Populazzi (27 page)

Ah, no.

"Because my parents caught me..." I'd started the sentence without knowing how I'd finish, but the answer was suddenly obvious..."stoned. They smelled the pot on me; that's how they knew."

"Did you ask Mommy and Daddy how they knew the smell?" Gemma asked. "That would have been my first question."

"You smoked pot with Nate?" Kristie sounded disappointed.

"We'll figure something out," Trista said. "We'll call your cell tonight."

I shook my head. "No calls."

"What are your parents, psycho? You're on your computer, right? We'll get your e-mail from Eddie," Trista said.

That settled, we all took off for class, and I rode through the rest of the day in a haze of my own Populazzi-ness. The second school let out I raced to my car and called Claudia to tell her everything.

Well, almost everything. I kind of left out the most important part. I meant to start with it, I really did ... I just couldn't.

"Did Marsh mention me at all?" she finally asked.

Claudia tried to sound casual, but I could hear the hope in her voice, which sucked. I needed her to know Marsh was
not
a good guy, but the truth would really hurt her. What kind of friend would I be if I did that?

"He didn't," I said, "but I have to tell you, Claude, I hung out with him a lot today, and the guy's kind of a jerk."

"Maybe he doesn't want you to know he's interested, because he knows you'll tell me and he doesn't want
me
to know. Maybe he wants to be a challenge."

"Maybe..."

This would be the time to tell her Marsh had a girlfriend. She'd be furious, but we'd rake him over the coals until she couldn't even imagine feeling anything but venom toward him. It would be the best thing in the world for her.

But even if she was good and angry when we were talking together, what if she got sad once we hung up? And what if she called Marsh to talk to him about it? He hadn't given her his number, but how hard was it to call 411? And if she spoke to him, how long would it be before he said something about being her very first kiss? She'd know I'd spilled it, and ... then what?

I didn't want to know what happened then. No way.

Besides, this would sort itself out. Marsh was never going to call Claudia. And as long as she thought she had a chance with him, Claude would never call Marsh. Eventually, she'd lose interest. It would be fine.

In the meantime, I needed to change the subject, so I told her about lunch at the Populazzi table. I didn't go into my Nate stories. They suddenly felt a little ... wrong. I just said it had gone really well—so well that Trista had invited me to her house.

"And so spread wide the Golden Doors of the Populazzi Palace for one Cara Leonard!" Claudia announced.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, your mission is nowhere near complete, my friend," Claudia corrected me. "Right now you're a Penultimate. By the end of the year, you will be the
Supreme
Populazzi."

I wanted to tell Claudia that only a bloody coup would tear that title away from Trista Camello, but I knew she wouldn't believe me. She had faith in the Ladder, and everything that had happened to me so far seemed to prove her right.

The truth was that I had no desire to depose Trista. I didn't want to be her. I was happy just being part of her circle. Hanging with the Populazzi made me memorable, even to people who didn't know me. I wasn't invisible anymore, and that felt amazing. Even more amazing was having a solid group of friends. I missed that a lot, especially since Archer and I hadn't been hanging out. If I really cemented my place among the Populazzi, I'd never be lonely at Chrysella again.

By the time I got home that afternoon, Kristie had already e-mailed me. She was stunned that I didn't seem to be on Facebook. She assumed it was some kind of glitch, like I'd used a weird nickname on my account. She told me to sign on and friend her and the rest of the group right away.

I actually didn't have a Facebook account. Mom and Karl had been against it until I was sixteen. By that time, I didn't see the point. Who was I going to find on it, Claudia? We already e-mailed all the time. It seemed redundant. Neither of us had bothered.

Now I couldn't join fast enough. I signed up and sent friend requests to all the Populazzi. I wondered if they'd think it was lame that I didn't have any other friends on my account. Then I remembered they already thought my parents were crazy, so maybe it wouldn't seem weird if I said Mom and Karl hated Facebook and I'd had to beg them to let me sign up.

Trista accepted my friend offer immediately. The whole group was at her house, and they'd sat down at the computer to find me and chat.

