Populazzi. Part 29

"I just want to make sure ... I mean, I don't know how ... how far you wanted to go, but..."

Ugh. I looked away. Was it possible to be any lamer? I didn't think so. I was sure I'd turned as red as my slip.

Yet as my mind raced through ways to convince Eddie not to break up with me, he put his fingers under my chin and tilted my face to his. "Hey ... it's okay. I like you. For real. That's why I want to go nice and slow, okay?"

Relief flooded through me. "Perfect," I said. And I was so happy that I practically tackled him to get back to the kissing, which we did for most of the night before we fell asleep in each other's arms. After the s.e.xual hyperspeed of Nate, it was wonderful to be with a guy who wanted to take things slowly. It meant things with Eddie could stay more innocent and romantic, which I loved.

Back when I was grounded, I'd felt as though I was living only during the week, when I escaped to school. Now that I was a full-time member of the Populazzi, it was the opposite-I lived weekend to weekend. That was when everything important happened. The weekdays were all about planning to make those weekends great. I knew my schoolwork was suffering-I didn't have as much time to study. I supposed there'd be consequences when Mom and Karl got my next report card, but that was ages away.

In the meantime, I had something more pressing to think about: next weekend's winter formal. It would be the first school dance I'd ever attend with a date on my arm. Gemma would still be out of town, but Trista, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and I had an endless list of things to do to prepare: hair appointments, mani-pedis, dress hunting ... Trista even wanted to decorate The Hang with a wintery theme, just to keep the mood going when we all went back to her place after the dance. I was in fact brainstorming ideas to enhance that very project ... when out of nowhere, in the middle of English cla.s.s, I was brutally ambushed and put on trial.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

I didn't even realize it at first; I wasn't paying attention. It was Friday, the formal was the next day, and the only thing on my mind was the splash Trista, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and I would make in our spectacular new ensembles. It wasn't until Mr. Woodward cleared his throat that I noticed he was standing over me, and every pair of eyes in the room was boring into my face.

"So?" Mr. Woodward asked.

Uh-oh. Clearly I had been asked something, but I had no idea what it was.

"Um ... I'm sorry, can you please repeat the question?"

"It would be my absolute pleasure," Mr. Woodward said. "In fact, let's go ahead and do a little reenactment of everything that just happened. Like we're TiVo."

I took a deep breath. Mr. Woodward seemed giddy. That did not bode well for me.

"The cla.s.s was discussing The Crucible,," he said. "You remember we're doing our unit on The Crucible, yes?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. You've been so silent lately, I sometimes fear you believe your top-of-the-table perch is more a tanning bed than a vantage point for learning. Well, then. The question arose, 'How exactly do people get caught up in the kind of groupthink we find in Miller's play?' And Mr. Jain said..."

Mr. Woodward turned to Archer. He blushed but didn't ignore the tacit request.

"I said, 'Maybe you should ask Cara.'"

"Oh, you said it far more pointedly than that, Mr. Jain. Let's not back away from our stance now. And I believe you even added the phrase 'she-referring to Miss Leonard, of course-'seems to be an expert in groupthink.'"

Mr. Woodward turned back to me. "So I ask you, Miss Leonard: how do people get caught up in Arthur Miller's level of groupthink?"

Groupthink? Why would I be an expert in groupthink?

I looked at Archer and was about to ask him the question-when suddenly I got it.

At least I thought I got it. But that couldn't really be it, could it? Was Archer ... were Mr. Woodward and Archer really accusing me of groupthink because I was part of the Populazzi?

They couldn't be. This was the middle of English cla.s.s. They couldn't gang up on me and pa.s.s judgment on my social life in the middle of English cla.s.s.

And yet ... what else could they be talking about? And why else would everyone in the room be leaning in and sucking up the drama? It was because I was a Populazzi now. What happened to me was interesting. Especially if it was embarra.s.sing.

Anger shot through me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from leaping off the table and screaming. In that moment, I hated all of them, but I reserved a special ring of fire for Mr. Woodward and Archer. Especially Archer. He was supposed to be my friend.

With effort, I calmly addressed Mr. Woodward. "I'm sure Archer's trying to compliment me on my expert ability to a.n.a.lyze The Crucible, which I appreciate. The answer is that people get caught up in groupthink out of fear, because they're afraid to be different and out of step with the majority."

