Ex-Rating (15 page)

HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: What happened to you? You used to be cool.

W
hen her phone buzzed on Saturday, Holly tried to ignore it. She’d spent the morning e-mailing couples she’d matched, asking
for their support in saving the Dating Game. She gathered any success stories she found and even tried to find benefits in
the relationships that hadn’t worked out.

Then she went to the library that morning to do research for her history project. She’d finally decided on a topic: the Russian
Revolution. She planned to write a diary from the point of view of Anastasia, one of the doomed daughters of the czar. She
wanted to get a lot done that morning because Mo Basri was having a big pool party that afternoon. It was two-thirty—almost
time to head for the party.

The buzzing stopped, then started again. Holly had gathered a big pile of books and was engrossed in the story of Rasputin,
the monk who had the Russian royal family under his spell. Rasputin’s enemies did everything they could to kill him—they drugged
him, poisoned him, and even beat and shot him. He survived it all. Then, when they gave up and simply dumped him into the
river, he drowned.
Maybe I should do my project on Rasputin instead
, Holly thought.
I could call it, “The Monk Who Wouldn’t Die.”

The phone buzzed a third time. She couldn’t resist glancing at it to see who was calling, even though she knew: Julia. And
she was right. Julia: The Bride Who Wouldn’t Stop Calling.

Holly knew she’d get no peace until she answered the call, so she might as well get it over with. “Hello?”

“Holly, where are you?” Julia asked. “You’re supposed to meet Deirdre and Bethany at the dressmakers for their fittings at
three.”

“They’re here? Finally,” Holly said. No maybe she’d be free. Julia could wrangle them into helping her with all her decisions.

“Do you really need me?” Holly asked. “Can’t they get fitted themselves?”

“Yes, but you’re supposed to help them pick out the fabric for their dresses, remember?” Holly didn’t remember this, but she’d
been so busy lately she could have spaced it. Apparently Deirdre and Bethany were as helpless in making decisions as Julia
was. Or at least Julia thought they were.

“I can’t.” By three, Holly planned on being poolside at Mo’s with her friends, including Rob.

“And while you’re there, show them the material we picked out and make sure they choose a good color, nothing hideous,” Julia
added.

“Julia, didn’t you hear me? I can’t go,” Holly said.

“Why not?”

“I’m working on a school project,” Holly said. “And the blog. And then there’s this pool party—”

“A party! Holly, this is way more important than a party. Besides, it will only take a few minutes.”

That was what Julia always said.

“You have no idea what a hard time I’m having finding a justice of the peace,” Julia said. “And a good gardening service to
clean up the yard. And dealing with Mom. You promised to help me. I’m your boyfriend’s sister.”

“Rob’s going to be at the party,” Holly said.

“You can go, too,” Julia said. “Just stop by Melissa’s on the way.” Melissa’s was the dress shop.

“Please, Julia—they’re your friends. Don’t you trust them to pick out a dress in a decent color?”

“No,” Julia said. “They’re both morons. I need you there, Blondie.” Holly could hear her tearing up over the phone. “I’m so
overwhelmed with all of these things to do, and the whole idea of getting
married
, and Dad and Mom splitting up and everything … What? Oh hi, Mom. Want to say hello to Holly?”

“No! Don’t put her on. I’ve got to go,” Holly said.

“You’ll stop at Melissa’s?” Julia said.

“Yes, I’ll stop by, just for a minute,” Holly said, thinking,
Why, why do I fall for this same line every time?
Because it was beginning to feel like a line to her. Like manipulation. But Holly could see Julia’s trouble. She had gotten
in way over her head, trying to plan this wedding all alone in six weeks. And there were a lot of emotions bouncing off the
walls at the Safran house, not that you’d know it from Rob, but still.

Maybe the dressmaker wouldn’t take too long. Maybe she’d have time to stop by Mo’s pool party before it was over, and at least
get her feet wet.

“Thank you, Holly. You have no idea how much this means to me. You’re a lifesaver! Bye!”

Holly sighed and closed her Russian history book. So much for research.

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t go to Mo’s,” Lina said. She had met Holly outside her locker Monday morning.

