“ERIK BIENKOWSKI,” MIKA SAID, NODDING TOWARD A GROUP OF senior lacrosse players at a nearby table.
Kitty shook her head. “I heard him bragging the other day in the weight room that he’s never read a book voluntarily.”
“At least he’s tall enough,” Mika said.
At six foot two, finding a guy Kitty didn’t tower over in flats, let alone heels, had been somewhat of a challenge. “Good point.”
Mika shifted her gaze to the table Olivia had recently left. “Tyler Brodsky?”
Kitty chortled. “You want me to date a ’Maine Man?”
“Fine.” Mika nudged her. “You know, if you had come with me to Jezebel’s back-to-school blowout, I could have introduced you to some hotties. The place was crawling.”
“Parties aren’t my thing.”
“It was pretty wild,” Mika admitted. “I got hammered. Don’t even remember how I got home.”
Kitty stiffened. That must have been the night Ronny assaulted her. “Really?” Kitty fished. “Do you remember anything?”
“Not really.” Mika shook her head sharply, then forced a laugh. “Just the usual: hangover, fuzzy memories. Don’t worry about me, Kitty Cat.”
“If you say so.” Kitty supposed it was a good thing that Mika didn’t remember the specifics of her assault, though Ronny had clearly taken advantage of her when she was too drunk to say no. Kitty clenched her jaw as the video flashed before her mind. DGM would make him wish he’d never laid eyes on Mika Jones.
Mika continued to scour the quad before she landed on a large group of juniors clustered around the outdoor amphitheater. A smile spread across her face. “Ah, I’ve got it.”
Kitty followed Mika’s gaze. Lounging in the middle of the group, taking up four rows of concrete seats with his massive frame, was Donté Greene.
Mika turned, her face beaming. “I know the perfect guy for you. Smart, handsome, and, most importantly, recently single.”
Kitty felt her face burning. Mika had to be talking about Donté. When Olivia broke up with him at the end of last year, it had been the biggest gossip to hit Bishop DuMaine since DGM. What Mika didn’t know—what no one but Kitty’s journal knew, in fact—was that Kitty had a long-standing crush on the star forward of the basketball team. And there was no way in hell she’d have the courage to ask him out.
“Don’t you want to know who it is?” Mika’s smile was wicked.
Not really. “Don’t you want to tell me?” Kitty replied, taking a sip of water to hide her embarrassment.
Mika took a dramatic breath. “Ed the Head.”
Kitty spewed water all over the lawn. “Ed the Head?” she sputtered. He was at least a foot shorter than Kitty, not exactly what she had in mind as a boyfriend.
“Sorry!” Mika buried her head in Kitty’s shoulder. “Couldn’t help it.”
“If he could help me pass Algebra II,” Kitty said, “I’d consider it.”
Mika cracked up and Kitty joined her, snorting out loud as she laughed, an uncontrollable reaction that had plagued her since childhood.
“Hey, Kitty.”
Kitty froze as all the warmth drained out of her face. Donté Greene towered above her. His blue ’Maine Men polo shirt must have been custom ordered to fit his basketball player’s build. His eyes were wide, practically glowing in contrast to his dark brown skin, and the dimples that had puckered his cheeks a second before vanished as a look of concern washed over him.
“H-hey,” Kitty stuttered, horrified that he’d witnessed her snort-filled spaz-out.
“You okay?” he asked.
Kitty nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Hi, Donté,” Mika said, her voice full of mischief. “What’s up?”
Donté’s eyes never left Kitty’s face. “You have fourth-period algebra, right?”
Kitty nodded. So that was it. Donté needed help with his math homework. Too bad he was talking to the only Asian kid in school who wasn’t good at it.
Donté jerked his thumb toward the math building. “I’m, er, heading that way. Can I walk you to class?”
“Absolutely,” Mika answered for her. She jumped off the edge of the planter box and grabbed Kitty’s duffel bag, shoving it into her arms.
Donté’s entire face lit up. “Great!”
Kitty glared at Mika as she slid to her feet, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” she said, trying to sound as menacing as possible.
“So how’s the volleyball team looking this year?” Donté asked, falling into step beside her.
“Good.” Kitty was happy for the small talk. “Not sure we can repeat as state champs, but we’ll definitely be competitive. How about the basketball team?”
“Awesome.” There was a softness in Donté’s voice that was completely out of place with his boulder-like physique. “A solid group of guys. I’m lucky to play with them.”
The warning bell rang as they approached the door to Kitty’s algebra class. “So,” she started, pausing with her hand on the knob, unsure why Donté had taken the time to walk her to class. “Was there some—”
“Would you like to go out with me?” Donté said abruptly.
Kitty caught her breath. Donté Greene was asking her out on a date. Fireworks exploded in her brain as all of her Donté daydreams replayed themselves in her head, no longer the fantasies of a secret admirer. Could this really be happening?
