Ex-Rating

  Flynn’s voice had risen to a shriek. “Flynn, listen, you’ve got this all wrong—”

  “I don’t believe you,” Flynn said. “Get away from me. I don’t want to talk to you again.”

  She marched up the aisle back to her friends, who were staring at Lina as if she were a circus freak.

  So much for Plan A, Lina thought as she slipped out of the auditorium. What a snippy little pain in the butt she is! How can Walker like her?

  Elvira’s right about one thing, she thought. Walker has sucky taste in girls.

  14

  Mads in Exile

  To: mad4u

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: I know I said you were maturing, but now I take it back. If you keep regressing at this rate, you’ll be back in diapers within a week.

  You’re what?!?” M.C. shrieked.

  Mads thought she’d better break the news of her suspension to her parents as soon as possible—before they had a chance to return Rod’s call. It wasn’t going well.

  “My innocent little girl!” M.C. cried. “What kind of delinquent have you turned into?”

  “Calm down, honey,” Russell said. “It’s not as if she was suspended for smoking or cheating or anything like that.”

  M.C. was curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow. Her eyes were wet behind her red cat’s-eye glasses. “I know,” she said. “But—suspended! What does it mean?”

  “It just means I can’t go to school for two weeks,” Mads said.

  “But it’s almost the end of the year!” M.C. said. “You won’t be prepared for your final exams. And what about your permanent record?”

  “Um, I guess it’ll have a little smudge on it,” Mads was hoping to play this down, but that never worked with M.C. She was high-strung. “Unless I can get the suspension revoked. And I can.”

  “You can?” her father said. “How can you do that?”

  “There’s a big parents’ board meeting next week,” Mads said. “I’m going to state my case in front of them and convince them that this suspension is wrong. They have no right to censor the students! And all I’m really being punished for is speaking out.”

  “And disrupting school,” M.C. reminded her.

  “Only for one period,” Mads said.

  Russell gave her a hug. “I hope you can get the suspension reversed. If you need any help, let me know. I’m proud of you for standing up for what you believe in.”

  “Don’t tell her that!” M.C. cried. “You’ll only encourage her.”

  “I also agree with your mother that getting suspended isn’t good,” Russell added.

  “Hey, get in here!” Audrey cried from the den. “Mads is on TV!”

  They ran into the den to catch the Rosewood strike on the six o’clock news.

  “Look at you!” Russell said proudly. “A real old-fashioned radical! You’re the head honcho of this whole production, aren’t you?”

  “It was all my idea,” Mads said.

  “That’s why you’re in trouble now,” her mother reminded her.

  “You look fat,” Audrey said.

  “Shut up!” Mads said.

  “It’s peaceful, well-organized,” Russell said. “Mads, I think you were right to protest.”

  “Don’t say that!” M.C. said. “What about her record? What about college?”

  “I know your mother secretly agrees with me,” Russell said.

  “I do not!” M.C. said. “Don’t speak for me.”

  “See, Mom? That’s what we were protesting about,” Mads said. “The right to speak for ourselves.”

  “Oh, honey,” M.C. said. “What are you going to do with yourself for two weeks?”

  “It won’t be a vacation. You’ll have to keep up with your schoolwork,” Russell said.

  “And we’re going to punish you,” M.C. said. “Somehow. Right, Russell?”

  “I guess we have to,” Russell said. “This is serious.”

  “I know how you can punish her,” Audrey said. “Make her be my slave! She has to do whatever I tell her to.”

  “I have a better idea,” Mads said. “For punishment, I have to find the lowlifes who are your real parents!” Audrey wasn’t adopted—she was the spitting image of M.C.—but sometimes Mads couldn’t believe she was related to her.

  “We’ll think of something,” Russell said.

  Monday, Mads’ first real day of suspension. It dragged. Russell and M.C. had yet to think up a punishment, but Mads was convinced that the boredom of staying home all day was punishment enough.

