The Comeback (6 page)

I
hadn't expected it to be easy to get next to Angie, but it proved to be even more difficult than anticipated. I didn't want the whole world to know what I was doing.

I knew she ate lunch at Wicked Jack's, sometimes even without Connor, but that wasn't an option. I still couldn't bring myself to show my face there. Not after the dance humiliation, although that scandal had died down a bit, thanks to an STD. The victim was varsity cheerleader Jackie Johnson, the abstinence queen who used to hand out sexual Just Say No pamphlets at lunch.

They couldn't shut up about it in English class. We had a sub. Sometimes we got lucky and had substitute teachers who really wanted to teach, but today's candidate assigned us to read a chapter and then promptly got out his newspaper.

“Did you hear about Jackie?” Olivia whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “What's the big deal?” Don't get me wrong, I was delighted that the focus was off me and the debacle at the dance, but I wasn't going to revel in someone else's misfortune, especially not with that harbinger of doom Olivia Kaplan. I had a pretty good suspicion she was the one who had plastered posters of me all over school.

“She has crabs,” Olivia replied indignantly.

“Olivia, that could happen to anybody,” I said. “It could even happen to you.”

I didn't think it was humanly possible, but for some reason, that shut her up.

I finished reading the assigned chapter in about ten minutes and had the rest of the period to kill. I made a list of the information I'd managed to glean about Angie.

Drama was the most important extracurricular activity she was in.

She was an only child, like me. Her parents were rich.

She'd gone to Adams Middle School.

Slim pickings as far as information went. I tapped my pencil against my teeth as I thought about my options.

Adams Middle School. That was it! I started thinking about my own hideous appearance back then. There had to be something I could use there.

During morning break, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Stephanie's number again. I left a brief, innocuous message on her home phone. She and Angie had seemed chummy at the swim meet. Maybe she knew something I could use.

Stephanie still hadn't called by the weekend. On Saturday, Monet and I were hanging out in her room when the doorbell rang, but she didn't move to get it.

I looked at her inquiringly.

She shrugged. “It's for Dev. Beth's coming over.”

“I thought they weren't serious,” I said. I don't know why the thought of them alone in Dev's bedroom bothered me so much, but it did.

“They're not,” she said. “I don't know what he sees in her, anyway.”

“She's cute,” I replied. “And athletic. So they have that in common.”

“She has the personality of wet spaghetti,” Monet replied. “I never thought Dev would go for the doormat type.”

When we went downstairs to get snacks, Dev was sitting at the kitchen table reading a comic book.

“Where's Beth?” Monet said.

“She left,” Dev said. “She just came by to get some history notes.” He went back to his comic.

“Shouldn't you be studying your blocking?” I said, rejoicing in the fact that they weren't holed up in his room with the door closed.

“Got it nailed,” he said. “What about you?”

“Almost,” I said. In reality, I was memorizing Angie's stage moves as well as my own, which meant it was taking me a little longer.

“Give me a call if you want to study,” he said. “I could always use the extra practice.”

Monet grabbed a bag of Cheetos and some sodas. “Are you done monopolizing my friend?” she said.

He said, “Not quite. So, Sophie, what did you think about—?”

He didn't finish his sentence because Monet smacked him with the Cheetos bag.

“Hey, I was going to eat those,” I said.

Dev snickered. “Be my guest.”

When I got home, the answering machine in the kitchen was blinking, but I ignored it. No one called me on that line.

I checked for messages on my cell, but there weren't any, yet another sign of my waning popularity. But even more vexing was Stephanie's lack of response. I mean, it wasn't like she had anything better to do than call me.

I was in my room when Mom got home from work. “Sophie, there's a message from Stephanie on the phone downstairs.”

Stephanie turned out to be the information jackpot. Angie had gone to Adams with her and they
had both attended Eisenhower before Angie transferred to Kennedy.

I did my nails as she talked, listening with only half an ear while she rambled on and on about how wonderful Angie was. I was trying to decide between pale pink or a bright orange when something she said caught my attention.

“And we even went to fat camp together the summer before eighth grade. I lost fifteen pounds,” Stephanie bragged, “but Angie lost thirty.”

