Pride and Popularity

clearly dying to know what was going on. I could tell we would have a long talk soon.

Zack’s little sister, Emma, was the first girl to “happen” by our table and nonchalantly drool over Taylor’s artwork. “Wow. You are so talented. I wish I could draw like that.”

I rolled my eyes when I saw that all Taylor had managed to do was a rough pencil sketch of the landscape we were all supposed to create with pastel chalk. Since this was his first full day back at school, he had a lot of catch-up work to do.

Anyway, I couldn’t believe it, but one by one, every girl in the class made it over to our table. Even though Taylor seemed a bit annoyed by the constant interruptions, I have to say he handled it all like a pro. Not one of those girls knew when she left our table that she had unwillingly caused him more pain by her actions. In fact, Taylor did such a good job smiling and small-talking back that each girl probably felt extra special and loved. I bet I know what they’ll be telling their friends after school, I thought. I had to admit the guy was charming.

Even Alyssa and Madison were not immune when he complimented them on their choice of subject or color. This became apparent as we were walking out of the classroom together and Madison asked, “I wonder who the next Miss Taylor Anderson will be?”

Without thinking, I answered, “Good grief. Can you imagine what she’d have to put up with? The last thing I would want to be is popular. Sure, having friends is cool, and having a lot of friends is even better. But to have to be constantly in the spotlight because you’re part of the ‘in’ crowd? Er, no thank you. My stint on stage was limited just to dancing, and personally, I would like to keep it that way.”

Madison was the first to catch my blunder. “So you’re worried Taylor will ask you to join him, huh?”

“What? No!”

“Methinks she protests too much,” Alyssa said, misquoting Shakespeare.

“Ha ha, you two,” I replied as we maneuvered our way through the crowded hallway. “You don’t know the half of it. I was so busy describing every detail of Blake this morning that I forgot to mention about the phone call I had from Taylor yesterday.”

Alyssa’s “What? You’re kidding!” was overpowered by Madison’s “No way!”

“Yep. I wasn’t home when he called, and I had an urgent message to call him back on his cell phone.”

Madison gasped. “Shut up. You have Taylor Anderson’s cell number?”

“Yeah.” Wait, I think I do. Did I throw it away?

“Tell us quick what happened. Did you call him back? What did he want?” Alyssa said as we approached my English class.

“It was a prank. Someone else posed as him and left his number, so when I called it was actually really embarrassing.”

Alyssa nearly choked. “What? Why would someone do that?”

“Was he nice about it?” Madison asked. “I mean, I imagine him just laughing it off, you know. He’s always so happy.”

Okay, now I feel really guilty. “Yeah, he was nice. Really nice. I was mad, though, and totally lost my cool. It ended up getting ugly—you have no idea. I blamed the whole thing on him, and then he said stuff to me. Anyway, we got into a big fight.”

Alyssa sighed. “Chloe, I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to us sooner. You—”

“So that explains that look you two shared,” Madison interrupted. “I have to say from where I sat, it was a pretty intense.”

“Yeah,” Alyssa said. “I know you really like Blake and all—plus he sounds amazing!—but I have to say there’s some serious chemistry between you and Taylor.”

Whatever. “Y–you’re crazy. Too much romantic drama for one day can leave everybody on the edge of their seats. Besides, even if I wanted him—which I don’t—there is no way Taylor likes me or ever will like me. Mark my words he’ll have another cheerleader girlfriend within a couple of days.”

“Uh, guys?” Madison said. “When did the bell ring?”

I looked up and glanced around the empty hall. We had stopped walking about five feet from my classroom door, which was shut. Everyone else was in class. “Uh-oh!”

“Bye!” Madison and Alyssa chimed, then hurried toward their classes.

I sneaked through the door and grabbed an empty desk in back. A few people noticed me, but no one decided to nark me out.

“Thanks,” I mouthed to a couple of the students and then shrugged at Ethan’s questioning look. I glanced to the front of the room. Mr. Young was proficiently writing a novel on the blackboard. As I hastily removed my AP World English book from my backpack, a folded piece of paper fell out of it. What is that? I leaned over and picked it up. On the outside it read:

For: C. Elizabeth H.

From: T. Darcy A.

There, now u know my middle name, so we’re even. Blackmail, only IF necessary. PLEASE KEEP SECRET.

You’ve got to be kidding me. He must’ve sneaked this in during art class. Quickly, I slouched down in my chair and glanced back at Mr. Young, who was still furiously writing. I opened my English book, unfolded the note, and placed it inside the book. Snuggling the book next to me, I pretended to be totally engrossed in English literature.

Dear C,

First I would like to apologize for being such a jerk on the phone yesterday. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Honestly, I didn’t mean it. It was just the heat of the moment. Do you ever wish you could just rewind sometimes and start over?

Right after you hung up, I received another phone call from Anne. She’d had her own call from someone (maybe the same person who called your house?) who told her that not only had I been flirting with you at school, but they also made up some crazy story that I was cheating on her with you. I won’t go into all the gory details— just believe me when I say they were bad.

I kept trying to get Anne to listen to me. But after a good thirty minutes of listening to her rant and rave and viciously attack someone she didn’t know, someone who I explained didn’t do anything, I decided it was time to break up with her. How can I have a girlfriend who won’t trust me?

I am writing this as a warning, I guess, because what you said last night was true. People talk about me and whatever happens to me. It’s kind of annoying, I know. I’m sorry to put you in the middle of it all. I will find who did this. But until then, I wanted you to know the real story behind all the other stories you’ll hear today.

Thanks for reading.

So sorry,

T

“Miss Hart? Excuse me. Ahem. Miss Hart!”

“What?” I jerked forward. As I sat up, I almost dropped my English book in the process. Mr. Young and the rest of the class were staring right at me. Oh, no! I’ve been caught.

“Would you like to share what you were reading just now with the class, Miss Hart?” Mr. Young leaned up against his desk with his arms folded and waited.

“No, sir.” I gulped. Please don’t make me read it.

“Miss Hart, are you aware of the rules in this room?”

“Um, yes.” I glanced over and caught Ethan winking at me. I think he thought it would make me feel better. It didn’t.

“Then you do realize that if you don’t read that letter out loud to the class, you must forfeit it to me?”

“Yes, Mr. Young.”

“By not reading it, you will also have to face any consequences I choose to give you. Are you willing to face