What's Your Status? (26 page)

“Well, then, why don’t we just go to Dr. Trent now?” Ginger asked. She looked thrilled by this option. “And we’ll tell him what Isabel did, and then she’ll get in trouble, and we won’t have to go through all this.”

“We can’t do that,” Dave said. “Because as far as Dr. Trent knows, Mad just allowed the crown to be given away. And she could get suspended for that—”

“Or expelled,” I interrupted with a sinking feeling.

“Right,” Dave said after a small pause. “Or that. But if we get the crown back, no matter what Isabel says, we’ll be okay.”

There was a moment of silence during which we all looked at the board, at the Plan, at everything that had to happen—without something going wrong—for us to get away with this unscathed.

“Is this going to work, Mad?” Schuyler asked in a small voice.

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. “I really hope so,” I said.

The meeting broke up after that, when Brian’s housekeeper came in and told us that his father was en route, and study group or not, we should probably be getting on our way. Sarah went looking for the bathroom,
Schuyler took several pictures of the whiteboard with the ShyPhone (after Kittson showed her how), and then we erased the evidence that we’d been there doing anything other than studying for a Marine Bio test.

We filed out the door, everyone—now technically “the crew,” as we had dubbed the group—looking a little shell-shocked.

“Lisa,” I said as she passed me. I just wanted us to talk and get the whole Dave thing cleared up.

But she just shook her head, barely slowing her pace. “I’m helping, Mad,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still
absolument furieuse
with you.” I watched, feeling helpless, as she and Dave walked away in opposite directions, clearly still not speaking. Lisa got into her Beetle, and Dave, armed with an excuse for why a routine pizza delivery had ended up taking him two hours, climbed into the white Putnam Pizza van.

Schuyler walked to her SUV but stood outside it, staring down at her phone. She might have been trying to answer it again, but I had a feeling that she wanted to talk to me.

“That was something, Mad,” Brian said, standing in the doorway next to me. “Most interesting study group I’ve ever been to.”

I felt my conscience give a little guilty twist. Besides me—and maybe Schuyler—Brian had the most at stake if this didn’t work out. And I really didn’t want to be responsible for his getting sent to military school. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t do particularly well there. “Brian,” I said, “if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to….”

“No,” Brian said. “I’m in.” He smiled at me. “It’s just nice to be hanging out with people again. And it’ll work, right?”

“Right,” I said as brightly as I could. “Of course.”

“And as long as I have time to spend with my lady at the prom, I’ll be fine.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “You got a date?”

“Yep,” he said, smiling. “Can we go in your limo?”

“Oh,” I said, trying to do a head count and then giving up. I was sure it would be okay. Limos were big, after all. That was their whole point. “Sure. Talk to Schuyler. So how’d you get a date?”

“Save the Last Dance,” he said happily. “Best website ever. Even better than that betting one.”

“What betting one?” I asked, but Brian continued talking over me.

“Even though STLD doesn’t let you exchange real names until the day of the prom, and I don’t know her name, I know that our profiles were totally compatible. And she’s really hot,” he added as an afterthought.

“But you don’t know her name?” I asked, smiling.

“Not yet,” he said, looking unconcerned with this detail. “But what’s in a name?”

“‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’” Sarah said, appearing and apparently assuming that we were quoting
Romeo and Juliet.

“Um, I guess,” Brian said, shooting me a questioning look.

“Thanks for letting us meet here, Brian,” I said as I headed down his front steps, Sarah walking behind me.

“No worries,” he called after us. “See you in Marine Bio, Mad.”

“Just a second, Mad,” Sarah said, taking hold of my arm just as I started toward Schuyler. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yes?” I asked as I caught Schuyler’s eye and indicated that I’d just be a moment.

“I’m doing you a favor by helping you with this,” she said, not looking at me, but down at the ends of her hair, which she twirled in her fingers.

“I know,” I said, wondering what she was getting at. “And I really appreciate it, Sarah.”

“Good,” she said, “so then you’d be willing to do a favor for me in return?”

“I guess…” I said slowly.

“Good.” Sarah looked up at me and smiled. “Because like I said in there, I’m going to be president of Thespians next year. And it will be easier for me to do that if you don’t run against me.”

I stared at her, wondering if I was understanding this. Sarah Donner was blackmailing me? Seriously? “And if I want to run?” I asked. I hadn’t decided if I was going to put my name in, but I had definitely thought about it.

“Well,” Sarah said. She frowned as though she was thinking hard, but as always, she overdid it. “I’d hate to be talking to a teacher—or Dr. Trent—and find that I’d spilled the beans about this whole plan. Accidentally, of course.” She smiled at me pleasantly.

I quelled the urge to yell at her and took a deep breath. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “But you
have to promise that you’re not going to tell. And that this is the only thing you get to hold over me. After this, we’re even.” I wasn’t about to have her tell me next fall that I wasn’t allowed to audition for any of the plays so that she could finally have her chance to be the lead.

Sarah stared at me levelly for a moment, and I wondered if she had, in fact, planned on just that. But then she nodded. “Fine,” she said. “You don’t run, and I won’t say anything to anyone, ever. I swear on Meryl.” She walked away, then turned back to me. “But you can always try for vice president, Mads,” she said. “That would make you…why…my understudy!” She smiled at me, got into her car, and sped down Brian’s driveway.

I headed over to Schuyler and saw that since she was unable to chew her hair, she was making do with her nails at the moment. “Hey,” I said, sitting next to her. Schuyler’s SUV was so massive, the bumper was practically a ledge, and we could both fit. As I sat, I felt just how tired I was.

