Mads put an arm around her. “No, you’ve never smelled like vodka. Don’t worry. No one could possibly believe that. You always smell like a mix of lavender shampoo and pencil shavings.”
“It’s a very sweet smell,” Holly added.
“Tess. Polly. Mads.” Ramona sat down at their table in the lunchroom. “You’re the only one without a Nuclear Autumn nickname, Mads.”
“I feel so left out,” Mads said.
“I’m sure she’ll get around to you,” Lina said.
“You can’t let her get away with this,” Ramona said. “The whole school is lapping it up. The wilder her stories get, the more people want to believe them.”
“I’ll write a Mood Swing rebuttal,” Lina said.
“That will never work,” Ramona said. “You’ve got to fight fire with fire. Start a bunch of rumors about Autumn, so she has to go on the defensive. Then she won’t have so much time to attack you.”
“I can’t do that,” Lina said. “I don’t have any dirt on her.”
“Duh. Make it up,” Ramona said.
“But that’s… that’s not right,” Lina said.
“Who cares?” Ramona said.
“What Autumn is doing isn’t right, either,” Mads said.
“No,” Lina said. “I can’t.” It was tempting—so tempting—to trash Autumn in her blog. But she was a high-road kind of girl. And, anyway, if she stuck to her journalistic principles, she’d have a better shot at the internship. “I’m not Autumn. I’d rather handle this my own way. RSAGE students are smart. I’m sure if I appeal to their sense of decency and truth, I will prevail.”
Mads suppressed a snicker.
“It’s your funeral,” Ramona said.
“And our reputations,” Holly said.
Mood Swing
Current Mood: Concerned
To all Nuclear Autumn readers:
Autumn has been writing about some people who supposedly go to RSAGE: Peter, Tess, and now Polly. I can’t say for sure that she is making these stories up out of nothing, though I suspect she is. But one thing I do know for sure: The exploits of Peter and Tess have nothing to do with me or my life. There is not one grain of truth in any of those stories. Okay, yes, I have a boyfriend, and I have a friend whose name rhymes with Polly, but that’s as far as it goes. Walker is not cheating on me with “Polly” or anyone else. I didn’t leave my panties in his car. I don’t drink vodka or own a pair of binoculars.
I know it’s fun to read these stories. But, please, I beg everyone to understand that they are just that—stories. Let’s all calm down and stop this speeding gossip train before it runs off the tracks!
Nuclear Autumn: Keeping You Informed of
the Latest Developments in the Lives of Autumn
Nelson, Peter, and Tess
I know nobody reads Mood Swing anymore, so if you missed it (totally understandable), here’s an update: Lina is accusing me of making up my gossip! Don’t listen to her! Everything I write is true. She’s just trying to spin things her way. Damage control. Like Congressmen do when they get caught with their pants down. My readers are too smart to fall for that. So ignore Mood Swing and keep your dial tuned right here! More Pete and Tess news on the way. Tess was last seen coming on to a junior of the male persuasion, in a desperate attempt to make Pete jealous. The junior didn’t look too interested. Good luck, honey!
“Satisfied?” Ramona asked. She and Lina were in biology lab. Ramona was poking through their dead frog in search of its heart. Lina could hardly bear to look at it, lying there pinned to the mat with its stomach sliced open and its insides exposed.
“I give up,” Lina said. “She’s evil. Unstoppable. No one will listen to me. No one wants to hear the truth. And Autumn’s being rewarded for lying!” She hung her head, nose away from the frog because of the formaldehyde smell. “What can I do? It’s hopeless! Autumn is free to ruin my life as she pleases.”
“You need help,” Ramona said. “Supernatural help. Never fear. Ramona’s here.”
“How can you help me?”
“Your big weakness: scruples,” Ramona said. “When dealing with a girl like Autumn, scruples are a handicap. I’ll steer you away from your scrupulous impulses and show you the path to the dark side. I’ve always thought your dark side was a lot closer to the surface than you were willing to admit, anyway. Welcome to the nether regions of the soul.”
Lina didn’t say so, but she knew Ramona was right. “All right. Dark side, here I come.”
15
Los Días del Corazón
* * *
To: hollygolitely
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: Your life has become a romantic clich6 so stale, even the cast members of Friends refuse to play you in the movie.
* * *
It’s like he’s leading a double life,” Holly said. “Everything Eli told me about his family seems to be a lie.”
She and Sebastiano sat side-by-side in the school hallway, leaning against their lockers. Kids stepped over their outstretched legs as they walked by. Holly was telling Sebastiano about Eli’s parents and their dentist’s office-slash-house.
“But why would he lie?” Holly said. “His parents looked perfectly normal.”
“Maybe they’re too normal,” Sebastiano said. “Maybe he’s trying to impress you by pretending to be glamorous.”
“But if he has any intention of being my boyfriend, I’m sure to find out the truth eventually, and then what?” She sighed. “He’s not serious about me.”
“Could he be insane?” Sebastiano asked. “Have you considered mental illness?”