  The doorbell rang. Finally, something that passed for excitement. Mads glanced at the clock. It was after four—time for a Lina/Holly update. Her father wasn’t home from work yet, and her mother the pet shrink was downstairs in her office with a patient, a cat who hated its owner. Audrey was at a friend’s house. Mads went to the door expecting to find Lina or Holly. Instead, she found Sean.

  Without thinking, she threw open the door, then immediately regretted it. She was still wearing her pajamas (why get dressed? She hadn’t left the house all day, and they were comfy). And not just any pajamas—SpongeBob SquarePants footie pajamas.

  Sean took her in, shocked at first, and then laughed.

  “Oh my god!” Mads cried. “I’ll be right back!” She tried to slam the door shut, but Sean caught it and pushed it open again.

  “Wait, it’s okay,” he said. “You look cute. I’m a big SpongeBob fan.” He cracked up. Mads wanted to die. What was he doing popping over and surprising her like this with no warning? She would have gone out and gotten a makeover if she’d known. Or at least gotten dressed.

  What was he doing there, anyway?

  “Can I come in?” Sean asked.

  “Please let me change,” Mads said.

  “I’m only going to stay a minute,” Sean said. Mads let him in.

  “Do you want something to drink or anything?” she asked him.

  “A Coke would be great,” he said. He followed her into the kitchen.

  “We don’t have any Coke,” Mads said. Her mother was a health freak. She opened the fridge and scanned its contents. “How about an Herbal Kick Carrot-Celery Cooler?”

  “Uh, pass. Listen, kid—Madison—I heard about what happened. That Rod suspended you and everything. Everybody’s talking about it. And I just wanted to tell you I think it sucks. Totally janky. That school is supposed to be cool—different, you know? Even my mom’s on your side.”

  “Really?” Mads was surprised. His mother was one of those perfectly dressed, perfectly made up types with a super-neat house (Mads had been there for a party once). Mads would have taken her for an anti-Dating Gamer. She looked uptight. “That’s nice.”

  “Yeah,” Sean said. “I just wanted to tell you I think what you’re doing is awesome. I mean, standing up for yourself, for students’ rights and all that. I-I totally admire it.”

  Mads’ jaw dropped open. She had to use her hand to slap it shut. Sean had come to her house to tell her he admired her? Was she dreaming? It had to be a dream. In a few minutes she’d wake up to find Audrey standing over her, laughing and saying, “You should have heard what you were saying in your sleep!”

  Sean stood up. “So, anyway, I wanted to tell you that everyone at school is behind you, so don’t give up. I loved that walkout, by the way. Missed a Spanish pop quiz, turned out.”

  “Oh. Good.” Mads had finally found her voice, but not, apparently, her brain. Slowly it recovered from the shock of being an object of Sean’s admiration. And not a moment too soon. Tired of waiting for some kind of response from her, he headed for the front door.

  “Sean, wait,” Mads said. “Thanks. That really means a lot to me. I’m in pretty big trouble, and it’s nice to know it’s worth something.”

  “It is.”

  “Listen,” she said. “Will you help me? I want to stage a huge rally at the parents’ board meeting next Thursday. Will you spread the word?”


  “No problem.”

  “Thanks. Bye!” She watched him trip down the jagged stone steps that led to the street, jump into his Jeep, and zoom away. Who knew public service could be such a turn-on?

  linaonme: mads—how’s the life o’leisure?

  mad4u: boring—until sean came over.

  linaonme: ?????

  mad4u: 2 say how much he admires me

  linaonme: ?????

  mad4u: for being miss anti-censorship

  linaonme: ?????

  mad4u: stop doing that

  linaonme: sorry, it’s just so non-sean

  mad4u: I know, but it happened. Makes it all worthwhile. I’d turn down a nobel peace prize for a shot at sean. how was school 2day?

  linaonme: bleh. Walker still pissed.

  mad4u: did u tell him ramona is elvira?

  linaonme: no. she still denies it. we need proof. Or a confession.

  mad4u: I’ve got nothing but time. I’ll beat it out of her.

