Populazzi - By Elise Allen Page 0,43

I didn't see them during my fifth periods with Nate, so I thought they didn't see me.

But they're the Populazzi. They see everything.

In precalc Thursday morning, the day I got Nate's MP3, I was getting ready for class when I caught a strong whiff of fruity vanilla-jasmine. I looked up. Trista had spun around in her seat.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

She was looking right at me, but I was sure she was talking to someone else. If I smiled or responded in any way, I'd just call attention to myself and look like a complete loser. So I tried to make myself invisible. I went stone-faced and returned to my notebook.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed Trista kept looking my way. Then she turned back around.

Only then did I realize she'd been saying hi to me. Four months I'd been sitting behind Trista, and now today she'd acknowledged my existence.

I felt a moment of panic when I realized I'd just blown off a Supreme Populazzi. Then I realized it was perfect. I was supposed to be a dark and mysterious DangerZone. If I'd reacted like my normal self, it would have broken the mystique.

For the first time ever, my insecurity had served me well.

I texted Claudia the first second I could. Trista's attention could only be because of Nate. The Ladder was already working.

"Did you know Nate writes his own songs?" I asked Archer. "He played one for me yesterday." We were in his basement playing Ping-Pong. Now that we didn't eat lunch together, after school was the main time we hung out—after I stopped at Wegmans to wash my face and change back into my regular clothes. No way could Bina see me in my full emo-gear. She'd be on the phone to my mom immediately.

"Of course I know he writes his own songs. I'm the one who knows him, remember?"

He slammed a shot to the far corner of the table. I had to dive to try to get it. I missed.

"Nice one." I picked up the ball and blew the long bangs off my eye, but they flopped right back. "You think Bina has a barrette around? I can't see with these stupid bangs in my face."

"That's what you get for mutilating your head," he muttered.

"You really think it's that awful? I like it." I served the ball. "Nate likes it."

"Oh, well, if Nate likes it, it has to be great."

What was with him? "You're very pissy today, Professor Higgins."

"Don't call me that."

"How about Doctor Frankenstein? Either way, you should be proud. Your creation is a huge success!" I slammed the ball with a little topspin and won the point. "Yes!"

"It is not my creation," Archer said. "What you're doing is all your idea."

"But you were my enabler. I couldn't have pulled it off without you. That makes you just as responsible."

I thought I was being light and playful, but Archer turned serious.

"Okay," he said. "If I'm responsible, then I have a say. I say you stop.

"Stop ... what?"

"Stop everything! Stop the clothes. Stop the hair. Stop hanging out with Nate. Just ... stop!"

I couldn't believe we were having this conversation. "Are you seriously telling me who I can and can't hang out with?"

Archer thought about it for a second, then crossed his arms and glared at me defiantly.

"Yes, I am," he said. "I'm telling you I don't want you hanging out with Nate."

I felt angry tears burning behind my eyes. Archer had already made it absolutely clear he didn't want to go out with me. That still hurt so much, but I'd made myself cool with it so we could be friends again. Now I was finally starting to get over him—which was still hard—and he was acting like a jealous boyfriend? No. That was completely unfair.

I was shaking, and I fought to keep my voice steady. "We're not going out, Archer. You don't get to tell me stuff like that."

He didn't say anything for a long time.

"I have to do homework," he finally said. "You should go."

"Yeah, I should."

I got out as fast as I could and cursed myself for letting him get to me again. A couple tears slipped out, but I wiped them away. I cranked Nate's song on my iPod full blast and screamed along with the lyrics as I drove home.

The next day was Friday. I sat in my usual spot in English, but I didn't even look at Archer. I don't know if he was trying to look at me. I wouldn't

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