"Well done," Mr. Woodward said. I was quite sure he wasn't referring only to my answer about Miller's play. He went back to lecturing, though the bulk of the cla.s.s was nowhere near as interested as they'd been two minutes ago. I kept my eyes only on Mr. Woodward, and though I raged inside my head, I let my face show nothing but keen intellectual interest.

I confronted Archer in the hall after cla.s.s.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?"

"My compliment to your literary genius?"

"Stop it. We both know what you were talking about. What are you, jealous that I have other friends?"

"Yes, that's exactly it. I'm jealous. I'm jealous because I want to have as much fun laughing at people and excluding them as you do."

"I don't do that. We don't do that."

"Do you even talk to anyone who's not in your uber-popular little clique?"

"You're mad at me because you think I'm in a clique? Are you ever not hanging out with the Theater Geeks?"

"'The Theater Geeks'?" he balked. "Are you perchance referring to the group of close friends I've had for most of my life because we share a wealth of similar interests?"

"What makes you think I don't 'share a wealth of similar interests' with my friends, too?"

"Cara, I've gone to school with them forever, remember?"

"Which doesn't mean you know them! You don't hang out with them. You wouldn't, because then you'd have to step out of your own exclusive little clique."

"And why are you dating Eddie?" Archer asked. "How did you even get to know him? You never said two words to him, then all of a sudden you're tucked under his arm all the time and prancing around in step with all the other trophy girls. It's gross. It makes you seem gross."

"Oh, that's really nice," I said. "Why do you even care who I date? What does it matter to you?"

Archer lunged forward a little. "It-"

But whatever had tried to explode from his mouth didn't come out. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pinching his mouth into a small, tight dot.

"It doesn't," he finally said. "It doesn't matter to me at all. We're late for cla.s.s."

He walked away. I wanted to throw something and smack him in the back of the head, but I was pretty sure it would be a suspendable offense, and I didn't want to get grounded all over again. Stifling a scream, I turned the other way and stormed off toward precalc.

Yes, Eddie and I had started going out quickly. Yes, I'd barely known him when we'd started dating. And yes, lots of times it felt like I was more involved with Trista, Ree-Ree, Gemma, and Kristie than with Eddie, but so what? I was happy! Eddie was happy! Who cared about anything else?

I thought sitting in precalc behind Trista would make me feel more centered and together, but it didn't. Super LA Archer's voice kept bouncing around in my head and I couldn't stop questioning everything about my relations.h.i.+p with Eddie.

Was I with him only to be part of the Populazzi? I knew Claudia would say it didn't matter, but it did to me. Sure, I was climbing the Ladder, but I liked to think I was doing it with some integrity. I went after Archer because I wanted to go after Archer. And even though I turned myself inside out for Nate, I did it because I was crazily attracted to him. Plus I genuinely liked Nate ... at least for a while.

So what about Eddie? Well, I liked Eddie. He was a nice guy. No, we didn't have a major physical relations.h.i.+p, but that was on purpose. I preferred it.

But was that because I was being smart and cautious or because I didn't really feel strongly enough about Eddie that way? And if that was the case, was it fair to stay his girlfriend just to keep my place in the Populazzi?

"YES!" Claudia's voice shouted in my head ... but I wasn't entirely sure.

This was crazy. Of course I liked Eddie. I was letting stupid Archer worm his way into my head. Eddie was my boyfriend. We were great together, and tomorrow we'd prove it to the whole school at the winter formal. No one who saw us together would doubt for a second that we were among the most CHIW couples in the school.

I of course spent that night at Trista's, and she, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and I used all Sat.u.r.day to get ready for the formal. Gemma called in on speakerphone just before the guys were due to pick us up. Trista had e-mailed her pictures of us in our dresses, and Gemma gave her full approval. She was in Barcelona and said the party scene was not to be believed.

"You girls have to travel with me sometime," she said. "It'll blow your mind."

I wondered if she was thinking of me as part of that traveling group. I hoped so.

"So, Cara," Gemma said, "give it up. What's Eddie like in bed?"