  Mads was annoyed with Ramona. She got the Dating Game into extra trouble with this Elvira stuff, but she still wouldn’t admit her guilt? It was wrong. And it was making things harder on Lina.

  We’ve got to get her to confess, Mads thought. Maybe then Walker will forgive Lina, and they can at least be friends again. If that’s possible.

  First, to set the trap. Mads e-mailed Ramona and asked if they could meet at Vineland the next afternoon, just to bring Mads up-to-date on what was going on in English class. Mads really didn’t care about English class, of course. She was on Elvira’s trail.

  “What did you really want to talk about?” Ramona asked Mads at Vineland the next afternoon. “I know it isn’t English. You could give a crap about that.”

  Mads was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Ramona to see through her so quickly. But it didn’t matter. The important thing was she had her suspect in sight.

  “Okay, you’re right,” Mads said. “I wanted to ask you a question … ELVIRA!”

  She leaned close to Ramona and spat out the name Elvira as if she were saying “Boo!” Ramona didn’t flinch.

  “You’ve got the wrong girl,” Ramona said. “I’m not Elvira.”

  “Oh, come on,” Mads said. “It’s just the kind of name you’d pick. And I know you wanted to get Walker and Lina together—”

  “So do you,” Ramona said. “Are you Elvira?”

  “No,” Mads said. “And neither is Holly.”

  “Well, neither am I,” Ramona said.

  “But you’re the only person who could be,” Mads said. “You work in the school office. You even wrote down an access code for me. You’re the only person who could tap into the Dating Game without us knowing.”

  “That’s not true,” Ramona said. “Rod could have done it. Or Ms. Ellen.” Ms. Ellen was Rod’s secretary.

  “But they didn’t,” Mads said. “Don’t toy with me. I’m a tough rebel now. I’m a bad girl. I’ve been suspended.”

  “Big whoop. Sorry, but it doesn’t make you any more intimidating than you ever were. And you were always about as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

  “Hey! That’s not nice. Just confess, Ramona. To help Lina.”

  “I’d love to help Lina, but I’m telling you, I’m not Elvira,” Ramona said. “If you’re through interrogating me, I’ve got homework to do. I go to school.” She stood up and added, “I’ll let you pay for the coffee.”

  Mads watched her go in disbelief. How could Ramona sit there and lie to her face that way? Repeatedly? Without blinking an eye? What kind of person does that? She’d never really been friends with Ramona—Ramona was more Lina’s friend, and even Lina had mixed feelings about her.

  Sorry, Lina, Mads thought. I gave H my best shot. Ramona is too tough for me.

  15

  The Bride Who Wouldn’t Die

  To: hollygolitely

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: What happened to you? You used to be cool.

  When her phone buzzed on Saturday, Holly tried to ignore it. She’d spent the morning e-mailing couples she’d matched, asking for their support in saving the Dating Game. She gathered any success stories she found and even tried to find benefits in the relationships that hadn’t worked out.

  Then she went to the library that morning to do research for her history project. She’d finally decided on a topic: the Russian Revolution. She planned to write a diary from the point of view of Anastasia, one of the doomed daughters of the czar. She wanted to get a lot done that morning because Mo Basri was having a big pool party that afternoon. It was two-thirty—almost time to head for the party.

  The buzzing stopped, then started again. Holly had gathered a big pile of books and was engrossed in the story of Rasputin, the monk who had the Russian royal family under his spell. Rasputin’s enemies did everything they could to kill him—they drugged him, poisoned him, and even beat and shot him. He survived it all. Then, when they gave up and simply dumped him into the river, he drowned. Maybe I should do my project on Rasputin instead, Holly thought. I could call it, “The Monk Who Wouldn’t Die.”

  The phone buzzed a third time. She couldn’t resist glancing at it to see who was calling, even though she knew: Julia. And she was right. Julia: The Bride Who Wouldn’t Stop Calling.

  Holly knew she’d get no peace until she answered the call, so she might as well get it over with. “Hello?”

  “Holly, where are you?” Julia asked. “You’re supposed to meet Deirdre and Bethany at the dressmakers for their fittings at three.”