"
Grounding sux!
" she wrote. "
Got 2 get you out of it—big plans for us this year!
"

This
year.
She was already assuming I'd be with them through the year. She could only have been getting that from Eddie. It was so strange to think he was that into me. Really, we'd only spoken for a couple hours, that was it.

Not that I was complaining. It was just strange.

Once Trista logged off, I called Claudia with the latest. I used my cell, but spoke softly since technically it was still for emergency use only. Claudia signed up for Facebook, too, disguised as "Rosalind Arden," an apparent homage to
As You Like It.
She didn't post a picture or profile; she only wanted to be a fly on my wall and see the Populazzi's posts.

"If anyone asks, tell them I'm your cousin from Kansas. No, Missouri."

"Why would anyone ask?"

"Just if they do. I don't want anyone to go poking into your old life through Facebook. Rosalind Arden is a cipher. She is invisible."

"She is insane," I said before we clicked off. Moments later a chat box appeared on the screen from Rosalind: "
Minnesota!
" I laughed as I clicked it away, then tooled around looking for other people I knew. I found Archer, which was weird, because he'd never mentioned he was on Facebook. He must have signed up recently. Would Trista think it was weird if she saw him on my friend list? I remembered her clapping for his poem on the first day of school and figured she'd be fine with it.

I sent Archer a friend request, then Mom called me down for dinner. By the time I got back up to my prison cell—er, room—he'd confirmed me as a friend, but he wasn't online. Bummer. I'd thought it would be fun to chat, especially since I was sure he had all kinds of questions about my new Populazzi status.

The next two weeks were like Populazzi boot camp. Trista even spelled it out that way: I had a lot to learn if I was going to be one of them. Some of the lessons were obvious, like Thou Shalt Not Fraternize with the Happy Hopeless. That came up when Robert Schwarner, of course clad in his
BeastSlayer
cape, decided to come into The Heap and say hello. Or more precisely, to come in, stride right up to me, and say, "'Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler.'"

"What?" Brett sneered like he smelled feet.

"Is he talking to you?" Ree-Ree asked.

Actually, he was talking to Han Solo, and he was being Lando Calrissian, but that explanation could only make things worse.

The horrible part was I had seen it coming. My eyes had drifted to the doorway of The Heap just as Robert walked by, and the second he saw me, I
knew
he was going to come in, no matter how hard I screamed inside my head for him to
stopstopStopSTOPSTOOOOOOP!!!!!

Now Robert plopped down on a chair next to me. He put his feet up on a game table, making himself at home. I shot a frantic look to Eddie, but he was engrossed in picking at a small hole near the bottom of his
SIX-PAC
T-shirt, featuring Pac-Man, Ms. Pac-Man, and four Pac-babies. No help at all. And despite what Robert had said about him and Eddie once being friends, Robert didn't even glance in Eddie's direction.

Nope, he made it good and clear to all the Populazzi that I was the lucky one he'd come to see.

"What's up?" Robert asked, as if we were all alone and no one were watching, when in fact everyone but Eddie was glaring death at me for pulling such an obvious contaminant into their midst.

I was sweating. I didn't want to be mean to Robert, but I had to get him out of the room. Quickly. And without the Populazzi thinking I was friends with him and accepting me meant accepting him, too. If that was the case, I was sure they'd have no problem excommunicating me, even if Eddie wanted to stay a couple.

I smiled at Robert through clenched teeth. "Hi," I began. "You don't usually hang out here."

"Nope."

Kristie was now chewing her perfectly manicured nails, a sure sign she was wildly uncomfortable.

Gemma crunched up pieces of notebook paper and lobbed them at Robert's feet.

Then one landed at mine.

"Robert," I asked quickly, "are you really sure you want to be here?" I smiled, but I knew it didn't hide my panic, which was fine. Maybe he'd feel for me and get out of the room faster.

Brett cut to the chase. "Schwarner, get your fat ass out of here."

Robert tilted up on one hip to glance appraisingly at his backside. "Hmm. Actually, I think it's looking rather trim these days, but I'll keep your concern in mind. Thank you."

Brett jumped up. Marsh did the same but hung back, letting Brett take the lead. "You trying to mess with me?" Brett asked. "'Cause if you are, I'm right here."

