Then again, it seemed entirely more likely that Doug was someone who saw women merely as good calendar material.
After I ate my candy bar, I straightened up the back room for a few minutes just so I wouldn’t have to go out to the sales floor again. I stacked up all the stray books from the counter and was picking up pieces of trash from the floor when Logan came in.
“You can’t hide in here forever,” he said.
“Yes, I can.” I saw the corner of a paper sticking out from underneath one of the shelves and bent down to pick it up.
Logan watched me for a moment, then sat down on the countertop and folded his arms. “He came all the way to the bookstore just to say hello to you. 1 thought it was very considerate of him.”
The paper was stuck and ripped as I pulled. “He actually said the words Hot Babes to me.”
“So it would be good if you went out with him. You could enlighten him on the correct way to talk about women.” Logan held up a peace sign. “You know, girl power and all of that stuff.”
“Nine more days? I have nine more days until I can insult you again, right?”
“And I’m going to make it hard for you.”
“You already are.” I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. I just marched out of the room and back onto the sales floor.
I was half afraid Doug would still be lurking around someplace, but I didn’t see him.
Maybe he got tired of leering at the James Bond covers and went home.
I picked up a stack of books from the cart and shoved them onto the shelf extra hard.
Men. They had stupid calendars, and stupid bets, and stupid ways of driving, and stupid ways of breaking up with you, and stupid handwriting.
The handwriting thought hurt the worst because it brought the whole flyer incident back to my mind. I’d been so busy worrying about retaliating, and then worrying about Doug, I forgot to worry about tomorrow when I’d have to face an entire student body who thought I couldn’t spell SAT, let alone pass it.
Of course, I couldn’t blame this horrible situation entirely on guys. After all, Cassidy had divulged my test score, and Amy had done the flyers, and they both belonged to my half of the population. It made the betrayal that much worse.
Next time I saw Cassidy, I’d tell her exactly what I thought of her and her supposed friendship, and then I’d— Dang. That would fall under the insult category. If I hadn’t been so dead set against going out with Doug, I would have blown the bet with gusto. I would have even invited Logan along to witness the event. As it was, the best thing to do would be to say nothing at all until the bet was over. Nothing now, and everything later.
I put the last of the books on the shelf and sighed. Nothing would be harder.
CHAPTER 9
*The next day at school was a trip to misery. Every time I walked down the halls, every time I sat at a desk, I felt the weight of a hundred stares on me. I told myself I was imagining it. Not everyone was watching me, not everyone was wondering about my intelligence.
Maybe.
Only a few people actually mentioned the flyers to me. Each time someone brought up the subject, I just shook my head like I thought it was funny and said, “Where do people come up with these rumors? Next they’ll be saying I’m an undercover FBI agent watching for terrorist groups.”
Whomever I was talking to would laugh, and then I’d say, “Just between you and me, the cafeteria ladies are scheming to take over the world.”
More laughter. I’d join in. It’s amazing how your face can do that while you want to cry.
I went from class to class and paid perfect attention to my teachers. I not only wanted to look studious, I wanted to be studious. I wanted to ace the SAT next time around and then photocopy the results and stick them to everyone’s windshields; then we’d see if people ever believed Mr. Skinny E's again.
After lunch the principal called Amy, Rick, and me into the office to discuss the unsportsmanlike campaigning that had gone on the day before.
*She eyed Rick up and down from behind her desk with a dark expression. “If I knew for certain who made those flyers about Samantha and tore Amy’s posters down, I’d disqualify him”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that. So whoever did it had better be watching himself very carefully, or he might just find himself out of the race and suspended.”
Then she glared at Rick again. It was enough to almost make me feel sorry for him. Almost.
We all swore we had nothing to do with any of it and promised to be model candidates. She let us go back to class.
Finally the day ended. I made it through all seven hours without bloodshed or a nervous breakdown. I was at my locker congratulating myself on this fact when Cassidy ap -
peared beside me. She wore a pale blue sweatshirt and jeans. Chelsea would have called it simple, bland, and uncreative; and yet Cassidy still looked as though she’d just stepped out of an Ivory Soap commercial.
I hated girls who didn’t struggle to be beautiful, and still were.
Cassidy leaned against the locker next to mine, holding a couple of textbooks against her chest, and nervously fingered the paper that stuck out of them. “Hi, Samantha.”
“Hi.”
She cleared her throat and-shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I just wanted you to know that Amy didn’t make those flyers about you.”
“Oh?” I shoved the last of my books into my backpack. “And why would you think I suspected her?”
She leaned in closer to my locker and lowered her voice. “Logan told me you thought I’d told Amy your test scores.”
“Logan told you?” Great. Not only was he the thorn in my side but he had also become my publicist. Now, despite all of my attempts at humor and FBI jokes, it was bound to get around that those really were my test scores. Why did I tell anybody anything?
Cassidy shrugged. “Yeah, Logan was worried about you being upset.”
“Uh-huh.” Sure. Logan frequently agonized over my wellbeing.
“Anyway, I didn’t tell anybody about your test score, but even if Amy had known about it, she wouldn’t have made those flyers about you.”
I slammed my locker door shut. “Oh. Well, that’s very reassuring to know. I guess the Evil Flyer Fairy just visited our school parking lot then.”
Cassidy blinked innocently. “Why are you so positive it was me?”
“Because you were the only one I told about my SAT score. I trusted you, Cassidy, and this is what I got.”
She looked a little confused then, like she could see my logic but still didn’t believe it.
“Well, then someone must have overheard you telling me.”
“Oh, yeah, probably one of the school hallway gnomes was listening.”
She straightened up, and I could see every part of her stiffen. “I’m sorry you don’t believe me.”
“And I’m sorry about a lot of things.” I turned and walked away.
This would have been a great parting line if I never had to see Cassidy again.
Unfortunately, I had to see her that afternoon. I’d completely forgotten, until my mother reminded me, that I’d agreed to help out at the neighborhood fun fair.
Since Katya had arrived in Pullman, Cassidy’s mom had done all sorts of fund-raisers to help out her old orphanage. One time she’d done a shoe drive. Another time all the women on our street got together to make quilts. On Halloween a bunch of kids went trick-or-treating for quarters to raise money for vitamins. Now it was the neighborhood fun fair.
Elise’s fifteen-year-old brother, Dan, was actually supposed to be in charge of the event. He was counting it as his Eagle Scout project, but somehow the women of the neigh -