The Fruit of My Lipstick (25 page)

The whole junior class must have picked this moment to be in the dining room, and they made the most of it.

“Come on!” Shani tried to drag me to the door. “They’ll hear this in the staff lounge. If the teachers catch you in here, you’re dead.”

“Wait—we can’t go without Lissa!”

We both whirled and tried to find her in the melee. “There she is, under the table!” Carly screamed. “Lissa!”

Lissa crawled out from under the abandoned Science Club table with a backpack.

A very familiar silver-and-black backpack.

I gasped. “What is she doing?”

She ripped it open, rummaged around inside, and yanked out a single sheet of paper. A huge grin spread across her face, and she tracked the room with her gaze until she found me. Then she gave me a victory thumbs-up.

“Oh, my gosh.” I squared two and two with lightning speed. “It’s the Bio final she bought.”

I leaped onto the nearest table and put two fingers in my mouth. I don’t have three brothers for nothing. My whistle could shatter glass.

“Look!” I shouted. “Proof! Lissa’s got proof!”

She climbed onto the nearest table, too, holding Lucas’s backpack up like a sport fisherman displaying a record weight swordfish. “Look what I just found in his backpack,” she yelled. “The answer sheet I bought from him last night—the one he chickened out on this morning because he knew we were onto him!”

“Liar!” Lucas screamed, apple juice dripping from his chin. “You planted it!”

“Oh, come on, Lucas,” I called. “That story’s not going to work twice.”

And that was all I got a chance to say, because Rory tackled him from behind. Two more juniors jumped into the fray—one of them the beefy chick who had spit on me that morning—and Lucas disappeared, still screaming, under a sea of angry bodies.

A huge crash made us all jump, and the double doors bounced off the walls to reveal Mr. Milsom in full combat mode. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

Ms. Tobin and Dr. Arnzen pelted in close on his heels—and the first thing they saw was me, standing on the table.

“Miss Chang, get down from there at once and go to your room!” With both arms, Ms. Tobin grabbed me around the waist and half-dragged, half-swung me off it.

“Wait!” I panted. “Wait, Ms. Tobin. It’s Lucas. He’s the one. Lissa has proof, right there in her hand!”

On the other side of the room, surfing that dining table, Lissa screamed encouragement at the heap of people on top of Lucas. She looked like a California Valkyrie, the answer sheet in her hand waving like a flag.

“Miss Mansfield, get down
at once
.” The headmistress was no slouch at projecting, either. In fact, you could have heard her in Tiburon as she strode in. “Stop that fighting and give me order or I’ll suspend the lot of you!”

The last plum bounced wetly off a sophomore and fell to the ground. The students on top of Lucas untangled themselves and got to their feet. People at tables in the back looked at each other and began to edge toward the kitchen doors, which led into a secondary hallway and an outside fire door.

Lissa jumped down from her table and handed both backpack and answer sheet to Ms. Curzon. “Here it is, ma’am. The answer sheet that was supposed to be in Locker 254 this morning. I found it just now in Lucas’s backpack. He’s your criminal, not Gillian.”

Ms. Curzon took both, and her glance flicked over the answer sheet. Then she turned to face Lucas, who was struggling to break Rory’s grip. “Well, Hayes? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Hayes, huh? No more cozy first names for you, sunshine.

“Nothing,” he snapped. “This is a setup engineered by an ex-girlfriend with an axe to grind.”

“Is that so? Well, hopefully some time confined to your room will loosen up a few facts.”

“You can talk to my dad’s lawyer.”

She raised her eyebrows in an amused smile. “Thank you so much. I didn’t realize you expected us to accuse you of anything.”

Lucas’s shoulders sank as he realized the trap he’d just sprung for himself. “I—I meant—you—”

“That will be all, Hayes. Mr. Milsom, please escort him to his room. No class privileges. No dining room privileges. His roommate may bring him a tray three times a day. And I want Security on his door until we get this sorted.”

Lucas stalked out, Mr. Milsom attached to him like a ball and chain.

And still no one moved. They all looked like a movie audience, waiting for the Easter egg at the end of the credits. Ms. Tobin still gripped my wrist, but as Lucas passed us, she loosened her hold and then finally dropped it altogether as Ms. Curzon approached me.

