The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,36

the only one taken aback by it. “That’ll be great.”

“Don’t do that,” I tell her. “Be honest. I know you want to be honest.”

“It’s a little 1950s-housewife-slash-baby-bump-at-graduation-y. Sorry.”

I clink my cup to Melanie’s shoulder. She is the first person at school to speak the truth and doesn’t belong to the cult of college sweethearts.

“None of us should be making life-changing decisions. Who knows what’s going to happen at college? That’s part of the fun,” she says. “You shouldn’t decide your future before it’s already happened. I don’t know, it almost seems like Fred is trying too hard, you know? Why Bartlett?”

I try explaining that his dad is an alumnus, but my reasoning sounds like an excuse. Why didn’t Fred tell me this before?

“Worse comes to worst, Bartlett is a big enough school to start over.” She leans back on the windshield like it’s a lounge chair. I feel more relaxed just being with her. “But you and Fred will be fine. I wouldn’t worry. There’s no rush.”

“Thank you! I thought we were moving fast since he already said ‘I love you.’”

She sits up. My eyes bulge. Did I just spit that out? What is going on with me? Usually my filter is flawless.

“You said ‘I love you’? That’s great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I eek out a smile.

She gauges my reaction. “Or not?”

“He said I love you. I’m still working on it.”

Melanie doesn’t flinch, not even from the gust of crisp wind. No reaction. No judgment. “Like I said, there’s no rush.”

“You’re just the first person I’ve told it to, besides my sister.” I’ve been spending weeks debating where and when to bring this up with Val, and here I just say it like I’m talking about the weather. How is it so easy to talk to this girl who I barely know? Maybe we’ve passed that threshold, and we’re instant friends. Like we’re supposed to be.

“Hey, I get it. I won’t tell a soul. I’m not into gossip.”

“I figured that.” I plunk my empty cup on the roof.

***

I glare at Jake in the hall while he’s with some guy friends. His back is to me, but it still feels good. He made an idiot out of me, out of my business. He was so convincing, though. I can usually weed out the jerks. He sounded so genuine, like his heart was going to rupture if he couldn’t date Paulina Cory. He has no reputation for jerk behavior. Is he really the guy who would date one sister just to get closer to the other?

“Any updates?” Bari taps me on the shoulder. With all my clients having romantic upheavals, she got lost in the shuffle.

I shake my head no. “Not yet.”

“Nothing? The Snowflake Dance is coming up.”

“Bari, you lied to him about being a Red Sox fan.”

“But I didn’t lie about the fantasy football.” Her voice always has a nasally tinge to it, yet now it’s exacerbated.

We look around, make sure nobody heard that outburst. I don’t have the capacity or patience to deal with her. Val was right. Jay dumped her for being a bitch.

“My relationship engineering doesn’t come with a warranty. You break it, you buy it.”

I try to walk away, but she holds on to my backpack. Anger singes her eyes. “So, you’re just going to ignore the blatant sabotage and framing?” She clamps her free hand on her hip. “I can’t believe it.”

She gets eerily calm. I tread lightly. “What?”

“Someone actually got the better of you. Thanks for nothing, loser.” She stomps down the hall, causing heads to turn.

Including Jake’s. He has a nervous look and approaches me with caution.

“Hey, Becca, can we talk?”

“No. We can’t. You disgust me. Have fun chasing after Sofia.”

I pity the teachers trying to teach this week. It’s the Monday before Thanksgiving, and whenever there’s a shortened week, students instantly stop caring. The hallways buzz with holiday excitement. First, Thanksgiving; then, holiday parties; and finally, a nice two-week-long Christmas break.

I pass some juniors trying to act ironically cool by wearing pilgrim pipe hats. I let myself laugh, forgetting all the stress of the past few weeks. I feel an arm link with mine, and there’s Val’s face brighter than a firework. Seeing her makes me realize how rare these moments have been this year. Where have we been?

“Becca.”

“Val.”

“Are you ready for this?”

“For what?”

She stops dead in the hall. She prepares herself. It’s opening night on whatever she’s about to tell me. Val holds up her hands like she’s pointing to the words on a