"My fault?" she asked.
"Yeah, during elections last year when Rick was a royal jerk to you, you didn't do anything to put him back in his place. Remember how you were all about taking the high road? Well, apparently the high road leads straight to musical numbers with the P.E. teacher. Now Rick thinks he can do anything to us and get away with it."
Samantha thought about this, shaking her head. "Revenge doesn't solve anything. It just makes things worse."
Rachel let out an exasperated sigh. "That depends on who's doing the revenge and who's dancing to one of Mrs. Jones's solos in front of the whole school, doesn't it?"
And then Samantha cracked a smile. "If you can think of a way to get Rick dancing to Mrs. Jones in front of the whole school, I'll consider it. Until then, I say we just let the whole thing blow over. Let Rick have his party. So what if people are starting to think of him as some kind of rock star. I've heard Rick's music and no one will be that impressed with his band once they're trapped in a room with them. Just ignore him."
Easier said than done. I live in a home that's frequently invaded by Rick. Still, I did think it would blow over. I thought his party and his attempts to get back at us wouldn't amount to anything. Which shows you that "psychic" wouldn't be a good career choice for me.
Chapter 5
I had no plans to go to Rick's party. I'm forced to see Rick more than I want, so why would I ever willingly go to a place he's performing?
My mom had other ideas. Apparently going-to-Rick}s-party fell under the category of chaperoning-my-sister, which she wanted me to do. She was convinced alcohol would turn up at the party and she wanted to make sure I could yank Adrian home as soon as it appeared.
After my mom informed me of my chaperoning duties, I called Samantha. "Hi Sam, remember how you like Rick and want to give him another chance and all that?"
"I never said that," she said.
"Well, close enough, and I need someone to go to his party with me. What are you doing Friday night?"
There was a pause and then, "Wait a minute, Chelsea, weren't you the one who spent half of English class rearranging the letters in the words, 'Rick Debrock' to see if they had a hidden Satanic meaning?"
So then I spent fifteen minutes explaining to Samantha how my mom had assigned me as Adrian's chaperone, and I was on Prohibition patrol. "I need someone to hang out with while I'm there. I mean, I can't be the only one in the room with an iPod strapped to my ears in an attempt to drown out his singing. It would look funny."
Samantha sighed and said she would check and see what Logan was doing. Which meant I couldn't depend on her, since she was obviously using the old, "Let me check and see what my boyfriend has planned" ploy so she could call me back and say, "Darn, but he already bought movie tickets." Like I couldn't see through that. I'd used it myself.
I dialed Aubrie's number. I didn't think I could talk Rachel into coming since she'd been the one to insist that the reason I couldn't find anything suspicious in Rick's name was because I wasn't using his middle name, which was probably something like Damien or Lucifer.
But Aubrie is the friendliest person I know. She doesn't have to fake being peppy while wearing her cheerleading uniform. She was born perky.
Aubrie agreed to come, although she nixed my iPod plan. Then Samantha called back and said that Logan had to work but she could come. Since the three of us were going, I called Rachel and used peer pressure to get her to agree to come with us. As I hung up the phone I thought, this might not be such a drag after all.
The rest of the week passed by in a blur of what had become normaclass="underline" homework, cheerleading, and ignoring Naomi and her friends. Mom told us that she had to go out of town in two weeks to go to a conference in Arizona on geriatric exercise. Our neighbor, Mrs. Fennelwick, had agreed to check up on us during Mom's absence, and Mom cheerfully reminded us of all the house rules; emphasizing no parties, no boys over, and no pretending that we were lost, dying, or possessed in order to frighten Mrs. Fennelwick. We had already learned by sad experience that Mrs. Fennelwick doesn't have a sense of humor. The story involves a dog whistle, the legend of the ghostly mailman, and her pampered cocker spaniel, but I won't go into that.
Anyway, it was the usual stuff.
Since Mike was likely to show up to Rick's party, I took extra time doing my hair and makeup on Friday night. I have long, strawberry blonde hair. Back before she became princess of the dark, Adrian used to tell me I had the prettiest hair in the world. The first couple of times she dyed her hair, she dyed it strawberry blonde to match mine.
It didn't look right on her though. She doesn't have the blue eyes or the fair coloring that I do. She takes after our dad, with brown hair and dark eyes.
I know people think I'm the prettier sister. You could always tell while we were growing up because my mom's friends would gush about what a beautiful girl I was and then they'd turn to Adrian and say something like, "And my, look how tall you've gotten."
But Adrian is pretty in her own way. I think she has an exotic flare. Well, at least she did before she started smearing so much eyeliner on that it looks like she's trying to pencil in glasses onto her face.
After I'd finished getting ready, I drove Adrian and myself to the Hilltop. She hadn't said much to me since the "Be True to Your School" incident. I'd come home and asked her if she had anything to do with putting Rick's CD into my boom box and she'd said, "You must have accidentally put it in there yourself. Don't blame us for your disorganization."
I could see in her face that she wanted to believe what she'd just said, but didn't. How many excuses would she have to make for Rick before she saw him for what he was? Softly, so she knew I wasn't attacking her, I said, "Adrian, how can you like a guy who's going to spend his entire life getting in trouble?"
Whatever doubt had flickered in her expression immediately extinguished. "Rick is the smartest person I know," she said. "You don't have to worry about him. Or me."
I dropped it after that. I was not about to let her start a lecture on how brilliant Rick was. She liked to point out that he skipped a grade back in elementary school. Big deal. You'd never know it by the way he goofs off in class now.
So anyway, we were pretty silent until we got to the Hilltop and had to park down the street because the parking lot was full. As we walked up to the restaurant she said, "You don't have to drive me home. Rick is going to take me."
"No, Mom said she wanted us to stick together. That means you're going home with me."
Adrian tossed her hair off her shoulder, or at least she would have tossed it if it hadn't been shellacked with so much hair spray that it didn't move. "What are you—Mom, the sequel? You guys can't keep me away from Rick forever. We're in love."
I couldn't help myself; I laughed. I know it wasn't the most sensitive thing to do, but I just couldn't imagine anyone being in love with a guy who changed hair color more often than he changed his socks. I mean, if he couldn't even commit to one shade of hair dye, how was he ever going to commit to a relationship? Adrian shot me a dark look and I removed all traces of humor from my face. "He's told you he loves you?" I couldn't imagine that either.