Populazzi. Part 2

I turned on the car, cranked the air conditioner and the radio, and called Claudia, hoping she'd ended up with fifth period lunch, too. The times didn't match up exactly, but she should be free to- "Are you Supreme Populazzi yet?" she answered.

I groaned and told her everything.

"When you've reached the top of the Tower, you're going to look back on today and laugh so hard," she said.

"Did you not hear me? I was just officially introduced to two years' worth of Populazzi as 'Loser'!"

"It's the first day of school! You shouldn't be anywhere near the Populazzi. That's not how the Ladder works."

The Ladder. Just this morning I'd thought I might not even need it. Now I'd already had a complete social meltdown. Clearly I could not be trusted to handle high school on my own.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Stop hiding in your car. At this moment, your cafeteria is awash in potential targets: lower-level Cubby Crew guys who would kill to have a girlfriend like you. Get in there, find one, and start going after him!"

"It's just so not me, Claude," I said.

"Are you happy right now, Cara?" she shot back.

"No."

"Does Trista seem happy?"

"Yes, but-"

"Don't you want to be as happy as she is? Don't you deserve it just as much?"

That one I had to think about a minute.

"Yeah. I do."

"Yes! You do! That smell in the air? That's not just sloppy joes; that's your future! The Ladder awaits you, Cara Leonard! Once more onto the rungs, deer friends, once more!"

I laughed and promised her I'd do my best, then hung up feeling much lighter. I walked into the "awash in potential targets" cafeteria. It was filled with eight-person tables, and most of them were full. Somewhere among them sat my perfect target ... I just had to find him.

A voice boomed across the room. "'From the benches, black with people, there went up a m.u.f.fled roar, / Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant sh.o.r.e. / 'Kill him! Kill the umpire!' shouted some one on the stand; / And it's likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.'"

Okay, that was weird. Some guy at the back of the cafeteria was standing on his chair and shouting poetry to everyone in fifth period lunch.

Wait ... it wasn't just some guy. It was Archer. I recognized the Gatsby hat. I walked closer and I realized he was performing the poem, but it's not like he was trying to get people's attention. It seemed more like he was doing it for his friends, the other Theater Geeks. He was just so into it and so good that most of the cafeteria was watching. Happy Hopeless, Cubby Crews, DangerZones ... even Trista and her Populazzi had stopped eating to check out the show.

I watched, too. It was weird. I'd spent a big chunk of the morning with Archer, but I'd been so busy making sure I didn't come off like a complete idiot, I'd never really looked at him. Now I did. His clothes were pretty traditional-so much so that they actually seemed unique. Khaki pants, blue-and-white striped oxford with the tails hanging out, abused sneakers he'd probably worn for years. I could even see the outline of unders.h.i.+rt sleeves on his biceps. He topped it all with the gray tweed Gatsby hat with the brim snapped down. He wore his black hair short, cut bluntly at the nape of his neck. His skin was a rich coffee color, and his brown eyes seemed impossibly huge.

How had I not noticed it before? Archer was cute. Really cute. And he was smart-I had noticed that. And he made me laugh. And I seemed to make him laugh...

Archer's shoulders slumped, the picture of resignation. "'Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is s.h.i.+ning bright; / The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, / And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; / But there is no joy in Mudville-mighty Casey has struck out.'"

Silence ... then Trista stood and applauded. Everyone at her table and most of the cafeteria followed her lead. For the first time Archer seemed to realize the size of his audience. It didn't faze him. He took off his Gatsby hat and gave a deep, exaggerated bow, then plopped back down into his seat.

Wow. Even the Populazzi thought Archer was amazing. Claudia would definitely approve.

I started walking toward his table, getting more and more nervous with every step. I reminded myself he'd said he'd see me at lunch-it was totally normal for me to walk up and say hi. Besides, it's not like I was really risking anything. I was just playing my part in a grand social experiment.

I told myself that ... but it didn't stop my palms from sweating.

I had found my first target.

Chapter Four.

"Hey, Archer ... that was great," I said.

