Getting REVENGE on Lauren Wood (11 page)

I hadn’t seen him before, and I certainly would have noticed if I had. He was tall and lanky with dark, curly hair. His lower lip was larger than the top and it gave him this sultry pout. His jeans were faded and looked as if they would be as soft as flannel to the touch—and oh, I wanted to touch.

“Bailey knows I’m just joking,” Lauren said with a toss of her hair, her voice suddenly light and playful.

He looked over at Bailey who was still staring at her shoes. “Quite the sense of humor you got there,” he said to Lauren.

I gave a tiny snort that I instantly tried to turn into a cough.

“Don’t be mean. You should know me by now.” Lauren cocked her hip at an angle. “I’m a tease.”

“That’s what I hear,” said the mystery boy.

Bailey looked up at him with a smile and he gave her a wink. He looked closer at Lauren and then pulled back.

“Looks like you need to lay off the heavy drinking,” he said, motioning to her eyes.

“It’s an allergic reaction to something.”

“Hope it clears up before tryouts next week. Nobody likes an Eliza Doolittle who looks like a crack addict.”

“It’ll clear up. What’s this I hear—you’ll be filming the whole thing?” Lauren asked.

“It’s for an independent study. I’m doing a documentary.”

“Cool,” I said.

He gave a shrug and started to move up the stairs. He looked over at me and then looked down at my chest. The corner of his mouth turned up into a slight smile.

“Nice shirt,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet my eyes.

With him looking at me like that I couldn’t recall what I was wearing. I was too involved in a fantasy where the two of us were wearing far less. I glanced down at my shirt. It was a T-shirt with a print of the 1949
Wizard of Oz
movie poster. I looked at Judy Garland’s face and tried to think of something smart to say.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“So which character are you?”

“Dorothy, I guess. Strange girl in a strange place.”

He looked at me carefully, cocking his head from one side to the other. “No, Dorothy doesn’t suit you. I think you might be more complex. I’m thinking lion—bluff and bluster, but a softie inside. See you around Oz, Lion Girl,” he said, moving past us and walking up the stairs. I watched him until he went through the doors.

“Who was that?” I asked, spinning back around.

“Christopher Morgan,” Kyla said. “Lincoln High’s official rebel without a cause.”

“Don’t bother. He never dates anyone here,” Lauren said. “He’s totally focused on his art. Unlike other people around here, he’s a real artist.”

“What makes you think I want to date him?”

“Apart from the fact your tongue was hanging out when you talked to him?” Lauren sniffed. “Anyway, Chris is going to be a serious filmmaker.”

“He’s nice,” Bailey offered.

“You think everyone’s nice,” Lauren grumped, plunking down on the stairs next to Kyla. Lauren looked over at Bailey who had gone back to staring at her shoes and chewing on her lower lip. “Don’t be ticked at me, I’m having a lousy morning. The whole day was craptacular before the thing with my eyes started. I got completely dressed and then I couldn’t find my other shoe so I had to change outfits. Then my new shirt was missing a button. So I had to change all over again. The whole thing was a nightmare. Besides, you know me, I just say stuff.”

“I’m not stupid,” Bailey said.

Lauren rolled her eyes at Kyla. “Of course you’re not stupid.” The first morning bell rang and everyone around us started to move toward the doors. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and try to do something with my face.” Lauren stood and gathered up her things.

“I’ll meet you guys in French,” Kyla said, moving up the stairs. “I have to drop off my brother’s medication with the nurse first.”

Bailey gave a slight wave to Kyla. I stayed in place to watch Lauren walk away. The seat of her jeans was split all down the center seam, and as she moved up the stairs, you could see a wink
of her bright pink thong and plenty of white Lauren butt cheek. Bailey’s eyes grew wide.

“Lauren!” Bailey cried out. Lauren turned around and I grabbed Bailey’s arm, giving it a squeeze. She looked over at me, her eyebrows crinkling together in confusion.

“What?” Lauren placed a hand on one hip.

“Nothing. We just wanted to say we’ll save you a place at lunch,” I said.

“Okay, whatever.” Lauren gave her hair another toss and bounced up the stairs, pink and white flashing in the gap in the back of her pants. Bailey waited until she was gone and then looked at me for an explanation.

