7

By the next day, the enigma of the Hooded Templeton Boy didn’t seem like such a big deal. Just because he had a heart hanging in his car didn’t mean it was one of mine—or that it had actually been a heart, no matter what Charlie said. If it was, those pins were mass-produced, and the stash Jordan had given me had come from his older sister, who probably knew plenty of people at Templeton on account of their mother teaching there. And Charlie had pointed out that Hood Boy could’ve been driving someone else’s car. My heap had been purchased used, and I’d had to scrape a Jesus Loves Me bumper sticker off the rear fender. Not that I didn’t think Jesus loved me, but I much preferred the Swarovski snowflake ornament dangling from my rearview mirror in the way of car deco. Maybe Hood Boy’s car had come with a complimentary heart, and he’d decided not to scrap it.

My point: I’d been right when I’d said Hood Boy could be anyone. Sunday morning had completely rationalized away any need I’d felt to tell Kendall about him. Especially since he hadn’t been there long enough to do anything. My official report: an uneventful Saturday night.

Not good enough for Kendall.

“She basically wants me to befriend him,” I told my brother through a mouthful of cereal. “I know I’m not exactly in the business of honesty here, but that feels like fraud.”

Nick ran a hand over his head, failing at fluffing his dark, flattened tufts of bedhead before slurping his own spoonful of cornflakes. “Aren’t you friends already?”

“Not really. He’s on my editorial team for yearbook, but it’s not like we eat lunch together or hang out after school.”

“Do you not like him?”

“I might like him if I got to know him, but the problem is, I feel like getting to know him while spying for Kendall makes me a big phony. I don’t want to be a fake friend.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth quirked up, bringing out the dimple in his cheek. “Like Kendall?”

I couldn’t help but smile back. Nick remembered the days of my and Kendall’s frenemyship well. When we were on the outs, he called her Kendall’s-Not-Your-Friendall or Kendall’s-a-Shitty-Friendall. When we got along, she was Kendall-Your-Best-Friendall. He thought he was hilarious. Most of the time, I had to agree.

My father flicked his newspaper and cleared his throat. “No teenage drama at the breakfast table, please. No one is to be anyone’s fake friend.”

“Think of it this way,” Nick said through copious crunching, ignoring Dad. “It’s a good way to get back at that asshole, Pace.” My spoon stilled in my bowl. Nick’s mouth widened into a grin. “Oh, snap, I think I’m onto something.” He elbowed Dad’s arm and my father rolled his eyes.

I stabbed through a clump of cereal and tried to appear unaffected. “Jordan wouldn’t even notice if I started hanging out with TJ. He’d have to care in order to be jealous.”

“He’ll care. Guys always care when girls get over them. It’s the best way to make us notice you.”

“Because you’re pigs.”

“Hey,” my father warned.

Nick pressed his pointer finger to the tip of his nose and pushed it up until I had a way better view of his nostrils than I ever wanted or needed. “Oink, oink, baby.”

“You’re gross.”

“And you’re so gonna do it.”

“Like you’re so gonna go to the Templeton football game with me on Friday night?”

Nick might’ve known me better than I cared to admit, but I knew his Achilles’ heel too.

His eyes dropped to his bowl and he stirred his cereal instead of chomping on it like a dog at a bone. “Why would I do that?”

An evil smirk spread across my face. “Because Charlie is single now and she’ll be there. In a cheerleading uniform.”

A grin stretched across Dad’s face. “What’s that saying, Nick? Oh, snap?”

I turned to my father. “Should I give him the chance to use it again by bringing up the fact that I should be a Templeton student anyway?”

Note to self: attempts at humor about a sensitive topic will come out far more bitter than they sound in your head.

“Marisa Ann,” Dad said sternly. “Keep that up and Lehigh is going from your short list to your bucket list.”

My lips pressed together and it took all my willpower to turn back to Nick without responding. “Anyway, you’re coming, right?”

Nick made figure eights with his spoon for another moment before resuming his crunchfest. “Maybe if I have nothing better to do,” he mumbled.

