The Fruit of My Lipstick (18 page)

“So what’s going on with the exam thing?” Lucas whispered as, with the cart between us, he took the tall shelves and I went with the ones that were lower. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Not tell. Ask,” I said. “Where did you hear about this Argon person?”

He stuck a couple of books in their places while he thought. “I can’t remember. I think someone was talking in the lab. Or maybe the locker room.”

“Who? Do you remember?”

He shook his head. “Brett, maybe? I have a lot on my mind right now. Unless they’re talking directly to me, I don’t pay attention.”

“It couldn’t have been Brett.” Not a chance.

“Why not? He and I have been training on the four hundred meter track before breakfast the last couple of weeks.”

I rolled my eyes and slapped a book into its slot. “Because Brett Loyola doesn’t know Carly exists, much less whether she’s capable of pulling off something like this.”

He practically dropped the book he was holding. “Carly Aragon? The girl who comes to prayer circle? She’s the one doing this?”

Two kids rounded the corner of the stacks and I shushed him until they were gone. “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” I whispered. “I need to know who told you it was a name like Argon. If they know for sure, we have to tell Curzon right away.”

His eyes held a faraway look, as though he were running probabilities in his head. “Wow. You know, it could be her.”

“Yeah, but
could be
isn’t good enough. If it wasn’t Brett who told you, who was it?”

“Gillian, honestly, I can’t remember. But hey, why not tell Curzon anyway?” His voice had risen, so he lowered it. “She’s dragging people into her office just because they’re in the ninety-fifth percentile, which is completely illogical. At least you could make a case for this.”

It would also be a massive betrayal of my friend. And if she was struggling with giving her life to God, this might be a death blow to her. And to Shani.

But we weren’t talking about just me, or Lucas, or Shani. This was about the entire junior class. Like, nearly fifty people. How was I supposed to put that in my imaginary scale and balance it?

“I can’t do that,” I said finally. “Not without proof. Like an e-mail or something.”

“I doubt you’ll get that unless you hack into her school account.”

I couldn’t. But— “Could you?”

His eyes widened. “Are you kidding?” He dropped his voice again. “I mean, half the Science Club could. But I wouldn’t. That’s a massive invasion of privacy, not to mention I’d probably get expelled.”

“Only for blood, drugs, or fire.” That’s me. Little Miss Helpful.

He stared at me but obviously decided not to ask me how I knew this. “Regardless. There must be some other way.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“You could ask her.”

“Uh, no. End of friendship. And other things.”

He leaned across the book cart. “Gillian, this means flunking the term. A bunch of Fs on our records. And after we graduate, who’s to say you’re ever going to see her again? You might not even be friends after summer break. You’ll have failed for nothing, knowing you could have stopped it.”

“I know, I know,” I said miserably. “I just have to pray that God will show us a way to solve this. He won’t let us all go down for something we didn’t do.”

“He let His Son do that, didn’t He?”

I stared at him. “Not helping.”

Not one bit. Even though it was true.

VTalbot
      I want to meet you.

Source10
   Why?

VTalbot
       It’s not fair that you know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.

Source10
   Not fair, maybe, but safe.

VTalbot
      You could call me.

Source10
   Sorry. Caller ID.

VTalbot
      Call me from a school phone.

Source10
   Nope.

VTalbot
      You’re mean.

Source10
   I’m practical. It’s dangerous to trust a woman.

VTalbot
      Not this woman. I know how to keep my mouth shut.

Source10
   I bet you know how to do other things with it, too.

VTalbot
      Bad boy. Do you want to kiss me?

Source10
   I probably wouldn’t survive the experience.

VTalbot
      I’d be gentle.

Source10
   You don’t strike me as the gentle type.

VTalbot
      Try me.

VTalbot
      I mean it.

Chapter 17

M
AYBE LUCAS WAS RIGHT
.

