Paper Cuts (6 page)

I pretend to think about it. ‘Including dessert?’

‘Three courses. And that’s just the beginning.’

He reaches over, grabs the zipper on my hoodie, and pulls me toward him. We’re surrounded by people, yet I feel quite comfortable kissing my Arty FB because Dunfield is the last place on earth you’d ever find Grace.

When he finally pulls away, Tyler says, ‘Consider that a sneak preview.’

‘You think one kiss is going to convince me to bid on you?’ I ask.

His smile falters as I climb down from the bleachers. ‘Where are you going?’ he calls.

‘To round up some cash.’

I collect my purse from my locker and check my wallet. Thirty bucks. That
might
be enough to win Tyler, especially since he’s not up till later in the program. By then most of the girls will have blown their budgets on the seniors and the jocks. So few Dunfield girls recognize a superhero in disguise.

Just in case, I decide to make a quick pit stop at Mr Sparling’s office on my way back to the field. He offered me some petty cash to cover my costs at events. I doubt he’ll foot the entire bill for a dream date with Tyler, but he said a good journalist dives into the action, so maybe he’ll give me a top-up.

I hear Mr Sparling’s voice before I reach the door. ‘This is not the kind of writing I expect from you,’ he lectures. ‘I’m very disappointed.’

‘Oh, come on,’ a familiar voice says. ‘It’s funny.’

I place the voice: it belongs to Mac Landis. Taking another step, I peer through the crack in the door. Sure enough, there’s a blond mop of hair in the chair opposite Mr Sparling’s.

‘It’s juvenile,’ Mr Sparling replies. ‘You’re capable of so much more. That’s why I gave you this opportunity.’

‘But you gave us free rein to share our opinions. That’s the purpose.’

‘No, the purpose is to stretch your mind and your writing skills.’

Mac murmurs something I can’t quite catch, but it’s obviously not apologetic enough for Mr Sparling, because he says, ‘Whether you aim low or aim high, you’ll reach your target, Mac. Do you want to settle for low?’

The blond head droops. ‘Okay, I’ll rewrite it. Sorry, sir.’

‘Just do your best. That’s all I ask.’

I back away before Mac leaves the office. As soon as I turn the corner, I start to run. If I hurry, I can still make it to the ATM.

Back in the field, Mariah is already on the stage, warming up the crowd with some dance moves as loud music thunders out over the field. I fill Rachel and Izzy in on the details of my scouting mission, ending with Mr Sparling’s conversation. ‘It looks like you guys were right about Mac being Scoop,’ I tell Rachel. ‘Mr Sparling sounded really disappointed. I’m surprised he expected more of Mac. He must see something we don’t.’

Finally, the auction begins. Eighty students parade around the stage before lining up. The cheers are almost loud enough to drown out the music.

Griffin Gonzalez has volunteered as auctioneer. He’ll be working from his fellow seniors down to the sole freshman
who had the nerve to put himself on the block.

Determined to take the plunge, Izzy bids on the very first guy. And the fourth. And the seventh. Each time, she is defeated by girls with deeper pockets. Number seven, who offers a limo ride and theater tickets, pulls in a whopping sixty-eight dollars.

Izzy is down but not out. When number fifteen steps up, she tries again. He’s tall and cute but more rugged than her usual type.

Rachel says, ‘In case you didn’t notice, he’s wearing hiking boots, Izzy.’

I consult the auction guide. ‘This guy’s dream date is rock climbing. You’re afraid of heights, Iz. And you only wear heels.’

‘But I like seniors,’ Izzy says. ‘And sometimes you have to compromise.’

Only one other girl is willing to compromise, and Izzy lands number fifteen for a bargain: twenty-two dollars.

When Mariah’s turn comes, she struts to center stage and does a pirouette before settling into a contrived pose. Before the auctioneer even opens the bidding, hands soar. There are a few hoarse shouts – the sound of desperate men with money to blow.

‘Opening at thirty dollars for a night of dancing at an all-ages club,’ the auctioneer says. ‘Do I hear forty?’

With each new bid, Mariah strikes a new pose. When it crosses the hundred-dollar mark, she does a high kick, which in that short skirt nets another flurry of bids.

A football player bellows, ‘One twenty. Final offer.’

There’s laughter followed by a long silence. Finally Griffin says, ‘I have one twenty. Can anyone do better?
Going
…
going
…’

‘One twenty-three,’ Curtis the tech geek calls. ‘And sixty-one cents.’

Mariah is still smiling as she scans the crowd for the voice. Her eyes land on Curtis, and the smile vanishes. She rushes toward the auctioneer, calling, ‘Wait!’