“He’s not insane,” Holly said. “But he is confusing. Or else he’s a con man. The last time I saw him, we had a great time. I didn’t mention that I’d looked up his address and spied on him at his house and found out everything he’d told me to that point was a lie, so he kept them coming. He said his father was married three times before he met his mother, which is why his sibling situation is too complicated to explain. But one of his half brothers is an oil magnate, and his favorite half sister is in prison for embezzlement on trumped-up charges. Seems she was framed by one of her stepmothers—I forget which one.”
“This all sounds so familiar,” Sebastiano said.
“You keep saying that,” Holly said. “Could it describe your family?”
“Almost, but that’s not it. The more you tell me the more it nags at me….”
“What I don’t understand is how, after telling me all that—which I guess is all lies, but who knows?—how can he turn to me, kiss me, and say, The sky meets the water in your eyes.”’
“That’s it!” Sebastiano smacked his forehead dramatically. “I’ve heard that line before. All these details you’ve told me about Eli—I know them from somewhere. And I finally figured out where.”
“Where?”
“Los Días del Corazón!”
“What?”
“Days of the Heart. It’s a Mexican ‘telenovela’. A soap opera. Totally wild, very juicy. Those Mexicans know how to do daytime drama.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s on one of those Spanish cable channels,” Sebastiano said. “My babysitter used to watch the telenovelas when I was little. She got me hooked. I still tune in every once in a while.”
Holly was shocked. “What are you saying? Everything Eli has said to me since I met him comes from a Mexican soap opera? How can that be?”
“It’s true—even that ‘3:17’ thing. The very first words he said to you. Otavio used that line on Marisol just a few weeks ago. I knew I’d heard it somewhere before.”
“Otavio?”
“You’d love him—he’s gorgeous. He’s the heartthrob of the show, but a real cad. Women part for him like the Red Sea for Moses.”
“Ugh, Sebastiano…” This was all so weird.
“But Marisol is the only one who can stand up to him. His equal. She’s bea
utiful, sexy, unattainable… until Otavio used that line about always thinking of her at that moment in time. Only on the show, I think the time was 11:42.”
Holly was steaming mad. Her entire relationship with Eli—what there was of it—was a complete fiction? Based on a TV show? How could he be so brazen?
“After that, Marisol is smitten, but she doesn’t show it,” Sebastiano said. “She waits for him to call—but Otavio doesn’t call for a long time. He wants to make her want him, really want him. But he’s also kind of busy defending the ranch against a raid by some evil drug lords who are blackmailing his father.”
“At least Eli didn’t try to get me to believe that,” Holly said, thinking of Eli, Sr., the paunchy dentist. “But Eli did make me wait before he called me—and he had some kind of crazy excuse. It’s as if he’s following the show like a script. The little bugger. What happened next?”
“Well, I missed the episode where the maid stabs the mother with the diamond stiletto heel, but I saw the maid burying the bloody shoe in the garden. Otavio and Marisol have a romantic dinner, but Otavio takes it slowly. He’s usually the Don Juan type, but with Marisol he just gives her a single, chaste kiss.”
“Oh, my god.” That was exactly what Eli had done with her. Only none of it was real. He was copying a character on a Mexican soap opera. And she had fallen for it. But it was all fake. Were his feelings for her fake, too?
The anger rose up in her and drove her to her feet. Eli wouldn’t get away with this. “That asshole!” she cried. “I can’t believe what a jerk he is!”
Sebastiano stayed seated on the floor. “It’s kind of funny, if you think about it,” he said. “Don’t step on my hand.” Holly was pacing furiously back and forth in front of the lockers.
“He’s going to pay,” Holly said. “I am going to go over there to his ranch house where he lives with his dentist father and tell him off like he’s never been told off before. I’ll let him know what I think of his Mexican soap opera. And then I’m going to dump him and never speak to him again, no matter how pathetically he begs.” Assuming he would beg. Holly dearly hoped he would, so she could hang up the phone on him and let his e-mails go unanswered as the situation warranted.
She turned to Sebastiano and practically spat, “I’m leaving now. You coming? You enjoy the sight of blood, don’t you?”
Sebastiano jumped up. “Wait, wait, wait a second here.”
“I don’t want to wait. I want to go this minute while my rage is good and hot. I’ll make him look at the clock and tell me what time it is—before I dump him. Another priceless moment he’ll never forget.”
“Stop,” Sebastiano said. “Let’s think this through.”
“What’s there to think about?” Holly said. “I understand that Eli is a jerk. Therefore, I will break up with him. Period.”
He grabbed Holly’s arm and tried to calm her down. “You can do that, but then you’ll miss all the fun.”
“What fun? I see nothing fun about this.”
“Think about it,” Sebastiano said. “Don’t you get it? The tables have turned. You know his secret. And he doesn’t know you know.”
“So?”
“So now you have the power,” Sebastiano said. “This is a dream come true! He’s following that soap opera like it’s a script for his life. All you have to do is watch the show, and you can predict everything he’s going to say and do. Don’t you see? You can do more than just dump his ass. You can totally mess with his head.”
Holly’s mind instantly cleared. The idea was very appealing. “It will be like being able to read his thoughts,” she said. “If I watch the show, I’ll know exactly what Eli’s going to do next. I’ll be prepared for everything.”
