Populazzi. Part 8

"Oh G.o.d! Are you okay?" Archer leaped up and held out his hand to help me, but physical contact with him was now the last thing I wanted.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" The soda plastered my thin s.h.i.+rt to my body. When I stood, the sticky liquid drained down my legs and into my boots. Then I felt the soda seep into my underwear. Perfect.

"You're soaked. I'm so sorry. Here, I..." Archer grabbed a bunch of napkins and reached out as if he was going to dab me dry, but he just waved the napkins in front of my drenched skirt and s.h.i.+rt, clearly too mortified to dream of actually touching me.

He didn't have to worry; he had nothing on me in the mortification department. "It's fine," I said, taking the napkins and uselessly blotting the mess.

"Cara, I-"

I couldn't bear an explanation.

"No, stop," I said. "Please. I'm okay. I just ... I need to go."

I grabbed my purse and raced up the stairs, but he stopped me halfway.

"Cara, wait!"

I winced. I swear I didn't want to hear how much he hoped we could still be friends. Reluctantly I turned and looked at him. The soda had spilled all over him, too. He looked wet and miserable. Of course he was miserable. The idea of my lips touching his had repelled him so much that he chose to risk concussion rather than let it happen. I could see it in his eyes: he thought I was pitiful.

Cara...

I was going to cry. If I had to hear him try to make it better, I was going to cry, and crying in front of him was the one thing that would make this even worse. I gripped the railing, curled in my lips, and bit down on them, fighting back the tears.

"You're, um, forgetting the movie," Archer said. The tone of his voice had changed. It was flatter. Good. He must have decided not to explain. There was a chance I could survive. I realized he was holding out the DVD and I s.n.a.t.c.hed it, making sure our hands didn't touch.

"GreatThanksBye," I said. I raced upstairs, out of the house, and into my car. I got there just before the tears started rolling down my cheeks. I was such an idiot.

Back home in my room, I peeled out of my wet clothes, put on my thickest pajamas, and crawled into bed. My skin was still sticky from the soda, but I didn't even care. I just wanted to get under the covers, close my eyes, and forget the day had ever happened.

It was nice in bed. With the covers pulled close around me, I could tune out everything else. I felt warm and safe. I guess there's a reason they call it a comforter.

I determined to stay right there for the rest of my natural life.

Chapter Nine.

Whatever happened to taking to one's bed? Virginia Woolf once took to her bed for eight weeks. I barely got eight hours before Karl was banging on my door.

"Cara, wake up! Family const.i.tutional!"

"Idonwannafamlyconstooshnl." I tried to sound incoherent and ill, just this side of my deathbed.

"You love a family const.i.tutional. Come on!"

How did Karl speak deathbed? I tried another tack. "I'm tired!"

"You were home before us, and we're wide awake!"

Oh, that was a great way to make me feel better. Remind me my parents have a better social life than I do.

"I'm staying in bed!"

That did it. I heard the heavy tread of Karl's feet moving down the hall. Good. Now I could go back to sleep and dream I was someone with an easier life than mine. Like a leper.

Two minutes later I heard the return of Karl's heavy tread. "Make sure you're decent!" he called.

Oh G.o.d, really? Was he really going to come in here? I willed myself to lie perfectly still so he'd think I was asleep.

He opened the door. I could hear him at the side of my bed. He was waiting for me to move and blow my cover. Wouldn't happen.

"You leave me no choice, Cara," he said.

He gently poured a Dixie cup of water on my head.

"KARL!" I screamed, bolting upright. "Are you mental?"

When I was six, the Dixie cup of water on my head had been funny. At sixteen? Not funny. And after last night's drenching? Especially not funny.

Karl didn't seem concerned. "Ah, so you are awake! Come on, get out of bed. Family const.i.tutional time. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Infuriating. But he won. I took a quick shower, pulled on some clothes, and twenty minutes later I was out the door for a family const.i.tutional. It was really just a walk, but Karl liked the more proper sound of "const.i.tutional."

It was nice, actually. Karl was in a good mood. He and Mom had lots of funny stories from their party. It was warm for October, and the air smelled like freshly mown gra.s.s. For maybe five minutes I could almost forget last night's disaster.

Then we got home and my cell phone was beeping and of course it was Claudia and of course I told her everything.

"So what do you think?" I finished. "Think our parents will mind if I move in with you and go back to Pennsbrook?"

Claudia sighed. "We already asked, remember? They turned us down flat. So barring that, the next best move is clear: you rise like the phoenix from the ashes-or like the kitty cat from the ashes-and you go to tonight's Halloween dance."

"Oh, Claudia, there's no way."

"You have to show him this didn't break you. 'The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; / He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.'"

"I know that one. Oth.e.l.lo. It's a tragedy. Everyone dies at the end."

"Not the duke, and he's the one who said it," Claudia noted. "You don't have to go for long. Just put in an appearance. The cat costume looks amazing on you. Archer will wish he'd wanted you. At the very least he'll see you're not pining over him. And if you really put your mind to it, you might even find your next rung on the Ladder."