“She must know it’s there. After all, someone would have to be stupid not to know there was a huge hole in her pants,” I said, keeping my face serious. I could see the wheels turning behind Bailey’s eyes.

This was a calculated risk on my part. Bailey was most likely the nicest person alive. With her long blond hair, blue eyes, and Mary Poppins approach to the world it was possible she would think I was a vile person to let Lauren be embarrassed. She could race after Lauren and stop her from going any farther. She could even let Lauren in on the fact that I had been willing to let her flash the entire school. On the other hand, maybe, just maybe, part of her was sick of Lauren’s crap too. Was it possible that Lauren could drive even Mary Poppins to being a conspirator to my evil deed?

Bailey’s lips quivered and a shy smile snuck out. She glanced at me and then away. She looked back and had a huge smile on her face.

“Come on, we should get to French,” she said, linking arms with me.

“Why, I would be delighted to attend French with you,” I said, giving her a warm smile back. We marched down the hall in tandem. It said a lot about Lauren that she could make a Mary Poppins clone want to do her harm.

“Now tell me more about this Christopher fellow,” I said. “Just how nice is he?”

Chapter Twenty

Brenda practically danced into biology class; her new look clearly agreed with her. Her hair looked great and she was wearing one of her new outfits—slim black pants, ballet flats, and the white shirt starched stiff. She was even walking less Lurchlike. She looked surprised to see me sitting at her lab table. She raised an eyebrow in question and slowed her pace.

“I asked Melvin to change with me,” I explained. “You don’t mind having me as a lab partner, do you?”

“I don’t know. Melvin’s a whiz with a Bunsen burner. Besides, people will see us together. Will your reputation survive?”

I didn’t say anything and instead passed her a pencil drawing I had done over the weekend.

“It’s Einstein,” I said in case she didn’t recognize him. Brenda took the picture and looked it over.

“Thanks. You’re really good.”

I shrugged. I never knew what to say when people complimented me on my art. I was just glad that Brenda wasn’t going to demand that I change back with Melvin. I liked her despite myself, and if we were lab partners, we had a great reason to hang out, all without blowing my reputation. With her makeover she looked pretty decent. Besides, there is a long and glorious tradition of popular people being friendly with the smart types when there are grades on the line.

“Nice hair,” a girl said as she walked past our table to the supply closet. Brenda blushed and mumbled her thanks.

“I take it the new look has been a hit.” I crossed my arms. “Guess maybe I was onto something with the idea that looks matter.”

Brenda shrugged. She turned away from me to pull her things out of her bag, but I could see a hint of a smile on her face. “I’m not sure it’s exactly earth-shattering news to admit that people are obsessed with appearances.”

“No, the earth-shattering part is that you’re paying attention.”

“It’s an experiment.”

“Anything for science.”

Mr. Wong, our biology teacher, rapped on his desk to get our attention. He had a project for the class. He was sending us out to collect swabs from different surfaces in the school so we could discover just how much bacteria was thriving in the building. We were to write up our expectations and then let the swab gunk
grow in some petri dishes for a couple weeks to see what came up. Who says science can’t be fun?

Brenda considered where to collect our swabs with great care. She had a future as a health department inspector if she wanted; she took her bacteria very seriously.

“I’m thinking we should do some from the bathroom and then some from the cafeteria tables. The assumption would be that the bathroom would have more bacteria, but my money is on the cafeteria. Have you ever seen them wash down the tables? They use the same nasty rag and a bucket that I am sure is an open sewer of disease.” She chewed her lip, thinking things over.

“Mmm, nothing makes me hungrier than talk of sewers and bacteria,” I said. We walked down toward the cafeteria. I had an idea. “We should collect a swab from the girl’s bathroom and another one from the guy’s along with the cafeteria.”

“That’s a good idea.” Brenda looked over at me, surprised.

“What? Just because I look good doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain.” I gave a disgusted snort. “And here you act upset about people judging people by their looks. Pot, kettle, black,” I said with a singsong voice.

Getting the swabs from the girl’s bathroom and the cafeteria was easy. With those secured Brenda and I stood outside the boy’s bathroom.

