Populazzi

Chapter Twenty-Two



Claudia was my best friend in the universe. I loved, admired, and respected her for a million different reasons.

And I now knew she was seriously mentally ill.

"Is this, like, alterna-Claudia from another dimension? Did you forget I'm grounded for life?"

"You also had your clothing, makeup, computer, cell phone, and bedroom door surgically removed," said Claudia, "and yet they've all been reattached."

"This is different. Everything I got back, I need for school. You're talking about a party. You really think Karl would let me go to a party?"

"Of course not. You don't ask Karl. Ask your mom. How did you do on finals?"

"Great. Nailed 'em."

"Tell her! Have her call your teachers! Prove how trustworthy you are. Even when you were sneaking around, you remained steadfast to your core values of industry and erudition!"

Claudia knew my mom well. I couldn't deny this tack had a good shot at working. But there was still one problem.

"Eddie didn't invite me to this party. He invited emo-girl Cara, half of the DangerZone Nate-and-Cara two-pack."

"Did Eddie say he only wanted you there in emo-garb? Did he say you had to show up with Nate?"

"Did he have any clue I was only playing dress-up and about to break up with Nate? No. So he wouldn't have specified. The prerequisites were implied."

"You think he's going to turn you away at the door?"

"He might! And it doesn't matter, because I'm not going by myself to a Populazzi party. Period."

"Of course not," Claudia said. "I'm going with you."

"You're ... what?"

But I was already sold. Claudia and I had dreamed about getting invited to a Populazzi party since forever. Actually going to one with her? Getting to show her all the Chrysella people she'd only heard about and seen in pictures? The two of us hanging out and laughing about the Penultimates and Supreme Populazzi, even as we were embraced and accepted by them?

"You really would go with me?" I asked.

"Sure! It would be fun. Plus then I get to pick out your next Ladder target in person. Much better way to choose."

"Done! If you go, I'll go. I'll talk to my mom tonight."

I said it like it would be the easiest thing in the world, but even finding face time for the conversation wasn't simple. I was required to go to my room the minute I got home, but Mom was downstairs prepping for dinner. If I called to her, Karl would know something was up and thwart it. I could toss her a note if she passed by, but again, the Karl Factor. If he picked it up, the cause would be lost from the start.

Luckily, Karl's bowels helped me out. A half hour after dinner ended, he disappeared into the upstairs bathroom with the newspaper. I had at least a good fifteen minutes to make my case. I slipped down to the kitchen. Mom was finishing up the last of the dishes.

"You're supposed to be up in your room," she said.

"I know. I just have to talk to you about something."

I had to make an argument that was both unassailable and concise. I started by taking full responsibility for my mistake. I had lied, I had sneaked, I had betrayed her and Karl's trust, and that was wrong. Consequently, I had accepted my punishment without complaint. If I wasn't at school, I was at home. If I was at home and it wasn't mealtime, I was in my room. I told Mom I recognized she had already done a great deal to make the punishment more reasonable, and I very much appreciated it.

Then I tiptoed toward the dicey stuff.

"I'm totally fine staying with the punishment as long as you and Karl see fit," I began, "with ideally one exception."

Now Mom was suspicious. "Oh?"

I took a deep breath and explained that a guy named Eddie Riegert was throwing a big school postfinals party on Saturday...

The word "party" was too much for Mom. "No, Cara," she said. "After what you did, I hardly think you've earned a party."

I wouldn't let myself smile, but she'd given me the perfect opening.

"I get that. To earn a party now, I'd have to do something totally over the top—like ace all my exams and get straight As."

"I don't know if even that would do it, Cara."

"Really? But you said your biggest problem with me sneaking around is that you can't trust me. Even when I say I was doing it for a guy and I wasn't getting into trouble, you don't think you can believe me because I proved I'm a liar, right?"

"Exactly."

"Okay—but there's no way I could have straight As for the whole term if I'd been busy getting in trouble. If I'd done the stuff you're afraid of, it would show in my grades."

Mom pondered this. "I guess we'll see when we get your report card," she said.

"Yes, but that will be too late for the party. And Claudia was planning to come with me on Saturday, which would make it pretty special."

The addition of Claudia didn't sway Mom at all. She was not going to reward good grades on my word alone.

I heard the toilet flush. I was out of time. "Call my teachers tomorrow, that's all I ask. See what they say, then let's talk again. Please." I raced to my room and leaped onto my bed just as I heard Karl open his bathroom door.

Out of the next twenty-four hours, I spent twenty-one of them in my room. Normally a Friday without school would be amazing, but under this punishment, nonschool days were torture. I kept listening to hear if Mom was going to call my teachers, but I couldn't tell.

After dinner, though, I heard Mom and Karl talking in their room. The door was closed, so all I could make out were voices. Mom's was calm; Karl's was angry.

