I put the phone on speaker and play back all the messages for Marissa and Clarice.
“Wow,” Clarice says. “He’s, like, desperate.”
“He’s probably going to get his ass kicked,” Marissa says. We’re sitting in the car, the notebook and the pinkalicious binder sitting on the front seat. We stopped at the twenty-four-hour Walgreens next door to Kinko’s, where we bought snacks. And now we’re gorging ourselves while listening to the messages.
“Who would kick his ass?” I ask, taking a drink of my Snapple.
“The big boss,” Marissa says.
“Ooh, like in the mob!” Clarice says. She nods wisely, as if she knows all about organized crime. She leans over the seat and says, “Do we have any napkins up there?”
Marissa points to the glove compartment, and I pop it open and hand Clarice some napkins.
“Thank you,” she says, and wipes her hands daintily.
“What do you mean, ‘the big boss’?” I ask.
“Well, the 318s have been around for years,” Marissa says. “I’m sure they have some kind of leader, some kind of guy who’s the one in charge.”
“Tyler’s in charge,” I say, taking a big handful of caramel corn and popping it into my mouth. “Isn’t he?”
“He’s the president,” Marissa says. “But there’s probably someone else, like someone who’s been around for a while who, like, heads up the organization. Probably some forty-year-old fat, balding man who is way too invested in what the 318s are doing and wants to live his glory days over and over through them.”
“Hmm,” I say, considering this.
“That’s what they do in my dad’s old college frat,” Marissa says. “They even have these dumb reunions where they get together every year and rent a party bus. Then they get drunk and ogle college girls and pretend they have a chance with them.”
“Wow,” I say.
“Wow,” Clarice says.
“Totally,” Marissa says, nodding. “So are you going to call him back so we can make the exchange?”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “I should probably call him back.” As much as I enjoy letting Tyler sweat it out, I do want my notebook back. And that will necessitate calling him back to meet up.
But when I pull my phone out, it rings in my hand. Cooper.
“Hello?” I say.
“Eliza?” he says. No hey this time.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Look, we want our notebook back.”
“No, I know,” I say. “I was just making a copy of it, it was—”
“Can you meet us in the school parking lot? In fifteen minutes?” He cuts me off, and then I get it. Tyler’s with him. They probably figured that if Cooper called me, I’d answer. Which means they think I’m still half in love with him, which really pisses me off, since (a) I’m not and (b) the only reason I even answered the dumb phone was because I was about to call Tyler anyway.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll meet you there.” And then I hang up on him just in case he thinks I only answered because it was him.
When we get to the school, the parking lot is empty.
“Where exactly did they say?” Marissa asks.
“I dunno,” I say. “They just said the parking lot.”
“This place is really spooky,” Clarice says. Her eyes are wide as she looks out the window and takes it all in. The thing is, she’s right. This place is kind of spooky. The sun is just starting to peek up over the horizon, but for the most part, it’s still dark out. And even though there are lights in the parking lot, every space is empty, which just seems … wrong. Even when school’s out, the parking lot’s never empty, since there are always after-school activities or dances or sporting events or something going on.
“I really wish we wouldn’t have gotten here first,” I say. “It’s like getting somewhere first before a blind date—it’s awkward.”
“You’ve never been on a blind date,” Marissa points out.
“Yes, but I’ve seen tons of movies with blind dates in them,” I say. “Which is almost the same.”
We circle around the school a few times and then finally park over by the side of the gym. I lean my head back on the seat and look up at the streetlights. A bunch of moths are flying around, attracted by the light, and I watch them for a second. The only sounds are the radio playing really softly in the car, and the heater blowing warm air out on its lowest setting.
Now that the high of getting the 318s’ notebook has faded, the whole thing with Kate is at the forefront of my mind, and it won’t go away. I mean, yeah, it’s been there kind of the whole time, nagging me, but I think I was using getting my notebook back as a distraction, and now that the distraction is gone, I can’t stop thinking about it. I pull my phone out and text Kate. “LOVE YOU K. AND I AM SO SO SORRY.”
Five minutes later, she still hasn’t texted me back.
Ten minutes later, she still hasn’t texted me back, and Tyler still hasn’t shown up. So I start to freak out.
“What if they’re not coming?” I ask.
“They’re coming,” Marissa says.
“But what if they don’t?”
“Then you turn the bastards’ notebook in to the school,” Clarice says vengefully from the backseat.
“But what if it doesn’t work?” I ask. “What if it was some kind of decoy notebook? What if it’s not even real? What if they don’t even care that I have their notebook? What if they just decided that they would post mine, anyway?”
“You think they made up a whole notebook just to fool you?” Marissa asks doubtfully.
“They’re not smart enough for that,” Clarice pipes up helpfully.
“But what if—”
I don’t get a chance to finish, though, because at that moment the sound of car engines fills the air. Driving toward us are three cars, all of them filled with guys.
“Oh my God,” I say. “They brought their whole … their whole … posse.”
“Posse?” Clarice repeats. She wrinkles her tiny nose. “I don’t think anyone says posse anymore.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out what looks like a small can of hair spray. “But don’t worry, I have pepper spray.”
