Populazzi

Chapter Four



"Hey, Archer ... that was great," I said.

"Oh!" Archer wheeled around and his cheeks flushed red. "Cara..." He turned back toward his friends at the table with ... Was that a pleading look?

Of course it was. I was just some random new girl. He'd only hung out with me this morning to be nice, and now I was bothering him in front of all his friends. I felt my cheeks start to match his.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have ... It's just ... the poem was really good. Bye."

"Wait!" Archer said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Excellent. Compliment paid and accepted. That had to be a good first step, right? Only problem was I hadn't planned anything else, so Archer and I smiled and said nothing for just this side of forever.

"Hi!" said a sweet-faced girl across the table. "I'm Sue."

Sue had blond shoulder-length hair and big blue eyes and was round without being heavy. Everything about her seemed sweet and nonintimidating. I liked her immediately.

"Cara," I said.

"Right, sorry," Archer said. "Cara, this is Sue, Ember, Molly, Doug, Tom, Dinah, and Noah. Sue-Ember-Molly-Doug-Tom-Dinah-Noah, this is Cara. She's new."

I'd never in a million years remember all those names. Except maybe Sue's.

"That's great," Sue said. "Did you just move here?"

I answered her, but I was distracted by two of the other girls. They kept exchanging smiles and giving me weird looks that made me wonder if I had Zone bar stuck in my teeth. I tried to check with my tongue while still keeping up a conversation with Sue. It didn't work. I lost track of what I was saying and tripped over every other word.

I sounded like an idiot. I needed to get away before I ruined any chance I had.

"Okay, so..."

That was it: my whole exit line. Very memorable. I grimaced and was about to head out when Archer jumped in his seat.

"Ow!" He winced, then glared at the girl next to him. She was one of the Smilers. Archer pushed back his chair.

"Actually, I'm done," he told me. "I'll come, too. Just let me clear my tray—"

"I've got it," Smiler said.

"Thanks," Archer said through gritted teeth, then walked out with me. He limped a little on one leg.

"So ... have you come up with anything more clever?" I asked.

"More clever?" he asked worriedly. "Oh! Actually I was going to, but I thought maybe you wouldn't come to lunch, and I didn't want to be stood up."

"Very nice."

"So I know you've already been here for half a day, but have you had the official tour?" he asked.

"Nope. I'm still absolutely clueless about where I'm going."

"Perfect. Walk this way." He lurched like a hunchback, then quickly stood up and gave me an abashed smile. "Stupid joke. You don't actually have to walk that way."

"Young Frankenstein," I said. "I love that movie."

"Which means you have excellent cinematic taste. But you still don't have to walk that way. Unless you want to," he added.

"I'll pass. Let's tour."

Archer's tour took the rest of the period. Not that there was so much to see, really, but he presented each spot with elaborate tales of its deep, rich, and completely fabricated history. Like the science lab that once burned to the ground six times in a single year in bizarre Bunsen burner accidents. Or the theater that was home to riots after the first faculty production of Hair, complete with full frontal nudity. Or the faculty bathrooms that were actually rigged with age-sensing alarms that triggered trapdoors whenever students entered—students that were never heard from again. At each stop, he ended with "and of course, George Washington slept here."

I groaned when the bell rang.

"Ah, the groan of disgust," Archer said. "The true sign of a perfect tour."

"No!" I laughed. "I love it. I'm sad it has to end."

"End? This was only the Chrysella Prep Historical Tour. You can also experience the majesty of our other offerings, like the Stars of Chrysella Tour, the Chrysella Ghost Tour, and of course, the Culinary Tour through the Chrysella kitchen, complete with tasting menu."

"Sounds absolutely hideous," I said. "I'm in."

"Excellent. I'll make a note of your reservation. See you later?"

"That'd be great."

I was still smiling halfway through French class when Madame Renault leaned on my desk and wailed, "Que pensez-vous, Cara? Aimeriez-vous partager avec la classe?"

"Oui, madame!" I quickly replied. "Je pensais que j'aime beaucoup mieux cette classe que celle de mon ancienne École."

"Merci, mademoiselle!" Madame Renault said with a proud smile and a wink. The rest of the class was glaring at me. I knew I hadn't made any friends kissing up to the teacher, but she had asked what I was thinking, and since I couldn't answer her question honestly without humiliating myself, I figured I'd make her happy and tell her how much more I liked her class than the one at my old school.

