Front Page Face-Off

FRONT PAGE FACE-OFF

Jo Whittemore

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 M!X

Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

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

First Aladdin M!X edition March 2010

Text copyright © 2010 by Jo Whittemore

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

ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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.

Designed by Lisa Vega

The text of this book was set in Garamond.

Manufactured in the United States of America

0110 OFF

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Control Number 2009927097

ISBN 978-1-4169-9169-4

ISBN 978-1-4169-9898-3 (eBook)

For Cheryl,
the best critique partner the world has ever known

Always for God, family, and friends.

For my editor, Alyson Heller, who appreciates the hectic news world as much as I do.

For my agent, Jenn Laughran, who thinks I'm funny and helps me to see it.

For Michelle Andelman, who convinced me I had the
talent to write this book.

For the Awesome Austin Writers, who I'm proud to call
my friends.

For my Rochester posse and my Andover crew, who
appreciate my second life.

And for ALD, JCH, and KPK, who always answer my phone calls, even when it's hazardous to their health.

I
n China a red envelope meant the owner had good luck and protection from evil. At Brighton Junior Academy a red envelope meant the owner had half a brain and way too many pairs of shoes.

I never expected to be in
that
group, but somehow, on the first day of seventh grade, one of those envelopes found its way to my locker.

Across the front of the envelope my name, Delilah James, flowed in fancy gold script, complete with a sparkling rhinestone dotting the
i
. As a writer for the school paper, I'd seen my name dozens of times in the
byline, but never printed with quite as much pizzazz. Most girls would have squealed, taken their picture with the envelope, and framed it, but I just stared.

“Come on, Delilah!” Someone jabbed me in the ribs. “School ended five minutes ago, and I've
got
to have some real food.” My best friend, Jenner, held up the candy necklace she'd been gnawing, now just a sticky elastic string holding some sugar loops. “I'm
this
close to cannibalism.”

“Well, can you stop picturing me as a giant pork chop and look at
this
?” I stepped aside, revealing the envelope.

Jenner sucked in her breath, along with a partially chewed bit of candy. She coughed until I smacked her on the back. “No … way,” she finally managed.

“I know.”

She bent and studied my locker door, as if it had somehow produced the envelope on its own. “She would
never
send this.”

“I know.”

“She hates you!”

“I …” I frowned. “Well, I don't think she
hates
me. She just … mildly objects to my existence.” I shrugged. “And maybe we're wrong. Maybe it's from someone else who has a thing for red envelopes.”

“Oooh!” Jenner's curly blond hair bounced as she leaned close and whispered, “It could be from a creepy
Valentine killer who's seven months behind. Or a creepy
Christmas
killer who's getting a head start on the season.
Or
—” I glared at her and she backed away. “Or something not involving any form of creepy holiday killer.”

My best friend, queen of the macabre.

Jenner was overly fond of death, disease, and dismemberment. She'd once told me that if she couldn't make a career out of surfing (her first passion), then she wanted to be a grave digger.

The two of us turned to face the envelope.

It was time to get serious.

I plucked the envelope free, and a supercharged whiff of Chanel No. 5 hit me. In that instant I knew we weren't mistaken about the sender. Only one girl at Brighton Junior Academy wore that fragrance. Only one girl was
allowed
to wear that fragrance—Paige Sanders, president of the Debutantes.

And Jenner was right; Paige did hate me.

Of all the cliques that girls would push one another in front of a train to get into, the Debutantes had the longest line at the tracks. To be accepted meant instant popularity, but scoring the invite took an insane amount of brownnosing. The only exceptions to the admission process were the new president and her officers, who were chosen based on the number of girls they could crush beneath their wedge sandals.

I'd written an article on the whole affair, earning the wrath of the Debutantes, who didn't like the bad press
or
the fact that I called them “Little Debbies” (like the desserts, they were flaky, artificial, and hard to stomach). But I'd won an award for the piece
and
impressed the new student editor, who promoted me to lead reporter.

To be honest, that hadn't been half as surprising as the envelope in my hands.

“Open it.” Jenner nudged me.

I ripped into the paper, and it exploded in a shower of star-shaped confetti and iridescent glitter. “Wow. This must be what happens when unicorns throw up.”

“It's probably some decorative version of anthrax that'll make your lungs rupture and explode.” Jenner brushed the excess off my hand. “Don't breathe too deep.”

The card inside the envelope had “
You're Invited
!” written across the top in even more glitter, which clung to my fingertips and made the invitation sparkle. To add to all the shimmer and flair, the Little Debbies had jotted a personal note:

Dear Delilah,

It is our pleasure to formally announce your consideration for the Debutantes. Please join us tomorrow during study hall in the student lounge to discuss your potentially exciting future.

Paige's signature appeared at the bottom, followed by several names with various smiley faces and hearts dotting the
i
's.