Lucky Me (27 page)

“Far out, Gia!” Lori said with an offended look. “What's with the ambush first thing in the morning?”

“Gia, come on,” Jack said calmly, stepping beside me and putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged it off with a steely stare directed at Meghan. “Look around you, Meghan,” I told her, pointing at floor where my edited pictures lay scattered below our feet.

Meghan, Lori and Mischa obediently looked at the ground, craning their necks to get a better look at the papers on the floor. Lori bent down and picked a few up, handing them to Meghan. The three leaned in to inspect the posters while I crossed my arms over my chest, seething.

“That's horrible, Gia!” Meghan cried, placing a manicured hand to her chest. “I can't imagine why anyone would be so cruel.”

“Yeah, neither can I. So why'd you do it?”

Meghan faked a shocked expression and turned to her friends, as if to reconfirm that she had heard me correctly.

“You think I did this?”

“I
know
you did this,” I told her. “You're the only one evil enough to pull it off.”

Meghan's shock turned to sympathy as she reached out and lightly patted my arm. “It's alright, Gia,” she said. “I know you're upset and you just want someone to blame, so I won't take this absurd accusation personally.”

“Yeah,” Mischa added. “We'll just attribute this to your substance abuse problems, poor thing.”

I gave her an incredulous look. First she went and made all these terrible photo-shopped pictures of me, then she spread them all over the school, and now she had the nerve to deny all of it in the world's most condescending tone ever
and
bring up an addiction I didn't even have?

“Gia,” Jack said quietly, sensing the volcano of anger was ready to erupt. “You don't know that Meghan did this.”

“Exactly, Gia,” Meghan agreed, fake sympathy dripping from her voice. “But if you'd like, I can go to Principal Morris with you. I'd be more than happy to help you find out who pulled this hideous prank.”

“You want me to hit her?” Aria asked, coming to my other side with a pile of ripped up posters in her hand.

“I don't think that's the best idea!” Veronica piped up with a concerned look, standing with Aaron a few feet away.

A crowd was forming around us. What with my furious looks and my well-known rivalry with Meghan, everyone else seemed to have figured out that I was pointing fingers at Meghan Adams, and began to gather around us to hear the conversation better.

“Are you sure?” Aria asked me, ignoring Veronica. “Because that World History textbook you're holding can do a lot of damage.”

“Excuse me?” Lori exclaimed. “You can't just go around hitting people, Aria! Especially when they didn't even do anything wrong.”

“Exactly,” Meghan said, looking at Aria with disgust. “If anything,
I'm
the victim here.”

Jack sucked in some air and my mouth dropped open. If Meghan Adams was the victim in all of this, I was the new Pope.

“Okay, hit her,” I told Aria, taking a step back and thrusting my textbook in Aria's hands.

“Violence never solves anything, guys!” Veronica cried, running up to us and snatching the book from Aria's grasp. A few spectators groaned with disappointment. “Can't we just talk this out?”

“You lay a fingernail on me and I will slap so many lawsuits on you, your plastic surgeon daddy will have to give up that shoebox you call a mansion.” Meghan's eyes turned cold and predator-like.

“Oh, you're going to need my plastic surgeon daddy after I'm done rearranging your face!” Aria shot back, taking a step forward, challenging Meghan to retaliate.

Veronica immediately stepped in the middle of both of them, desperately trying to reason with Aria as she and Meghan exchanged some not-so-nice nicknames for each other. The bell signaling that it was time for first period rang and everyone stopped shouting at each other.

“Alright guys!” Jack said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. His bodyguard instincts apparently kicked in as he pulled me back toward him. “As much as I would love to see this fight . . .” He turned to Aria with a grin. “And trust me, I would
really
love to see that fight, I think it's time to dial it down a notch.”

“Whatever,” Meghan announced, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and pulling her handbag higher up on her shoulder. “I don't have to stand here and deal with you barbarians. Gia, if you can't prove that I pulled this little stunt, then I really have no reason to keep looking at your face right now.”