Archer and I didn't have any more classes together, and I didn't see him before I drove home. Not that I stuck around for long—I was dying to call Claudia and give her the full update.

"Brava!" she cheered. "I'm inwardly throwing roses at your feet!"

"Thank you. I'm inwardly Bactine-ing all the thorn scratches on my shins."

"Pessimist," Claudia said. "Remember, this is just the beginning. The Ladder only works if you work the Ladder."

"Pithy."

"Great truths always are. Promise me you'll hang out with him before class tomorrow."

"If I see him, I will," I said, as if I wouldn't have tried to do that anyway.

Claudia wasn't the only one happy with me that evening. My stepfather, Karl, was practically glowing as he plopped down next to me at the dinner table.

"What?" I asked. I wondered if he'd slipped away to Atlantic City for the day and hit a winning streak.

Karl had been in my life since I was four, and in all ways except the most technical, he was my dad. My actual dad was called "the Sperm Donor" by my mom—this despite the facts that they'd been married for ten years and my grandmother swore Mom had been crazy in love with him when they met. Dad now lived in Media, in the huge house he shared with the Bar Wench and their two astoundingly spoiled sons. He'd met his new wife at a bar and left Mom for her almost immediately afterward. That was back when I was three.

Now that we lived in Malvern, Dad was only a twenty-minute car ride away, but none of us imagined that would change his practically nonexistent visitation schedule.

Karl, on the other hand, was almost always around, and right now he was looking at me with a big loopy grin. I laughed. Karl was fantastic when he was happy: funny, smart, caring, insightful ... the polar opposite of an unhappy Karl. An unhappy Karl ... that was something Mom and I worked really hard to avoid.

"I have good news, Cara," Karl singsonged. "I made some calls, cashed in some favors, and it turns out Mr. Stevenson Jaffe would be thrilled to meet you when he comes out here in April. He'll be visiting family, but he's willing to take time out and have lunch with you, just to get to know what he calls 'the Whole Cara Leonard.'"

What? I didn't get it at first, and I could see Karl's smile start to harden into a frown.

Then I realized and smiled extra-wide. "That's great!"

And it was great. Stevenson Jaffe was the dean of admissions at Northwestern, Karl's alma mater and my first-choice college. I'd been hearing about the place for twelve years now, and honestly couldn't imagine going anywhere else. That Stevenson Jaffe himself was willing not only to meet me but to spend a whole lunch with me was huge ...

But April was a lifetime away and so not where my head was at that moment. I was busy thinking about Archer and what I'd say to him tomorrow morning. I couldn't wait to finish dinner and call Claudia to bounce ideas off her, but the Dean Jaffe thing had Karl so happy, he declared it Family Night. By the time he'd finished destroying Mom and me at Scrabble, it was past my okay-to-use-the-phone hours. I had to settle for texting.

I fell asleep counting not sheep but possible opening lines. Claudia must have done the same—I woke up to an e-mail from her with a huge list of options.

"Really, Claude? 'Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much'?"

I had her on speakerphone as I drove to school. Mom and Karl didn't like me to use the phone at all when I drove, and I understood that maybe it wasn't the safest thing in the world. But what was I supposed to do, go without talking to my best friend because they'd decided to move away from her? I tried to use speakerphone so my hands were free, and I never ever texted when I drove.

"It worked for Juliet," Claudia said. "Romeo fell head over heels for her."

"You are aware that they both die at the end, yes?"

"Did you seriously just ask me that question?"

"Did I seriously ask it, or did I seriously think you didn't know they died at the end?"

"Fine. Forget Romeo and Juliet. Forget the centuries-old benchmark of true romance. How did you want to start?"

I took a breath, then offered up the best of my bunch. "Hey! Do you play Scrabble? 'Cause I had the best triple-word score last night!"

Claudia's silence was deafening. I couldn't blame her. Maybe I'd go with the good pilgrim thing after all.

As it turned out, I didn't need an opening line. The moment I got my books into my locker, I heard Archer's voice behind me.

"You are a woman of mystery," he said, and my whole body grinned as I turned to face him.

"How so?" I asked.

"You disappeared after classes yesterday. Most mysterious indeed."

So he was looking for me after classes yesterday.

"Was that when my next tour was scheduled?" I asked. "I didn't realize."

"It was." He nodded sadly. "And it was brilliant."

"Can I reschedule?"

"Depends on the tour you want. Our most popular offerings have limited availability and need to be reserved several months to a year in advance..."

Suddenly inspiration struck. It might not have been Shakespeare but...