“Pepper spray?” I ask.
“Yeah, you know, if they try to do anything.” She shrugs. “You can’t be too careful, Eliza. You should have some too, the way you gallivant around the city all by yourself.”
“What do you mean?” I frown. “Tonight is the first time I’ve ever ‘gallivanted’ around the city by myself, and it doesn’t really count because not only did I not have a choice, I definitely didn’t have time to stop at a store and pick up any kind of self-defense paraphernalia. And besides—”
“Anyway,” Marissa says, holding up her hand and cutting me off. “They’re not going to hurt us.” She opens her door and steps out of the car. “They’re just pretending to be all macho.”
“How do you know?” I ask, looking at the car door handle and wondering if I should lock the door and stay in the car, or risk it and get out.
“Because there are cameras all over this parking lot,” she says. “Remember last year when Tyler got busted for graffiti? He knows there are cameras, do you really think he’s going to hurt us?”
“What if they’re wearing masks?” I ask. “So that no one will be able to tell who they are?”
“The cameras would pick up their cars,” Marissa says. She puts her hands on her hips. She’s out of the car now, and she looks at me through the open door.
“What if they take us to an undisclosed location?” I ask. “With no cameras?”
“How would they do that if we refuse to get in the car?”
“I dunno,” I say.
“I’m still bringing my pepper spray,” Clarice declares. She loops the keychain part of it around her finger.
We both reluctantly get out of the car and walk around behind it. The parking lot is actually lit really well, which makes me feel a little bit better.
&
nbsp; Tyler gets out of his car, and for a second, I feel like we’re going to have some kind of showdown or, like, shoot-out or something. A few more guys get out of the cars around him, including Cooper. I avert my eyes and look down at the ground.
“Did you bring it?” Tyler asks. In his hand is my purple notebook.
“Yeah, I brought it,” I say. I pull his black notebook out from behind my back and show it to him.
He holds his hand out.
“No way,” I say, pulling it back. “You first.” If he thinks he’s going to get me to give him his notebook first, he’s crazy.
“No,” he says. “You first.” I narrow my eyes.
“You first.” This is ridiculous.
“Fine.” Tyler holds the notebook out and I move toward him, but at the last second, he yanks it back.
“Real mature,” I say. I mean, really.
“Who gave you our pledge book?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to play innocent.
“Who,” he says, a little more growly this time, “gave you the 318s’ charter?”
“No one gave it to me,” I say. “I broke into your house and stole it.”
“No, you didn’t,” Tyler says. “My parents said you didn’t have anything when you left, and I was there after you were. The notebook was still there, and then it was gone.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug and give him a smile. “So are you ready to make the exchange?”
“No,” Tyler says. “I want you to tell me who gave you that notebook.” And then I realize this is my chance. My chance to really get back at Cooper. If I tell on him, if I let Tyler know Cooper was the one who gave me the notebook, who knows what Tyler would do? He would definitely set out to make Cooper’s life a living hell.
It wouldn’t even be that hard. For me, I mean. All I’d have to do is say his name, and I could totally get him back. But unfortunately, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I still care about Cooper. And I’d feel horrible for turning on him after he risked his own ass for me. Besides, it doesn’t matter. As long as I get my notebook back, getting the 318s to go after Cooper serves no real purpose.
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to tell you,” I say finally, being careful not to look across the parking lot at Cooper.
Tyler turns around then and looks at all of the 318s who are gathered around him. “I want to know,” he says. “Who gave her the notebook? And why did you do it?” And then I realize that’s why he brought everyone here. Not so he could hurt me or yell at me or outnumber me. He brought everyone here so that he could try to figure out who gave me the notebook. He looks around at all of the 318s and holds the gaze of each one. Honestly, it’s a little bit ridiculous. I mean, could they be any more full of themselves? Lame.
When Tyler gets to Cooper, Cooper holds his gaze steady. For a second, my heart leaps into my chest, and I wonder if maybe Cooper might say something himself. If he might admit that he’s the one who gave me the notebook, if he might stick up for me, if he might tell the 318s that what they did to me was wrong.
But he doesn’t say anything, and Tyler just moves on to try and intimidate the next person. I swallow my disappointment. Whatever. I mean, if he wanted to say something, he would have done it before now. I’ve totally been watching too many romantic comedies where, at the end of the movie, the guy makes some big grand declaration before the couple ends up happy and walks off into the sunset. Or in this case, I guess we’d walk off into the sunrise.
Anyway.
“Look,” I say, my grip tightening on the notebook. “While it’s nice for you to bring everyone here and show off your intimidation tactics, I’d like to get home. It’s been kind of a long night, if you know what I mean.”
“Whatever,” Tyler says.
I take a couple of steps toward him, and he takes a couple of steps toward me. I give him the black notebook, and he gives me mine at exactly the same time. Our hands touch for a moment, and a shiver goes through me. And not in a good way.
