Second Skin (11 page)

As soon as I saw the lacrosse sticks, though, I knew I'd miscalculated. If this was a lacrosse game, surely Tanner Mullins-captain of the lacrosse team-would be playing. And, of course, his loyal girlfriend, Kylie Frank, would be watching.

As if on cue, Tanner clomped onto the field and raised his lacrosse stick high above his head. The crowd went wild.

I craned my neck and, sure enough, spotted Kylie Frank standing in the very front between

I pushed my way down the bleachers. I had about three minutes before Kylie Frank spotted me.

I was wrong. No sooner had I navigated the long line of limbs that separated me from the aisle when I ran smack into Kylie Frank.

"Where've you been?" she snapped, breathless. Behind us, Ella and Jules stared. Ella looked concerned; Jules looked interested. "I was looking for you all day."

"Uh, really?" I said, wishing desperately for a trapdoor I could escape through. "I didn't know."

Kylie tossed her hair over her shoulder and shot me a
puh-lease
look. "We need to talk."

"Sure. What's up?" I asked, trying to keep my voice equal parts calm and clueless.

"Not here," Kylie said, her voice beyond annoyed. "Someplace private."

Leaving Ella and Jules gaping in her wake, she turned and marched down the bleacher

Besides, the entire school was on Sam Klein alert. If I tried to escape, I'd be blocked by one of Kylie's many minions before I even cleared the field. After all, this was her school. For years to come, Woodlawn High would remember Kylie Frank. Skin or no Skin, I was just passing through.

"Give it back," Kylie said as soon as the heavy aluminum doors closed. We were standing in the hallway outside the gym. Behind us, the glass trophy case gleamed, highlighting decades of Woodlawn High victories, back to a time when the school actually had its own bowling team.

"Give what back?" I asked, wondering if

I edged back toward the door. If things got too out of control, I could just shoot out.

Kylie snorted. "Please. Don't waste my time acting all innocent and clueless. I know you have it, so just give it to me."

"Really, I wish I could help," I said, trying to keep my argument simple and on message. "But I don't know what you're talking about."

Kylie rolled her eyes. "Right." She looked at me as if trying to decide how full of it I actually was. "The
Skin.
It's gone."

"Wow, I'm really-That's awful," I said. "What happened?"

Kylie flipped her hair back indignantly. Under normal circumstances, I'm sure the move would've intimidated me to the point of admission, but today Kylie, and her hair, really weren't at their best. Both looked tired and stressed out, dingy rather than vibrant.

Was that from Skin withdrawal? I wondered. Or simply stress? Was the Skin in some way responsible for Kylie's perfect looks?

"Well, me and whoever it is that sent it to you in the first place," I said coolly.

Kylie blinked and I could tell there was a part of her that had considered the exact same thing.

We stood there for a few seconds, neither of us saying anything.

"I should never have told you about it," she mumbled, breaking the silence. "I broke the rules. That's why this is happening."

Rules. What were these mysterious rules? I wondered, rubbing the Skin through my shirtsleeve. It was still there, feeling great. But would it last? Was I breaking the rules right now? I had absolutely no idea.

Then again, this really wasn't a good time to ask.

"Calm down," I told her. "I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere."

"I looked all night. It's gone." Kylie groaned. Her eyes flicked over me, and she took in my appearance for the very first time. "You look different," she announced in an accusing tone.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, I was tempted to roll my eyes. Unbelievable. So far the Skin had only succeeded in attracting negative attention-something I'd never needed help with before.

"I got my hair cut," I lied. "And bought some of those nose strips-you know, for blackheads?"

Kylie fixed her cool blue eyes on me but said nothing.

"Look, I wish I could help," I said, almost wincing at my insincerity. You never really know how low you can sink until you sink that much farther. "But I really can't. I mean, sure, you showed it to me that day, but other than that, I really don't know-"

"You'd better not be lying," Kylie warned. I could tell she was torn, unsure what to believe.

"I'm not," I insisted, my pulse racing. I felt sort of sweaty, too. Criminal activity was quite the workout-way more strenuous than thirty minutes on a treadmill. "But if I think of anything, I swear I'll let you know."

"Whatever," Kylie said, pushing past me. "I'm going home to look some more."