When the conversation ended, Mom came into my room and told me the news. My teachers—whom I now loved— had apparently raved about me. They'd noticed my temporary change in style but said it hadn't affected my work at all. Though Mr. Woodward of course had to tell her my "snitty quotient" rose proportionally with the amount of makeup on my face.

Madame Renault and Mr. Woodward were the only ones who'd already marked their exams, but each had given me an A for both the test and the term. As for physics, AP U.S. history, and precalc, my teachers had told Mom that unless I tanked the exams entirely, which they doubted, I'd have As in their classes, too.

"None of this changes how disappointed I am in your behavior," Mom said. "But you're right: it proves you kept your priorities straight. Karl, of course, doesn't agree with me. He doesn't even believe I spoke to your teachers."

"But you did. So can I go to the party?"

"Yes—provided you agree to some conditions..."

The conditions didn't start out so terrible. I had to be home by eleven—early, but fine. I had to stay home and in my room until the party; Claudia could meet me and we'd leave from here. Also fine. The minute Claudia and I got to the party, we had to call Mom. Easy.

"From a landline," Mom said, "so I can see the caller ID and know where you are. You said the boy who's having the party is named Eddie Riegert?"

She had a good memory. "Yeah. But what if his caller ID is blocked?"

"Dial star eighty-two first; that unblocks it. And I want to speak with an adult."

An adult? Like one of Eddie's parents? Would they even be there? Even if they were, I was sure they wouldn't be hanging out around the kids. I'd have to ask Eddie to get one to chat with my mom on the phone. I would be the biggest dork in history. Awesome way to start my first and most certainly last Populazzi party.

"Cara? Those are my conditions. Yes or no?"

What could I say? I agreed.

The next day I had nothing but time before eight o'clock, when Claudia would arrive, and nowhere to be but my bedroom and bathroom. The answer? A day of beauty. I must have spent two hours in the bathtub with my new literary obsession, an Elizabeth George mystery. I drained a little of the tub every time it got tepid, then refilled it with steaming hot water. I gave myself a manicure and pedicure, I did an exfoliating body scrub and a face mask, and I devoted hours to figuring out the grand puzzle of my hair. While the relaxed locks fell perfectly for the emo look, without the makeup and clothes to match, I just looked mullet-y. I couldn't wait for my curl to come back, but I still had up to two months. A curling iron might have helped, but I didn't own one, and neither did my mom.

After massive wrestling, pulling several muscles in my arms, and desperately wishing I were double-jointed, I somehow managed to work my thicker top layers into braids that came together in the back and spilled downward. It looked pretty, actually. Kind of girlie but sophisticated.

My wardrobe had been severely limited by Mom and Karl's culling, but I scrounged together a pair of black ballet flats, dark jeans, and a super-cute purple V-necked top with ruffle pintucks around the neckline. Very casual, very flattering, very normal so I wouldn't have trouble getting out of the house. A little makeup and I was ready—just as Claudia rang the doorbell.

Mom answered it. I, of course, remained quarantined upstairs until we actually left.

"Claudia!" my mom gushed. "Look at you! You look gorgeous! I can't even believe it! Not that you don't always look beautiful, of course, but..."

Interesting. In eleven years of friendship I'd never heard my mom sound so shocked over Claudia's looks. I was dying to peek, but I wouldn't do anything that might get Mom to even consider changing her mind about the party.

I didn't have to wait long before Claudia struck a pose in my bedroom doorway. "Ready for a Populazzi party?" she asked.

"Claudia!" I screamed, and immediately understood why my mom had freaked. First of all, Claudia's hair was unbraided. It cascaded in gorgeous waves halfway down her back and framed her face, magnifying her delicate features.

Then there was her outfit. On top she wore a little charcoal-colored wool pleated jacket with ruffled trim along its front. It was beautiful, and as I squealed my approval, she took off the jacket and spun around to show me the rest: a short-sleeved gray babydoll dress, the bodice a few shades darker than the skirt. Its scoop neck showed off a simple silver chain with an angel wing charm.

The effect was subtle, sophisticated—and completely unlike anything I had seen her wear in the last decade. Claudia shunned fashion. It was too standardized for her. She chose unique outfits based on the emotional reactions they inspired in her. Denim jumpers made her look about five years old, especially with her braids. But they made her feel playful and adventurous, so they were a regular part of her wardrobe. They rotated in with vintage floor-length dresses, flouncy skirts with ruffled tops, and her favorite camouflage capri pants that she swore paired perfectly with anything.

I always thought Claudia looked great. What she didn't look like was anyone else.

Tonight she could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. I was amazed.

"You went shopping!" I cried.

"I thought the occasion warranted it. What do you think?"

"How does it make you feel?"

Claudia grinned. "Popular."

