Kasey Screws Up the World (4 page)

Mom used to send cute little notes with my lunch. Lara always groaned about them. She’d wave the yellow post-it in the air until all the girls at our lunch table turned their attention to her. Then she’d clear her throat and read the note in a snooty accent. Everyone would laugh while I tucked my note neatly into my pocket so no one would make fun of it.

I crumbled the empty bag until the sharp edges scraped the skin of my palm.
Mom probably just forgot
, I told myself. I smashed the bag with my fist and was about to do the same to the sandwich when I stopped myself. Maybe this healthy meal was Mom’s way of saying she still cared. If she didn’t, she’d send me to school with some artery clogging snack. Or worse, she’d just send me with money to buy the re-heated frozen cardboard the school dubbed as “delicacies.”

Just as I’d plucked a celery stick from the little plastic baggie, Lonnie set his tray down across from me. He pulled out white ear buds, less conspicuous from the large black headphones he wore outside school.

“A ha. Can’t avoid me now.” He gestured to his plaid button down shirt.

The dread returned to my stomach. Maybe eating in the bathroom would be a better option, germs and all.

He pointed to my boring turkey sandwich. “I’m disappointed.”

“After an unfortunate incident with tripe, I’m back to eating normal foods.” I proudly shoved the sandwich into my mouth and made a big show of chewing. He’d been there this summer during what I like to refer to as my “experimental” phase where I experimented with being a different person, the kind who ate exotic foods, the kind who didn’t permanently injure her sister.

He winced at the food in my mouth. “Attractive.”

I set down the sandwich. No more stalling. I had to tell him about the blog. “Lonnie, about this summer…”

“Say no more.” He held up a palm. My heart raced as I waited for his response. “Remember what I told you at Ali’s party?”

I remembered. I remembered every stupid thing I wanted to forget.

“Let’s just leave it at that for now.” He blinked at me a few times before picking up his tiny carton of chocolate milk and chugging the contents.

I bit into my sandwich. “I started a blog. About you.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, it’s mostly about Lara. But you should read it because—”

“URL?” He slipped his phone out of his pocket and strategically concealed it beneath the lip of his brown plastic tray. If any of the teachers paroling the room caught him with it during the school day, he’d get instant detention. I loved the way he didn’t seem to care.

I told him the web address and watched as he devoured the whole post. My hands stayed frozen on the edges of my sandwich, unable to cross the short distance from tinfoil to mouth. As Lonnie read, he brought his hands to his cheeks in mock-surprise, shouting, “No!” Then he sucked in a deep breath and stretched his mouth to look scared, punctuating the exaggerated expression with an, “O. M. G.” His brows furrowed, his mouth widened into a toothy smile, and countless other funny faces for my entertainment. With each face, my heart pounded, wondering which part of the story he was up to. Did the smile mean he’d reached the part where my dad embarrassed me or was he smiling at the ridiculous prospect of me trying to pass as Lara?

When he finished reading, he quietly shoved the phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to me, face deadpanned.

I blinked at him. The blood whooshing in my ears drowned out the din of the cafeteria chatter. I picked up the sandwich in an attempt to jumpstart the world moving again.

Lonnie brushed his floppy hair out of his eyes. “There’s something wrong with your blog.”

I dropped the turkey sandwich and the bread splayed open on impact, revealing the guts that had been concealed inside. “What?”

“It’s not about me. You should correct that at once. Way more interesting subject, I promise.”

I let out a relieved breath. He didn’t hate me. Yet. “It will be. Just not for a bit.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll considering your blog as my first step toward being famous. Today it’s a blog entry about me. In the future, it’s a sold out concert and a Grammy win.”

“Since you’ve just given me credit for your impending fame, I expect free tickets to all your concerts and at least one new song written about me.” We both fell silent, so I added. “Emphasis on the
new
.”

He avoided my eyes and clacked his spoon against the tray. “Speaking of. What did you mean about the thing I lost?”

“Lara’s scholarship was revoked,” I blurted in a huff, nearly knocking over my water bottle in an attempt to grab it. I brought it to my chest like a shield.

He eyed me suspiciously as he took a bite of his mac and cheese. “Okay, Miss Subject-changer. I’ll play along this time, but note that this discussion is not over.”

The tension eased in my neck. “I snooped in her room last night.” I told him about the letter and the conversation I overheard. “But she’s going to classes.”

“Is she though? Or is that what your parents think?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut.

“I’m assuming talking to her isn’t going to work,” he said.

I shook my head. We both knew what happened the last time I tried that at Ali’s party.

“And she leaves the house every day?”

“Yep. And I’m in school now, so she’s not trying to avoid me or anything. She would have the house all to herself on weekdays.”

Lonnie stole a celery stick from my baggie and pointed it at me. “It sounds like she’s scheduling her doctor’s appointments at the same time as her fake classes. That’s probably where she’s going.”

“Right.” I nodded. That made sense. Except she got caught by mom. And she still left the house this morning before I even got up for school. There was no way she had this many doctor’s appointments. Our insurance would freak. Still, I knew from her convo with Mom that she had an appointment with Dr. Shannon at ten A.M. tomorrow. It was a starting place.

