Four Truths and a Lie

I rack my brain for some truths and a lie about me. I decide to take a page from Amber's book and keep it simple and boring. “I've never played basketball in my life, I'm an only child, I don't like chocolate, my favorite color is purple, and…” I try to come up with one more truth about myself.

But before I can, Crissa chimes in. “… and you came here for a really mysterious reason that you don't want anyone to know about?”

An awkward silence falls across the group. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, and the air suddenly feels thick, like a rubber band is squeezing the room.

Also available
from Lauren Barnholdt:

The Secret Identity
of Devon Delaney

LAUREN BARNHOLDT

For Aaron,
who always believes in me,
even when I don't believe in myself.
I am so lucky to have you in my life.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALADDIN MIX

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Text copyright © 2008 by Lauren Barnholdt

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

ALADDIN PAPERBACKS, ALADDIN MIX, and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Designed by Mike Rosamilia

The text of this book was set in Cochin.

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Aladdin Mix edition September 2008

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Control Number 2007943605

ISBN-13: 978-1-4169-3504-9

ISBN-10: 1-4169-3504-5

eISBN-13: 978-1-4424-0713-8

I'm all about new experiences. Like last year, in
seventh grade, when we got to do step aerobics in gym class. And everyone else was complaining, because they thought step aerobics wasn't that fun and made you all sweaty, but I was glad for the change. Or a couple summers ago, when I got to go white-water rafting with my dad. It was scary at times, and of course I got super wet when the raft flipped over, but it was also fun,
and
I got some very cool pictures to bring in for “What Did You Do on Your Summer Vacation?”

But I like to be able to
pick
my new experiences. I don't do well with things that are chosen for me. Like my new school uniform, for example.

“You'll look adorable,” my mom says, like she's talking about bathing suits for some great vacation on a Caribbean island, instead of the Brookline Academy for Girls uniform. Which, FYI, is a ridiculous-looking plaid skirt (red, blue, white, and LONG), and a heavy white shirt with a huge collar. The whole thing is very shapeless and will not match any of my shoes, including the pair I just bought: ultrafab Christian Louboutins with a chunky heel.

“I will not look adorable,” I say. “I'm going to look like a complete fool. I thought private school uniforms were supposed be cute.” It's my first day here, and we're walking up to my room on the third floor. The elevator is apparently broken, so I'm being forced to carry my bag up three flights of stairs. Every time I move up a step, my suitcase bangs against my leg.
Bang
. I wonder if I could cut the skirt a few inches.
Bang
. Or wear a pink shirt with it instead of white.
Bang
. Or maybe I could make a cute dress out of the whole uniform, as long as I kept the pattern.
Bang, bang, bang
. Who ever heard of an elevator being broken on move-in day, anyway? This doesn't seem like a very good start.

“Here we are!” my mom says. “Room three fourteen!”

There are two construction-paper cutouts on the door, one blue, one pink. They're in the shape of guitars, and my name, Scarlett, is written on the blue one, and my
roommate's name, Crissa, is written on the pink one. The Brookline Academy is an all-girls school. Why would they have pink and
blue
cutouts? And how come I got stuck with the blue one? Everyone knows pink's my fave color. I wrote it down on my new-student questionnaire and everything.

I push past my mom into the room. It's cute, with two twin beds by the window, two desks, and two small closets. Two
very
small closets. Wow. Why would they make the closets so small? And how am I going to fit all my clothes in there? Did the architects not realize that girls would be living here? Probably they thought it would be fine, since we'd be wearing our uniforms all the time.

“I hope there's not a fire,” my mom's saying, looking out the window nervously.

“There won't be a fire,” I tell her. I plop myself down on one of the twin beds by the window. I think maybe I need a nap. Starting a new school is stressful.

“Well, I'm sure they'll go over all the emergency routes with you at orientation,” my mom says. “And there's a fire escape.”

“Yeah, good thing,” I say. “Although I hope no one climbs up it. That would really suck, an intruder coming in by using what is supposed to be a life-saving mechanism.”

“We should probably start making your bed,” she says,
ignoring me and reaching into one of my bags. She pulls out two packages of sheets, one red, and one white with blue flowers. “Which ones do you want?”

“Red.” I pull myself off the bed and sigh. There's a stack of boxes in the middle of the room—stuff we had shipped here last week. My roommate's stuff (Crissa, I guess, according to the cutout on the door) is there too, although from the looks of it, she doesn't have as much as I do.

I hate unpacking. I open a box marked
BOOKS
and start shoving them haphazardly on the shelf over my desk. I actually have a surprising number of books, although I like to read romance novels, so I don't think this is going to gain me any points here. Probably all the girls here read Shakespeare. And Hemingway. And that one
War and Peace
book that's supposedly like a bazillion pages long. Not that there's anything wrong with these books, I'm sure. But I'll bet they don't have any good happy endings, like in
The Duke's Kiss
, this one really good book where the duke and this normal girl spend the whole time trying to overcome social barriers before they finally get together.

Brookline is a charter boarding school that was started by my mom's best friend and college roommate, this woman named Marion O'Neal. Basically it's for really smart girls. Their motto is “Fine young women, excellent head starts.”
Yikes. You have to take this supercompetitive placement test just to get in—well, I didn't have to take the test, which was a good thing, because I probably wouldn't have passed it.

But it's fine, since I totally have a plan for how to come off as smart.

This includes, but is not limited to, the following:

1. Do not let ANYONE find out the real reason I am here, i.e., very big scandal involving my dad, which made me have to leave my old school due to general disgrace and losing all my friends. Once people find this out, they will realize I am not smart. Not to mention they will want to talk about said scandal, and will probably (definitely) gossip behind my back.

2. Act smart. One time I watched this show about how just presenting a certain attitude totally made people think you were whatever you were pretending to be. So I'm going to act smart. I even bought a pair of fake glasses (Chanel, black spectacles, totally cute.)

3. Work hard. This is going to be the hardest one, since I'm not so good at doing things that require, um, well, work. But I know I'm going to have to apply myself. Plus, even though I was allowed in here and everything, if I don't keep my average at a B or better, we'll have to “revisit the situation.” That's what Headmistress O'Neal told me when they let me in. “Revisit the situation.” I'm
determined that I will not be revisiting anything while I'm here. Not my grades, and certainly not my past.

I'm debating whether or not I should just hide all my romance novels under my bed when a girl walks into my room.

“Hello,” she says from the doorway. I'm so startled I drop
The Duke's Kiss
right on the ground.

“Oh,” I say, picking it up and shoving it back in the box. “Hey.”

She comes over and sets her suitcase carefully down on the other bed, then holds her hand out to me. “I'm Crissa.” She has long, smooth, brown hair, and she's wearing jeans and a T-shirt that says
I
♥
NY
. There's a black messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, taking Crissa's hand and shaking it. “I'm Scarlett.” Yay for roommates! At first I was a little nervous about having to share a room with someone. I'm an only child and I've always had my own room. But now I'm totally into the idea. Staying up all night talking and gossiping. Reading magazines and doing each other's hair. Watching movies and eating—