I desperately tried to think of a good comeback, but my mind had shut down. So instead I stared at her through squinty eyes. When I finally couldn't think of anything good to say, I continued to glare at Meghan and her sycophants as they walked all the way down the hallway in their inappropriately high heels and disappeared inside a classroom. Around us, disappointed students began to disperse, heading to their classes and giving up hope for a good catfight.

“If that didn't cheer you up a little bit, I don't know what will,” Jack whispered, and I pouted.

Personally, I didn't feel any better. I had just missed an opportunity to watch Aria release hell on my arch nemesis, so disappointment was at an all-time high. On top of that, Meghan was right, which is a scary thought in itself. I didn't have any proof that she had printed out those edited pictures of me, let alone spread them all over school. All in all, there was nothing to make me feel better, and now I was late to my first class.

“Screw it! Buy me a damn sugary treat,” I declared, grabbing onto Jack's leather jacket sleeve and pulling him toward the entrance roughly.

“Don't worry, Gia,” Veronica assured me. “We'll deal with the posters.”

“And Meghan,” Aria added, winking at me. “You go home. We got this.”

“I'm actually starting to like L.A.,” Jack said, smiling at me as we left the building and headed back to the parking lot.

It had been all but three minutes and I was beyond done with school for the rest of the year. I needed to go home, crawl under my silky covers and not come out until I was pushing sixty. I hoped the embarrassment would have subsided by then.

“Nice to know you're enjoying my humiliation,” I said, returning his grin with a glare. “I was
insanely
close to slapping her.”

“I think Aria had that part covered,” Jack laughed, putting a hand in his jacket pocket as we approached the car. “She's a keeper, I'm telling you.”

That much was true. If there was a silver lining coming out of any of this, it was that I had some pretty amazing friends. But even still, I could seriously do with a calorie-filled dessert right now.

“Oh shoot,” Jack said, stopping next to the driver's door.

“What?”

“I think I dropped my keys when I was trying to break up the catfight. My jacket pocket was open.”

I widened my eyes, panicked. “I'm not going back in there, Jack! I can't!”

“You don't have to. I'll be back in a second. Stay here.”

“You can't just leave me here!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Relax, Princess. I'll be back before the big bad wolf can eat you.”

I watched Jack jog back to the school with another sigh. Great timing for losing your car keys, Jack. Right as I'm trying to make my great escape. I leaned against his jeep and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at my boots. I was considering possible lawsuits against Meghan when I felt my phone ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen, squinting in the sunlight.

“Milo,” I said, answering the phone with forced happiness. “Hi.”

“Hey, is this a good time?” Milo asked, with slight urgency in his voice.

That was an interesting question. It was pretty much the worst time possible, but if Milo Fells was calling me, I was pretty sure things were looking up.

“Yeah. Sure, what's up?”

“Is Jack with you?”

“Um,” I looked over at the school entrance, watching a few latecomers rush through the doors. No Jack. “Kind of. He actually just ran inside to—”

“Gia, listen to me,” Milo said, cutting me off. “We watched the security footage from the Coco Club. The blonde guy Claudia was talking about was Jack.”

Oh shoot. It's not like I didn't see this coming, but I had kind of forgotten to think of an excuse for that.

“Um, really?” Was all I managed to mumble, but Milo didn't seem to be paying attention.

“We're still trying to identify the blonde girl, but it's definitely Jack in the video. Look, I'll explain everything soon. We're coming to your house, I'll be there in like half an hour.”

“Wait, Milo!” I cried out, before he hung up. “I know Jack was at the Coco Club!”

“What?”

“I'll explain when you get to my house,” I told him.

“Wait, you know he was at the Coco Club?” Milo repeated, as if he was still processing that fact.

“I wasn't . . . entirely honest with you the other day.”

My phone began beeping, cutting into our conversation and indicating I had another call waiting.