"Oh, I wasn't doubting your presence in the room," Robert replied. Then he turned to me. "So ... how are things?"

I was going to kill him. I could see it in his eyes. He knew
exactly
what he was doing, and he was doing it just to make my life difficult.

"Brett, sit down," Trista said. "I'm sure Cara can handle this herself."

It was a challenge, and everyone in the room knew it.

"Robert, can I talk to you outside a second?" I asked.

"We can talk right here," he said. "We're all friends, right?"

Well, there it was. I'd given Robert an out—a perfectly good out—and he'd chosen not to take it. He in fact did the opposite: he
set me up
for what I had to do next, like he was daring me to do it! So fine, I would, but I wouldn't like it, and it wouldn't be my fault at all. It would all be on him.

"No, Robert," I said, "we're
not
friends. These are my friends, and we'd appreciate it if you'd leave us alone."

He leaned forward, pinning me with his stare. "'If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.'"

I leaned forward, too. "The Star Wars movies are ridiculously overrated. Goodbye, Robert."

That was it. Robert rose and strode out of the room, his cloak billowing around him as he left.

"Fuh-reeeeek! " Ree-Ree said.

"Does it make you want to bed him?" Gemma asked.

Ree-Ree took a moment to think about it. "Do I get to wear the cloak?"

"Hey, I'm right here!" Marsh complained.

My attention, however, was on Trista. She didn't say anything, but she wore a pleased smile and I knew she approved. If I hadn't known better, I'd almost have thought she and Robert had worked together to test my loyalties. I briefly considered writing Robert a thank-you note.

While the Shun Happy Hopeless thing was no surprise, there were all kinds of other rules I discovered as I found my place in the Populazzi. An early lesson was Thou Shalt Not Eat Weird Food, which I learned when they served sundaes in the cafeteria and I mixed a bowl of peanut butter and chocolate syrup. The sneer from Trista got me out of my seat within seconds to throw it away. I inwardly vowed she would never see me dip a french fry in a shake.

There were other lessons, too, like Thou Shalt Never Make a Joke (Even a Playful One) at Trista's Expense. Thou Shalt Always Participate in Trista's Social Plans was another, but it was waived for Gemma and me: for Gemma when she was out of town and for me while I was grounded. But I still knew it was a biggie.

The list went on and on. And then there were the zillions of acronyms I had to learn. If something was bad, it was "LA," for Lame Ass, or "Super LA," for Super Lame Ass. Something wonderful was "CHIW," for Chills-Worthy. People to be avoided were "NOKs": Not Our Kinds. Then there were the acronyms that had evolved since I'd arrived in their midst, like "TA" for Robert Schwarner ("Trim Ass") and "BL" for Nate Wetherill ("Bong Lover").

I told Claudia everything I learned, except for Marsh's dating status, and she sucked in every detail. She saw us as two halves of a single social scientist. I was on the ground doing fieldwork; she was back in the lab compiling the data. She imagined publishing a book one day, a treatise on what makes the Populazzi tick, which high school students could buy and use as a blueprint for how to skyrocket to the top of their own school's Popularity Tower.

Claudia imagined the book would be huge. I had to agree. Who wouldn't want this life? Sure, there were rules, but in return I got a group of girls who treated me like a sister. We ate lunch together, we hung in The Heap every morning before the bell rang and after lunch, and one of them was always around to fall into step with me between classes and chat.

There were
endless
things to chat about. Like Marsh and Ree-Ree's dramas. I'd thought Ree-Ree was crazy at first, like everybody said. But she wasn't, not really. Even the eye-scratching thing was exaggerated. It had happened, but Ree-Ree was provoked. This girl Bridget had found out her married dad was sleeping with Ree-Ree's single mom, and Bridget had called Ree-Ree out on it at the bus stop, saying all kinds of horrible things.

"Which is stupid," Ree-Ree said as we walked the halls. "My mom didn't do anything wrong. She wasn't the married one."

I saw on Facebook that Ree-Ree's mom listed "Men" among her favorite activities, and Ree-Ree seemed to feel the same way. She craved excitement, especially in relationships.

"It's the conquest, Cara. It's a rush," she said one day as we walked to class. "If Marsh and I were always together, we'd get bored."