Kat tossed up her arms. “Does no one keep me in the loop anymore? I’m more than a beautiful face, you know. I have ears. I like to listen. I know that’s hard to believe considering the gems that always come out of my mouth, but come on, try me at least.”
If not for the sparkle in her hazel eyes, I would have thought her one hundred percent sincere. The other girls were bowing their heads in shame.
“Sorry,” Poppy said. “I’ll call you later with the details.”
“Me, too,” Wren said.
I could take a lesson in manipulation from Mad Dog; she was a master. “I seriously think I might love you.”
Nose in the air, she patted her hair. “I’ve seriously got to stop turning my girlfriends gay, but like I can really help it. It’s my animal appeal.”
I covered my laugh with my hand.
Wren threw a napkin at her, nailing her in the shoulder. “You better start doing ego checks.”
“Why? Mine’s perfect.” Before Wren could respond, Kat leaned into me. “I forgot to tell you. I’ve started a rumor tree. Here. Look.”
She withdrew a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. After I unfolded the thing, I could only gape. Name after name, arrow after arrow, with boxes and notes, filled the entire page.
“I know you think Mackenzie started the rumors, but I also know how loyal Cole and the gang are to each other. They won’t believe Little Miss Love To Hate did anything wrong unless we can prove it. So, I decided to do a little tracking. I heard the rumor from Poppy,” she said, pointing.
Red hair went flying as Poppy eagerly nodded. “I heard it from Wren.”
Wren pushed to her feet and pointed to a table four rows over from ours. “And I heard it from Tiffany Chang. Hey, Tiffany. Wave.”
Everyone looked over at her.
“I said wave.”
A heavyset girl with dark hair and a what’s-going-on expression waved, and Wren sat back down. “Her.”
Kat picked up where she’d left off. “I asked Tiffany, and so on. I know, I know. I’m a genius, and I’m destined to be the best investigative reporter in the entire world. Too bad I want to be a trophy wife. Anyway, who knows if I’ll be able to find the first source, but I have to try.”
With the time and effort required for such a task, and her absolute willingness to help me anyway, I was blown away. “Thank you,” I said, even though I knew the words weren’t adequate.
“You’d do the same for me.”
I would. I so would. “Okay, so, in keeping with the spirit of confession, I’m going to Cole’s house after school.” I said the words hesitantly, watching everyone’s reactions. Kat nodded encouragingly. Poppy tilted her head to the side, her eyes darkening. Reeve sighed wistfully, and Wren smiled with a mix of relief and…something else, something I couldn’t read. Not what I’d expected, though, after the way they’d once treated Kat. “Mackenzie and I have plans to talk. Maybe I’ll get a confession out of her and save you the trouble of investigating.”
“So Justin is officially not a candidate for dating?” Wren asked, tracing a fingertip over a water ring Poppy’s soda had left.
“He was never a candidate. We were friends, that was all.”
“But you’re not anymore?” she insisted.
“Nope.” Apparently we were on opposite sides of a war.
“Enough about Justin! I want to hear more about Mackenzie.” Kat clapped excitedly. “Tell me your talk with her is going to involve fists. Tell me you’re going to wipe the floor with her face!”
“Well, I’m certainly going to try.”
14
Let’s Hear the Chorus of Pain
As promised, Cole was waiting for me after school. He leaned against the back of his Jeep, arms crossed. His black hat shaded his face, and sunglasses shielded his eyes. He wore a wife-beater, displaying those massive biceps and grim reaper tattoos.
When I reached him, I anchored my hands on my hips and glared. “Do not get into any more fights on my behalf.” I didn’t want him suspended—or worse. “Now give me your keys.”
He gently flicked the end of my nose. “Haven’t you heard? I do what I want, when I want, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me.”
I could knee him between the legs and simply steal his keys, proving otherwise, but all I said was, “Believe me, I’ve witnessed that firsthand,” and held out my hands. “Now be a good boy and do what I want you to do.”
He lifted the sunglasses and I saw a bright gleam in those violet eyes. “And what is it, exactly, that Little Ali wants?”
Little Ali. Ugh. “I said give me your keys.” No reason to play nice. He certainly wasn’t. “And if you call me Little Ali again, I’ll smash your trachea the way I hear you like to do to others.”
Suddenly suspicious, he snapped out a quick “Why?”
“Because I hate it.”
“Not the name. The keys.”
“Hello. Because I want to stab you with them, why else?”
“Why?” he insisted.
Fine. “Because I need to practice my driving, and I promised my grandparents I would.”