“Maybe you should go in and get it,” Brenda suggested. “I’ll stand out here and make sure no one goes in.”

“You’re the scientist, shouldn’t you go? It will be like fieldwork. You can be the Jane Goodall of the men’s room.” We both peered up and down the hall. “Look, I’ll do it, but you’re coming with me. We don’t have all day.” I shoved open the door and pulled Brenda in behind me by her wrist.

“It doesn’t look that different,” she said with surprise.

“What you were thinking? Wood paneling, maybe some animal heads mounted on the wall?”

Brenda walked over to the stall wall and started looking over the varied things scribbled on it. Her nose wrinkled up. “This is disgusting.”

“Yep. The bathroom wall, where poets leave their finest work. It’s amazing how many words rhyme with fart.” I surveyed the space. “Where do you want to get the swab from?”

“Floor by the toilet. It should be the same as the girl’s room. That way we can use it as a comparison.”

“Fair enough. I’ll swab, you stand by the door and hum or something so no one wanders in.”

I pushed the stall door open and gave a quick look behind me. Brenda was by the door. I whipped out a Sharpie and wrote quickly on the wall:
lauren wood puts out
. Then I paused. Would that be considered a bonus? Would it have been better to put down
lauren wood is frigid
? What would she see as the ultimate insult? Then it came to me. I added,
but who cares?

As I bent to get the sample, Brenda started singing in an effort to scare off any rogue bathroom users. Her voice was clear and
strong as it bounced off the tile walls. I stopped thinking about Lauren, revenge, or biology swabs. I backed up so I could see her. She was leaning against the sink as if her singing was no big deal. She was singing a song I didn’t know. It sounded sort of sad and mournful, but something about her voice made you feel like things would be okay. She turned around and noticed me staring at her.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“You told me to sing.” Brenda’s face flushed red. There was no way she was ever going to go into a life of crime; she looked guilty when she hadn’t even done anything.

“That was amazing. What was it?”

“It’s an Irish folk song.”

“You’re really good.”

“I sing at my church. I’ve been in the choir for a few years.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Skip church. You should be singing on the radio. You could be on
American Idol
or something.”

Brenda raised one eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe
American Idol
isn’t your style, but I’m serious. You’re really good,” I said.

“Thanks. Why do you look so surprised?”

“I don’t know. It’s just unexpected. If you had memorized the entire periodic table it would be amazing, but not that surprising. You’re a woman of mystery, no doubt about it.”

“Did you get the sample?”

I held up the swab and Brenda clicked the plastic top over the tip, preserving our carefully gathered bacteria. She fanned out the three swabs in her hand and looked at them closely as if she could see the microscopic creatures already breeding on the tips. She looked satisfied with a job well done.

“Once we get a good look at them through the microscope we should do up some graphics. You’re the art guru—you can make up some color sketches.”

“Well, with all this extra credit fun I can see Melvin is going to be upset you’re not his lab partner anymore.”

Brenda smirked and yanked open the bathroom door, heading back to Wong’s class. The idea came to me in a flash; it was so perfect, it took my breath away.

The door closed behind Brenda, and I stood there looking at it, while taking short, shallow breaths. The door opened back up and Brenda peeked her head in.

“So, you coming or are you planning to stay here?”

I stepped out after her into the hallway.

“Brenda?” She turned to look at me. “Have you ever considered trying out for the school play? With a voice like yours, you could take the lead.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Lauren wasn’t at lunch. Apparently she made it to third period before anyone told her about her pants. To me this proved that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stand her. Lauren had gone home to change. Kyla started laughing when she told the story, and then we all agreed that of course it wasn’t really funny. We were simply laughing with her, not at her.

I left lunch early so I could find Ms. Herbaut, the drama teacher. Rumor was that Ms. Herbaut had been on the verge of fame and glory on the stage when she gave it all up to move to middle-of-nowhere Michigan to marry her one true love. Although this story had a lovely romance novel–like quality, I was more skeptical. My hunch was that Ms. Herbaut got sick of living in a dumpy studio apartment, waiting tables, and hustling to audition after audition, where, if she was lucky, she would end up earning the role of “peasant number two” in an off-Broadway production of Shakespeare.