"You'll be disappointed, Gems," Ree-Ree said. "Our Cara's going the Kristie route: she's the Big V."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Kristie said.

"Yes, Kristie, I do."

"Innnnteresting," Gemma said. " 'Cause you know I tried to hook with him, right?"

"With Eddie?" I asked. I was stunned. I'd heard Gemma never hooked up with Chrysella guys.

"You didn't tell her?" Gemma sounded surprised. "No secrets, right?"

"Yours to tell, Gems," Trista said.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Don't stress, chica; I don't want your boy. It was a humanitarian mission. Eddie hadn't had a girlfriend since sixth grade. Four years of tension-I thought the boy needed relief."

"So you and Eddie..."

"Nope," Gemma said. "That's why I'm curious-what's he like? 'Cause I have to tell you, I don't get turned down a lot. My theory was he had a TWP and didn't want me to know."

"TWP?" I asked.

"Teeny-Weeny Peenie," Ree-Ree noted.

"Oh," I said.

"So does he?" Gemma asked.

Honestly, I knew nothing about Eddie's peenie, teeny-weeny or otherwise. But I couldn't say that in front of the other girls, not after the amount of time Eddie and I had been together. Even my fellow V-girl, Kristie, would be appalled by my lack of progress.

A horn beeped.

"That's the guys, Gems!" Trista said. "Call soon and we'll give you the recap!"

Trista hung up and we poured out to the driveway. As we'd planned, we'd decorated The Hang just for this evening. We didn't want the guys to see it until the formal was over, so Trista had arranged for tonight's limo to pick them up first, then come get us.

Snippets of my fight with Archer kept echoing through my head, but I forced them away. This was my winter formal, and I wouldn't ruin it by getting all neurotic about my feelings for Eddie. I climbed into the limo and immediately curled into "my spot" under his arm.

Kristie climbed in right behind me. "Awwww," she said when she saw Eric. "You wore a tux!"

"Someone's getting blown tonight," Ree-Ree said.

"You told them?" Eric cried.

"Eric..." Kristie glared at Ree-Ree.

The tux had been a major point of contention between Kristie and Eric all week. She'd really wanted him to rent one, but he believed tuxes were only for proms. She had indeed promised him a big reward if he wore one, but she clearly thought it was the height of impropriety for Ree-Ree to discuss this particular bra.s.s ring.

"What, no love for the man with his own tuxedo?" This was from Marsh. He knew exactly how good he looked in a tux and jumped at any and every chance to put one on.

"You don't have to wear a tux for me to think you're hot," Ree-Ree said, crawling onto his lap. "I think you're hot in nothing at all. Especially in nothing at all."

"What about me?" Eddie said. "You guys don't like my tux?"

Eddie was-shockingly-wearing a blazer over jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt. This particular T-s.h.i.+rt was all black, emblazoned only with a box of hemorrhoid pads bearing the brand name TUCKS.

Everyone groaned, and Trista turned to Brett, who of course was in a tuxedo. "Really? You let him get in the limo like that?"

Brett raised his hands in defense. "I tried to talk him out of it. Didn't work. What did you want me to do, pull off his clothes and change them? I don't roll that way."

"I think you look great," I told Eddie, then kissed him to prove it.

On the ride to school we each downed a single drink, just enough to get a little buzz on, which was perfect since there'd be h.e.l.l to pay if we were obviously drunk at a school dance. Per Trista's mandate, we arrived an hour after the party started so we could make the grand entrance she'd ch.o.r.eographed. The guys went in first. Their arrival would get everyone's attention and make sure all eyes were on the door for us.

Once we knew everyone was looking, we breezed in like a bridal procession. Going along with the wintery theme, Trista had helped Kristie, Ree-Ree, and me pick out gowns in shades of ice blue, while Trista herself wore s.h.i.+mmering silver. We floated to our respective boyfriends and hit the dance floor, swaying to the slow song the DJ had started to play as if on cue. Knowing Trista, it probably was.

I rested my head on Eddie's chest and closed my eyes. I enjoyed the feeling of his arms around me, his body pressed close to mine. I looked up at him, but he was gazing around the room.

"Eddie," I whisper-spoke.

"Hey."

"I'm really happy to be here with you."

"Me, too. I'm really happy to be here with you, too."