005. Gossip at Aquino High

At Aquino High, the more you know about people, the more power you have over them.

The next morning I show up to school not sure how I'm going to react to seeing Spencer in the hallways. I'd stayed up the whole night thinking about our frozen yogurt get-together and how I'd seen the form for the flowers in his folder; had my name not been clearly filled in under the "recipient" heading, I would have never imagined that they had been intended for me.

Other than our quick chats in calculus and sometimes English class, Spencer and I barely interact. I consider us to be friends only in the loosest interpretation of the term: he's buddies with Taylor Cunningham and by extension hangs out with my sister and her group of friends. He stops to talk to me in the hallways and flashes me his megawatt smile on occasion, but to go so far as to assume he liked me? It was a fantasy, not a reality.

My three bouquets of roses are still in my locker when I open it to sort through my books for the day. The sinking feeling in my stomach confirms that I should have taken them home, set them in vases, and watered them to ensure they don't die. Already, the petals on the bouquet nearest to me--Liam's--are withering slightly.

I'm contemplating whether or not I should go ask a chemistry teacher to borrow a beaker to fill with water when a shadow falls over me. I turn around and see Celia Carter studying me. She looks like she recently got her eyebrows done at the brow salon Allison frequents, because they seem even more groomed than usual.

"Three bouquets?" she asks, studying the flowers propped up inside my open locker.

I wonder how many bouquets she received--if, for some reasons, Spencer sent flowers to both of us. "Yeah," I say absentmindedly, turning back to my books. I pull out my calculus textbook and straighten the sticky note I have affixed to our current chapter. "I wasn't expecting it, so I'm still trying to figure out who left them."

She pulls the bouquet with the withered flowers closer to her and inspects the tag. "Your boyfriend?" she asks, wrinkling her nose. "You have a boyfriend?"

Since I'm not sure how clear Liam wants me to be about our status, I clear my throat and say evasively, "It's an inside joke."

"Oh? With who?"

She's prying--I know it. She's hunting for gossip the way she always does, nosing around like she's going to catch somebody with their guard down. Maybe she even saw the paper in Spencer's folder and wants to confirm what she thinks she already knows.

"Just someone I know." I scan the busy hallways for a savior, anyone who can come and scoop me away from this conversation. Where's Cassidy when I need her? "Did you get any flowers?"

Fingering the petals, she gingerly places the bouquet back in my locker. "Yes." She says this as if it's completely obvious, as if Celia Carter never doesn't get flowers on Valentine's Day. "It was an anonymous bouquet too, though."

Now she's picked up the other two bouquets and is investigating them for similar tags. I want to tell her to stop getting in my business, that she won't find but she's looking for, but a part of me refrains. Let her think I have three secret admirers. Let her realize I've outdone her.

She doesn't find any more tags, so she sets the last two bunches of flowers back in their spots. Just when I think she's going to leave me alone, she swings the door of my locker so that she can see the blue Post-It note still stuck to the front. "Still only a nine?" she inquires, pursing her lips. "You'd think that with all those bouquets you'd at least be able to scrape a ten."

"Sorry to let you down."

She takes note of my sarcastic tone and raises one of those newly waxed eyebrows. For a few seconds we just stare each other down, until we're interrupted by two hands coming down on my shoulders.

"Hey, Erika!"

Liam's voice tickles the inside of my ear as he massages my shoulders. I recognize his tone--cool, flirty, and hard-to-get--but know he's not doing it for me. If I had eyes on the back of my head I know I'd see him giving Celia a once-over, because we both know the point of our fake-dating is for him to get Celia and for me to get Spencer.

Celia doesn't return his gaze, so I smile and say lightly, "Hey, Liam. What's up?"

Dropping his hands, he leans against my locker. "I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, actually."

I glance sideways at Celia--now both of her eyebrows are raised as she scrutinizes us for any sign of a romantic vibe. She's not jealous; she's just trying to glean what information about our relationship she can. At Aquino High, the more you know about people, the more power you have over them.

"I guess I'll head out, then," she says brightly after a few more seconds, shutting my locker for me. "I think Spencer wanted to see me before class started, anyway."

Before I have time to consider whether she completely made this information up or whether it's justified, she slinks away, into the crowd of high schoolers preparing for their day.

I haven't even turned back to Liam before he asks, "How was Spencer yesterday?"

"After school, you mean?" I think back again to how he looked at me as we sat in Cold Front the other day; how he'd looked embarrassed but sort of satisfied to be caught giving me flowers. How he'd told me that I was more interesting than Celia, that he liked me better.

