How to Be Popular (16 page)

STILL DAY FIVE OF POPULARITY
FRIDAY
,
SEPTEMBER
1, 10
P
.
M
.

Darren came out of the back room just as Mark was leaving. He walked up to the register and went, “Who was THAT?”

“That,” I said, watching Mark head out to his four-by-four parked right in front of the store, “was Mark Finley.”

“
The
Mark Finley?” Darren whistled. “And were mine eyes deceiving me, or was he just KISSING you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, he was.”

“Congrats, girlfriend,” Darren said. “See? You didn’t believe me. I knew you’d get a date to the prom.”

And with that, I was jolted forcibly back to reality.

“No,” I said faintly. “He already has a girlfriend.”

Darren looked shocked. “Well, that’s no way for a taken man to behave. What’s he thinking?”

The birds that had been twittering around inside my
head fell silent. The tingling sensation in my lips vanished.

That’s right. Mark had a girlfriend. What WAS he thinking, kissing me, anyway?

He’d said I was cute, and that he couldn’t resist.

But…he’d never seemed to have any trouble resisting me before now.

Was I really supposed to believe that he just couldn’t resist me, on account of my being so cute and—what was that other thing he said? Oh yeah—“nice”?

Although, I guess, after Lauren, “nice” would probably seem like kind of a change of pace.

But I didn’t imagine Lauren acted mean around Mark. I
knew
she didn’t.

She blamed her meanness on other people. People like Alyssa Krueger.

Who was right. Lauren
had
figured out a way to get me back.

It was because of Lauren I was sitting here right now, listening to the rain patter against the rotunda in the big, dark, empty observatory, waiting to let everybody in.

So they could destroy it. Everything my grandfather’d worked so hard for this past year.

Because no matter what Mark promised, that’s what was going to happen. Now that the tingling from his kiss had faded—and I’d been brought back to reality—I knew it. They were going to wreck the place. They were going to rip it apart.

But what about everything
I’d
worked so hard for? What about
me
? I mean, I finally got people to stop talk
ing about me in a mean way—Don’t pull a Steph Landry!—and start talking about me in a nice way…even kissing me, if they happened to be Mark Finley…and now I was just going to ditch it all because I was such a prude—such a freak—I couldn’t stand the idea of a bunch of my peers having what, according to all the books and movies I’d read and seen, is a normal teen experience?

Was I
really
that nice?

I wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t. I mean, I rolled empty soda cans down the school auditorium floor. I sprinkled sugar on Lauren Moffat’s head. I spied on my future step-grand-brother while he was naked. I was not nice. I was
not.

So why couldn’t I do this?

I
had
to do this. When they knocked on that door, I would open it. I
had
to. I was not letting them down. I was not letting things go back to the way they were. I was not pulling another Steph Landry.

Grandpa would understand. I had enough money saved up, I could probably pay for most of the damage myself. So long as it wasn’t more than a few thousand dollars, since I’m a little short on account of buying Mark for the store.

But Kitty. What about Kitty? She’d be hurt.

Still. I bet she did things like this when she was my age. Grandpa never did—he was too busy working like a zillion jobs to help support his immigrant family.

But Kitty would get it. After all, she’d read The Book. She KNEW. She KNEW how hard it was.

Jason, though.

Oh, now why did I have to think about him? I wouldn’t think about him. I
wouldn’t
.

I just knew we could count on you, Steph.

That’s what Lauren said.

And what Jason said, too. Only he meant something completely different than Lauren.

Well, what did I care what Jason thought? I mean, he was the one going around kissing Becca in his bedroom. Not like I care that he’s been kissing other girls. I didn’t even like him in that way.

Besides, I’ve been kissing other boys. Well, one other boy.

Still. Why
Becca
? Why did he have to kiss
her
? Why did he have to
buy
her?

Oh my God. There I go again.

WHY DID I EVEN CARE???? WHY DID IT BOTHER ME SO MUCH??? I mean, I should be happy for them. If, in fact, they WERE a couple.

If they were a couple, I’d throw up, just like that time at Kings Island after I got off the log flume.

No, I wouldn’t. I’d be happy for them. They were my best friends. They deserved to find romantic joy.

But why did Jason have to find it with BECCA?

What was WRONG with me? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about Jason? I just got kissed by MARK FINLEY. On the lips. I saw fireworks! I heard an angelic choir!

It was just….

