for me.”

  “Wait, you’re heading to her right now?” Zach asked.

  I smiled. “It’s more or less her car I need, but she should be there too.”

  “Hey, uh—can I walk with you?”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think Zack Bradford sounded a bit shy. “Sure. If you want to.” I shrugged.

  As we headed across the lawn toward the parking lot, I saw Alyssa and Madison lounging against the side of Alyssa’s car. Madison noticed me first.

  “Hey, Chloe! Where’ve you been?” she shouted.

  “Mr. Young’s,” I yelled back. “Alyssa, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  She did a double take as we I walked closer. “Zack? Is that you? I thought you were Ethan.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grinned as we approached the girls. “Hey, uh, I was wondering if, if . . .” —he looked at all of us and then back at Alyssa— “if you’d like to walk with me for a minute.”

  “Sure.” Alyssa beamed and wiggled her eyebrows at us as she passed.