After dinner Tuesday night, Lissa and I made our way down to prayer circle, which had grown and shrunk over the term to leave a core group, namely me, Lucas, Lissa, Carly, Shani, Jeremy (of course), and Travis. Even though it would mean breaking up our group, I had a decision to make.

Listening to the prayers didn’t make it any easier. I led off, and then Lucas spoke.

“Father, thank You for everything You do for us, and for the things You let us do for ourselves. Thank You for helping me make the semifinals. Thank You for all my friends here, and especially for Gillian, who keeps me sane. Amen.”

It took all I had not to open my eyes and smile at him. This was a moment between Lucas and God, not Lucas and me. But the glow of it hung over me until everyone else had said their prayer, leaving Carly for last.

Maybe that was a sign.

“Father God, I’m glad the people in this room are my friends, too. Even though we have our problems, we stick together, and I know You’re a part of why that happens. Help us all get through finals, and help us to help each other. The Bible talks about the power of discernment, Lord. Help us have that. And the power of honesty, too, especially with ourselves. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

And didn’t
that
make me feel whole bunches better about what I had to do.

To ease us out of prayer time, I sat at the piano at the other end of the room, where we belted out a praise song in passable four-part harmony. I nearly lost the chords in a couple of places when I realized that Lucas had a really sexy bass, the kind that makes your chest and stomach vibrate along with those deep notes. He hadn’t used it in quite that way when we’d sung contemporary songs. Talk about bringing the outside world in.

Whoa. Concentrate, girl. This is not the kind of thing you’re supposed to notice during a praise moment
.

Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the music. But somehow, by the end of the third stanza, my mind had made itself up.

“You guys go ahead,” I told Lissa and Lucas. “I need to talk to Carly for a second. We’ll catch up in a few minutes.”

Carly paused as she grabbed her bag—a Juicy from two seasons ago—and coat.

“What can I order for you?” Lucas asked from the doorway.

What a sweetheart
. “A half-caf nonfat caramel macchiato.”

“I can stick around,” Lissa offered. As she glanced from me to Carly, I knew she knew what I had in mind. The problem was, I didn’t know if she’d support me or Carly.

“That’s okay,” I assured her. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Shani was the last one out of the room, and she shot me a furious glare as she shut the door.

“What’s going on?” Carly leaned on the side of the piano while I took my time closing it up. It was only a spinet, so it didn’t take long.

“I need to apologize for being so hard to get along with lately. And for the other night.”

She nodded, settling into a chair close to the piano. “
De nada
. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you were pretty upset. Not that you didn’t have good reason to be, but . . .”

“I’m sure. Forgive and forget—isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” I must have had a funny look on my face because she added, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“About believing?”

“Yeah.”

This just wasn’t going to get any easier, was it? But at least she’d brought it up. “I thought you were a Christian already. But Lissa says . . .” I trailed off, leaving it open for her to tell me if she wanted.

“I always thought so, too. But lately . . . with you guys being so up front about what you believe and how you live and everything . . . I got to thinking maybe I’m not. So I figure this is giving me some practice, you know? I forgive you; you forgive me. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?” She paused for a second. “It feels kind of good.” Then she picked up her bag and glanced from me to the door.

“Um, wait a second.” I waited for her to relax a little. “I wondered if . . .”
You’d hacked into the mainframe
. “If . . .”
You’ll come clean about selling the exam answers. Oh, gack. Spit it out
. “If you’ve noticed anyone acting strange.”

Which wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all.

Her dark brown eyes, which usually held a whimsical smile, filled with confusion. “Strange how?”

“Like hanging around the computer lab late at night, or maybe passing envelopes or money or anything.”

“No.” A thought struck her. “You mean like in drug deals? When we lived in south San Jose, I saw a few of those.”

“Well, not exactly. More like the exam answers.”

“Oh.” She slouched against the chair back and crossed her ankles, staring at her Report turquoise suede mary janes, also from last year. “No, I haven’t seen anything like that. And believe me, most of the junior class is on the lookout. All of us have a lot to lose.”