“Oh,” I say, as I make my way back toward the car, my notebook safely in my hand. “Just fyi, I made a copy of your pledge book.” Tyler’s jaw drops. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything with it, but I trust you’re going to drop the complaint you filed with the dean about what I posted on Lanesboro Losers.”
Tyler’s mouth tightens into a line. “Fine,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say sweetly. “I so totally appreciate it.” And then I turn around and head back to the car. Marissa and Clarice follow me, and we all climb in.
Right before she shuts the door, Clarice looks behind her at the 318s, who are standing in the parking lot, looking a little stunned and dejected.
“You’re lucky,” she yells at them, “that I didn’t have to use my pepper spray.”
She slams the door, and Marissa peels out of the parking lot.
Chapter Fifteen
6:47 a.m.
We go to a diner to celebrate.
The sun is really coming up now, and it’s turning the sky shades of pink and purple and blue and warming up the air. It’s a welcome sight after such a long night, and suddenly, even though we just had snacks not that long ago, I’m famished.
“I want pancakes,” I decide once we’re settled in the booth, and when the waitress comes around, that’s just what I get. A big stack of pancakes with chocolate chips and whipped cream and then to top it off, I pour syrup over the whole thing. After the night I’ve had, I deserve it. And honestly, who cares? I don’t eat like this all the time, but I also don’t care to look like a stick figure. I pour an extra glob of syrup on for good measure.
“Oh my God,” Clarice says, shoving her phone at us across the table. “Are you kidding me? Look at what Jamie’s last Facebook update says!”
I squint at the screen.
“It says, ‘watching a movie with my bestie,’” Clarice scoffs and looks at me and Marissa, waiting for a reaction.
“What’s wrong with that?” Marissa asks. She takes a sip of her soda.
“Yeah,” I say. “What’s wrong with that? It sounds nice.” It totally does, too. This night is making it feel like it’s been at least five years since we just stayed in and watched a movie.
“The problem is,” Clarice says, “that her bestie is her sister, Madeline, who is the one who left her in Southie tonight!”
“So they made up,” I say. “Like sisters do.” I swallow and think of Kate, then check my phone again for the thousandth time. Still no text.
“They made up,” Clarice says, “two hours after she left her in the ghetto!”
“It wasn’t exactly the ghetto,” I point out. “And nothing bad happened to her.”
Clarice looks down at her phone forlornly, like if she stares at it enough, the Facebook status will change.
But Marissa notices the look on my face, and she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Hey,” she says. “You and Kate are going to be fine.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because Kate loves you,” Clarice says. “Of course she’s going to forgive you.”
“I never should have told her,” I say, spearing a piece of pancake and chewing on it thoughtfully. “She never would have found out.”
“Eliza!” Clarice says. “That’s not true! You needed to tell her, otherwise you would have always had a secret from her, which would have totally marred your sisterhood!”
“She’s right,” Marissa says. “Now you guys can deal with it and get over it.”
“Hopefully,” I say, checking my phone again even though it’s only been two seconds.
“She probably went to sleep,” Marissa says, seeing me check my phone.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “You’re probably right.”
There’s silence for a little bit as we all chew our food and sip our drinks. Then Clarice picks her phone back up. “New email alert,” she says. “‘One of your friends has posted new pictures on Lanesboro Losers.’ I wonder who—Eliz
a! You posted new pics?”
“What?” I ask, confused. “No, I haven’t.” And then I remember. Cooper. The camera. Me. In a bathing suit. “Oh my God,” I say, reaching across the table and trying to grab the phone out of her hand before she can see it. But it’s too late.
“Wow,” she says, her eyes widening.
“I’m deleting it,” I say.
“What picture is it?” Marissa asks.
“It’s the picture Cooper took of me,” I say.
Clarice passes the phone to Marissa. “Wow,” she says. “You look hot.”
I look at the picture on the phone, even though I already saw it earlier. “You know what?” I say. “I think maybe I might leave it up.”
After our carb-laden breakfast, I crash. Hard. The adrenaline that’s been coursing through my veins all night is gone, my coffee wore off hours ago, and all the sugar and whipped cream is making me sluggish and sleepy.
“Are you guys still staying over?” I ask as Marissa pulls her car onto my street.
“I have to go home,” Marissa says. “Grounded, remember? I have to sneak back in.”
“Oh, right,” I say, shaking my head. “I forgot you were arrested tonight, that’s so weird.”
“I’m going to go home too,” Clarice says. “I have to get up early tomorrow. I mean, today. Me and Jamie are going to play tennis.”
“You guys,” I say, looking at them both. I think about how they stood by my side tonight, how they were there for me, how they stuck by me and helped me through what’s probably been the hardest night of my life. “Thanks for tonight. For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Marissa says.
“What are friends for?” Clarice adds with a smile.
I open the car door and make my way to my front porch. I’m so tired I can barely walk up the steps, and all I can think about is how good my bed is going to feel, how amazing it’s going to be to get out of these clothes and into a nice comfy pair of pajama pants and a tank top. I’m sliding my key into the lock when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupts my thoughts of clean, crisp sheets and a warm, cozy bed.
I turn around and see a red BMW. Cooper.