The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,13

sabotaged his account. I’ve called him Jayby in front of his friends before. But then…”

“There’s a ‘but then’?” I ask.

Bari looks away, the memories piercing at her. Another pair of tears splashes down her face.

“What is it?”

Bari composes herself as best she can. My nerves flail inside me, awaiting the answer.

“He found my secret.”

I lean forward so that both elbows take up the console. My heart soars with anticipation.

“My family are…Boston Red Sox fans.”

“No!”

Bari hangs her head. “It’s true. My parents are originally from Gloucester. Dyed-in-the-wool Patriot fans, Celtics fans, and especially Red Sox fans. I was named after Jack Barry, a Red Sox player.”

My mouth plummets through the car onto the asphalt. The Yankees-Red Sox rivalry is huge in my area, and it’s kind of like the Montagues and Capulets, except fewer people have died because of it. I think. Around here, you’re better off telling people you hate bagels and diners than liking the Red Sox. I don’t like baseball, and I still would never root for the Red Sox. Jay is a diehard Yankees fan. He’s been rocking the same worn blue baseball hat since sixth grade. I’m too afraid to imagine his reaction.

“I keep all that stuff private, though. My family knows not to make a big deal of it around here. Three years ago, I went to the Yankees-Red Sox game with my cousins, and we made a video talking trash about our rivals. I pretended to wipe my butt with Derek Jeter’s jersey.”

I stifle a laugh. When I woke up this morning, I did not expect to hear that sentence uttered.

“It’s not funny! My cousin Ricky uploaded it to YouTube, but he swore he made the video private. My name wasn’t even mentioned in the description or title. How did you find it?”

“I didn’t! Because I didn’t do this!” I reach over and grab her hand. She tries to yank away, but I won’t let her. “I’m so sorry, Bari.”

“I was planning to tell him. Eventually. We’ve only been together for a few months. I know how sensitive he is about his teams. I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

She should’ve told me, too, when I was putting them together. Although I don’t know how I could’ve planned ahead for this issue. The rivalry goes beyond us and Ashland. It’s a hundred years of history. Even my dad hates the Red Sox.

“Give Jay some time to cool off.”

“I was planning on making him lasagna noodles tonight. He hates lasagna, but loves the plain noodles. So weird, but so Jay.” Her sadness hardens into a look that makes me crinkle into a foil ball. “We’re done.”

I think about the dreaded message: This’ll teach you to ignore me, Jayby. She had a point; that was written from her point of view, and I could imagine Bari getting vengeful about being ignored over sports. Lord knows it doesn’t take her long to get worked up over something. Whoever did this wanted Jay to get angry fast and wanted to pin the blame squarely on Bari. “I’m going to make this right.”

“I have a right to know who’s messing with me. Who would want Jay to dump me?”

“I’ll find this person.”

FIND ME. The candy heart pops into my head for a split second. Looks like Bari and I are both searching for someone. At least in Bari’s case, I’m already picturing the lead suspect.

***

I come upon the fight at the base of the main stairwell, the spot in school that can net you the most attention. The girl hugs herself and won’t let her boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend now) get near her. Tears whirr from her eyes.

“Stay away! I saw the picture!” Rage shivers behind her words.

“I swear, I haven’t seen her in months. We weren’t hanging out this weekend.”

“Stop lying!” she screeches. I and everyone watching this fight covers their ears. Somewhere, a dog barks. The girl pulls up her phone. “How do you explain these, then?”

I don’t have to crane my neck. The girl holds out her phone and spins around for all the spectators to see. Pictures of this guy and a lithe blonde in a bikini fill the screen.

“I don’t know where they came from. That’s not my profile.”

“That’s because you deleted them this morning. I took screenshots so I could bust your cheating ass.”

He blushes profusely, but it seems to me that’s due to embarrassment rather than guilt. I’ve seen, and caused, many a break-up in my day, and at this point, a true