I listened to her angry steps retreat, feeling a mix of relief and fear. The confrontation was

But the exchange had definitely made its mark. I had no idea how life in the Skin would play out, but each scenario had its downside. If it didn't work, I was stuck with my loser self
and
a defective Skin. And if it did work, well, Kylie Frank wasn't stupid. She'd figure things out, probably sooner rather than later. And when she did, I'd have an enemy.

Who wanted to rip my Skin off.

I wandered back out to the game and watched the now mud-covered players club each other with wooden sticks. I had no idea how lacrosse was played-from what I could tell, it was a pretty brutal sport-but I was in desperate need of a distraction. And since Tanner Mullins was team captain, I could've watched for hours.

Someone blew a whistle on the field and the two teams trotted off to the sidelines. It seemed like the game was over and, based on the claps and cheers around me, Woodlawn had won. I rose to my feet, feeling a little disappointed. I could've used a few more minutes of sweat-soaked hottie watching. But it was just as well. I had to head home soon-I didn't want my parents

"Hoping for a replay?"

I looked up. Tanner Mullins was a few rows ahead of me, packing up his sports bag. His shaggy blond hair was streaked with mud and his cheeks were still red from the game.

And he was looking at me. Yes, me.

I swallowed, waiting for the-what? Panic? Nausea? Overwhelming cramps? I'd never been in a cute-guy-talking-to-me sort of situation before, so I had no idea how I'd respond. I was pretty sure it'd be ugly.

But the humiliation and regret-triggering reaction never came. Instead, and almost involuntarily, I felt my spine straighten and my mouth curve into a smile.

"Hey," I said, in a voice so calm and relaxed Tanner Mullins could've been the checkout girl at Rite Aid. "I'm Sam Klein."

Tanner blinked. "Sam Klein. Where have I heard that before?" He shrugged. "Well, it's really cool of you to support the team. And you stayed to the end." He scanned the empty bleachers, his expression almost pouty. "Not everybody does, which is totally lame."

A fresh shot of guilt twisted my stomach. But

"Listen," he said, his dimples winking at me. "I got to get cleaned up, but we have another game Thursday if you're interested. It'd be cool if you stopped by."

Was all this attention-and my calm and collected response-courtesy of the Skin? I had absolutely no idea. But whatever was happening, I liked it. A lot. And I wanted more.

I tilted my head to one side in what I hoped was an exact replica of Kylie Frank's pose in her kissing-Tanner picture. "Definitely," I said, smiling back at him. "I'm in."

And neither had Kylie Frank's. Of course, it was hard to tell since she was as busy as ever, cheer-leading and partying and color-coordinating her outfits. But I saw her in homeroom every morning, could feel her glares as she walked

It was disappointing, to say the least. In the Skin, I'd expected lightning-fast change. I wanted to feel it hit, pinpoint the exact moment in time. It was like choosing a crash diet over the more practical Weight Watchers. Rapid-fire results weren't just a perk, they were the main appeal.

I hadn't even lost water weight.

I was pretty sure the Skin was a dud. Still, I persevered. Stripping it off was tantamount to giving up, sealing my socially inferior fate forever. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. But my hopes were definitely dwindling. Each day that closed with my "loser Sam Klein" status still intact took a little something out of me. So when, on that cold gray morning, I walked into homeroom to find Jules Johnston perched at her desk smiling and waving at me, as warm and friendly as Oprah's wave to her studio audience, I completely froze.

Jules waved again and, after a few more shocked seconds ticked by, I pulled myself together enough to go sit down.

"Um, I don't think so," I said, wondering if Jules's peroxide abuse had finally pushed her over the edge. I still couldn't believe she was talking to me.

She smiled coyly, obviously enjoying her role as news breaker. "Kylie and Tanner had a big fight," she announced, pausing slightly for maximum drama. "Huge."

I swallowed; the weirdness of the situation temporarily forgotten. "Um, about what?"

"I heard Kylie's been blowing off Tanner's games. And she stood him up at the gym, too." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I tried to ask her about it, but she wouldn't talk. She's been such a freak lately I can't even deal."

"Wow, that's too bad." I shifted in my chair, trying to stay calm. It was hard, considering the fact that two overwhelming realizations had just struck. The first told me that finally-/
finally-
the Skin was working. (It had to be the Skin. I knew better than to think Jules was talking to me for