I didn't even want to think about the Ladder, but I did like the idea of Archer seeing me in the cat costume and maybe regretting his decision. And I really liked the idea of him knowing I had better things to do than pine over him.

So I went to the dance. I went late. I wanted Archer to be there already, and I knew he and his friends liked to make an entrance. Plus I wanted extra time to make sure I looked hot-which I did. The costume was basically a sleek black leotard over densely woven fishnet stockings. The neckline was just low enough to show a little cleavage and trimmed in fuzzy black fur. With a thin black ribbon choker around my neck, the headband ears pulling back my curls, the tail pinned to my b.u.t.t, a little bit of eyeliner to make my blue eyes pop ... I looked really good. If I had turned myself down the night before, I'd see me walk in and know I had made a horrible mistake. I pulled on a pair of heels, promised Mom and Karl I'd be back before my midnight curfew, and took off for Chrysella.

The dance was in the gym, and I could feel the deep ba.s.s thrum of the music from my car as I pulled up. I fully intended to do just what Claudia had said: strut in, show my stuff, make a round, maybe dance one song just to pound home the fact that I was well beyond okay, then leave. I honestly don't know what changed my mind-a small voice of self-preservation?

I did strut-but only to the nearest doorway. Then I stopped. Safely hidden in its shadow, I peeked in.

The gym was packed, but all I could see were the Populazzi. With all four grades at the dance, there were a lot of them, and they lit up the party, especially the Populazzi girls. They ruled the center of the room, dancing and laughing and having more fun than anyone else.

The junior cla.s.s Populazzi in particular jumped out at me ... mainly because they were wearing my same costume. Let me clarify: they were dressed as cats, just like me ... but they were cats in heat. "We're the p.u.s.s.y Posse!" I heard one of them squeal.

Their costumes were two-pieces. The tops were black bustier halters with red velvet bra cups and plunging decolletage. The red velvet skirts flared out in black ruffles that fell only to their upper thighs. Like me they wore fishnets, but theirs were topped off with rhinestone-studded garters. Their choker collars were also rhinestone-studded, their cat ears were lined in more red velvet, and their tails were wispy ... as opposed to the rat tail hanging off my rear end.

There was no way I could go into the dance now. The p.u.s.s.y Posse were feline supermodels. Next to them I'd look like a mangy alley cat fresh from the dumpster. I should have turned around and left immediately, but I couldn't take my eyes off them, especially Trista. She was constantly engaged. I saw her lean in close and share things with the senior cla.s.s Populazzi, with the younger cla.s.ses, with her Penultimates. Everyone glowed brighter when she turned her spotlight on them-though no one glowed as brightly as Trista herself.

A slow song came on, and Trista gave a hopeful look to her boyfriend, Brett. The hopeful part was just to be cute; she must have known he'd come to her. When he did, it was like a scene in a romantic movie. He looked at her as if she was the most dazzling girl he'd ever seen. As he pulled her close and she rested her head on his chest, I almost cried. It surprised me, but then I realized why.

It was exactly the moment I thought I'd have tonight with Archer.

Where was Archer? I hadn't even looked for him. I clung even more tightly to the shadows as I scanned the room.

My breath caught in my throat. He was ... a Greek G.o.d. As Poseidon, Lord of the Sea, he wore a flowing aquamarine toga festooned with seash.e.l.ls. A long dark wig braided with more seash.e.l.ls curled past his shoulders, a huge sh.e.l.l-crown sat on his head, and he carried a large trident. Every bit of his costume, hair, and face had been brushed with glitter, so his whole body glistened like it was under water.

He looked magnificent. Worse, he looked happy. The Theater Geeks might not have been in the center of the room like the Populazzi, but they'd carved out their own corner, and within it they sparkled. Their costumes were a million times more ornate than anyone else's, and while that seemed to draw more sneers than awestruck stares, they didn't care. They danced and laughed and struck poses of G.o.dlike glory.

Archer wasn't missing me at all. Why would he? He was in his element, having the time of his life with all his closest friends. I had to be the furthest thing from his mind.

As I kept staring, one of the other Theater Geeks walked up to him, and it took me a minute to realize it was Sue. She was Aphrodite, G.o.ddess of Love, a la Venus on the Half Sh.e.l.l. She wore a glittering skin-tone unitard, perfectly adjusted to push her every curve into its ideal position. Her long blond wig cascaded to the floor, clinging strategically to her body as it fell.

She was absolutely breathtaking.

Archer leaned close to whisper something in her ear. She laughed and put her hand on his arm.

I tasted bile.

I suddenly remembered that in Greek mythology, Poseidon had been one of Aphrodite's lovers. Did Sue know that? Did Archer?

Sue placed her hands on Archer's shoulder and pulled herself up on tiptoe to whisper back to him. I saw the curve of her breast press against his arm, and anxiety sped up my heart. I felt the blood pulse in my head with almost unbearable pressure, and I gripped the doorjamb to keep from falling. I wasn't sure how much longer I could watch and still survive.