Fat camp?
I didn't have any room to talk, especially since I hadn't been exactly model thin myself in those days. Still wasn't, but I'd learned to make the most of what I had. So had Angie. But could I use it against her? I couldn't sink so low, could I?

Apparently, I could.

“Do you happen to have any pictures of you and Angie lying around?” I tried to keep the excitement from my voice.

“Forget I said anything,” Stephanie said quickly. “I heard all about those photos of you that Haley Owens plastered around school. I don't want anything like that to happen to Angie.”

“You heard wrong,” I said sharply. “Haley is a friend of mine. She'd never do that.”

“Some friend,” Stephanie said. “If that's how the popular kids treat their friends, I'm glad I'm not popular.”

“I'm telling you, you're mistaken. It wasn't Haley,” I said, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

“I'm sure you're right,” Stephanie said soothingly.

“I am right. Now, do you have any photos, or what?”

“I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about fat camp,” she fretted. “Angie asked me not to. Don't say anything, please.”

I thought quickly. “I'm writing a piece about her,” I lied. “It's a surprise—an inspirational piece about how she triumphed over her weight problem. It's for church.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

We didn't even go to church, but Stephanie obviously didn't know that.

“I guess it would be all right. I'll scan them and e-mail them to you.”

“Can you do it tonight?” I said eagerly.

“Sure,” she said. “I'll do it right now. What's your e-mail address?”

Ten minutes later, the incriminating photos were delivered to my in-box.

I stared at the photos. One was a group shot of the entire camp. In the other one, a much larger Angie wore shorts and a T-shirt. You could clearly see the words A
NDERSON
H
EALTH
C
AMP FOR
G
IRLS
stamped across the front of her shirt.

I hesitated for about a second. Angie would know where those photos had come from and Stephanie would be in deep trouble. Angie didn't strike me as the forgive-and-forget type, but I had to do it. I told myself that Stephanie had to know that I had been lying. She was on her own.

Would trashing Angie make me feel any better? She'd been fat in middle school? So what? I had been a pudgy little dweeb. Did that mean she deserved to have her secret revealed to the entire school?

I stared at the photo. Angie's hair had been different then. Apparently, she was a bottle blonde, but it was the absolute self-loathing on her face that captured my attention. I had known that feeling well, especially in middle school.

Part of me wanted to forget about it and move on. But I couldn't. Angie Vogel was going to find out who the real queen bee was at Kennedy High. Those pictures would make sure of it.

A
t rehearsal, I worked the word
Anderson
into every conversation. Once I even flubbed a line and called Dev “Anderson” instead of Lucentio.

Finally, Angie pulled me aside. “Look, I know you know about fat camp.”

I was stunned. I never thought she'd actually voluntarily admit it.

“I know you hate me, and maybe it was kind of crappy the way Connor and I broke the news to you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Kind of crappy?”

“Okay, it was awful,” she said. “I didn't mean for him to tell you in front of everybody. I'm sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” I said slowly. She seemed sincere.

I was just starting to think I'd been wrong about her, but her next words changed my mind.

“Sophie, I really like him,” she said. “And it's clear that you two were over before I ever entered the picture. It's just pathetic the way you're hanging on to the past.”

I was fuming, but instead of reacting, I shrugged. She stared at me in exasperation before walking away. I seemed to be getting a lot of that these days.

That night, I posted the fat camp pictures all over the DramaDivas Web page. Anonymously. I made sure to post comments at every single junior and senior page I could think of. It took me half the night, but by morning, the halls at Kennedy were buzzing with news that Angie Vogel, who most everyone seemed to think was perfection personified, had been fat.

My plan was working. I was sure that the image-conscious crew known as the popular people would give her the cold shoulder. Connor might even break up with her.

I watched as she received a little taste of what I'd been experiencing the past few weeks—whispered comments, stares, and outright cold shoulders. Some people, of course, treated her just the same.

“It's working,” I said gleefully to Monet.

“What is?”

I pointed to the table where Angie and Connor were having lunch alone. It was as if fat (even former fat) was contagious and they were in quarantine. To
my dismay, Connor didn't even seem to notice that there was no one else around him. He was busy staring into Angie's eyes.

