29

A very big part of me wanted to fake sick on Monday morning. Especially when I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing instead of my alarm. I jumped for it, too sleepy to fully register that the screen said Private Call.

“Marisa Palmera?” The voice was male and barely concealing snickers.

“Who is this? How did you get my number?”

“Do you like leftover sausage?”

“Leftover sausage? I don’t get it.”

Whoever was on the line couldn’t contain himself anymore and burst into laughter before hanging up the phone.

Oh. Leftover sausage. I got it now.

I slunk back to bed and pulled the covers over my head, tempted to turn off my alarm altogether and “accidentally” oversleep. But I didn’t. And by the time I showered, ate breakfast, and kissed my parents goodbye, something happened.

I got rip-roaring mad.

I was angry at Kendall for asking me to help her and then selling me out, angry at TJ for kissing me, angry at myself for liking it. I was angry at Sara for being such a ginormous bitch and angry at Jordan for the domino effect he’d started when he had broken my heart. Truthfully, I was angry at myself for that part too. He might’ve dumped me, but I was the one who’d allowed my insecurities to take over my life.

By the time I stormed through the glass doors of Herring Cross High, I was determined that my days of being trampled and discarded were over, website or no website. I stomped through the maze of hallways to the junior lockers until I caught a glimpse of long, dark hair and big boobs.

“I need to talk to you.”

Sara looked me up and down, coating me with disgust. “What for? It’s not like I’ll believe a word out of your mouth.”

I don’t know where my bravery came from, but I grabbed her arm and threw a curt “excuse us” over my shoulder as I dragged her into an exit alcove. But one of her little friends decided to get cute with me. Big mistake.

“Take your skanky hands off her,” a tiny blond with sparkly clips in her hair demanded. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

I whipped around. “Aren’t you dating Evan Salinger?” Her petite nostrils flared and her lips parted, but before she could answer, I added, “You’re not the only one. Check his phone sometime.”

I turned my back on her gaping mouth and addressed Sara. “I never lied to you. In fact, I never did anything to you except follow Jordan like you asked me to. Whatever you think is going on between him and me is a figment of your imagination.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Bullshit, Marisa. I see the way you throw yourself at him. I should’ve known you were Reverse Cupid, because you’re the only one obsessed enough to do something so lame.”

“You didn’t think Busted was lame when you asked for my help, and you definitely didn’t think it was lame when you were trying to be like me.”

Her face puckered like she’d eaten the world’s most potent Sour Patch Kid. “What are you talking about? I’d never try to be like you.”

“I’m talking about the picture you took of Jordan and me at my locker that Kendall put on the Busted site. You must be pretty obsessed yourself if you’re stalking the goddamn halls to catch us talking.”

Her face scrunched up even more. “Who is Kendall?”

“Oh, spare me, ‘Who’s Kendall?’ She’s the one you sold me and Jordan out to when I came clean about being Reverse Cupid. I saw the pictures. Don’t bother to play dumb.”

Sara’s arms dropped to her sides and her fingers curled into fists. I thought she might punch me. “I don’t know anyone named Kendall,” she growled. “And I don’t know what pictures you’re talking about. The only thing I saw on that stupid website is the video of you stealing another girl’s boyfriend.”

The rage zipping through my veins stilled as if I’d been zapped with a stun gun. Standing six inches from her face and looking her dead in the eye, I had an awful suspicion Sara might be telling the truth.

“Kendall is the girl in the video. The one whose boyfriend asked me to the Winter Formal. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.”

“And why the hell would I know who she is?”

“Then who gave her those pictures?”

“What fucking pictures?”

Oh shit. She really didn’t know. Which meant she didn’t know where Jordan had gone after the Templeton game, which meant she probably didn’t know he even knew Kendall. Which meant I couldn’t tell her without throwing him under the bus.

Thinking fast, I shifted my bag onto my hip and took out my phone. “Here,” I said, pulling up the website and handing her the phone. “You’re really going to tell me you didn’t take these pictures?”

Sara’s face paled, then flushed as she looked at the screen. If I could’ve taken a picture of her, the perfect caption would’ve been “Busted.”

“How did you get these? Did you go through Jordan’s phone?”

Or not.

“I didn’t get them from anywhere. I’m Reverse Cupid, but Kendall runs the website. She’s the one who posted these. Why would Jordan have them on his phone?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t know that’s where they came from. Quit playing innocent, Marisa. If you think I believe for a second that you didn’t have something to do with this, then you’re as stupid as you are desperate.”