It’s too late. He has closed the bidding at $123.61.

Although successful bidders are supposed to wait till the auction is over to claim their prize, Curtis is already stumbling up the stairs to the stage. Mariah clutches the auctioneer with one hand, while Curtis pulls on her other arm.

‘Sorry, Mariah,’ Griffin says. ‘He won fair and square. It’s for charity, remember?’

Izzy, Rachel and I laugh hysterically as Curtis half carries Mariah off the stage. This is one of the moments in life that you always,
always
remember.

Mac takes center stage to the sound of whistles and catcalls from Dunfield’s female population. A junior I recognize from the Bootylicious cheerleader photo shoot raises her hand. ‘Twenty dollars.’

‘I have twenty dollars from Brianna Mills for Mac Landis and his so-called mystery date on Friday,’ the auctioneer says. ‘Do I hear thirty?’

‘Thirty,’ I call.

The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. It’s an involuntary reaction, like a sneeze.

‘I have thirty from’ – Griffin struggles to identify me – ‘some girl wearing a purple hoodie.’

‘Thirty-five,’ Brianna says.

‘Forty,’ I say.

There’s a series of other bids, but I’ve been restrained by Rachel and Izzy. ‘What are you doing?’ Izzy asks. ‘Have you lost your mind?’

‘I want to know if he’s Scoop,’ I say.

Rachel stares at me. ‘Does this have anything to do with the burrito incident? Tell me you’re not into Mac Landis.’

‘Please. My FB is not a brainless jock.’

I can understand why my friends are confused, since I’m a bit confused myself. This Luisa Perez isn’t the type to bid on the hottest guy in her year, even in the name of research. I’m not deluding myself that my two recent exchanges with Mac meant anything, especially when he hasn’t even said hello to me since. But there was something about Mac’s conversation with Mr Sparling that made me want to talk to him privately. That can’t happen in the hallway, where the school hierarchy barely allows him to acknowledge I exist.

Wrenching my wrist out of Izzy’s grip, I wave and shout, ‘Ninety dollars.’

‘One hundred,’ Brianna says. She stands on tiptoe to give me a menacing glare.

‘One ten,’ I say. It’s muffled because Rachel has her hand over my mouth, but the auctioneer hears it.

‘You won’t have anything left to bid on Tyler,’ she says. ‘You promised.’

Rachel is right. In all the excitement, I forgot about Tyler. I drained my bank account earlier, but I only have one twenty in total.

‘Brianna says one fifteen,’ the auctioneer calls. ‘Do I hear one twenty from the Hoodie?’

Rachel pinches my arm and I hesitate.

‘Going once …’

‘You guys can lend me money, right?’ I ask. ‘I’ll repay you with petty cash from Mr Sparling.’

‘Going twice …’

I don’t wait for an answer. ‘One twenty-five!’

Brianna’s superior smile collapses, and I know I’ve won the bid.

My head is spinning as the auctioneer calls,
‘Sold to the Hoodie.’
Still, I register Mac’s incredulous look in my direction as he steps back into the line. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it happened either.

It turns out I seriously underestimated the appeal of the arty type. Although I amassed thirty-seven dollars from Izzy and Rachel, it’s nowhere near enough to buy a date with Tyler. After bids from at least five attractive girls, he sold for a very respectable seventy-three.

If the highest bidder had been one of those attractive girls, Tyler might have forgiven me. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t
even an ugly girl. In fact, it wasn’t a girl at all. And as a result, he is no longer speaking to me.

I follow him to the student parking lot, pleading, ‘Come on, Tyler, I bid what I could.’

Tyler pauses with his hand on the car door. ‘You mean you bid what you had left over.’

‘It’s not what you think. I don’t like Mac or anything.’

‘You mean his “mystery date” was that appealing?’

‘I
had
to bid on him.’ I run through a list of possible excuses in my mind, each seeming lamer than the last. ‘But I can’t tell you why.’

Tyler opens the car door, shaking his head in disgust. ‘I thought you were different, but you’re just like the other airheads.’

‘That’s not true. I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t. I’m really sorry.’

‘I’m not,’ he says, climbing into the car. ‘I’m glad I found out now.’

There’s a shout behind us, and Tyler’s face reddens. It’s the guy who won the bid. ‘Hey, Milano,’ he shouts. ‘Just drop the Bulls’ tickets in my locker and we’ll call it even, okay? Forget about the dinner.’

Tyler slams his door in my face, and in a squeal of rubber my Arty FB is gone.