• • •

Miraculously, Nick’s schedule was clear by Friday night. He and I bundled up in our knit caps and mittens, and headed up the hill to the Templeton football field to watch the game. Charlie’s squad had been working on a new halftime routine for weeks, and she had asked a thousand times if we’d watch them perform that night. Kendall had let me off my leash for the evening, since she and TJ were actually hanging out, and it felt good to do something for me for a change.

“Where’s your unsuspecting new bestie?” Nick asked as we approached the field where the game was already in progress.

“With his girlfriend, where he should be,” I replied.

“Are you guys passing notes and complimenting each other’s shoes yet?”

“I didn’t even see him this week. He skipped yearbook for work, so I haven’t had a chance to do any digging.”

“Ooh, maybe we should search the eight million cars in this lot with Templeton decals and see if we can find the one you saw at the farm,” Nick said with mock fascination.

I gave him a playful shove. “I’m off duty tonight.”

I spotted Mindy sitting on the track in a Templeton warm-up suit and waved when she looked over. She promptly got to her feet and motioned for a couple of the other cheerleaders to boost her over the chain-link fence. As she started toward us, the sound of cheers erupted and the scoreboard flashed a new point for the home team.

“Hey,” I said. “Not cheering tonight?”

“Getting over a stomach bug. Apparently yakking at the top of a human pyramid is frowned upon.”

We watched as a sea of black-and-silver pom-poms shook like mad on the sidelines, and then Charlie was hoisted into the air, tossed, and expertly caught by her squad members. When they set her down, she faced the crowd and did a high kick, then shook her pom-poms and clapped. Nick’s face immediately took on that dazed expression—the Charlie Face, as I liked to call it—wherein he looked like he was trying to smile through massive amounts of Novocain. When Charlie spotted us, she flashed a huge grin, then waved a pom-pom in our direction.

Mindy’s head turned from the field to my paralyzed brother. “In my country, it’s customary to wave back when someone says hello,” she said.

“You’re Indian. Don’t you guys bow or something?”

“My country is America, ass.”

“You guys suck,” Nick grumbled as Mindy and I doubled over laughing.

Mindy fished some money out of her coat pocket. “Here, stud, go fetch us some hot chocolate. Charlie loves a gentleman.” She smiled as he trudged toward the concession stand, griping under his breath. “I love that he’s a foot taller than me and still does whatever I say.”

“I don’t know why he doesn’t make a move. If he crushes any harder, he’s going to start bursting capillaries.”

We reached the fence, where Charlie stood with her pompoms dangling over the top. She barely got out the word “hi” before her smile morphed into a look somewhere between disgust and nausea, and I half wondered if she’d caught Mindy’s virus.

“Are you shitting me?” she mumbled.

I turned my head and followed her stare. “Oh my God. That guy is wearing shorts.” My jaw dropped as a boy with long, sandy hair strutted past us in a bright-blue windbreaker and khaki cargo shorts. He looked like he’d teleported straight from the California surf and hadn’t yet registered that it was freaking freezing here.

My gawking, however, registered just fine. Our eyes met, and I cursed silently as he stopped walking and gave me a “what’s up” nod.

“Not him.” Charlie cupped my face and moved my head a few degrees left. In my periphery, surfer dude retreated.

Now I was looking at a tall, lanky guy in a ski headband, who was heading in our direction. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been on top of some blond. The same blond who was now at his side, holding his hand.

“Ugh!” Mindy’s face contorted. “He brought his little Stanton Prep tramp with him!” She raised her voice as they passed us. “How tacky can you get?”

Only then did I notice the shorter-than-Jason-but-still-tall person behind them, trailing reluctantly with his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched around his ears against the cold. He looked over at Mindy, his eyes the only feature visible between the knit cap pulled down around his forehead and the collar zipped all the way up to his nose.

“Keep walking, Eli. I’m not talking to you!” Mindy barked. Under her breath she added, “For once.”

“Who is that?” I asked as the boy scowled and stormed off in the opposite direction of Jason and Mystery Blond.

Mindy tossed her hair with a vengeance. “A slimy, little vandalizing perv.” She turned her glare back to Jason. “They’re a family reunion of losers.”

