“Again?”
This made three days in a row he’d gone out for “fresh air” and returned looking like he’d face-planted into the lawn. A scrap of brown peeking out from beneath his shoe revealed an oak leaf he’d tracked inside. Maybe he’d been secretly meeting a girl in the woods. A surge of completely irrational jealousy swelled beneath her rib cage before she reminded herself Aelyx didn’t have any girlfriends. That she knew of. . .
He studied the floor when he mumbled, “Yes. The colors don’t bother me as much now.”
“Right. The colors.” He was the world’s worst liar. But as much as she wanted to press him for more information, it wasn’t any of her business. It’s not like she wanted Aelyx for herself, so who cared if he was hooking up on the sly? Cara shoved down her irritation, suddenly feeling extra naked beneath her thin blue bathrobe. “Hope you had a nice walk,” she chirped, scooting inside her room.
Once safely behind her own closed door, she refocused, gearing up to tear her best friend a new one. But then Tori turned around, and all those reprimands slid down the back of Cara’s throat. Redness rimmed Tori’s bloodshot eyes, half concealed by puffy lids. She’d been crying. Only Tori didn’t cry. Ever.
“What happened?” Cara crouched down to study her friend’s face as if the answer might be written across her forehead, but Tori backed away with a casual shrug.
“I got impeached.”
“From student council? They can’t do that!”
Tori dragged her feet to the bulletin board and began fidgeting with Cara’s awards and ribbons, rubbing the satiny fabric between her fingers. “They can call a vote if I miss three meetings.”
“But you didn’t—”
“They switched the last two meeting times and didn’t tell me.” Grabbing her braid, Tori swept the frayed ends back and forth across her lips. “Then I skipped one last month when you asked me to come over. Y’know, that day you dropped the bomb about—”
“The exchange.” The real reason for this little coup d’etat. Damn it, Tori shouldn’t have to suffer for sitting next to Aelyx in the lunchroom. “They can’t do this. We’ll call Mr. Ferguson.”
“Forget it. I don’t wanna be there if they all hate me. What’s the point?” Tori belly flopped onto Cara’s polka-dot bedspread. She rolled onto her side and traced an embroidered black circle with her fingernail. “I heard Jared Lee was gonna ask me to prom before all this, but he changed his mind. And my team’s givin’ me hell, too.”
“Well then Jared’s a tool. And soccer season’s almost over. Just hang in—”
“Don’t you think it’s time to send the A-Licker somewhere else?” Pushing upright, Tori hugged her knees. “I mean, I know you want the money and all, and it’s not like I care what anyone thinks . . .”
“You sure about that?” Of all the people caving to pressure lately, she hadn’t expected this from Tori, the firecracker who used her middle finger like a calling card. Cara walked to the closet and fingered through her meager wardrobe without seeing a thing, blinded by disappointment. “Look, I committed to this, but it’s not all about the money.” Which was true. She’d kind of grown to like Aelyx, or at least to tolerate him. “Give him a break; he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Hasn’t done anything wrong that you know of. Come on, Cara. He’s a total creeper and he’s up to something. Besides, I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“Huh?” Cara spun around with a belt in one hand and a skirt in the other. “How does he look at me?”
Tori raised a black brow. Then she made a circle with one hand and stuck her index finger through it in an X-rated puppet show. “Like he wants to dock his ship inside your spaceport.”
“You’ve cracked. I think he’s seeing someone.”
“Not a chance.” Tori shook her head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. He watches you like a stalker—everyone’s talking about it.”
Great. That meant the rumor mill would proclaim her pregnant with alien twins by next week.
“It’s just because I’m his only friend.”
Tori narrowed one eye. “You’re defending him? Maybe he’s drugging you. You pour your own drinks, right?”
“Don’t be ridic.” She held up two tops—one pink, one green. “Which one?”
Tori pointed to the sleeveless pink V-neck and scooted off the bed. “Let me know if you wanna ditch him some night. It sucks that you’re single now and I still don’t get to see you.”
Thinking about the breakup still sent pinpricks skittering across Cara’s body, but they stung a little less each time. This one barely hurt. “You can see me whenever you want.”
“Alone. As in, without him lurking around the corner.” Tori dug through Cara’s makeup bag and inspected a couple shades of lip gloss. “I’m takin’ this,” she declared, holding up Gritty in Pink.
“But you don’t even wear makeup.”
“I do now.” She nabbed a tube of mascara, too. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But she just waved the pilfered cosmetics and left without another word. Cara stared at her zippered bag in confusion, then shook her head and dressed for the interview.
Cara leaned back and enjoyed the soft tickle of a foundation brush while the makeup artist worked her magic. The stylist ran his fingers through her hair, and the sensation brought goose bumps to the surface of her skin. She sighed and listened to the flurry of activity coming from the living room. The air was thick with excitement and hairspray.
“Ugh,” said a sharp female voice. “That sofa’s hideous. We’ll need a solid neutral drape. Have three chairs brought in from the kitchen and cover them in the same fabric.” The sound of clicking heels approached. “Tell the lighting crew to set up in the corner and crank up the air conditioner. This tiny dump will get hot fast.”
Dump? Cara’s eyelids flew open, and she scanned the room for the source of the voice. Sure, the sofa was hideous and her house was small, but it wasn’t a dump.
“Seat Bill Sweeney on the outside,” said a woman with chin-length, platinum blond hair. She wore a C-emblazoned pink suit and had an annoyingly exquisite face. “He’s a total dud.”
“Hey!” Cara protested from her seat at the kitchen table. Strangers couldn’t insult her dad. Only she could insult her dad.
“And the mother—head shots only,” the woman said to her assistant. “She’s a chunky little thing.”
“I’m right here, you know.” Was this lady missing her internal filter? Maybe she thought beautiful people didn’t need one. Feeling a full-scale firestorm brewing, Cara held her breath and counted to twenty.
“I see that.” The woman picked a piece of lint from her shoulder. “Sharon Taylor. I’m interviewing you tonight.”
Pursing her red lips, she made a “shoo fly” motion with one hand. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Yeah.”
Sharon shook her head. “Auburn hair and pallid skin—the worst combination. Don’t wear pink, sweetie. Redheads can’t pull it off.” Then she clucked her tongue in sympathy.
Screw twenty. Cara counted to a hundred. In Spanish.
“How about a nice kelly green top?”
“Don’t have one,” Cara lied, deciding to wear pink tonight out of spite.
“Oh, well.” Sharon waved her fingers at the makeup artist. “Play up her eyes. She’s got great eyes, at least.”
When Aelyx entered the kitchen, Sharon froze in place. “Sweet baby Jesus! You’re going to make my job so easy.” She sashayed over to him and cocked her head to the side, appraising his face. “Very nice features,” she said, talking to herself. “Strong jaw, full mouth. Excellent wardrobe choice. You’re breathtaking.”