“Miss Chang.” She considered the tangle of spaghetti on the floor in front of my shoe, then lifted her gaze to mine. “Are you responsible for this astonishing display of epic bad manners?”

That was debatable. But hadn’t I predicted there would be a riot when people figured out I was in here? “Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you stand by your statement of last night?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you prepared to testify to that effect in front of the school board?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then it seems I owe you an apology.”

I stopped myself from saying “Yes, ma’am” just in time.

She raised her voice so the entire bedraggled and dripping student population could hear her. “Gillian Chang, I apologize for taking Lucas’s part instead of listening and carefully weighing the evidence you had to offer. You are cleared of all suspicion, and the suspension will be expunged from your school record.”

Wow. A public apology by the headmistress? That took guts. And honesty.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

But she wasn’t finished. “You are, however, still guilty of entering the boys’ dormitory and a boy’s room.” At least she didn’t say
consort
in front of everybody. “You will serve your detention this evening—immediately, in fact—by assisting the housekeeping staff in cleaning up this appalling mess.”

As my mouth fell open in dismay, the kids around me began to laugh. And then someone started to clap. Hot tears of humiliation flooded my eyes as I realized that Shani was clapping. And Carly. And even Lissa, who I’d thought was my friend.

And then I actually looked at them. Really, honestly looked.

They weren’t laughing
at
me. They were clapping
for
me. The sound of applause rolled over me in a wave and I began to laugh, too. Because really, we all looked completely goofy, covered in food, dripping on the floor . . . goofy and a little bit crazy, and a whole lot happy.

And even though it took me nearly three hours, I had to admit, as I scraped the remains of the Bosc pears up off the glossy hardwood floor, that there were worse ways to spend a detention than cleaning up the field where God and my friends had fought on my side—and savored the taste of victory.

It only goes to show that in the end, it’s all about us, isn’t it?

SPENCER ACADEMY

American Association of Physics Teachers

One Physics Ellipse

College Park, MD 20740

Re: Physics Olympiad

On behalf of Spencer Academy, I very much regret to inform you that our student, Lucas Hayes, must surrender his place among the semifinalists for this year’s Physics Olympiad.

Mr. Hayes has been caught in behavior of a damaging and fraudulent nature, and we no longer consider him an appropriate representative of our institution. In fact, he is no longer enrolled here.

I wish each and every semifinalist the very best of luck in the final round.

Sincerely yours,

Terence Arnzen, Ph.D.
Dean of Sciences
Spencer Academy

Chapter 23

Y
OU’D THINK THE SOUND
of the rain flinging itself against the common room’s windows would be depressing, but the contrast between the storm outside and the snug comfort inside only made me happy. Of course, a lot of things were making me happy today, on the last day of term.

Lucas was expelled.

Beefy Chick came up to me this morning and apologized.

I got an Incomplete in my efforts with the personal trainer—but it was better than the F that I deserved, and it meant I never had to run one more lap of the track in my entire life.

I still didn’t know how I’d done in AP Chem or English, but all in all, life was good.

Except for one thing. Okay, two things.

One, I was not looking forward to spending my entire spring break at home, being nitpicked by Nai-Nai and keeping my mom company during my dad’s inevitable hours of overtime.

And two . . . “Have you guys seen Shani today?” I asked.

Lissa lounged in one of the overstuffed chairs, her legs hanging over the arm. I’d lent her Camy Tang’s new chick-lit novel, and she was devouring it—along with the bowl of popcorn in her lap.

She looked up and popped a corn in her mouth. “I saw her in the gym this morning. Why?”

“I just wondered how she’s doing, that’s all.”

“Doing how?” Carly, stretched out on one of the couches, opened her eyes and pulled her earphones out.

“Belief-wise,” I said. “Has anyone talked with her about it lately?”

“Here you guys are. I’ve been looking all over.”

The girl herself strolled into the common room, with Jeremy right behind her, carrying a six-pack of soda.

“Hey, Jeremy,” I said brightly in a “just friends” kind of voice. You know.

“Hey, Gillian. They had one case of Weinhard’s Orange Cream in the dining room, so I swiped it.”

