Populazzi. Part 18

As I drove, I told Claudia everything. When I was done, she took a huge dramatic breath and slowly let it out. "Do not scare me like that again, Cara. I was afraid you actually broke up with Nate."

"I did."

"You walked out on him," she clarified. "Neither the word 'break' nor 'up' was ever specifically stated. Hence your place on the Ladder remains secure."

"Very nice. So even though I now feel completely horrible when I fool around with Nate, I'm supposed to keep doing it so I don't lose my place on the Ladder."

"Yes, Cara, I'm pimping you out," Claudia said. "No! Don't fool around with him at all! Just don't break up with him. Not until you've found a Penultimate for your next target."

"I can't not fool around with him. It's what he expects us to do."

"Gee, Battered Wife, I guess if he expects it, then it's what you have to do."

"I'm just saying, I doubt he'll want to stay together if we're not fooling around anymore."

"Not forever, no. But we're talking about a few days-enough time for you to find a target and focus in. And the timing's perfect. You have finals next week, right? So it's totally normal that you'd be too busy studying to go 'study.'"

"Okay, but what about at school? What if I'm hanging out with him on the rock and he wants to fool around?"

"Tell him you have a cold! Tell him you have a sty! Tell him you have herpes! No, wait, don't tell him you have herpes. That'd get around the school and ruin everything."

"Oh, good, thanks for clarifying. Because I was totally ready to go with the herpes thing."

"Just try, Cara. Do not let everything you've already done be in vain. Look at how hard you've worked to get to this spot on the Ladder. Look at all the success you've had! You snagged a DangerZone! Trista Camello, Supreme Populazzi, knows who you are! You cannot give up now. You can't. Do I have to invoke the Deer Friends? Because if I have to, I will."

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to stay with Nate. It didn't feel right. But I also didn't want to fight with Claudia, and it wasn't like I could do anything about Nate until Monday anyway. I wasn't going to go see him over the weekend, and breaking up over the phone or by e-mail wasn't at all okay.

"I won't do anything now," I said. "I'll figure it out on Monday."

She seemed satisfied with that.

I didn't leave the house all weekend. I vaguely remembered Archer and me talking about maybe playing Ping-Pong, but I texted him that I couldn't. Claudia had been right: after my week of "studying," I really did need to study if I was going to have a prayer of nailing finals, keeping up my average, getting into Northwestern, and avoiding the gutter that would certainly otherwise be my fate.

I spread out on the kitchen table surrounded by books, notes, and Diet c.o.kes and tuned out the world with my iPod and noise-canceling headphones. Karl even let me read during meals, which was unheard of. He and Mom were so impressed with my academic discipline that they took turns acting as my cut man, rubbing my shoulders and offering snacks and encouragement.

Come Monday, I woke up ready to attack two goals: acing my French exam and breaking up with Nate. I'd had plenty of time to prepare for both. At Chrysella, the finals schedule was totally different from the schedule for normal school days. Every day was broken into two two-hour exam periods, with lunch in the middle. We didn't even have to show up at school unless we had a scheduled exam. French was in my Monday afternoon slot, but I wanted to go a little early and squeeze in a lunchtime breakup at Nate's rock.

As I stopped at Wegmans to change, I was spotted by my nemesis cas.h.i.+er. He was in the parking lot gathering carts. He perked up at the sight of me and started singing to the galloping tune of the "William Tell Overture," "SuperGoth SuperGoth SuperGoth-Goth-Goth..."

I wondered how long after Nate and I broke up I'd have to keep changing at Wegmans. It had been fun and exciting at first, but now it was tedious. I figured I'd have to phase it out gradually. I'd probably be done by the winter formal, about a month away.

Of course, first I had to find Nate and break up with him. For most couples, this would be a nonissue, since they would know each other's schedules. I had no clue about Nate's schedule. I had no idea when he had any of his exams-I wasn't even 100 percent positive about all the cla.s.ses he took. I could only show up at the rock and hope.

For her part, Claudia had called and texted pretty much constantly, from the time she woke up to the time she got to school in the morning, trying to convince me not to jeopardize my position on the Ladder. It hadn't worked. Her fallback was to hope Nate's and my schedules would mismatch all week long, giving me time to find and go after a Penultimate while securely ensconced in a DangerZone relations.h.i.+p.

I didn't bother to tell Claudia she was delusional if she thought I could land a new boyfriend-a Penultimate boyfriend-in a matter of days. It had happened that way with Nate, sure, but I'd had Archer help with the introduction. This time I was on my own.