"Oh!" Archer wheeled around and his cheeks flushed red. "Cara..." He turned back toward his friends at the table with ... Was that a pleading look?

Of course it was. I was just some random new girl. He'd only hung out with me this morning to be nice, and now I was bothering him in front of all his friends. I felt my cheeks start to match his.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have ... It's just ... the poem was really good. Bye."

"Wait!" Archer said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Excellent. Compliment paid and accepted. That had to be a good first step, right? Only problem was I hadn't planned anything else, so Archer and I smiled and said nothing for just this side of forever.

"Hi!" said a sweet-faced girl across the table. "I'm Sue."

Sue had blond shoulder-length hair and big blue eyes and was round without being heavy. Everything about her seemed sweet and nonintimidating. I liked her immediately.

"Cara," I said.

"Right, sorry," Archer said. "Cara, this is Sue, Ember, Molly, Doug, Tom, Dinah, and Noah. Sue-Ember-Molly-Doug-Tom-Dinah-Noah, this is Cara. She's new."

I'd never in a million years remember all those names. Except maybe Sue's.

"That's great," Sue said. "Did you just move here?"

I answered her, but I was distracted by two of the other girls. They kept exchanging smiles and giving me weird looks that made me wonder if I had Zone bar stuck in my teeth. I tried to check with my tongue while still keeping up a conversation with Sue. It didn't work. I lost track of what I was saying and tripped over every other word.

I sounded like an idiot. I needed to get away before I ruined any chance I had.

"Okay, so..."

That was it: my whole exit line. Very memorable. I grimaced and was about to head out when Archer jumped in his seat.

"Ow!" He winced, then glared at the girl next to him. She was one of the Smilers. Archer pushed back his chair.

"Actually, I'm done," he told me. "I'll come, too. Just let me clear my tray-"

"I've got it," Smiler said.

"Thanks," Archer said through gritted teeth, then walked out with me. He limped a little on one leg.

"So ... have you come up with anything more clever?" I asked.

"More clever?" he asked worriedly. "Oh! Actually I was going to, but I thought maybe you wouldn't come to lunch, and I didn't want to be stood up."

"Very nice."

"So I know you've already been here for half a day, but have you had the official tour?" he asked.

"Nope. I'm still absolutely clueless about where I'm going."

"Perfect. Walk this way." He lurched like a hunchback, then quickly stood up and gave me an abashed smile. "Stupid joke. You don't actually have to walk that way."

"Young Frankenstein," I said. "I love that movie."

"Which means you have excellent cinematic taste. But you still don't have to walk that way. Unless you want to," he added.

"I'll pa.s.s. Let's tour."

Archer's tour took the rest of the period. Not that there was so much to see, really, but he presented each spot with elaborate tales of its deep, rich, and completely fabricated history. Like the science lab that once burned to the ground six times in a single year in bizarre Bunsen burner accidents. Or the theater that was home to riots after the first faculty production of Hair, complete with full frontal nudity. Or the faculty bathrooms that were actually rigged with age-sensing alarms that triggered trapdoors whenever students entered-students that were never heard from again. At each stop, he ended with "and of course, George Was.h.i.+ngton slept here."

I groaned when the bell rang.

"Ah, the groan of disgust," Archer said. "The true sign of a perfect tour."

"No!" I laughed. "I love it. I'm sad it has to end."

"End? This was only the Chrysella Prep Historical Tour. You can also experience the majesty of our other offerings, like the Stars of Chrysella Tour, the Chrysella Ghost Tour, and of course, the Culinary Tour through the Chrysella kitchen, complete with tasting menu."

"Sounds absolutely hideous," I said. "I'm in."

"Excellent. I'll make a note of your reservation. See you later?"

"That'd be great."

I was still smiling halfway through French cla.s.s when Madame Renault leaned on my desk and wailed, "Que pensez-vous, Cara? Aimeriez-vous partager avec la cla.s.se?"

"Oui, madame!" I quickly replied. "Je pensais que j'aime beaucoup mieux cette cla.s.se que celle de mon ancienne ecole."