What if it wasn’t just hormones? How I felt when
Jason and I leg-wrestle, I mean. Or why I couldn’t stop spying on him. What if it was something more than just normal teen curiosity about the opposite sex?

It couldn’t be. It COULDN’T be. I LOVED MARK FINLEY. I LOVED HIM. I—

I didn’t love him. Oh, God. I didn’t think I even
liked
him anymore. Because what kind of guy even
did
that? Kissed one girl while dating another? That wasn’t right. That wasn’t nice. That was kind of gross, actually. It was completely phony. It was the total OPPOSITE of the way The Book said popular boys should act. Popular boys weren’t supposed to have a roving eye. They were supposed to be true to their steady girlfriends.

They weren’t supposed to kiss girls in public.

They weren’t supposed to kiss girls just to get them to do what they wanted them to do.

They were supposed to be nice. They were supposed to be funny. They were supposed to be true friends.

Like Jason.

Oh, God. What was happening to me?

FRIDAY
,
SEPTEMBER
1, 11
P
.
M
.

I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t open the door.

I wanted to. I really did. Or at least, a part of me did.

Especially when I heard Mark say, “Steph? Hey, Steph, are you in there? It’s me, Mark. Open up, okay? It’s raining pretty hard out here.”

But then I heard Lauren say, “Oh my God, my hair. Steph! Steph, hurry up! We’re getting soaked!”

And then I heard Todd say, “Man, this keg weighs a ton.”

I stayed where I was by the door. I didn’t get up to open it. I didn’t move.

I just called, “Um, you guys?”

“Steph?” Mark thumped on the door with a fist. “Is that you? Open up, will you?”

“Yeah, about that.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Mark called. “Figure out how to open the door?”

“No,” I said. “I know how to do that. I can’t let you in. I’m sorry. I changed my mind. You can’t have the party here.”

This was met with silence. For a moment.

Then Todd yelled, “Very funny, Landry! Open the freaking door. We’re getting poured on out here!”

“I don’t think you understand,” I called. “I’m not letting you in. You’re going to have to take your party elsewhere.”

More stunned silence.

Then everyone started banging on the door at once.

They tried the latch. They started kicking it (that was Lauren, I’m sure). They pounded on it.

But I didn’t budge.

Not even when I heard Mark yell, in an unfriendly voice that I’d never heard him use before, “Steph! Steph, come on! Joke’s over! Open up!”

Not even when I heard Lauren shout, “Steph Landry! Open the freaking door
right now
!”

I closed my eyes.
Grandpa
, I thought.
Here’s my wedding present to you. I’m not going to let my so-called friends trash your observatory. Congratulations!

As gifts went, I realized it was kind of lame. But it was the best I could do, under the circumstances.

And the truth was, I
was
making an incredible sacrifice on Grandpa’s and Kitty’s behalf. Even if they didn’t know it.

After a while, when I didn’t unlock the door, the banging stopped. And I heard Todd go, “She’s blowing us off. I can’t believe it. The bitch is blowing us off.”

“Maybe something happened to her.” That had to have been Darlene. “Steph? Are you okay?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Lauren said, sounding furious. “Something’s
going
to happen to her on Monday. I’m going to make her wish she was never born. That’s what.”

So, you know. I have that to look forward to.

And Mark didn’t say a word to defend me. Not a single word.

Not that I ever really thought he liked me in the first place. That’s not what that kiss had been about. That kiss—I know now—wasn’t because he thought I was so cute and nice that he couldn’t resist me. That kiss was supposed to make me do what he wanted me to do.

Which, in this case, was open the door.

Too bad for him it didn’t work. That’s the problem with fireworks. They fade away pretty quickly.

They finally went away after that, Lauren complaining about what the rain was doing to her hair and Todd saying something about some freshman kid who’d said his parents were going to be in French Lick for the weekend, so maybe they could all go there….

I wonder what Lauren’s going to do to me on Monday.

Oh well. It doesn’t really matter. It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already been through.

That’s when a voice from the darkness—from INSIDE the observatory—said my name.

And I screamed.

“Whoa,” Jason said, stepping out of the shadow of the telescope pier. “It’s just me.”

“What are YOU doing here?” I screamed.

“Making sure you made the right decision,” Jason said.

“You mean—” I couldn’t believe it. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it was going to slam right out from behind my ribs. I don’t know what had surprised me more—his stepping out of the dark like that, or the fact that he was there at all. “You were here the whole time?”