"It went well," I said, wondering if that was the understatement of the century. I start to add that Spencer had faked needing help with calculus only so he could spend time with me, but I hold back. Somehow, I don't think Spencer would want me sharing that. Instead, I add, "He's one of the other two people who left me flowers."

"Still don't know who the third is?"

I shrug in response. The girl who owns the locker two down from mine shoulders past Liam to open it, and he scoots a little closer to me. I want to back up, but for some reason I can't make myself.

"Nobody left you a sweet little note like I did on your flowers, though, right?" he asks. His breath fans lightly across the spray of freckles on my cheeks, and I almost smile at the minty scent. He's doing this so we look like we're dating, I remind myself. We both have a part to play, and I need to step up to par.

"Nobody wrote something as cliché as 'love, your boyfriend,' if that's what you mean," I tease, making sure my smile reaches my eyes.

His smile matches mine. "You remember what I wrote? I'm flattered?"

I try to swat his hand away from its dramatic position on his heart, but he grabs my wrist instead and pins it in place. "Listen," he says, "I tried to talk to Celia after school yesterday, just like you said I should."

"How'd it go?"

Immediately, the mirth on his face vanishes, and I'm left staring at his tanned features drawn into a furrowed line. "Not great. I offered to walk her to her car and she informed me that she's not in the market, thank you very much."

"'Not in the market'?" I ask.

He wrinkles his nose. "I know, it's stupid. If Spencer left you flowers then he's clearly not into her, but she can't see that. She chased after him everywhere at my after-party on Monday. He couldn't even go into the kitchen because she'd be clinging to his arm, and if he sat down anywhere she'd sit so close to him there probably wasn't even an inch between them."

"Are you trying to make me jealous?"

His satisfied expression tells me that he is. "No," he counters instead. "I'm trying to make you share my anger."

"You're angry?"

"How would you like it if the tables were turned?" Now he's facing me dead-on, his eyes locked on mine like he really wants me to understand where he's coming from. "What if Spencer liked Celia instead of the other way around, and you had to sit at a party and watch him chase after her the whole night?"

"I'd probably leave early," I admit.

"I couldn't leave early. It was my own party."

I want to slap myself for not thinking of this. "Right," I say. "So who are you really mad at, Spencer or Celia?"

I know what he's going to say. He'll be mad at Spencer: furious that for some reason he's done something to warrant Celia crushing on him instead. He won't even pause to consider that all of this could have been avoidable if Celia didn't flirt with or chase after Spencer; he won't entertain the fact that Spencer's trying unsuccessfully to shake Celia off. It'll just be 'Spencer's stolen my girl, so I've got a score to settle with him.' That's how guys are. That's how anyone with a crush is.

True to his genetic coding, Liam doesn't surprise me. "Spencer, obviously," he says. "If he isn't interested, he just needs to tell her. Then she can move on to me."

"Maybe he is trying to get her to leave him alone, and she's just being clingy and desperate."

"Maybe you're blind because you're so obsessed with him. Maybe they're dating and neither of us know it."

I throw my hands up in the air, frustrated. "Then ask Spencer!" I exclaim, collapsing against my locker. "You two are buddies, aren't you? What's the issue with just asking him what's going on between him and Celia?"

He frowns. "Every time I try to broach the topic he freaks out and changes it."

"Maybe that's your answer, then. If they were dating he'd be proud to admit it. At the very least, he wouldn't try to hide it."

Liam is silent, so I take this opportunity to hoist my calc textbook higher in my arms and check the time. Fifteen minutes until class begins: it was lucky I got to school so early so I could have this conversation before the day's rush began. "I don't think there's anything more to say about this," I say after a few more seconds of silence. "We don't know what's going on between them, but you're the one who has the means of finding out. It's up to you."

He bites his lip and I want to smile at how he looks--if only Celia were here right now to see how admittedly adorable he is when he rages an inner battle with himself. As far as fake boyfriends go, he isn't the worst I could do.

"I guess I'll talk to him," he says after a while.

"Good." I'm about to walk away when I think of something. "By the way, how do you remember what happened at your party? I thought you were too drunk to remember anything."

His mouths open and then shuts just as quickly, as if I've rendered him speechless. Then he recovers and says easily, "I guess heartbreak isn't very easy to forget, huh?"

As he peels himself off my locker and walks away, I squint my eyes so I can study him. For once, I wonder if Liam Alvarado's reputation distorts who he actually is.