“Ooh, my favorite.” Lissa swung her legs down and helped herself to cream soda, then offered what was left in her bowl to the newcomers. Fortunately she wasn’t down to the unpopped kernels in the bottom yet.

“So,” Shani said. “Who wants to talk to whom about what? What’d I miss?”

Carly and I glanced at each other. “I was just wondering about you,” I said slowly. “Not talking behind your back or anything, but asking these guys if they knew how you were doing with—with your belief.”

She smiled a little half smile. “Trust you to come right out with it.”

“I do that,” I said quietly.

She slumped in one corner of the couch and rubbed her thumb in the condensation on her bottle. “I don’t know. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“And some of us have been doing a lot of praying,” Jeremy said.

She smiled at him, and I tilted my head. Was that a “just friends” smile? Had she changed her mind about him? And why did I care? I’d just given him a “just friends” hello, hadn’t I?

“I don’t know if praying works,” she said. “It just seems to make things harder.”

“You can say that again,” Carly said.

Shani nodded. “You’re sitting there going, hello God, can You help me out on this one, and how do you know if He’s even listening?”

“He’s listening,” Lissa said with conviction. “He knows what you need before you even say it.”

“So then how come I got a C+ in History?”

“Probably for the same reason I did.” Lissa sighed. “Because I completely blanked on every date I ever knew.”

“And because all of us were stressed out of our minds,” I put in. “But God knew that. Maybe He didn’t focus on our exams, but He made sure everything else all came out right. Believe me, Carly and I had the most to lose.”

“Yeah, but you already believe. Who says He was listening to me?”

“He was,” Jeremy said. “He knows everything. The fact that you were asking means that He was listening.” I looked at him in surprise. That was pretty profound. “That’s all we can do, right? Ask. Tell Him stuff. That’s where belief comes in. Faith is when you leave the answer up to Him.”

Whoa. Maybe I’d better rethink this “just friends” thing. Or was it already too late?

“And like Gillian said, He totally came through.” Lissa hunted down the last kernels in the bottom of the bowl.

“Hm.” Shani was quiet for a minute. “So, how do I get from asking Him stuff to having faith and all that?”

“Take it one step at a time,” I said with a glance at Jeremy.
Lord, did You pull the two of us into this room with her right now for a reason? Help me out, here
. “All He wants to do is hear you asking Him. He loves that. If you do that, He’ll take it from there.”

“She’s right.” Jeremy grinned at her. “I know this is pretty personal, but we’re all here for you.”

“But I have to go back to Chicago in the morning,” she said with a groan. “What if I need you guys during spring break? What if I get all messed up and I can’t take it?”

“Give me your phone.” Lissa held out a hand. “I’ll program all our numbers into it. You can call any of us whenever you feel like it.”

“How come you don’t want to go home?” I asked. Maybe that was more personal than she wanted to get. But something in the set of her mouth, the unhappiness in her eyes, forced the words between my lips.

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s just me and the staff and that big old house. Mom’s in Florida with my grandparents and Dad’s who knows where on business. They try to schedule it so they’re both home when I am, but sometimes it doesn’t work out.” She pasted on a smile. “On the bright side, I get to watch anything I want. On every TV in every room in the house. Which comes to, like, eighteen.”

“Why don’t you come to New York with me?” I heard myself say, and then blinked in total surprise. Where had
that
come from?

She gawked at me, the chandelier earrings she wore with her sleek updo swinging. “What?”

“Good idea,” Jeremy said immediately. “I’m in Connecticut. Two hours on the train and we can hang together.”

“Go shopping,” Lissa said dreamily.

“Or not,” Jeremy retorted.

“Go to the Met,” Carly said. “And Broadway and stuff.”

“I have a huge room with a guest bed.” I was warming up to this in a hurry. “You can protect me from my grandmother, and she’ll feed you
shui jao
and pork buns until you explode.”

“Okay, whatever
shui jao
is,” Shani said. “I’m good with grandmothers.”

“Steamed dumplings,” Lissa explained. “Her mom sent us a bunch in a care package once. They’re to die for.”

“I’m in.” Shani’s gaze met mine, with surprise on both sides. “Thanks.”