Jason shrugged. “I let myself in before you got off work.”

“And you just sat here,” I said, feeling what I could only describe as a murderous rage toward him, “in the dark with me the whole time, and didn’t say anything?”

“This was something you had to work through on your own,” Jason said. “Besides. I knew you’d do the right thing.”

“Oh, right,” I said. I wanted to throw something at him. I really did. “And if I hadn’t?”

Now Jason brandished something that he’d been holding behind his back. It was a golf club.

“I figured Big Bertha here would drive them away,” he said.

For some reason, this statement drove every last ounce of rage from me. I just couldn’t be mad at him anymore after seeing that stupid golf club.

It also seemed to drive away the last of the strength from my knees. I slumped against the wall, then slid all the way down until I was sitting on the brand-new industrial carpeting—the industrial carpeting I had protected from being doused with lighter fluid—with my face in my hands.

I heard, rather than saw, Jason slide down onto the floor beside me.

“Cheer up, Crazytop,” he said after a few minutes. “You had a good run.”

“All that work,” I said to my knees. I wasn’t crying. I
wasn’t
. Okay. I was. “So much work. And all for nothing.”

I felt Jason’s hand on my back, patting me comfortingly…not unlike the way he’d comforted me when I’d been barfing my guts up into that trash can after we got off the log flume.

“Not for nothing,” Jason said. “You were the most popular girl in school—well, practically—for a week. Not many people can say that.”

“It was a total waste of time and energy,” I said, still not looking up. My jeans were doing an adequate job of absorbing my tears.

“No, it wasn’t,” Jason said. “Because it showed you that what you thought you were missing out on wasn’t actually all that great. I mean. Was it?”

“I don’t know. I was working so hard to get popular—and then stay that way—I didn’t actually ever have a chance to enjoy it.” I lifted my head and looked at him, not even really caring anymore if he saw that I was crying. “I
don’t even know. I don’t even know if I’d have liked it or not.”

“Hey,” Jason said gently, looking somewhat alarmed by my tears. “Hey. It’s not worth crying over.
They’re
not, anyway.”

“I know,” I said, dragging the back of my wrist across my eyes. They had stopped streaming, for the most part. Which was a relief. I leaned my head back and rested it against the wall behind us. “God. I can’t believe they actually expected me to let them have one of their stupid ragers in here.”

“Well, you had me fooled. I really thought you were going to let them in.”

“I couldn’t do that to Grandpa,” I said. “Or Kitty.”

“It wouldn’t have been a very nice wedding gift,” Jason agreed.

Which was funny. Since that’s exactly what I’d been thinking.

“I can’t believe I blew my hair straight for them,” I said. “For a
week
.”

“You look better with it curly, anyway,” Jason said.

He was just being nice. On account of my having been crying, and all. I knew that. I
knew
he was just being nice. He didn’t say it because he liked me, or anything. As anything more than a friend, anyway.

But still. Something—I have no idea what—made me ask, completely out of nowhere, “Jason, are you in love with Becca?”

Jason’s back straightened away from the wall as if
he’d been electrocuted.

“What?”
He blinked at me in the semidarkness. “What gave you
that
idea?”

“Well,” I said, realizing, belatedly, the grave I’d dug for myself. What was I doing?
What was I doing
? And why on God’s green earth was I doing it? “You did buy her—”

“I
told
you why I did that,” Jason said. “Because I didn’t want her to feel bad.”

“Right.” It was like my mouth was disconnected from the rest of my body, or something, and just going off on its own crazy mission all by itself. “Because you love her.”

“Do I have to remind you what she did to my shoes?” He held up one massive foot for me to see that the soles of his high tops were still covered with purple stars and unicorns.

I stared at them. Jason put his foot down.

“Geesh,” he said.

But it didn’t do any good. My mouth just kept going, despite my brain—and heart—going,
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up
.

“If you don’t love her, then why”—
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up—“
did you kiss her in your room last night?”

SHUT UP. Oh my God. I am the stupidest human being on the face of the planet.

Jason’s mouth fell open. “How did you—”

“I can see into your room from our bathroom,” I said fast. Suddenly, my brain decided to pitch in and help my
mouth out. Better late than never, I guess. “Not that I ever look. Really. Much. It’s just that last night, I was in there, and I happened to sort of look out, and I saw her—you—both of you. And you were kissing.”