“I told you, those girls are psychopaths,” Holly said. “Deirdre kept insisting that the dressmaker took her measurements wrong,
that her waist couldn’t be that big. And when I showed them the book of cloth samples, they flipped through it for an hour
and a half—and they still couldn’t decide what they wanted.”

“’Morning, girls.” Sebastiano sauntered up to his locker, whistling. “Some rockin’ party at Mo’s on Saturday, huh?” He spun
his lock open, then looked up at the girls. Holly could feel Lina making “shut up! shut up!” faces at him.

“What?” Sebastiano said. Then he looked at Holly. “Whoa, Frankenstein, what happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Holly asked.

“Those circles under your eyes. Rough night?”

“I worked all day on my history project,” Holly said. “I stayed up pretty late, I guess. I got such a late start—”

“It’s due next week, you know,” Sebastiano said. “It’s only worth fifty percent of our grade.”

“I know, Sebastiano,” Holly said. “So Mo’s was good?”

“Yeah—where were you?” Sebastiano said. “All that bash needed was a little pinch of Holly. The food! They had a burrito bar,
shrimp, burgers—veggie and regular—homemade blueberry pie. … It was better than a bar mitzvah—!”

“Sebastiano—” Lina began, but Holly shushed her.

“Let the boy speak,” she said. She knew he would hold nothing back. He was reliable that way.

“They had really good beer—not the usual swill—and everybody was swimming, and then Autumn jumped in the pool and her top
fell off and she didn’t care. She didn’t even bother to put it back on!—that’s how blissed out everybody was—and—”

“Okay, you can stop now.” Holly gave Lina a mock-mean glare. “So, I guess I can’t count on you for the scoop.”

“I just didn’t want you to feel bad,” Lina said.

“I know,” Holly said. “It’s really my own fault that I missed the best party of the year and stayed up all night reading about
the Grand Duchess Anastasia. I can’t let Julia push me around. This has got to stop.”

HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: You may think you’ve found the truth, but don’t be so sure. Your search for truth ends
when I say so, and not before. Got it?

W
hy are you doing this to me?” Lina finallly found Ramona at her locker at the end of the day.

“Doing what?” Ramona asked, smoothing the Donald Death poster inside her locker before slamming the door shut.

“Stop denying it,” Lina said. “I know it was you.”

“Are you talking about that Elvira thing? I told you already it wasn’t me. I told Mads, too. You don’t need to sic your dopey
friends on me trying to spook the truth out of me.”

Lina sighed. Why was Ramona being so stubborn? Usually she was proud of her sneaky, conniving mind.

“Listen, Ramona,” Lina said. “Please, just admit what you did. Walker is still angry about it. No matter what I say, he thinks
I’m
Elvira. And he won’t listen to me. But if I can tell him who was really behind the whole thing, and convince him that I had
nothing to do with it, maybe he’ll forgive me. And then we can be friends again. Don’t you see how important this is?”

“I do see,” Ramona said. “But I didn’t do it.”

Lina slumped against the tiny metal lockers. “I wish I could believe you,” she said. “But I just can’t think of anyone else
who had the ability and the motive to commit the crime. There’s no one but you.”

“That can’t be true,” Ramona said. “There must be someone else, because I’m not Elvira!”

“Come on, Ramona, stop it,” Lina said. She could tell Ramona was lying. She exhibited all the signs: nervousness, lack of
eye contact, constant brushing of hair out of eyes. Of course, she did that all the time, but still. Why didn’t she just confess?

“I’m going to tell Walker on you, anyway,” Lina said. “So you might as well come clean.”

Ramona pressed her back against the lockers and picked at a rip in her Spanish workbook.

“You really like him, don’t you,” she said.

“Yes, I do,” Lina said. “Even though he doesn’t like me right now. I’m trying to change that.”

“All right,” Ramona said. “I admit it. I wrote that mean X-Rating. I’m Elvira.”

Lina grimaced. “Why did you wait so long to confess?” she asked.

“I guess I just thought I’d hide behind the character I created,” Ramona said.

“I know you were trying to help,” Lina said. “But you totally screwed everything up. You’ve got to find Walker right now and
explain everything.”

“Can’t I do it tomorrow?” Ramona asked.

“He’s at the pool covering a swim meet,” Lina said. “Go on, just get it over with. The sooner you tell him you’re Elvira,
the sooner he’ll forgive me.”