Charlie shook her pompom in Mindy’s face. “Aw, my Templeton wifey loves and defends me.” She turned to me and nudged my arm. “Aren’t exes great?” she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

I looked down at the wool blanket folded over my arm and rolled a fuzz ball between my thumb and the bulk of my mitten. “Speaking of that. Do you think Jordan will be suspicious if I start talking to TJ? I mean, do you think it’s obvious that something’s up if I’m hanging out with someone I never really talked to before?”

Charlie side-eyed me and raised an eyebrow. “Suspicious or jealous?”

Damn her. Years of friendship had totally given her the same X-ray vision my mom had when it came to my feeble attempts at being sly.

“Either, I guess.”

Charlie shrugged. “Honestly, I think the only time that ass feels anything is when he’s admiring his own reflection. The way he ended things sucked, but if you’re gonna hang out with TJ because you’re hoping Jordan will notice, don’t. Especially not if you want TJ to trust you.”

I sighed. She was right, of course, but I pouted anyway. When Jordan broke it off, he told me it had been fun, but we weren’t working anymore. He’d actually used those words—it’s been fun. Like we’d gone on a ride together at Disney and he’d enjoyed it, but not enough to keep him from trying every other godforsaken ride in the park. It killed me that every time I turned around he’d be flirting with another girl like he couldn’t be happier to be free, and I went to bed every night wondering what I’d done wrong and how I could make him feel even half of my hurt.

“Gotta run,” Charlie said as the cheerleading squad clapped their way into formation. She threw an arm around my neck and gave me a quick squeeze. “My parents have to bounce at halftime. Can I bum a ride home with you?”

“Of course.”

“Let me go check on your brother,” Mindy said. “I think he got lost.”

My mind stayed on our conversation as I scooted into the bleachers and unfolded the blanket across my lap. Nick had said the best way to make someone care about you is to get over them, but Nick talked a big game for someone who practically wet himself every time he got within ten feet of a cute cheerleader.

And then there was the problem of faking being over someone not being the same as actually getting over them. So why waste my energy on another lie?

Before I could answer my own question, a lidded Styrofoam cup appeared under my nose, and I looked up to see Nick smirking and shaking his head. “I think some guy just tried to sell me drugs,” he said.

I took the hot chocolate from him. “What? What happened?”

He scooted onto the bleacher next to me and took a sip of his drink, then sputtered. “Shit, that’s hot.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyway, I got a text message, so I went around to the side of the Snack Shack to put my stuff down on one of the picnic benches and answer it. I’m standing there, minding my own business, and this kid says ‘I have the stuff here if you want it.’ I didn’t see anyone so I’m like, ‘What the fuck? Are you talking to me?’ Then I see this shadow around the corner and he goes, ‘Do you have the money?’ So I start walking toward him to see what the hell he’s talking about and he says, ‘My bad’ and freaking bolts—like, climbed over the fence and bolted. Fucking weird.”

A finger tapped Nick’s shoulder. “Um, did he bolt before or after you traded my cocoa for some crack?” Mindy asked.

Nick bent forward, searching the area around his seat. “Shit. I must’ve left yours at the Snack Shack. Be right back.” Mindy scooted in next to me while he trotted down the bleachers.

The next time he came back, he wasn’t alone.

“What’s she doing here?” Mindy asked.

I followed her gaze. Nick was walking toward us, holding Mindy’s hot chocolate in one hand and pointing in our direction with the other. Next to him stood a frantic-looking Kendall Keene.

“What the…” I murmured. “She’s supposed to be with TJ.”

Kendall broke away from Nick’s side the moment she spotted us and made a mad dash toward me. She literally tossed the blanket off my lap and almost pulled my arm out of its socket.

“Marisa, you have to come with me right now!”

“Holy—Jesus, Kendall, what’s going on?”

I barely had time to scoop my purse off the ground before she had me half sitting, half standing with my arm jutting out like a broken marionette.

“I’ll explain in a minute. Please hurry!”

I threw a confused glance at Mindy as Kendall whisked me away, briefly registering my brother pointing at Kendall while making Norman Bates–esque stabbing motions.

“What’s going on? I thought you were with TJ tonight,” I said as we scurried down the hill toward the parking lot.