“You’ll be able to have a little fun with him,” Sebastiano said. “Torture him a little. Make him pay for what he’s done to you.”
“Yeah.” Holly’s mood brightened. “I’ve got a great source of information here. Why waste it? Why not put it to good use?”
“Exactly.”
“Thank god I take Spanish, or I’d never be able to follow the show.” She’d been taking Spanish since seventh grade. She wasn’t fluent, but she had a decent grasp of it.
“He won’t know that you’re onto him,” Sebastiano said. “But you’ll always know what he’s up to. You’ll be able to predict his every move. Holly, come to my house after school this afternoon! We’ll watch the show together. You’ve got to let me be a part of this—you’ve just got to!”
“Calm down,” Holly said. “All right. Let’s watch the show this afternoon. I’ll be TiVo’ing it every day from now on, believe me.”
“Excellent,” Sebastiano said. “This is so exciting. A real, live soap opera come to life!”
Holly wasn’t nearly as thrilled as Sebastiano was. But her curiosity got the best of her. What will happen next? she wondered. Stay tuned for the next episode of Holly’s Increasingly Weird Life.
16
The God of Sexy Moments Has a Laugh Mads’ Expense
* * *
To: mad4u
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: Something embarrassing will happen to you today. No, even more embarrassing than usual.
* * *
Loosen up your shoulders,” Mads shouted over the music. “Like this.” She took Stephen by the shoulders and shook him, trying to unstiffen him. As she shook him she felt her new thong ride up on her hips. She wiggled her hips, trying to get the thong to slip back down, but that didn’t work. She had no choice but to reach down and adjust it—again.
“Like this?” Stephen waggled his shoulders and pumped his legs up and down. He looked like a robot on speed.
“Kind of, but don’t jerk your head. More relaxed.” Mads showed him a smooth, easy, side-to-side step. She wished she could be more relaxed. It was Saturday night, and she and Stephen were out at the Rutgers Roadhouse, dancing to a post-punk band called Go Dog Go. The band was great, and Stephen, in spite of congenitally dorky dancing, looked good. She wore her sexy new camisole peeking out from under a white stretch button-down shirt, and her thong under her blue suede mini. The camisole was fine, but the thong was driving her crazy. It kept riding up and getting into places where she didn’t want it to be. She was constantly adjusting it, which did not make her feel the least bit sexy.
“Is this better?” Stephen was pogo’ing now, a dance move even a boy couldn’t mess up. Mads nodded. That song segued into another fast tune. Stephen took her hands so they could hop up and down together. She put her arms around his neck and jumped up on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist. He laughed and tried to pogo while piggybacking her.
That’s when it happened.
Mads felt a tiny pingi on the side of her hip. A snap, as if somebody had flicked her with a fingernail. She quickly unhooked her legs and jumped off Stephen’s back. He kept pogo’ing, but she didn’t. He stopped.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Mads didn’t answer at first. She could feel something hanging off her left leg. A swatch of fabric against her thigh. She reached to her right hip to tug the thong strap up. But it wasn’t there.
Oh, my god.
She glanced down and spotted a thin blue string peeking out from under her skirt.
“Gotta go—bathroom emergency!” she shouted over the music. She ran to the ladies’ room before Stephen could ask what the problem was. She couldn’t think of a nonembarrassing answer.
She locked herself in a stall and inspected the damage. One thong strap had snapped. Her panties were hanging by the other strap—a thread—from her left leg. Completely useless.
She had two choices: 1. Try to mend the broken thong as best she could and carry on; or 2. Toss the stupid thong in the trash.
She opted for #1. She tied together the broken ends of the thong strap. The knot made a little lump under her skirt. Real sexy. She just hoped it would hold.
She returned to Stephen, who
immediately grabbed her and flung her across the dance floor. Normally she was a wild dancer, but this was a touchy situation. Her hand involuntarily touched the knot at the side of her hip to make sure it was holding. She found herself checking the status of her thong every three minutes for the rest of the night. She couldn’t let loose if she had to worry about things falling out from under her skirt.
Stephen playfully shook her shoulders. “Relax!” he teased, imitating her. “Don’t be such a stiff boy dancer.”
She smiled and shimmied, then checked her underwear again. Still holding… whoops. As she touched it, the knot came undone.
“Um, I have to go to the bathroom again,” she said.
Stephen looked concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “But when I get back, can we leave?”
“Whatever you want.”
She returned to the bathroom and tossed the useless string into the trash. Mads knew lots of ways to ruin a night out: talking too much, not talking enough, saying something stupid, bursting into tears… She’d been guilty of date-busters before. But rogue lingerie? This was a new one.
So much for the thong experiment—it was back to granny pants for her.
17
Tess’s Tresses
* * *
To: linaonme
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: Your life feels like horror film and you’re the babysitter.
* * *
Ow!” Lina felt a sharp tug on the back of her hair. She turned around. Karl Levine, a dopey guy in her Interpersonal Human Development class, laughed and ran away to the safety of his lunchroom table full of geeks. “What did you do that for?” Lina called after him.
“That was weird,” Holly said.