"Merci, mademoiselle!" Madame Renault said with a proud smile and a wink. The rest of the cla.s.s was glaring at me. I knew I hadn't made any friends kissing up to the teacher, but she had asked what I was thinking, and since I couldn't answer her question honestly without humiliating myself, I figured I'd make her happy and tell her how much more I liked her cla.s.s than the one at my old school.

Archer and I didn't have any more cla.s.ses together, and I didn't see him before I drove home. Not that I stuck around for long-I was dying to call Claudia and give her the full update.

"Brava!" she cheered. "I'm inwardly throwing roses at your feet!"

"Thank you. I'm inwardly Bactine-ing all the thorn scratches on my s.h.i.+ns."

"Pessimist," Claudia said. "Remember, this is just the beginning. The Ladder only works if you work the Ladder."

"Pithy."

"Great truths always are. Promise me you'll hang out with him before cla.s.s tomorrow."

"If I see him, I will," I said, as if I wouldn't have tried to do that anyway.

Claudia wasn't the only one happy with me that evening. My stepfather, Karl, was practically glowing as he plopped down next to me at the dinner table.

"What?" I asked. I wondered if he'd slipped away to Atlantic City for the day and hit a winning streak.

Karl had been in my life since I was four, and in all ways except the most technical, he was my dad. My actual dad was called "the Sperm Donor" by my mom-this despite the facts that they'd been married for ten years and my grandmother swore Mom had been crazy in love with him when they met. Dad now lived in Media, in the huge house he shared with the Bar Wench and their two astoundingly spoiled sons. He'd met his new wife at a bar and left Mom for her almost immediately afterward. That was back when I was three.

Now that we lived in Malvern, Dad was only a twenty-minute car ride away, but none of us imagined that would change his practically nonexistent visitation schedule.

Karl, on the other hand, was almost always around, and right now he was looking at me with a big loopy grin. I laughed. Karl was fantastic when he was happy: funny, smart, caring, insightful ... the polar opposite of an unhappy Karl. An unhappy Karl ... that was something Mom and I worked really hard to avoid.

"I have good news, Cara," Karl singsonged. "I made some calls, cashed in some favors, and it turns out Mr. Stevenson Jaffe would be thrilled to meet you when he comes out here in April. He'll be visiting family, but he's willing to take time out and have lunch with you, just to get to know what he calls 'the Whole Cara Leonard.'"

What? I didn't get it at first, and I could see Karl's smile start to harden into a frown.

Then I realized and smiled extra-wide. "That's great!"

And it was great. Stevenson Jaffe was the dean of admissions at Northwestern, Karl's alma mater and my first-choice college. I'd been hearing about the place for twelve years now, and honestly couldn't imagine going anywhere else. That Stevenson Jaffe himself was willing not only to meet me but to spend a whole lunch with me was huge ...

But April was a lifetime away and so not where my head was at that moment. I was busy thinking about Archer and what I'd say to him tomorrow morning. I couldn't wait to finish dinner and call Claudia to bounce ideas off her, but the Dean Jaffe thing had Karl so happy, he declared it Family Night. By the time he'd finished destroying Mom and me at Scrabble, it was past my okay-to-use-the-phone hours. I had to settle for texting.

I fell asleep counting not sheep but possible opening lines. Claudia must have done the same-I woke up to an e-mail from her with a huge list of options.

"Really, Claude? 'Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much'?"

I had her on speakerphone as I drove to school. Mom and Karl didn't like me to use the phone at all when I drove, and I understood that maybe it wasn't the safest thing in the world. But what was I supposed to do, go without talking to my best friend because they'd decided to move away from her? I tried to use speakerphone so my hands were free, and I never ever texted when I drove.

"It worked for Juliet," Claudia said. "Romeo fell head over heels for her."

"You are aware that they both die at the end, yes?"

"Did you seriously just ask me that question?"

"Did I seriously ask it, or did I seriously think you didn't know they died at the end?"

"Fine. Forget Romeo and Juliet. Forget the centuries-old benchmark of true romance. How did you want to start?"