“Gia w—”

“Sorry! I'm sorry! Look, I'll explain soon. I'll see you at my house. Okay bye, thanks!”

“Wai—”

I cut the phone before he could ask more questions and I could make even more of a fool of myself.

“Hello?” I said, answering the second call, not bothering to even check who was calling.

“Gia. It's been a while.”

“Hello?”

Oh shoot. Dr. D.

“Sorry I haven't been in contact. Did you miss me?”

Gee, let me think about that one. Nope!
I covered my free ear with my hand, trying to block out the sound of a car that was parking nearby. Dr. D had clearly decided his Darth Vader voice was more effective at scaring me than his auto-tune, and he was absolutely right.

“You were at the Coco Club the other day,” I said, asking more than declaring a fact.

My voice was shaking and I kept looking over at the school, but Jack was nowhere in sight.

“I was,” came the reply, and I pressed my phone tighter against my ear, straining to clearly make out what he was saying. “I'm glad you received my message.”

Sixty seconds was all I needed to nail his location, and I knew Milo would be listening closely.

“Thanks for the drink by the way,” I said.

“You barely had any of it.”

“I'm not much of a drinker,” I replied, desperately trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

It had barely been fifteen seconds. I needed to keep him on for longer, but honestly what were we supposed to talk about? Hair products and Taylor Swift's new boyfriend? Yeah. I doubt it.

“Neither am I,” Dr. D replied. “But I hope you can make it to my after party.”

“After party?”

Still no sign of Jack, and my heart was pretty much threatening to burst out of my chest from anxiety.

“Yes. It should be quite spectacular.”

Something about the way he said “spectacular” with his creepy voice sent a chill down my spine. Suddenly it hit me that in a tiny amount of time, the most important day of my life so far would involve me coming face to face with a person who had been watching me for lord knows how long. If the pressure of not falling flat on my face or looking like a whale in my dress wasn't bad enough, I also had to deal with the possibility that I may get kidnapped. Or die. Or rip my dress. Shoot I didn't even have a dress yet! I paced around Jack's car, fidgety and quite possibly suffering from some kind of an anxiety attack.

“What does the napkin say?” I demanded, transforming my panic over the lack of a gown into what I hoped was confidence and power.

“You're a smart girl Gia. Except, of course, when it comes to your math homework. You can figure out what it says.”

“Hey!” I cried, putting my free hand to my chest. “I'm trying my best, okay? You try being me for one day! I had to deal with Meghan Adams ruining my life this morning, I don't have a gown yet for the Golden Globes, the guy I really like is moving away and I
really
don't need this from you right now!”

Okay, so I wasn't particularly using my brain. Yelling at my potential murderer was probably not the best idea. A low, grumbling laughter came from the other end of the line and I looked up at the sky in frustration. Where the hell was Jack? What, was he cutting a new car key or something? And why was there a random group of people standing way on the other side of the parking lot holding massive cameras, looking all lost?

“I've got my tux ready,” he said, in an almost patronizing way, and I turned my attention away from the group of photographers. “I'm looking forward to the night.”

“Wait!” I cried. I pulled the phone away from my ear to check how long we had been speaking for—fifty-one seconds. “What does the napkin say?” I practically yelled into my iPhone.

“In the meantime,” Dr. D continued in his Star Wars voice, “Smile for the cameras.”

“Wait, what?”

Fifty-six seconds. He had managed to slip away again.

“GIA!” I heard a girl call my name out, and I spun around, coming face to face with a camera flashing in my face. “Is it true you've been receiving threats from a mysterious caller?” she asked.

“How does your dad feel about this?” A man beside her asked, resting a bulky video camera on his shoulders, the lens pointed at me.

“Where did you even hear that?” I mumbled, backing away toward the car.

There were about eight or ten of them, some had tape recorders, and the others had cameras. They were all swarmed around me, eyes widened as they expectantly waited for me to reply to their questions.

“Is it true that your father is planning on moving you to live with your mother in New York?”