My blood boiled. Sheer willpower kept me from shoving her into the cinderblock wall behind her. “You’re pretty brave, throwing around the word stupid if you honestly believe I’d make a website trashing myself, or that Jordan somehow took pictures that he’s fucking in. So here’s your last chance to tell me where they came from, or I promise, you will be sorry.”

I braced myself in case she lunged at me. An image of Sara and me clawing at each other on the linoleum floor flashed through my mind, and I realized too late that I might’ve set myself up to be the laughingstock of the internet yet again.

But she didn’t lunge. She didn’t even move. She stood rooted to the floor, breathing hard through flared nostrils like she couldn’t decide between beating me to a pulp or some other option that involved my death and dismemberment. When she yanked her messenger bag toward her abdomen, I figured she’d chosen plan B. She unsnapped her bag and lifted the flap that covered the opening.

That’s when I saw it.

The brilliant, heart-shaped collage of colors I’d left in the cubby of Jordan’s locker not so long ago. He’d given Sara my pin. The pin inspired by our first kiss.

Jordan Pace was a douchebag of epic proportions.

Before she could notice my thunderstruck stare, Sara whipped her phone out of her bag and started to scroll through it. “They’re my pictures,” she said. “I sent them to Jordan—”

“What’s going on here?”

We looked up at the same time. Jordan stood in the hall, books against his hip and questions in his eyes.

“You,” Sara spat before I could react. I never knew one syllable could ooze so much venom. “Do you know how my pictures wound up on that website?”

Jordan’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a labored swallow. “What website?”

“The one you hijacked Charlie’s phone to look at before you bolted from the Templeton game on Friday night,” I said.

Sara’s head whipped in my direction. She narrowed her eyes. “Where did he go later that night? You asked me if I knew.”

Before I could answer, Jordan took her arm. “Sara, let’s go somewhere and talk.”

She jerked free of his grip. “Keep your hands off me. I’m not listening to another word of your horseshit or hers.” Her glare fixed on me. “You can have him if you want him. You losers deserve each other.”

With that, she pushed past Jordan and stormed down the hall.

Jordan glowered at me, enough ice in his eyes to frost the alcove’s glass door if the cold hadn’t already taken care of it. “Thanks,” he spat.

Thanks? Like I’d ruined his life instead of the other way around?

And somehow, the mountain of questions and ever-growing confusion in my brain only allowed me proper indignation over one thing:

“You gave her my pin.”

He sputtered a few unintelligible syllables and looked around like he had no idea what to do with that response. “You left it in my locker. What was I supposed to do with it? What the hell is going on here, Marisa?”

“That pin meant something to me. I made it because you meant something to me. I would rather you throw it away than give it to someone you don’t even care about.” I didn’t bother to acknowledge the second half of his question.

“Who says I don’t care about Sara? Christ, Marisa, that’s not your call. You’d think with the number of people who hate you right now you’d learn to mind your own business.”

No, he didn’t.

I exhaled, both shocked and proud at the lack of sting that resulted from his words. I wanted nothing more than to be done with him, once and for all. And it felt damn good.

My voice was even despite the anger that edged my words when I spoke again. “You don’t get it, Jordan. You never will. When you care about someone, you don’t sneak around and do things that would hurt her if you did them to her face. You care about how your actions affect her.” I took a step toward him. “You don’t worry that the grass is greener in every goddamn yard but your own. You put her first once in a while instead of thinking about yourself all. The fucking. Time.” I broke eye contact in order to dig through the front pocket of my bag but kept right on talking. “You know what? I’m glad you gave my pin to Sara. You’re over me, and I’ve never been happier to be over you. Someone who appreciates the pin might as well keep it.” My hand closed over what I’d been looking for. I pulled my fist out of my bag and slammed my hand against Jordan’s chest. “And while you’re at it, give this back to Kendall for me.”

I walked away, leaving him fumbling to catch the blue, pink, and yellow mosaic pin Kendall had thrown at me the day of the promposal. A few feet away, I spun around, smug and satisfied when I took in Jordan staring bug-eyed at the pin in his palm, looking like he might retch.

“That’s right,” I said, smirking from ear to ear. “I know all about the two of you. And it seems she’s got a bone to pick with you too, or your face wouldn’t be splashed all over that website next to mine. Maybe next time you should take your own advice and think about keeping your business a little closer to home.”

I turned and stalked off, indifferent to the stares and snickers following me down the hall. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought of me at that moment. I felt better than I had in a very long time.