I got to school just as lunch was starting ... but I had trouble getting out of the car. I'd never broken up with anyone. I wondered how Nate would react. Though if I was honest with myself, I knew. He would deal with the breakup like he dealt with everything else between us: with pure, unbridled apathy.

It wouldn't exactly be an ego boost.

Eventually I bundled up and trudged outside to seek Nate, Rock, and Guitar: my Holy Trinity of these past weeks. I was in luck; they were all there. It was fascinating watching Nate as I approached. He was still gorgeous. He was still pa.s.sionate, talented, deep, and brooding ... but there was no full-body frizzle at the sight of him. I was over it.

"Hey," I said when I reached his side.

"Hey."

The last time I'd seen him, I was rus.h.i.+ng angrily out of his house. A small part of me wondered if he'd ask about that, or at least look a little concerned when he saw me. He didn't. He glanced up from his guitar, just like always, then scooted over so I could sit next to him. I considered it, but it didn't seem right. I tried standing, but that felt too strident. Instead I sat on a patch of gra.s.s. From this angle, I had a far better view of Nate's crotch than his face, and the frosted gra.s.s was seeping through both my ratty pea coat and my jeans, leaving me with a cold, wet b.u.t.t. Not a good call.

"Hey!" said a voice.

I recognized the guy, even though I didn't know him. His name was Eddie Riegert, and he was a Penultimate. He wore jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt featuring a gla.s.ses-wearing, book-reading dinosaur labeled THE-SAURUS. He was muscular without being buff and had wavy, reddish-brown hair. He looked cold; he clearly didn't intend to be outside very long.

Nate looked up at Eddie but said nothing. I didn't either-Eddie was looking at Nate, not me.

After several moments, Eddie seemed to realize Nate's stare was all the acknowledgment he was going to get. He laughed. "Cool, okay. Look, I'm having a party at my house Sat.u.r.day. Punch in your e-mail. I'll send you the stuff."

Eddie held his cell to Nate, but Nate didn't take it. He just looked at it and kept strumming his guitar.

"Dude, if you don't want to come, that's cool, but say it," Eddie said. "Don't leave me hanging. I'm freezing my a.s.s off out here."

Nate took the phone and punched in his information, then handed it back. He still hadn't said a word.

Eddie gave a sarcastic bow. "Thanks."

He started trotting back to the building. I felt bad for him. He was just being nice; he didn't deserve to be ignored.

"Thanks to you, too!" I called after him, and immediately blushed at my own idiocy. Thanks to you, too? It sounded either desperately dorky or completely sarcastic and rude, neither of which I'd intended. Nate scrunched his face at me, and Eddie stopped in his tracks to stare, like I was some alien life-form. He trotted back and handed me his cell.

"Here," he said. "Punch in your e-mail, too."

Really?

I did what he asked, then tried to salvage some dignity by giving him my best DangerZone emo-girl stare as I handed back the phone.

Eddie laughed out loud. "Thanks"-he looked down at his screen-"Cara. I'll e-mail you guys."

He darted back to the warmth of the building.

Amazing. I had just been invited to a Populazzi party. A Populazzi party! Or at least I was invited to be invited to a Populazzi party.

Wait-was Eddie actually inviting me, or was he inviting Nate-and-Cara: DangerZone couple? Because in about two minutes, that couple wouldn't exist.

"Nate..." I began.

The bell rang.

"Gotta take a final." Nate scowled. "I'm here tomorrow. Or you can come study later."

He gave me one of his half smiles, then strode to the building.

"Nate, wait!" I tried to get up and follow him, but my b.u.t.t had gone completely numb from the cold and wet, and I immediately fell back down. By the time I got up, Nate was inside, and I had to run to make my French exam.

I called Claudia on the way home. "Do you have any idea how close you came to complete Armageddon?" she asked.

I didn't answer. I had a pretty strong feeling she'd tell me soon enough.

"This party is exactly the steppingstone you need to make the transition from DangerZone to Penultimate! You can't possibly break up with Nate until it's over!"

"Claude, I can't stay with him just to go to a party."

"A Populazzi party."

"Even a Populazzi party." I parked my car at Wegmans and strode across the lot. "Believe me, I want to go. I really want to go. I mean, seriously, this is the kind of thing you and I have been talking about since long before the Ladder. But I can't stay with Nate to do it. I don't feel good about myself anymore when I'm with him. And-"

"CARA?".

The scream took me by surprise.

Especially since it had come from my mother.

Chapter Twenty.