“No kidding.” I couldn’t do this. I just could not come out and ask her point blank. And look at her. Not a care in the world, as relaxed as if we were talking about the new things in for spring at Neiman-Marcus. If she were guilty, wouldn’t she be going all tense and nervous? Or was she so good an actress that she could look me in the eye and lie through her teeth?

Or was it that she was innocent and really cared about forgiving me because that was the right thing to do?

In either case, I wouldn’t get an answer. To find out for sure, I had to think of something else. Some way of trapping her into blurting out the truth. In three more days.

But what?

“Come on,” I said. “I’m dying for that coffee.”

She grabbed her purse and walked beside me as we headed down the corridor toward the front doors.

At least, I consoled myself, we were back to being friends again. Until I could figure out how to get my prime suspect to betray herself.

WHEN WE WENT down to breakfast Wednesday morning, I could feel something in the air. It wasn’t just that the fog was sucked up to the windows like big pieces of used cotton batting. It wasn’t the hush in the dining room. It was the way people looked at us as we came in.

Jeremy was as white as a blank Scantron as he looked up from his tray. At the table by the window, silhouetted against the emptiness outside, Vanessa and Dani lounged with Rory Stapleton, watching us and whispering.

“Something’s wrong,” I said to Lissa in a low voice. “What’s going on?”

Travis put his tray on our table and slid in beside me. “Did somebody die or what?”

Behind him, the doors opened and Carly walked in alone. She waved at us and got her tray, then headed for the fruit bar, which is the only alternative to oatmeal here. Two juniors ahead of her slid their trays along the rail so fast they crashed into a knot of freshmen. The noise made us all jump.

“Whoa,” I heard her say. “Careful, you guys. The oatmeal isn’t going anywhere.”

“I bet you are, though,” the second guy sneered. “Cheater.”

Her fingers went loose on the tray, and I thought she’d drop it. The Christian half of me wanted to rush over there and defend her. The suspicious half kept me pinned in my seat, staring.

“I have no idea what you mean, Jake,” Carly said, “but please don’t call me names. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like failing because of you,” Jake said. “I hope you get what you deserve.”

Oh, my stars above. The word was out.

It couldn’t be true.

It could if everyone believed it.

I couldn’t. Could I?

Carly snatched up a yogurt and a dish of apricots in syrup, and hurried over to us. She dropped her tray so clumsily that her cappuccino slopped foam over into the saucer.

“What was that all about, I’d like to know.” She blinked back tears. Travis picked up his tray and went to sit with some of the guys from the Science Club. Staring after him, she asked, “What did I say?”

Lucas stopped dead in the middle of the floor, his carton of milk wobbling next to the bowl of oatmeal. “Gillian,” he said carefully, “why don’t we sit over there?” With his chin, he indicated an empty table by the wall.

“I—I—why?”

“I think it’s obvious,” he said in a low voice, but Carly still caught it.

“What’s so obvious?” She looked around and slowly got to her feet. “What does everyone seem to know but no one’s telling me? What’s going on?”

“Don’t act so injured, MexiDog,” Vanessa called lazily from her table. “We all know it was you.”

“What did I do?”

“Gillian,” Lucas said urgently. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t get out of the way of the train wreck.

Carly turned to me, her eyes huge, begging me to stand up for her, to explain, to do something. “Do you know?”

“They think you’re the one selling the exam answers,” I whispered. “But, Carly—”

She laughed, a high, abrupt sound. “That’s insane. Who would believe that?”

Silence.

“Is this what last night was about?” she asked me, going from hurt to incredulity in a second. “Did I see anyone passing envelopes or money? Are you kidding? Did you think what everyone else thinks?”

“I—”

“Wow.” She stared at me, shaking her head. “That was a really nice touch with the apology and everything. Way to soften me up and then go in with the
knife!
” The last word came out more harshly than I’d ever heard Carly speak in all the time I’d known her. She stood back. “And I forgave you. A nice little practice Christian. Well, so much for that. So much for all my friends.”