“Back to this blog,” Lonnie said, gesturing toward his pocket to indicate his phone…I hoped anyway. “So where is this Finn character now? Out of the picture?” He scooped a few macaroni and cheese noodles into his mouth.

I wanted to answer no. But I could only answer yes. I’d vowed not to lie anymore, after all.

Lonnie wore a playful smile on his lips and just as he was about to say something else, his mouth flatlined on his face. “Uh oh. Now’s a good time to perfect that invisibility cloak you were working on.” His eyes focused behind my shoulder. The chatter in the cafeteria was no match for the stomping of heels on the linoleum floor, growing louder and louder.

I swiveled my head to see Denise Yee strutting shoulder to shoulder with Ali Montauk and Crista Finnochio. Crista spotted us first and whispered something she clearly thought was funny into Denise’s ear because she giggled at her own cleverness. Denise’s eyes flitted toward us in slow motion, as if she were afraid to look. Her eyes widened, and she secured a large Tupperware container under her arm as she amped her pace toward the other end of the cafeteria, not looking back.

I felt sick.

With shaky hands, I pushed myself from the table.

“Oh no,” Lonnie said. “Not again. Why do you love to abandon me so?”

“No abandoning. I have to go tell them”—I gestured with my head to where Denise and Ali sat down with the other dance team girls—”about the blog.”

Lonnie drew a finger across his neck. “Eek. Good luck with that.”

I focused my attention on placing one foot in front of the other and not on the group of girls laughing and chatting several tables away. Despite the noisy cafeteria, their laughter rose above, taking center stage. There wasn’t even room for an additional chair that I would have once occupied, like they’d sewn up the void so it never existed. I swallowed hard.

I stopped several feet away to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. The girls were all reaching over to Denise’s Tupperware container and grabbing cupcakes with fluffy pink frosting twisting on top. She used to give me first dibs of her baked creations, crowning me her official taste tester for whatever new flavor she was working on. My stomach growled at the pink frosting that held a flavor I’d never get to try, could be raspberry, could be strawberry, or even something unexpected like cotton candy. Ali dipped her finger in the frosting, then set the cupcake down in front of her, pushing it back toward the Tupperware container. I’d kill for another bite of Denise’s cupcakes and she was just wasting one.

Crista’s eyes lifted from the other girls and rose to meet mine. There was no backing out now. I forced my legs to carry me toward the table, imagining the way Ali would have stormed up to me, or how Denise’s posture would have conveyed her poise and confidence. I snuck up behind them and folder over in a hunch as I tapped Denise on the back. The table fell silent, and all eyes turned to me. My skin prickled with pins and needles.

Slowly, Denise swiveled to face me, mouth parted, eyes wide in a mix of annoyance and fear. She snapped a lid on the Tupperware container and covered it with her backpack, if to hide it from me. Ali wore a smirk on her face, and I was sure there was an insult waiting behind her lips. She loved a good show, though what she really loved was performing in it.

“Can I—” I cleared my throat to sound more confident. “Can I talk to you a second?”

I didn’t clarify that my request was addressed to Denise and Denise only, but I didn’t have to. Her “no” was as final as the way Ali burst into laughter.

My face burned, and I backed up a step, tripping over some kid’s messenger bag, before I hustled back to my table, the echo of their laughter ringing in the air.

Lonnie offered me a frown. “I see that went well.”

I reached into my backpack and tore off a sheet of notebook paper, slapping it on the table as I sat down. “Plan B.”

I scribbled a note, saying none of what I wanted to say and all of what I didn’t. The note seemed so informal for a friendship that used to be communicated in eyebrow raises and lip purses. We never needed words to know what the other was thinking. Now, words were what separated us. But maybe if she understood where I was coming from, words could mend our friendship.

Denise,

I know you’re mad at me, but I owe you an explanation.

http://www.manhattanpreparatory.edu/~kfishbein/blog.html

Please read it.

-Kasey

“What’s Plan B?” Lonnie asked, craning his neck to peruse the note.

“The coward’s way out.” I tilted the paper to him. “I’m going to slip it into her locker. And then hope she tells the dance team about it.”

“You say coward, I say efficient. She wouldn’t hear you out in person, so you gotta do what you gotta do.”

I smiled at him in thanks, glad he saw it as progress. Because telling Denise wasn’t even the hard part. I still had to tell Lara.

GUISE WILL BE GUISE

Posted by Kasey at 6:01 P.M.

Tuesday, September 2

Current
Past Mood:
Flirty

SAT Word Of The Day:
Incognito. Definition: the thing that got me into this mess

Shout out:
Hi, Lonnie!

See Lonnie? I included a part about you. Now onto the important stuff (unless you are Lonnie and then the important stuff is coming later. So just hang tight.).

Finn spun around and waved as Hayden scanned the perimeter, trying to spot us.

“Oh man. You guys gotta check it out. That club is sick. And wow your sister can dance.”

“Oh, great.”

Finn let out his adorable laugh. My face blanched. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Anyway, we should go. I left Lara on the dance floor alone. Can’t let her get all the attention.” Hayden straightened—or messed up—his hair again.

I stood up, but before I left, I said to Finn, “Too bad you didn’t divulge any info. Because now I’m going to ask your brother and take what he says as the truth.”

“Aww, man. Well, listen. I just want to say the drugs were planted on me. I swear. And that body they found? Dead before I got there.”