Oh G.o.d. OhG.o.dOhG.o.dOhG.o.d.

This was not supposed to happen. My mom does not shop at Wegmans on Monday afternoons. She has a very specific shopping schedule she picked up from some self-help organize-your-life website, and she follows it religiously. Sunday night is for clipping coupons, planning the week's menus, and writing up the shopping list. Monday night after dinner is for shopping. By that time in the evening, most people are long since done running errands, and she can get in and out with ease. My mom is very proud of this schedule and its efficacy, and she would never dream of messing it up by doing something wild and crazy like shopping between the hours of four and seven- prime shopping hours for people on their way from work or school.

And yet here she was.

I had no idea how I was going to explain the way I looked. None. Every synapse in my brain was tap-dancing, but I was coming up completely blank.

This was so, so bad.

"Hi, Mom," I said with a weak smile.

She smiled back.

Wait-she smiled back?

"Cara, you surprised me! What are you wearing? Is this for your French final?"

I couldn't believe it. It was just like in old cartoons. The sky opened up, the sun shone its light on me, and a choir of angels sang "Hallelujah." My mother-my wonderful, loving, trusting, incredibly perfect mother-had given me a way out. She was getting the best Mother's Day present ever this year.

I released all my tension into a laugh, hoping it didn't sound too maniacal.

"Oral presentation," I said. "French pop culture. There's this whole 'emo' movement going on there. It's here, too, but bigger over there." I gave a sweeping gesture to indicate my racc.o.o.n-makeup eyes, my clingy tee and hoodie, my black skirt, my fuchsia zebra-striped leggings, my boots, and my wrist warmers. My abused blanket of a coat was back in the car. "I figured I'd add visual aids."

"I hope you got a good grade, because you look ridiculous. What would someone think if they saw you?"

"That I obviously had some kind of school project?" I offered.

Mom laughed. "Come on, let's go home. You'll want to wash up before Karl sees you." She started pus.h.i.+ng her cart, then remembered I'd been headed inside. "Did you need to get something?"

"Just a snack."

"Don't bother. I got all your favorite things." As I accompanied her to her car and helped her load the bags into the trunk, Mom explained the inexplicable. "Sh.e.l.ley got a twofer coupon to P.F. Chang's, so we made a day out of it. Manis and pedis, then lunch. Very decadent. I knew I wouldn't want to come back out later, so I decided to suck it up and shop a little early. It really was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be."

For me either, I almost chirped. Somehow I refrained.

I cranked the radio on the ride home, singing and dancing along in a state of sheer euphoria. Claudia didn't answer her phone, but I left a giddy voice mail. I swore Karl should take me to Atlantic City immediately and pa.s.s me off as twenty-one, because I was clearly the luckiest human being in the world.

I pulled into the driveway right behind my mom and grabbed two grocery bags to take in. I could've carried thirty-to me they were light as air. We walked into the house laughing about some ridiculous story Sh.e.l.ley had told Mom about the c.o.c.katiel Sh.e.l.ley's husband was trying to get to speak, but the moment we stepped over the threshold, Karl boomed from upstairs.

"Harriet?"

A cold shower of fear washed over me, and my laughter dried up in my throat.

Karl never called my mother Harriet. He loathed the name. That's one of the main reasons he jumped at the "h.e.l.loooo/ Lo-Lo" thing. He so actively disliked my mother's name that he couldn't say it with any kind of affection whatsoever. If Karl was calling Mom Harriet, things were about to get very ugly.

Mom and I exchanged a worried glance, then she called up as brightly as possible, "Yes?"

"Please tell me when your daughter gets home," he said.

The wave of fear became a tsunami, and I suddenly couldn't breathe.

He'd referred to me as "your daughter." My mom's daughter. Not his. And in that moment I knew exactly what had happened. It was so stupid. I knew it was out there-a time bomb waiting to explode in my face-but I'd been so wrapped up in the drama and excitement of Archer and Nate and the Ladder that I honestly hadn't even thought about it.

Karl had opened the credit card bill.

Mom looked confused. She turned to me. I must have looked as nauseous as I felt, because her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "She's already here," Mom called.

My outfit. My makeup. OhG.o.dNo-Karl could not see me like this. I had to wash my face. I had to change. I had to move. I staggered toward the bathroom. "I'm just going to-"

"Stay right there," Mom warned.

Karl's footsteps thundered downstairs. I could see the credit card bill in his hand. He stopped halfway down the steps, his piercing eyes taking me in. Then they s.h.i.+fted to my mother.