There it was. That's what this evening would be for us. For one night we'd rewrite history and be the girls we always should have been—the girls we'd have been if The Incident had never happened.

I couldn't wait.

We ran downstairs, both of us calling out goodbyes to Karl. He had barricaded himself behind his bedroom door in a show of dissent.

"Remember, call me from a landline the minute you get there," Mom said, "and I need to speak to an adult. Back by eleven!"

"Got it," I said. "Bye!"

"You know we can't ask for this guy's parents," Claudia said once we were in the car.

"I know, but I have to do what she says. I get caught in a lie tonight and I'm dead."

"I could pretend to be his mother," Claudia said. "I could do a fake voice."

She proceeded to try out several fake voices, all of which sounded exactly like Claudia putting on a fake voice.

We were doomed.

We pulled up to Eddie's car-lined street and found a spot about four houses away. Our time was running out. If mom didn't get her phone call soon, she'd get suspicious.

"One other option," Claudia said. "We call your mom and say we're coming back because there's no adult supervision. We miss the party, but it's better than admitting the truth to the Populazzi. And it makes you look astoundingly responsible."

I heard her, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was distracted by the two guys racing around the front yard next to us.

Two guys in BeastSlayer cloaks.

"Cara?" Claudia said. "What do you think? Should we call your mom?"

"Not yet. I might have an idea."

I got out of the car and beelined for the guys, who had unsheathed giant swords and were now in the heat of battle.

"Hey," I said, then screamed and leaped away as the follow-through from a parry nearly gutted me.

"Are you crazy?" Gabe Friedman screamed, throwing back the hood of his cloak. "I could have killed you! These are real broadswords!"

"They're fairly dulled," Robert Schwarner said, "but at the right angle and velocity, they could still offer a decent disem-boweling. I have another if you'd care to join. Or perhaps you and your fellow damsel might prefer the quarterstaff." He turned to Claudia. "My lady?"

"Hi," Claudia said. "Cara, can I talk to you?"

She pulled me several feet away and whisper-hissed, "Two words: Happy Hopeless."

"I'm aware. But this particular Happy Hopeless also has a deep voice my mom won't recognize."

"So you want to bring an uninvited Happy Hopeless to a Populazzi party, then ask for the phone so he can call your mom? What are you trying to do, immolate the Ladder?"

A high-pitched growly voice piped up from behind Claudia. "Help you I can. Yes! Mmmmm!"

I blushed bright red. Yes, Robert was a Happy Hopeless, but I would never call him that to his face. I liked him. But with the stealth of a true BeastSlayer, he had crept into earshot of our conversation and was now answering us as Yoda.

"Robert, oh my God—I am so sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that. I know, that sounds even worse. You have every right to be angry—"

"Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." Robert looked me in the eye. "I sense much fear in you."

I gaped. For not the first time, I wondered if Robert was my own personal Dalai Lama.

Claudia didn't share my curiosity. "We need to leave," she said.

"You don't," Robert said in his regular voice. "Eddie and I used to be friends. I know the house. We can go in the side door, I'll use the laundry room phone to call your mom, then you go join the party and I'll slip out. No one will know I was there with you."

"Are you kidding?" Gabe said. "Why would you do anything to help them? They're users!"

Robert ignored him. "I'll be right back."

"Fine," Gabe retorted. "You're only giving me a chance to perfect my technique. When you return, you'll eat cold steel!"

But we were already crossing the street toward Eddie's house. I still felt guilty.

"You're not horribly insulted by what we said?" I asked Robert.

"Why?" he replied.

I couldn't answer without insulting him even more, so I didn't bother.

Robert, Claudia, and I kept to the shadows. No one saw us approaching Eddie's side door. It was locked, but Robert knew the extra key was hidden behind the bushes, in the casing for an outdoor electrical outlet. We went right into the laundry room. Sure enough, there was a phone on the wall.

Robert said the Riegerts didn't block caller ID, so I gave him the number and he dialed. I worried a little that someone might hear us, but music blared so loudly from the other room that we had to be okay.

"Hello, Mrs. Leonard?" Robert asked.

"Ralston." I hissed Karl's last name at the same time my mom must have.

"Ralston, of course—I'm sorry. This is Brad Riegert. Your daughter, Cara, asked me to call you and let you know she arrived safely ... Yes, my wife and I are here for the night ... Not at all. I appreciate your concern ... Of course. Take care now."

Robert handed me the phone. Apparently Mom wanted to talk to me. I hoped it was something quick. I was in awe that Robert had managed to say so much without once invoking Star Wars—I didn't want to push my luck.

"Hi, Mom."

"I'm proud of you, Cara," Mom said. "Thank you. Have a great time."

"Thanks, Mom. We will."

I hung up and turned to thank Robert, but he was already out the door. I turned to Claudia and smiled.

"Should we go in?"