The Comeback Part 4

The next morning I woke up with a sore throat, watery eyes, and a fever.

I dragged myself to the kitchen table, where Mom had breakfast ready. I poured myself a gla.s.s of orange juice. It hurt to swallow, but I gulped it down.

"You look terrible," Mom said. "You must be coming down with something." She picked up the phone.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Calling the absence line, of course. You can't go to school like that," she said.

"No!" I said. I would be crucified if I didn't go to school. Everyone would a.s.sume I'd slunk off to lick my wounds.

"I mean, I'm fine, Mom. And I have a test today that I don't want to miss," I lied, I hoped believably.

Mom put down the phone, but she didn't look convinced. "Sophie," she hesitated, but then continued, "is everything okay? I haven't seen Connor around here in a few days."

"Mom, everything is fine. I see him every day in school. And we have rehearsals." All of which was true. I did see Connor; I just left out the part where he was "rehearsing" with someone else now.

I would have to tell my mom that Connor and I broke up. Eventually. But I needed time this morning to get ready and if I told her the truth, I'd never make it in time.

Post-breakup wardrobe was crucial. I couldn't look like a trollop or a nun. No black, despite its slimming effects, or people would say I was in mourning.

I was kind of regretting the pint of Baskin-Robbins Monet and I had downed the night before, but it was a ritual we'd indulged in since the seventh grade when Stan Reno dumped her for a cheerleader. He'd had breath like a pit bull with indigestion, but Monet had been crushed.

"Finish your breakfast," Mom said. "And take some daytime cold medicine."

Thinking about the breakup had made me lose my appet.i.te, but I managed to force down a few more spoonfuls of oatmeal, which seemed to satisfy her.

I went upstairs and dug out my favorite designer jeans and a turquoise top. The perfect looking-good-but-not-trying-too-hard outfit. I used about a bucket of concealer and a little bit of blush to put some color in my cheeks. Even my hair cooperated, and I went to school confident that I looked my best.

I ran into Vanessa outside before first bell. My prediction was correct. Rumors abounded.

"I just heard," she said. "I can't believe it." She dabbed at her eyes.

"Are you crying?"

"It's just so sad," she said. "You and Connor were the perfect couple. I would just die if Chase ever cheated on me."

I raised an eyebrow, but she looked away. I wasn't going to be the one to tell her something she probably, deep down, already knew.

"I'll be okay. Thanks for your concern."

"But who are we going to double with now? I told Chase that there was no way I would a.s.sociate with that, that home wrecker."

The fact that Connor and I weren't married apparently escaped Vanessa's notice, but I was touched that she was on my side.

"Thanks, Vanessa," I replied. "Maybe we can do something next weekend without any guys?"

"Uh, sure," she said, but she didn't seem sure at all. There was a moment of gloomy silence and then she brightened. "Look at this," she crowed. She unzipped her hoodie and pointed to her chest. I stared at her, not getting it. Was she showing off a recent b.o.o.b job? A new tattoo? No, it was her T-s.h.i.+rt she was proudly displaying.

"Don't you love it?" she asked.

It read TEAM DONNELLY in big, bold letters.

"All the girls are wearing them. You know, to show support after the terrible way Connor dumped you to go out with Angie Vogel."

I suppressed a groan. Vanessa meant well, but the T-s.h.i.+rts would just call more attention to the breakup.

"Thanks, Vanessa," I managed to reply, "but I'm fine."

She looked at me sympathetically but didn't outright call me a liar, which I supposed was something.

Still, I wasn't surprised when I saw her at lunch with her hoodie firmly zipped over her T-s.h.i.+rt, which made sense given that she was sitting with Chase, Connor, and Angie.

I think I would have been able to ignore it if Angie and Connor had kept their relations.h.i.+p low profile, but for the rest of the week they seemed to be determined to rub it in my face. They even did an interview for the school paper, for G.o.d's sake. And because Colin Jensen, the editor, was a total perv, there was a huge photo of Connor and Angie. Angie, of course, looked totally amazing.

Suddenly, Angie Vogel was Mother Teresa and a Playboy centerfold all rolled up in one glamorous package.

I couldn't compete. Did I even want to? I mean, I recycled regularly and there was that whole beach cleanup thing I organized last year on Earth Day, but Angie was organizing a food drive, a book drive, and a sit-in.

I admitted my feelings to Monet. "Angie makes me feel like a total dilettante. There's nothing I can do to knock her off her perch."

"She has one thing you don't," Monet admitted.

I sighed. "I know. That perfect blonde hair."

"No, silly. A boyfriend. Angie has a boyfriend and you don't. That's all."

Monet was kind enough not to add that Angie had my boyfriend.