"I know exactly the tour I want," I said. "What's your last name?"

"Jain," he said. "Why?"

"I want the Official Archer Jain Tour. Everything you can tell me about yourself in the next"—I checked my watch to see how much time we had before the bell rang—"ten minutes."

"Hmm," he mused, "the topic's a little broad. Help me out—ask me what you want to know."

"Okay," I said as we started down the hall, "do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have seventeen brothers and thirteen sisters, all younger than I."

"That is a lie."

"But it's interesting. Tours are supposed to be interesting."

"I promise I'll be just as interested in the real stuff."

Archer sighed.

"I have one sister," he said. "Older. Her name's Lila."

"How much older?"

Five years.

"Are you close?"

"Do you watch a lot of police interrogation shows?"

"I'm interested! If it makes you feel better, you can answer my next question as ridiculously as you want."

"Yes, that makes me feel much better."

"So are you and your sister close? That's not my next question; it's the last question over again."

"We weren't," Archer said, "but now that she's in college, we talk. She likes to give me advice."

"What's the best thing she ever told you?" I asked.

"Never trust curly-haired women who inexplicably crawl on the floor."

"Nice. Your sister is very astute."

The bell rang. It was perfect timing; Archer and I were only a few feet away from Mr. Woodward's class. We slipped into seats next to each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. During class we kept looking at each other and checking in as if we'd been friends for ages.

Afterward we poured back into the hall with everyone else, but before we could go our separate ways, Archer cleared his throat. "So, um ... lunch. Do you have a place you like to sit? Because if you don't, I'd be happy to save you a spot, you know ... if you need one."

I felt a giddy thrill and tried to rein it in. It was just lunch; it was no big deal. Still...

"I'd love that, thanks."

"Great ... you're welcome. I mean, you will be welcome. At lunch. I mean ... I'll see you then."

I watched him walk off, then breezed down the halls to precalculus and spent the next three periods counting down to lunchtime.

I didn't go into the cafeteria right away. If Archer was saving me a seat, I wanted to give him the chance to do it. Unfortunately, it's not easy to kill ten minutes in a school hallway and look at all natural. I walked in slow motion from my fourth period class, searched through my locker as if it were cavernous, and became completely engrossed in the wall-posted monthly lunch menu. Finally it was time to go in.

I found Archer at the same table as yesterday, only this time two of his friends were gone, so there was space. I noticed Sue was one of the ones who wasn't there, and I was a little bummed, since she was so easy to talk to.

"Cara!" Archer rose a little until I sat down next to him. Very chivalrous. Very cute.

"Tell us about yourself, Cara." It was one of the Smilers from yesterday. "How long have you lived here? Where did you move from? What do you like to do? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Any pets? Are you freaked out about the college thing, or is it not on your radar yet? Do you like plays? Did you ever do any at your old school? What kind of extracurriculars are you signing up for? Do you drive, or do you have to take the bus? Do you already know what you're going to be for Halloween, or do you need ideas? And how are you liking your second day at Chrysella?"

My jaw was literally hanging open.

"Ember..." Archer said.

"What?" she said. "Cara's new; we want to get to know her. Don't you want to get to know her?"

Archer blushed.

"It's okay," I said to Ember. "I kind of did the same thing to Archer this morning."

I started answering her questions, and was still at it when the bell rang. By then I sort of knew the names of all Archer's friends. They, on the other hand, knew more about my life than anyone other than Claudia, Karl, and my mom.

"We did The Pit and the Pendulum at drama camp last summer," Archer said as he walked me out of the cafeteria. "I'm not sure Ember got the Inquisition out of her system."

"It's fine." I laughed. "I like her. I like all of them."

"Good," Archer said. "I mean, not that you have to like my friends ... not that you don't have to, but you don't ... mean...

Archer grimaced, then took a deep breath and smiled. "What are you doing after school?" he asked. "I sometimes go to the mall to sit and do homework for a while. There's a particularly good fry place at the Plaza food court ... insofar as 'fries' and 'food court' can come together to make 'particular goodness.'"

"See, and I'm of the culinary school of thought that says a well-made food court fry can be the epitome of gustatory satisfaction," I said.

"I had no idea that was an actual culinary school of thought."

"Clearly you have much to learn from me."

"Clearly. Should we meet at your locker after school? We can caravan."

"Perfect. See you then!"

I soared off to French class, but I knew I'd learn nothing. In just a few hours I'd be out with Archer; I couldn't think about anything else if I tried.