“Mad, I’m so sorry,” Schuyler whispered, taking her hand out of her mouth. I could see that most of her nails had been bitten to the quick. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, even though it was, kind of. “It’s Isabel’s fault.”

“I just keep thinking, ‘Why now?’” Schuyler said. “I mean, why like this? She’s had three years to get back at me, and she chooses to do it like this? I don’t get it.”

I shrugged. I didn’t feel up to analyzing the motives of irrational, revenge-driven prom chairpersons. “Who knows?” I said. “I mean, maybe when she saw you at the Hyatt, it triggered something. IDK.”

Mika started singing again, and I looked down at Schuyler’s phone to see that Connor was calling her. Schuyler bit her lip and looked at the screen, then shook her head. “I’ll call him later,” she said, putting the phone, the song still playing, into her bag.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” I said. “He’s going to get worried.”

“I know,” Schuyler said. “I’ll talk to him later. When I figure out what to say.”

“Just don’t wait too long,” I said. Knowing Connor, he was probably only one more missed call away from organizing a search party.

“I owe you, Mad,” Schuyler said quietly. “Thank you for doing all this.” She looked down at the ground and twirled her keys once around her finger. “Just between you and me,” she said in a lower voice, as though we were in danger of being overheard in Brian’s deserted driveway, “will we be able to pull this off?”

I had no idea. I hadn’t told Schuyler—or any of the crew—that I’d cribbed most of this plan from James Bond novels. “I think we have to,” I said a little bleakly, “or we’re all in trouble. Especially me.”

Schuyler bit her lip and nodded. We said our goodbyes, and she walked around to the driver’s seat. I walked to Judy and got behind the wheel. I just sat there for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened that day. Finding this to be not only impossible but also headache-causing, I put my car in gear and headed for home.

CHAPTER 16

Song: Little Lies/Fleetwood Mac

Quote: “An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.”

—Oscar Wilde

“Hey,” Nate whispered to me. He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me.

I kissed him back. Nate had cut his afternoon classes and had met me in our usual spot to make out during my lunch period. It had been days since I’d seen him, which meant it had been far too long since I’d kissed him, and all I wanted to do was lose myself in our kisses, like always. But today, it just wasn’t working. My mind was racing with everything that needed to happen for us to pull off the prom heist.

After a minute, Nate pulled away and looked down at me, his brow furrowed slightly. “Mad, what is it?” he asked.

I looked up at him. I should have known that Nate would be able to tell that something was going on with me. I sighed. “Sorry,” I said. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he said, tracing my jawline with his fingers. “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” I said. There was a part of me that really wanted to tell Nate the whole plan, if only to see if he thought it would work. But another part of me didn’t want to interrupt our time together.

“Lay it on me,” he said.

I took a deep breath and was about to do just that, when a thought struck me. This whole heist might go disastrously wrong, which would mean major consequences for all of us. And if that happened, and it looked like Nate had been involved at all, he could also get in serious trouble. He was on thin enough ice already at his school, with his acceptance to Yale hanging in the balance. I finally understood why he’d refused to tell me anything about the prank. He was just trying to protect me. And now I’d have to do the same for him.

“I wish I could,” I said. “But you know how I’m on a need-to-know basis with the senior prank?”

“Yes,” Nate said, looking confused.

“It’s kind of the same thing,” I said. I saw a flash of hurt in his eyes and hated that I had to do this. I already felt like there was distance between us because of the Melissa/prom night drama, and now I felt like I’d just made it worse. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you,” I said quickly. “I really, really do. But if I do…and something happens…you could get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Seriously. What’s going on?”

I bit my lip. “I can’t tell you,” I said after a moment. “I wish I could. But things might get a little…weird at the prom. Just so you know.”

“Madison,” Nate said, and I stiffened a little, hearing him say my full name. His expression was grave. “Is this…about us?”

“No!” I said. The thought was enough to make my stomach plunge, and my heart began to beat faster. “Not at all. I promise.” I reached up, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. He rested his forehead against mine.

“I feel like you’ve been a little…distant or something in the last few days,” he said.

It would have been the perfect moment to ask him about his prom night, and what he thought I’d meant with the hand gesture, and what he was expecting to happen when we got back to Dave’s house. But the thought of having that conversation right now, when things already felt precarious between us, was just too scary. “I know,” I said. “I’ve just had a lot going on. But after the prom, things will go back to normal,” I said, fervently hoping that this would be true.

“Okay,” he said, kissing my cheek. “But you know that you can always talk to me if you change your mind, right?”

“I know,” I murmured. And I did. But I suddenly wondered why he couldn’t talk to
me.
Why he hadn’t, about the prank stuff, and the Melissa history, and everything else that he kept to himself. I prepared to ask him that very scary question. “The thing is—” I started, just as the bell rang.

“Saved by the bell?” he asked, looking at me closely.

“Something like that,” I said. I stretched up and gave him a quick kiss.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he said. “And we have our date night tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I said, smiling. Nate and I always went to the New Canaan Drive-In on Friday nights. After seven weeks, it had just become our routine, and I loved it. The second bell rang, and Nate kissed me again before squeezing my hand and heading across the parking lot to his truck. I watched him go, thinking about that moment when I’d had to confront the thought of losing him, and how frightening it had been. How it had, for a moment, actually taken my breath away. Suddenly, the Hartfield High prom theme no longer seemed quite so stupid.

Roth Mann → the crew
Okay! I’ve got a profile up. Thanks for the website info, Brian.