“Haven't you seen the fat camp photos?” I said.

Monet shrugged. “Sure, I have. What's the big deal? So she needed to lose a little weight. She lost it.”

“That's not the point,” I said. “The point is that when I sent those pictures—”

“Wait.
You
sent those pictures?” She slammed down her juice box. Oh, no. Monet had to be seriously angry to mistreat her juice. “Since when did popularity matter so much to you that you'd be willing to trash someone else?”

I knew she wouldn't approve, which is why I hadn't planned on telling her. She was right. I should really learn that count-to-ten-before-opening-my-mouth thing.

But Monet was too angry to listen. “I knew popularity mattered to you, but I guess I didn't realize just how much. This is pathetic.”

The lunch bell rang before she could finish reading me the riot act, and I made my escape. I had a free period after lunch, so I decided to go to the library and check my DramaDivas page.

Wow, there were a lot of new comments. I scrolled down and was horrified to see how many of them were nasty. “Sophie's a bitch and we're glad Connor dumped her” seemed to be the general theme.

There was a mention of Angie's page on one of the postings, so I quickly searched for it. There were quite a few postings about her fat camp, but Alexa's was the one that caught my eye. “U R MY HERO,” it read in giant purple letters.

Gag. I was tempted to post something anonymously, but I'd wait until I was home. I didn't want anyone looking over my shoulder.

“Miss Donnelly, is this the best use of your study time?” Mrs. Hubbard's voice broke into my thoughts.

“No, Mrs. Hubbard,” I said obediently and signed off. I spent the remainder of my free period plotting to regain my power. With Angie out of the way, tossed firmly into the leper category, I would regain my true status.

I went through the rest of the day with a smile on my face. Even Mr. Fanelli yelling at me at rehearsal didn't faze me.

I was at the vending machine during snack when I ran into Alexa again. This time I was careful to stay well away from her grubby little hands. Still, some good PR couldn't hurt.

“Hi, Alexa,” I said with forced cheerfulness.

“Sophie,” she said, “have you heard the news about Angie?”

I tried to repress the glee in my voice. “I think I heard something about that. Fat camp, right? I guess she's having a hard time.”

“She says that everyone finding out about fat camp is the best thing that's ever happened to her. And that she owes it all to me,” she said importantly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Angie's new contract with my mother's weight-loss clinic,” she replied.

“What? When did that happen?”

“When I saw those ‘before' photos of her, I knew she'd be perfect for the new campaign.”

“Yeah, perfect.” I couldn't seem to muster a thought.

Her eyes gleamed. “It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Whoever posted all those pictures of her actually did her a favor.”

“That
is
ironic.” Alexa knew it was me, I was sure of it. Her next words confirmed my suspicions.

“Maybe that person will think twice before putting someone down just because she's fat—or used to be fat.”

And with that, she flounced off.

T
hanks to me, Angie was even more popular. She was suddenly a huge celebrity, at least at Kennedy High.

“Every time I try to regain my popularity, it goes horribly wrong,” I moaned to Monet. “Why is that?”

“I don't know,” Monet replied. “Karma?”

Dev showed up as we were leaving for lunch and wanted to bum a ride.

“We're hitting Taco Bell,” Monet said. “So if you want Wicked Jack's, you'll have to mooch a ride from someone else.”

Dev looked at me knowingly, but didn't comment. “Taco Bell's cool,” he said.

Monet and Scott went to order and Dev and I grabbed a table.

“Do you want to come over on Friday night?” Dev said.

“What about Beth?” I said. Was Dev asking me out? My heart rate accelerated, then slowed. Was it a pity date?

“She has a track meet out of town,” he said, sounding perplexed. “Besides, I don't think she wants to watch us prep for the play.”

The play. Of course. He wasn't asking me out. I didn't examine why I didn't feel more relieved.

“I thought we could watch
10 Things I Hate About You.
It's—”

“A modernization of
The Taming of the Shrew
,” I finished for him. “I'd love to.”

I didn't tell him I'd seen it about ten times already.

“You'd love to what?” Monet asked. She set down her tray, which was piled high with burritos, tacos, and sodas.