The DJ saved me. I don't even know what he played, but it was loud and it was fast and it made Ember squeal and dive between Archer and Sue to rally them for a huge group flail-fest.

Eventually, my heartbeat went back to normal and I started breathing again, but I felt exhausted, as if I'd just gotten over a long illness. I knew I needed to leave and recuperate, but ripping myself away from the door was like peeling back Velcro.

"'I've been waiting for you,' Cara Leonard," said a voice from the shadows as I trudged back to my car. "'We meet again at last. The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master.'"

I had to smile. I knew only one person who opened conversations with Star Wars quotes, and he was the very first person I'd met at Chrysella. Claudia would kill me, but what the h.e.l.l. I turned to face him.

"'Only a master of evil,' Robert Schwarner," I continued the quote.

"Nice," he said. Robert sat on the gra.s.s between the parking lot and the gym. In the lotus position. He swayed to the music. "How was the dance?" he asked.

"I didn't really go in." I walked over and plopped down next to him. "You?"

"Nah. I don't really like dances. But I like Halloween. And I like music. So I dress in costume and come sit out here."

I checked out his outfit. "Aren't you wearing the same cloak you wear to school every day?"

"It only looks the same. This is Throck Medvale's winter cloak from BeastSlayer II. It's for costume purposes only. My daily cloak is from the first BeastSlayer."

"I see." I studied him, then asked, "Robert, are you happy at Chrysella?"

Robert thought a minute, then shrugged. "It's high school. One day it'll all be over."

He went back to swaying. I watched him a moment, then headed to my car.

"Good night, Robert."

"Night. Oh, and Cara-you look really hot."

I laughed. "Thanks."

I drove home thinking about what Robert had said about being happy. He was right. High school was just high school. One day it would all be over. The key wasn't to try to make it amazing, but just to get through. And from now on, that's exactly what I'd do. I'd keep my head down, study, and work like crazy so there was no doubt I'd get into Northwestern.

That's when everything would change: college. I was done with the social scene at Chrysella, I was done with banging my head against the wall, and despite what Claudia wanted, I was definitely done with the Ladder.

Chapter Ten.

Claudia wasn't happy when I told her I had no intention of ever getting back on the Ladder again. I drove to her house to let the bomb drop, then watched her do a ten-minute dumb show of frustration. She threw her arms in the air and stormed away just far enough that it seemed she was leaving me forever-despite the fact that I was in her house and sitting on her bed, so that clearly wasn't an option-then turned her head to me and stared daggers. She stalked back and eyed me appraisingly, twitching her braided loops in a way that should have been physically impossible. She reached her arms to the sky, imploring the Lord Above to help her, help her save this lost and confused soul. She paced in front of me, arms clasped behind her back, and discussed me as if to a jury.

"I ask you," she asked no one, "what am I supposed to do with this woman? How do you help someone who has no idea what's truly good for her? What more can I do?"

I piped up and entered into evidence one fact I hadn't mentioned: that I'd managed to strike up what could conceivably be called a friends.h.i.+p with a member of the Happy Hopeless.

Claudia fell to her knees in shock.

All told, she reveled in her outrage for about a half hour. Then she brought out the Uno cards. After she beat me, I borrowed her mom's old bike and we made the several-mile trek out to Core Creek Park, where we cooled off with an easy cruise by the lake before turning around and cranking it back to Claude's. The fall air was just crisp enough to burn my lungs each time I strained uphill, standing in the saddle and fighting to keep my momentum. I wasn't the most coordinated rider-I had to look straight ahead or I'd veer off in whatever direction my gaze wandered. Still, I couldn't help letting my eyes roam the trees that lined the streets. Every leaf had exploded into color-huge, beautiful flakes of red, orange, and yellow. With each gust of wind, they burst off their branches and rained down on us. It felt like riding through confetti.

That was Sunday, and Sunday was fantastic.

Monday, however, was a misery. I knew I'd have to see Archer. I considered playing sick, but that would only postpone the agony. I reminded myself school was a job, not a social opportunity, and it was time to go to work.

The whole drive there, I fantasized about getting into a car crash. It couldn't be my fault, of course, and I wouldn't want to get hurt in a life- or long-term-quality-of-life-threatening way, but if the crash put me into a coma until after graduation, that would be good.

They say people can hear things in a coma, and I had faith that my mom would read textbooks to me so I'd stay up to date on schoolwork. By the time I woke up, I could ace a GED and go right on to college. Northwestern would go crazy for me. The "I Spent Junior and Senior Years in a Coma" story would make a great application essay. Karl would burst with pride. Maybe I'd even end up on The Today Show. Then I could land a motivational speaking tour and make so much money I wouldn't even need college. I'd still go, of course, but money wouldn't be an issue. I'd even give Karl a monthly allowance so he could hit the blackjack tables guilt-free.