"You're right," I said. "Couples rule this place. I just need a boyfriend to get back on top. Someone who makes Connor look like yesterday's news. Besides, a boyfriend would be nice. I'm getting a little sick of fending off Jason Brady."

It was true. For some reason, my stock had lowered and cretins like Jason thought they actually had a chance with me.

There had been a time when I had plenty of options, even after I had started dating Connor exclusively. But I had never even looked at anyone else. Something I was bitterly regretting, since he hadn't granted me the same courtesy.

That was no excuse for Dev's face popping into my mind. He was the only guy whose number I had, and that was just to schedule extra rehearsals.

I was really off my game if the only guy's number programmed into my cell was my best friend's brother. How pathetic was that? Turned out it was the tip of the humiliation iceberg.

After school, Monet and I saw Hannah Johnson wearing a TEAM VOGEL T-s.h.i.+rt. I looked at Monet.

"She always hated you," she explained.

"What did I ever do to her?"

"Are you serious?" Monet said. "Don't you remember seventh grade? She had that mad crush on Damon and he asked you to the dance instead of her."

"That's not my fault," I said. "And it's not like I went with him."

I was happy to notice that there was only a sprinkling of TEAM VOGEL tees, compared to a solid showing of TEAM DONNELLY. Still, Angie needed to be put in her place and I had the perfect idea how.

"Monet, do me a favor," I said. It wasn't a question.

"What are you up to, Soph?"

"Never mind. Just wait and see."

Chapter 7.

Later that week, Monet and I were headed for Wicked Jack's when Dev caught up to us.

"Can I b.u.m a ride?" he asked. "My car's still in the shop."

"Sure," she said easily.

They got along well for siblings, especially since they were only a year apart. I envied their relations.h.i.+p, even if I didn't understand how anyone could put up with Dev.

When we got to Monet's car, Dev sat in the back without protest. Monet pretty much just ignored him, but I was self-conscious with him in the car. I certainly didn't want to talk about my breakup in front of him.

Wicked Jack's was packed, but we managed to find a table. A couple of soph.o.m.ore girls giggled and whispered when I walked by.

"Just ignore them," Monet advised.

I tried, but I felt like everyone was staring and talking about me. We'd already ordered when Connor entered the restaurant with Angie on his arm.

They took a booth opposite our table and immediately had their hands all over each other.

Now I knew I wasn't imagining the whispers and looks.

"Is he trying to publicly humiliate me?" I said through clenched teeth.

Dev looked up from the huge burger he'd ordered. "Doubtful," he said. "I don't think he even noticed you're here."

I glared at him.

"Not helping, Dev," Monet said.

"I can't believe him," I said. I stabbed a leaf of lettuce from my salad, imagining it was Connor's cold heart.

"Just ignore him," Monet advised.

"But he's rubbing my nose in it," I responded. My face was red, which was more fodder for the gossips.

"Do you want to leave?" Monet asked.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to make a scene."

Dev said, "I have a better idea. I'm going to get a shake."

"Hey, what about me?" Monet said.

Dev ruffled her hair as he stood up. "Already got you covered. Peanut b.u.t.terbanana, right?"

Monet grinned. "You know it. Sophie?"

I tore my gaze from my ex. Wicked Jack's did have great shakes. "I'll have a strawberry cheesecake," I said. I reached for my wallet, but Dev waved me away. "I've got it."

I smiled at him. "Thanks."

Dev said brusquely, "I was just sick of hearing you cry over that loser."

I should have known better than to think that Dev was actually trying to be nice.

I noticed that several girls watched him as he made his way to the counter. He was cute, I thought. Not as cute as Connor, but cute. Too bad he was such a jerk.

Dev made his way back to us, loaded down with our shakes, but it seemed as though every girl in the place stopped him to say hi.

"At this rate, everything will be melted by the time he gets back to the table," I muttered.

"I don't get it, either," Monet said, "but for some reason, girls find him attractive."

As if Dev heard us, he broke off the conversation and came back to the table. "Here you go," he said.

I took a sip. It was delicious. I almost forgot about Connor and Angie's obvious public display of affection. At least, until he stopped by our table.

"Hi, Sophie," Connor said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"It is my favorite restaurant," I said.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot."

Those few words set my temper flaring. Before I could think about it, I picked up my shake and threw it in his face.

So much for not making a scene.

Connor didn't even yell at me. He stood there and shook his head, then turned on his heels and left.

Dev muttered, "That was a waste of a good shake." But he seemed oddly pleased. Everyone else was staring daggers at me. There was an icy silence in the restaurant and I realized I'd just made a huge mistake.

On the way back to school, no one spoke.