I stared at the tray. “You do realize that there are only four of us eating, right?”

“Obviously, you've never seen Dev eat,” she said.

Dev stretched and patted his stomach. His shirt rode up, giving me a glimpse of firm, tanned skin.

I dragged my gaze away from him, only to find that Monet was watching me. “So, you'd love to what?” she asked again.

I blushed. I didn't want my best friend to know what I had been thinking I would love to do a second ago.

“Uh, we're going to watch a movie on Friday,” I said.

Monet slammed her soda down on the table.

“For the play,” I added weakly.

Her face cleared and I thought I was off the hook, but a second later, she said, “Dev, I forgot the hot sauce. Could you get some?”

She watched him leave, then said to Scott, “Can you refill my soda? I'm dying of thirst.”

After he left, she turned to me and said, “What are you up to, Sophie?”

I stared at her. “Nothing. It's for the play,” I enunciated clearly. “Besides, it was Dev's idea, not mine. So don't think I'm trying to seduce your brother or something.”

“I don't,” she said, “but I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He's being suspiciously
nice
to you.”

“We are in the same play together. Besides, he has a girlfriend,” I stated. “And he's not my type.”

She snorted. “He's only gone out on a couple of dates with Beth. That hardly classifies her as his girlfriend. And besides, I always wondered about you two.”

“Wondered what?” But the guys were back, so we steered the conversation to more innocuous topics, like the upcoming test in Spanish.

The rest of the day, I thought about the conversation. What had Monet been about to say?

We didn't have play practice, so I headed for the parking lot as soon as the bell rang. I was looking forward to a night curled up with a good book. One called
An In-Depth Analysis of “The Taming of the Shrew
.” Or something equally enthralling. I was looking for some help to shed light on Bianca.

I was almost to my car when I heard a honk. “Hey, sexy. What are you doing?”

I looked up and saw Pierce Hager. He was always on the prowl. I suppressed a sigh. “Hi, Pierce,” I said. “Just heading home.”

“Come out with me instead,” he said. “We'll have a good time.”

I knew what his idea of a good time was and I wasn't interested, even if he was the hottest guy in school. Which he wasn't.

“I'll pass,” I said.

“You shouldn't be so picky,” he said. “You're past your prime.”

“I'd have to be past my expiration date to go out with a jerk like you,” I said. “Now beat it.”

He gave me the finger and then tore off with a squeal of tires. A minute later, I heard loud clapping. Dev was leaning against his car two rows over.

“Want to run some lines?”

When I nodded, he smiled and opened the passenger door for me.

“What was that all about?” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Pierce was just—being Pierce,” I said.

“Do you get that a lot?”

“You mean guys hitting on me?”

“Dumb question,” he said. “Of course you get guys hitting on you when you look like that.”

“Why, Dev, I do believe you just paid me a compliment. Do you need to lie down or something?”

He chuckled, then sobered quickly. “I mean, he was kind of aggressive.”

I shrugged. “Since Connor dumped me, I've been getting that a lot more than I did before.”

“Let me know if someone gets out of line,” he said. “I'll take care of it.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said sharply, then added, “thanks, though.”

“Should we go to my house?” he said. “Monet's at Scott's.”

“Why don't we go get a coffee somewhere?” I suggested. I could imagine Monet's reaction if she came home and found me at her house alone with her brother.

“Coffee it is,” he said. A few minutes later, he pulled into a Starbucks parking lot.

The place was deserted, so I grabbed a table while Dev ordered the coffee. When he came back, we opened our scripts and got to work.

Two hours later, I noticed the time. “I've got to get home,” I said. “Mom will kill me if I miss dinner.”

He drove me back to the school parking lot and waited for my car to start. I gave him a wave to signify I was okay, but he stayed put.

“I'll follow you home,” he said.

We lived in a safe neighborhood, but it didn't hurt to be careful. I nodded.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed Olivia Kaplan's car was still there and wondered what she was doing at the school at this time of the night.

I pulled into my driveway and gave Dev another wave.

“Don't forget about tomorrow night,” he said before driving off.

Forget about it? I couldn't wait.