I've stood in blissful silence for all of ten seconds, running my fingers up and down the spine of my calculus textbook and thinking of Liam's and my conversation, before Cassidy comes up beside me.

"What's up?" she asks. "I figured I'd give you some time with Liam before I came over here."

I almost ask her why, but then I remember. She thinks we're dating for real. "You're fine," I say. I open my locker just for something to do and inspect my face in the mirror. My blue eyes look brighter than usual today. "How're you doing?"

"Fine." Her reflection in the mirror comes behind me, and I can't help but feel envious of her perfect chocolate-colored skin and dark, expressive eyes. My self-confidence is already way too low for so early in the morning. "I talked to Nathan, though. He's going to try and help figure out who's leaving nines on your locker."

"Great." My tone doesn't sound enthusiastic enough, so I pair it with a smile.

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and adds, "He already talked to Luke Horton. Supposedly it's not him."

I think of Luke, with his comic books tucked under one arm constantly as he worms his way through the hallways of Aquino High. Always trampled, always teased. Only a few days ago, I was the one who was disgusted when it was even suggested that he had a crush on me. That's what it's like at the bottom of the hierarchy. And despicable as it is, I'm enjoying my position at the top too much to pity those down below.

"That's a good thing," Cassidy says when I don't immediately reply. "He's a nerd."

For a second, I feel bad because even though he may be a nerd, Luke isn't bad. Still, I shrug and agree.

"Hey guys!" Brynn approaches us with her trademark grin on her face, toting her car keys and a cup carrier filled with coffee. She has her white hair pulled into a messy bun that brings out wide, gullible eyes.

"Why so cheerful?" asks Cassidy, surveying her carefully.

I catch the signs before she does. "Brynn!" I exclaim, yanking her wrist so that she's pulled closer to me. She almost drops the coffee and I grab the tray, shoving it to Cassidy. "You're wearing that necklace again. The one Taylor gave you last year."

"It matches my bracelets," she explains, shaking her free wrist in front of my nose so that the bangles clang together.

"That's not a good enough excuse." I spin her around and unclasp the necklace, folding the gold chain in my palm. "You know you shouldn't be wearing that."

Before I close my palm I inspect the charm: a delicate gold palm tree with two tiny diamonds where coconuts should be. Memories flash back to me, and I fold my fingers down so that the necklace is hidden in the creases of my hand.

When I turn around I see Cassidy has already pulled one of the three coffee cups from its slot and is sipping experimentally. She hands me the second and I take it, stuffing the necklace in the pocket of my jeans. "Brynn," I say evenly once I've turned back to her, "Have you and Taylor been talking again?"

"Yes." Her voice goes up a little at the end, the way it always does when she's trying to evade something.

"Have you guys been hanging out recently?"

Her gaze falls to the floor and her fingers reach subconsciously to her neck. I know she wishes she were still wearing that necklace so she'd have something to fiddle with.

"Brynn, think!" I look over my shoulder to Cassidy for support, but she's simply drinking her coffee and observing. "You have yellow eights on your locker. Yellow. Do you know what that means? Even if Taylor is leaving them, he just wants to hook up."

"But I just really miss him." She takes the third coffee cup from the carrier Cassidy is still holding and buries her face behind it. "I want things back the way they used to be. Remember that time at the beach? How amazing everything was and--"

"Things will never be that way again." Finally, Cassidy steps up. She sets her coffee inside her locker and curls an arm around Brynn, holding her close. "But that's okay, right? You've got to move on. Erika and I have been trying to tell you that for a while now. You don't need a jerk like that in your life."

I wrap my arm around Brynn so that she's snuggled between us, her petite frame swallowed in our grasp. It's a pact of solidarity, that we'll be there for each other. We always have been, and I don't doubt that we always will be.

On the other side of the hallway I catch sight of Allison hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder as she swings open her locker. When she turns to me, I see that her plunging top gives a perfect view of the necklace she's wearing. It's a chain of solid gold, adorned with a palm tree and two diamonds where coconuts should be.

When she sees me looking she smiles, her eyes flashing as both of her canines poke out beneath her lips. She mouths something across the hall at me, carefully and deliberately as her eyes flicker down to glance at Brynn still squeezed between Cassidy and me, but I can't make out exactly what she says. Then, she curls her fingers around the palm tree pendant, meets my gaze levelly one last time, and slams her locker shut. Before I can call after her, she's gone.

A/N: Predictions about those palm trees? ;)