Jason shut his mouth. He wasn’t smiling.

“Becca didn’t tell you?” he asked finally.

“She didn’t say a word,” I said. “And I didn’t want to bring it up. Because—”

“Because you didn’t want her to accuse you of being a peeping Tom.”

Oh, God. But he was right. He was right. I was going to confession on Monday. I was going to tell Father Chuck everything.

And it wouldn’t matter if he told my mom, because Jason already knows, now.

“I wasn’t peeping,” I said. “Exactly. I mean, Pete saw you, too—”

“Oh, great! Your brother knows?”

I was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. I had no idea why. The observatory has really great air-conditioning.

“Yes, Pete knows,” I said. “I mean, the two of you were going at it right there in the window.”
Going at it
was a strong term to use. I have no idea where it came from. “If you had bothered to lower the blinds—”

“I don’t have blinds in there yet,” Jason said. “But you can bet I’ll be getting them now. What else have you seen me doing in there?”

Naked push-ups, I wanted to say. This time, however,
my mouth actually did what my brain told it to, and so instead I said, “Nothing. I swear.” Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been—how long since my last confession? Well, it doesn’t matter, because there’s this one thing I didn’t tell you, and it’s been going on for a few months now, and—

Oh, whatever. God will understand.

“So come on,” I said to Jason. Because my chest was feeling tight. I had to know. I just had to. “What’s going on with you and Becca?”

“Aw, geez.” Jason slumped back against the wall, his eyes closed. “Nothing, all right? She got the wrong idea—exactly like you did—about my buying her stupid scrapbook mentor thing. She came over—just showed up—and my dad let her in, because, well, he’s my dad. I was just lying there, reading, when she came walking in, and she was all…you know.”

I stared at his profile. His nose looked bigger and more crooked than ever. And for some reason, I wanted to lean over and kiss it.

I had gone mental. Lauren Moffat and those guys had finally driven me completely insane. Since when did I go around, wanting to kiss Jason Hollenbach’s nose?

“No,” I said. “I don’t know. Becca was all…what?”

“All lovey-dovey,” Jason said, finally turning his head to look at me. “She thinks—Jesus. She thinks I’m The One.
Her
One. Her soul mate. And for the record,
she
kissed
me
. Not the other way around. I had to tell her—well, I had to tell her she was barking up the wrong tree.
I’m not the guy for her. No matter what she might think.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me that was so intense, I actually felt physically weak from it.

Why?
Why
did I feel relieved at hearing Jason say he wasn’t the guy for Becca?

Why did hearing that
she
had kissed
him
, and not the other way around, make that angelic choir—the one I’d willed myself to hear when Mark Finley kissed me, and that I knew now hadn’t been the real thing…not at all—suddenly spring to life inside my head?

“Oh,” I said. It was hard to hear myself talk above all the singing.

“Why do you think I was hiding out in the library today?” Jason asked. “I was trying to avoid her.”

“Oh,” I said again. Little birds were tweeting in my ears, and no one was even kissing me. It was crazy. But it was true.

“It’s all Stuckey’s fault,” Jason grumbled.

“Stuckey?”

“Yeah. He was the one who kept telling me to buy her.”

“Stuckey?”
I was sure I hadn’t heard him right, what with all the birds and singing.

“Yeah. He’d have bought her himself. Only he didn’t have any money.”

“Stuckey likes Becca?” I asked. The choir burst into the “Hallelujah” chorus. Especially when I thought about how Stuckey had been talking about scrapbooking the whole way home from school in his car today. And
that tour of Assembly Hall he’d offered to give Becca.

“I guess,” Jason said. “How should I know?”

“Well, wouldn’t he have told you?”

Jason shot me a very sarcastic look. Ordinarily, when Jason does this, I shoot him a sarcastic look right back. This time, all I could think about was how I wanted to kiss his nose.

“Guys don’t talk about that kind of thing with each other,” he informed me.

“Oh,” I said.

“Besides,” Jason said, “you bought Mark Finley. Does that mean you’re in love with him?”

“Obviously not,” I said. I didn’t think it was necessary to mention that Mark and I had kissed, just as Jason and Becca had. Also that I would much rather have been kissing Jason. “I mean, you saw me not letting him in just now, right?”

“Well,” Jason said, “you could have fooled me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The chorus and birds shut up abruptly.