“I was. We had dinner and I thought we were hanging out afterward, but he said something he ate didn’t agree with him. He’s full of shit, I know it, and I don’t mean that kind of shit.” She yanked at my coat sleeve, pulling both of us off the sidewalk alongside the school and behind a tree, and pointed into the distance. “I made him drop me off because I knew everyone was here. He didn’t even wait for me to get out of sight before he called someone on his cell phone. And look—he’s still sitting there! He’s going to leave and we have to follow him!”

I looked at her like she’d fully lost her shit, because no other reaction was appropriate. “Are you kidding me? I brought my brother with me, and I’m Charlie’s ride home. I can’t leave them here! And what’s this ‘we’ business? TJ can’t see you with me.”

She shook her head like she didn’t have time to worry about petty details. “Then you go, and I’ll think of something. Charlie’s parents are here, right? Maybe we can bum a ride with them.”

“They’re leaving at half—”

“Then give me your keys and I’ll follow him myself. He’s going to leave any minute!”

She’d gone from desperate to ragey in a hot second. Her voice had turned shrill and even in the shadows of the tree, I could see her cheeks flaming and her chest puffing as she held out her palm for my keys. One more second, and her eyes began to well. I couldn’t have her crying. This was the girl who, in third grade, had pushed Heather Upchurch’s face into the dirt for knocking me off my swing at recess. How could I let her cry?

“I’ll go, I’ll go. Get out of here before he sees you.”

Kendall exhaled with relief and sniffled. “Thank you.”

“Seriously, go. I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” she called over her shoulder as she jogged toward the field.

I turned away, mumbling under my breath that I couldn’t imagine how. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I slipped into Marisa Palmera, Private Eye mode and ducked between a row of cars. TJ had parked about ten spaces away from mine, and getting to my car unnoticed would be like making my way through the corn maze at his farm. I hoped he hadn’t seen or recognized my jalopy. A blinged-out rusty red heap isn’t exactly subtle. I made a mental note to put my Swarovski snowflake in the glove box for future stakeouts.

Future stakeouts? How many times did I plan on doing this?

Pushing the question to the back of my mind, I concentrated on closing the distance to my car. That is, until I became distinctly aware of the sound of footsteps behind me. I cursed under my breath as I realized this was probably the first trickle of the halftime exodus, and ducked against the tire of a huge black Hummer, trying to hide both the sound of my breathing and the frosty mist it made in the air. The scuffle of shoes continued past my hiding spot and I started to maneuver my way to the front of the vehicle to peek around the bumper, only to scurry back a second later when the sound of giddy giggling and shuffling feet sent my heart rate through the roof.

I called the three girls every name in the book, in my head of course, as they took their sweet time getting into the car on the opposite side of the Hummer, cackling away as they argued about whether or not one of the football players had been flirting with them.

“Did you see him take his helmet off and smile? OMG, I wanted to die!”

I could arrange for that.

“He was totally looking at Flora James when he did that. Get your head out of your ass, Mel.”

Excellent advice, Mel. Get a jump on that.

I crouched lower, contemplating whether I’d get myself killed if I tried to crawl around their car, when I heard something that made me stop cold.

“He’s such a player anyway. What do you expect when he hangs out with Mrs. Pace’s son? Jordan doesn’t even go to school here and he’s hooked up with half the student body. Did you see him? Who was that girl with him?”

Mrs. Pace’s son. Jordan was at the game, and I hadn’t even been there long enough to spot him because I was too busy squatting behind the wheel of someone’s Hummer. Not only that, he was at the game with a girl. My heart stopped midbeat.

“Who knows?” Mel answered. “If you’ve seen one bimbo with Jordan Pace, you’ve seen them all.”

My butt hit the ground with a despondent thump as the slamming of car doors muted the rest of their blathering.

I knew Jordan had been around before he and I got together. He was a flirt, and despite the way my whole body took flight when he turned his attention to me, I’d told myself not to fall into his trap. I had no intention of being a forgotten conquest. But then, after weeks of playful banter at our lockers, he’d pulled me aside at last year’s homecoming game and asked me to follow him. He’d led me by the hand to his car and opened up his trunk, where a box of heart pins sat open inside.