  “They’re here? Finally,” Holly said. No maybe she’d be free. Julia could wrangle them into helping her with all her decisions.

  “Do you really need me?” Holly asked. “Can’t they get fitted themselves?”

  “Yes, but you’re supposed to help them pick out the fabric for their dresses, remember?” Holly didn’t remember this, but she’d been so busy lately she could have spaced it. Apparently Deirdre and Bethany were as helpless in making decisions as Julia was. Or at least Julia thought they were.

  “I can’t.” By three, Holly planned on being poolside at Mo’s with her friends, including Rob.

  “And while you’re there, show them the material we picked out and make sure they choose a good color, nothing hideous,” Julia added.

  “Julia, didn’t you hear me? I can’t go,” Holly said.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m working on a school project,” Holly said. “And the blog. And then there’s this pool party—”

  “A party! Holly, this is way more important than a party. Besides, it will only take a few minutes.”

  That was what Julia always said.

  “You have no idea what a hard time I’m having finding a justice of the peace,” Julia said. “And a good gardening service to clean up the yard. And dealing with Mom. You promised to help me. I’m your boyfriend’s sister.”

  “Rob’s going to be at the party,” Holly said.

  “You can go, too,” Julia said. “Just stop by Melissa’s on the way.” Melissa’s was the dress shop.

  “Please, Julia—they’re your friends. Don’t you trust them to pick out a dress in a decent color?”

  “No,” Julia said. “They’re both morons. I need you there, Blondie.” Holly could hear her tearing up over the phone. “I’m so overwhelmed with all of these things to do, and the whole idea of getting married, and Dad and Mom splitting up and everything … What? Oh hi, Mom. Want to say hello to Holly?”

  “No! Don’t put her on. I’ve got to go,” Holly said.

  “You’ll stop at Melissa’s?” Julia said.

  “Yes, I’ll stop by, just for a minute,” Holly said, thinking, Why, why do I fall for this same line every time? Because it was beginning to feel like a line to her. Like manipulation. But Holly could see Julia’s trouble. She had gotten in way over her head, trying to plan this wedding all alone in six weeks. And there were a lot of emotions bouncing off the walls at th
e Safran house, not that you’d know it from Rob, but still.

  Maybe the dressmaker wouldn’t take too long. Maybe she’d have time to stop by Mo’s pool party before it was over, and at least get her feet wet.

  “Thank you, Holly. You have no idea how much this means to me. You’re a lifesaver! Bye!”

  Holly sighed and closed her Russian history book. So much for research.

  “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t go to Mo’s,” Lina said. She had met Holly outside her locker Monday morning.

  “I told you, those girls are psychopaths,” Holly said. “Deirdre kept insisting that the dressmaker took her measurements wrong, that her waist couldn’t be that big. And when I showed them the book of cloth samples, they flipped through it for an hour and a half—and they still couldn’t decide what they wanted.”

  “’Morning, girls.” Sebastiano sauntered up to his locker, whistling. “Some rockin’ party at Mo’s on Saturday, huh?” He spun his lock open, then looked up at the girls. Holly could feel Lina making “shut up! shut up!” faces at him.

  “What?” Sebastiano said. Then he looked at Holly. “Whoa, Frankenstein, what happened to you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Holly asked.

  “Those circles under your eyes. Rough night?”

  “I worked all day on my history project,” Holly said. “I stayed up pretty late, I guess. I got such a late start—”

  “It’s due next week, you know,” Sebastiano said. “It’s only worth fifty percent of our grade.”

  “I know, Sebastiano,” Holly said. “So Mo’s was good?”

  “Yeah—where were you?” Sebastiano said. “All that bash needed was a little pinch of Holly. The food! They had a burrito bar, shrimp, burgers—veggie and regular—homemade blueberry pie. … It was better than a bar mitzvah—!”

  “Sebastiano—” Lina began, but Holly shushed her.

  “Let the boy speak,” she said. She knew he would hold nothing back. He was reliable that way.