ten minutes of class
is spent working on a three-question pop quiz, a Stone specialty.
I bust out of class and head for Marketing. I consider
avoiding the masses in the hallway by hiding out in a bathroom stall, but Mrs. Tavers likes to single out late entries with questions that have no answers. She enjoys humiliation a little too much. So I take the main hallway to my
locker to dump off my trig book.
"That's her," I hear a freshman girl whisper to her
friend. I pretend they're pointing to someone else and slam
my locker shut.
What could Adam have said to Allie and Harry about
me? On national TV. Now probably the whole world
thinks I'm a bitch. How could that stupid girl from Caulder,
Mass break the heart of such a sweet guy? It's not like that,
people! We went out for one season. We didn't even have
sex. Adam was way too intense. He wouldn't back down. I
broke it off. End of story. Or at least it should've been.
I see Tripp leaning over the water fountain. I'd notice
that cute booty anywhere. I so want to go over and pinch
it, but I don't need a rep as a butt grabber, either. I walk
slow and wade through the other students until Tripp lifts
his head.
"Hi." I smile.
He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. "Hey
Indigo, what's up?"
"Not much. You?"
"Got a big scrimmage on Thursday. You should come."
"Yeah, that would be cool." As long as you don't think
I'm a bitch once word gets out about my defaming on
morning TV. The crowds are starting to thin out. "Okay,
better run."
Tripp looks down at his blue shirt. "I'm left standing
here all blue. Oh, yes, I've got the Indigo Blues..."
I pretend not to let it bother me and wave as I turn
the corner. I know he's only trying to be funny, but it's not
working. This whole thing is driving me nuts. Just when I
thought I had something good ...
What a day! After weighing candy at Rock Candy for four
hours and hearing about Adam's ego-damaging interview,
all I want to do now is veg on the couch and watch mindless entertainment. I open the front door and toss my book
bag into the hall closet.
I haven't even acknowledged his presence when Eli
bounds toward me.
"Oh, my God, Indigo." He hops from one foot to the
other. His now-spiked hair teeters back and forth. "You'll
never guess who just called!"
This is not my idea of mindless entertainment. Although
he does look a bit ridiculous. "Grandma again?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Take another guess."
"The president?" I push past him to grab a Diet Coke
from the fridge.
"I wish."
I turn around and stare at him. "I've got an idea. Why
don't you just tell me?"
"Candi Campbell from Blitz News Magazine. Can you
believe it?"
My face feels flush and my eyes narrow to small slits.
"Why?"
"She wants to interview you about the song!" Eli circles
me in a happy dance.
I'm standing frozen in the kitchen. "I hope you told
her I took a pledge of celibacy and became a nun. Convent
unknown."
"She said she'd even get a clip of me."
"I'll get a clip out of you, too, if you talk." I grab one
of his sticky gelled chunks and pretend to snip, snip, snip.
He shakes me off. "That's a threat."
"Please, this is my life we're talking about. Have you seen
the way that lady can spin an interview around in seconds?
Sure, she comes on all sugary sweet. Her name is Candi, but
then vroom, she's in your face, digging up dirt faster than an
armadillo."
"I think you mean `anteater.' They eat like thirty thousand ants a day."
"An overdose of the Discovery Channel can severely
impact your mental capabilities." I pull hard on his hair. My
fingers stick to the spikes. "You're missing the point here,
detective. She's going to grind me into the ground until I
break down. And there's no way you're going to see me cry
on national TV. Remember what she did to that Betty Glad
lady?"
"Who's she?" Eli rolls his eyes at me.
Betty's husband "accidentally" drowned in the bathtub.
She was billed as the poor,