“My sister works at Prints Charming,” he’d said. I didn’t know it then, but she’d eventually hook me up with my job there. He poked the side of the box containing the pins. “They kept marking down the inventory on these, but they still had a ton. I thought you could make something nice out of them.” Then he hooked his fingers around mine and pulled me a little closer. His other hand moved to my waist. Our eyes locked. His voice was low when he spoke again. “I’m pretty sure you could make anything look good.”

He kissed me then, the most mind-melting kiss I’d experienced in my life. That was the night I went home and created the pin that captured every explosion of color I’d seen behind my eyes in the sheer rapture of that moment. The same pin that was probably still sitting at the bottom of his locker, forgotten and unappreciated. Like the girl he’d stayed with longer than any other girl ever. The girl he’d still dumped once the “fun” was over. Me.

I had wanted to believe I’d changed him. I wanted to believe that he’d had the decency to not cheat on me. Both notions seemed all the more ridiculous now.

The sound of another car door slamming reminded me that I hadn’t plopped down on cold asphalt for the fun of it, and I forced myself back into action. Jordan sure as hell wasn’t losing sleep over me, and I had a job to do. A job I realized I’d probably botched big-time as soon as I peeked around the hood of the Hummer.

TJ stood beside his car, leaning through the window of the vehicle next to him. One of his hands moved from inside the car to his back pocket, like he was slipping something inside.

But had the person in the car given it to him? And if so, what was that about?

I remembered Nick recounting his run-in at the Snack Shack. Had the boy in the shadows mistaken him for TJ? Could Snack Shack Guy and Hood Boy be one and the same? And if so, what was he selling? Was it drugs? Or was TJ’s hand cold and my imagination was working overtime for nothing?

TJ’s fingers had barely left his pocket before he got into his own driver’s seat and started the engine. I jumped up and dashed to my car as the other vehicle peeled out of its parking space. I couldn’t see the driver, or even the color of the car, but I saw the Templeton decal on the back windshield as clear as day. Whether it was the same car that had parked in front of TJ’s house the other night, I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t have time to worry about it. The car I needed to follow would get away if I didn’t move fast.

Somehow, even with my bumbling mitten hands, I managed to shove my key into the ignition and get onto the street before I lost sight of TJ. We wound through road after road, and when the surroundings became increasingly familiar, my breathing finally started to slow down. We were headed toward Maple Acres.

He was going home.

When TJ pulled into his driveway, I kept driving and looped back around, so I could park in the same spot that had served as my and Charlie’s observatory. TJ’s car still sat outside, as dark and lifeless as the starless sky above the barn. I turned off my car and waited.

And kept on waiting.

As the minutes stretched, I found myself rationalizing again. So what if TJ had called someone from the car after he dropped off Kendall? He’d said he felt sick—maybe he hadn’t felt well enough to drive and had been trying to get a ride. Or maybe his mother called, for crying out loud. Kendall always assumed the worst. As for the person he’d been talking to in the flesh, it very well could’ve been the same guy who’d visited the barn last time. If he was a Templeton student and a friend of TJ’s, it made perfect sense that they’d be talking. And the connection to Nick and the Snack Shack… Well, I was reaching, at best.

The crickets chirped, the minutes stretched, and I still had absolutely nothing worth reporting to Kendall.

I picked up my phone and typed in a text: Any chance TJ’s a druggie?

The phone started to ring, sounding extra loud in the stillness of the night.

“Kendall?”

The sound of muffled laughter met my ears.

“Marisa? Want to tell me why you’re using ‘TJ’ and ‘druggie’ in the same sentence?”

I sighed and slumped in my seat. “I don’t know. I saw him talking to someone in the parking lot after some guy tried to sell Nick drugs at the game tonight.”

This time she full-out belly laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, but there’s no way Mr. My-Body-Is-a-Temple-Save-the-Freaking-Whales was buying drugs. And no offense, sometimes your brother is whacked. Someone probably tried to offer him a damn hot dog.”

I brushed off her comment about Nick. She was no fonder of him than he was of her. “Thought so. I’m not staying much longer but I’ll call you if anything happens.”

I drummed my fingers against the base of the window and started my car as my thoughts turned back to the other conversation I’d witnessed tonight, the one between that girl Mel and her friends. When the last window in TJ’s house went dark, I drove away with no evidence that Kendall had been played for a fool. Me, on the other hand…that was a different story.