“I swear I’ll do it later,” Ramona said. “I don’t feel like going to the Swim Center. Chlorine gives me a terrible headache—”

“Quit stalling.” Lina grabbed Ramona by the back of her army jacket and started pulling her down the hall. Ramona was trying
to squirm out of an unpleasant duty, and Lina was determined to make sure she confessed. “I’ll take you to him myself, just
to be sure you don’t pull some other trick—like trying to blame all this on Autumn or somebody.” Ramona was not one of Autumn’s
biggest fans.

“It
would
be funny if we told him Autumn did it,” Ramona said. “And then Walker would be mad at her, and she would be mad at you, and
the chain reaction could lead to a huge explosion!”

“No.” Lina marched Ramona out of the main building, down the path leading to the gym, and into the Swim Center. Walker was
sitting in the bleachers watching the team warm up for a meet.

“Walker, Ramona has something to say to you.” Lina shoved Ramona in front of Walker. He looked up at Ramona, then Lina, surprised
and annoyed.

“What now?” he said.

Lina gave Ramona a little pinch. That was her cue to start talking.

“Walker, I have to tell you something,” Ramona said.

“I know,” Walker said. “Lina just said that.”

“Um, okay.” Ramona glanced longingly at the swimmers in the pool as if she wished she could jump in, clothes and all, and
swim away. “You know that X-Rating that said all those terrible things about you and Flynn?”

Walker’s eyes darkened, and his back straightened. “Yes?”

“Well, the first and most important thing you should know is, Lina didn’t write it. She had nothing to do with it. Really.”

“And—” Lina coached, egging her on.

“And, anyway—not that you’d care or anything—but I wrote it. I made it all up. Including the name Elvira. Who is me.” She
stopped to check Walker’s reaction. The look on his face was stony. She instinctively shrank back from him. “So I’m sorry.
Okay? I’m really sorry. Please forgive Lina. It’s all my fault!”

“Really? It’s all your fault?” Walker said icily. “Why would you do something like that? What would you have to gain from
it?”

“Well, nothing personally, but Lina is my friend, and I care about her, and I did a tarot card reading one night and the cards
said that you and Lina are made for each other, so you might as well stop fighting it and forgive Lina for whatever it is
you’re mad at her about.”

“A tarot card reading?” Walker snorted. “Stop jerking me around, Ramona. You, too, Lina. You probably put Ramona up to this.
You either made her confess to writing it when you really did, or you made her write it for you. Either way, the real mastermind
here is you. Isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” Lina cried. “Mastermind? You know, you’re making a bigger deal out of this than—”

A whistle blew, and the meet began. “Excuse me, girls, but I have a meet to cover,” Walker said.

Lina ran out of the Swim Center, Ramona at her heels. “Can you believe him?” Lina cried. “Even after you confessed to everything,
he’s still mad at
me!
I didn’t do
anything!
”

“You know, that was true what I said about the tarot cards,” Ramona said. “They really did say you guys were meant for each
other.”

“What?” Lina snapped. “Shut up. That’s the last thing I want to hear right now. I’m so pissed!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends with you,” Ramona said.

“That’s fine with me,” Lina said. “If he doesn’t want to be friends, then neither do I. There, it’s official. Walker and I
are no longer friends!”

HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: The answers are out there, but you won’t find them on the Home Shopping Network.

M
ads hopped on her bike and headed to the town library. She’d spent the morning searching the online archives of the
Crier
for old articles about Rosewood. She hoped there might be something in the history of the school that would help her case
when she presented it to the parents’ board.

And she thought she’d found something. She had to go all the way back to 1972, but there were a few obscure references to
some kind of fight or scandal at RSAGE involving the students and self-expression. The paper didn’t say exactly what had happened,
but it did mention that the entire senior class got detention. So it must have been big.

The Carlton Bay Public Library had a collection of yearbooks for every school in the area, dating back to the late nineteenth
century. Mads hoped the 1972 yearbook might give her a clue about the scandal. She skimmed the long row of rose-colored yearbook
spines,
The Garden Gate
, year after year after year. What had happened in 1972 that would cause the whole class to get detention? She ran her finger
through the seventies—’70, ’71, ’73 … Where was 1972?