She smiled and opened her mouth to say yes, when she remembered Olivia. Even though she’d dumped Donté months before, going out with Olivia’s ex-boyfriend probably wasn’t good for the DGM group dynamic. As she wrestled with her answer, her eyes strayed to the ’Maine Men logo on Donté’s shirt. Not only was he Olivia’s ex, but he was a member of the ’Maine Men, sworn enemy of DGM. She couldn’t go out with him, not now, not ever.
Say no.
“Sure,” Kitty said. “I’d like that.”
Margot plotted a roundabout route back to her locker after cloning Ronny’s phone. Overly paranoid? Perhaps. But it was better to be safe than sorry.
Not that she’d ever been hauled into Father Uberti’s office for questioning. She was too anonymous at school, too quiet and unimportant to elicit suspicion. And yet, as she wove through the hallways, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her, following her. She glanced over her shoulder several times and even doubled back through the arts building to make sure no one was trailing her.
Still, as she hurried to her locker, she could have sworn she heard the squeaks of shoes on the tiled floor, as if someone was—
“Margot!” Ed the Head cried as she rounded the corner.
Margot jumped.
“You okay?” he asked, pushing himself off the row of lockers.
“Fine,” Margot said breathlessly.
Ed the Head followed Margot to her locker.
“How’s my favorite smartest girl in school?”
Margot dialed in her combination. “Smartest person in school.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said smartest girl. But I’m the smartest person at DuMaine, not restricted by gender, or by age.”
Ed the Head laughed. “And so modest.”
Margot opened her locker and pulled out her calculus textbook. “What do you want?”
Ed the Head scanned the hall, then crammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “That tip you gave me about the assembly paid off huge. I thought you were entitled to a cut.”
“Keep it.”
Ed the Head dangled the money in front of her face. “There’s like three hundred bucks here. You could buy yourself a shiny new protractor.” He smirked. “Or some friends.”
“Friends are overrated,” Margot snapped. “You should know.”
“And yet,” Ed the Head continued, “despite your lack of social standing, you’re the one who always seems to have the most dirt to share. Game spreads, Oscars predictions, who’s gonna make the homecoming court. Half my bookmaking business comes from your tips. How?”
“Educated hypotheses based on empirical data.”
Ed blinked. “Was that English?”
Margot wrinkled her mouth. “I read minds.”
“Fine, Uri Geller. Don’t tell me. Just give me one good reason why you won’t take this money.”
Margot sighed. There was only one thing she wanted from Ed the Head. “We have a deal, Edward. Remember? I help your business and in return you find me some traffic-stopping dirt on Amber Stevens. Any news on that front?”
Ed dropped his eyes to the floor. “I’m working on it.”
Margot needed something big on Amber, something that would put an end to her queen bee status for good and inflict the same level of pain and suffering that Amber had doled out to Margot for so many years. Nothing she’d been able to discover on her own had been damaging enough: a tip on Amber’s liposuction last summer, a rumor about her mom and a massage therapist in Santa Barbara, possible proof that her dad bribed her kindergarten teacher not to retain her. Hell, Amber would probably brag about the last one. So she’d struck a bargain with the only person at school as skilled at ferreting out information as she was: Ed the Head.
“Keep your money,” she said, turning to leave. “And work harder.”
“Hey!” Ed jogged after her. “Look, as turned on as I am at the idea of pocketing all this cash for services rendered, I’m worried it’s going to fuck up my karma, so . . .” He tried to shove the cash into Margot’s backpack.
“Cut it out!” Margot whirled and knocked the money out of his hand.
Ed the Head stared in disbelief as the bills fluttered to the ground. “That is the unsexiest thing I have ever seen.” He dropped to his knees and snatched at the discarded cash.
“I doubt that,” Margot said under her breath.
“Hey, is the green up for grabs?” Logan Blaine bounded out of the men’s room and halted in his tracks.
“No.” Ed the Head didn’t look up as he palmed the last of the twenty-dollar bills. “No, it is not.”
Logan clicked his tongue. “Too bad. I need to get my board waxed and . . .” His voice trailed off as he noticed Margot standing behind Ed. “Margot, right? From AP Government?”
Margot felt her throat constrict. He remembered her? “Yeah,” she managed to choke out.
“Logan, my man.” Ed the Head held his hand up for a high five, realized he was double-fisting wads of cash, and quickly shoved the loot into his pockets.
Logan looked confused. “Have we met?”
“Nope.” Ed the Head hiked up his backpack on his shoulder. “Well, kids, it’s been awesome. Catching up, sharing memories. A real special moment for all of us, but I am considerably out of here.”
Logan stared at Ed the Head as he disappeared around the corner. “Weird dude.”
Margot nodded. Weird but useful.
