7 Clues to Winning You (2 page)

Dad closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and dramatically. “You know how we talked about moving over to the Ash Grove school district after you graduated, Blythe, so that I would have a better shot at becoming superintendent when Hank Bascomb retires?”

“Yes,” I said tentatively.

“Well, there’s been a little change in those plans.”

I lit up. “We’re not moving? Oh thank GOD. The thought of coming back from college to some weird house makes me want to puke.”

Dad didn’t nod. Instead, he glanced at Mom and they locked eyes for an instant. Uh-oh. I froze, suddenly aware that I’d instinctively put on the lady look.

Dad cleared his throat again and said, “Well, last month, I got word that Superintendent Bascomb is retiring this year. So if I truly want a shot at his position, I … I mean,
we
… need to be living in the Ash Grove school district.”

As he spoke, my stomach tightened and tightened until I found myself struggling to breathe. My fingers were curled into knobs pressing hard into the tops of my thighs. My toes burrowed into the carpet.

“So we’re moving,” Dad said. “Immediately.”

Zach looked up from his game
without even pausing it
. That was serious.

My head buzzed. “But I’ll get to stay at Meriton, right? I won’t have to switch schools for my senior year, RIGHT?”

Dad rocked back and forth on his heels again. “Unfortunately not. In fact, you’re going to have to switch to Ash Grove even earlier.”

“Like how early?” I cried. “What’s earlier than senior year?” Inside, I already knew what he was going to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, let alone to say it.

“Junior year. Now. Directly after spring break, that is. I think the best time for you to transition is right at the start of
the spring quarter. Luckily, our calendar at Ash Grove coincides with Meriton’s, so you’ll still have your vacation.” He winked at me as though he’d done me some kind of favor on the sly.

My mother finally chimed in with, “If you think about it, sweetie, this is actually good news.” She raised her eyebrows and tipped her Barbie-doll face to the side. “You’ll have a chance to make some friends before senior year.”

“That does not qualify as
good news
,” I said, jumping up. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. I go to Meriton. All my friends are at Meriton. Meriton is a top school. I can’t graduate from
Ash Grove
! Ash Grove graduates do NOT get into Bryn Mawr!”

Dad wagged his finger in the air. “Pardon me, young lady, but many Ash Grove graduates go on to top-rated universities.”

“Not like Meriton grads!”

“Well, then you’ll be at the top of the class, won’t you?” Mom chirped.

“Ooh, that’ll make her popular,” Zach muttered.

“Hold on. Hold on,” I said, struggling to come up with a solution. A resolution. Some kind of detour that would lead me back on the path to my happy ending. “I know! What if I live with Tara until graduation?”

Mom shook her head. “Blythe, sweetie, we can’t possibly impose on Tara’s family like that. It’s out of the question.”

Blood flushed up into my face and my fingers tingled. “I can’t go to Ash Grove! Have you forgotten what happened to me there?”

Dad chuckled. “Honey, that was a year ago. I’m sure no one remembers it.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure? Because I remember it. I remember it perfectly. The humiliation. The giggling. Even from a few Meriton kids who saw that awful picture. I can’t imagine facing an entire school that did. Please, Daddy, you can’t do this to me!” I knew that pleading as daddy’s little girl was probably futile or at best a long shot, but I was determined to pluck his heartstrings as hard as I could.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you, pumpkin. This is my shot. My one shot. I have to take it. I promise the move will be easy, and I’ll make sure things go well at school.”

It was only really at that exact moment that the full trauma of this horrific ordeal hit me. I’d been focused merely on academic insufficiencies and the lingering humiliation of a bad viral photo of me from last year. But that wasn’t all of it. “Oh my God,” I said. “I’m going to be the principal’s kid. Unbelievable. I might as well start planning a funeral for my social life right now.”

AFTER THE FAMILY FIREBOMB FEST, I TOOK OFF TO meet Tara and the rest of my girls for some serious consolation. There were five of us. Four of us had been really tight ever since first grade. You know, like we knew every tiny detail of each other’s dream guy, dream date, dream wedding, dream honeymoon, dream celebrity hottie who we’d secretly make out with if he showed up on our honeymoon. Tara was the kind of girl who didn’t even care about getting married. She hated the idea of being anchored to anything. If I ever said, “Wouldn’t it be cool to do such and such?” Tara would say, “So, duh, let’s go do it.” I swear, if the electric company could tap into Tara, she could power the entire East Coast.

Cerise and Veronica were tight with each other too. So tight that they could’ve been twins. They even finished each other’s sentences and sometimes coordinated their outfits. They were always jockeying for head of the class and had a running bet that whoever made valedictorian senior year would get to decide where they’d spend the summer after graduation. Cerise wanted to go to Montreal, but Veronica wanted to go to Palm Beach. It was one of the few things they disagreed on.

Melissa was our new number five. She’d only been at
Meriton since the beginning of the school year, but she’d slid right into place like Cinderella’s foot into the glass slipper. She was the one in our group who, if you were just casually checking us out, you might think was the cling-on. She dressed conservatively and didn’t say much. She never tried to impress anyone, but that’s because she didn’t need to. Melissa was literally a descendant of royalty in some small European country. Okay, so she was the end of a long, twisty branch of the family tree, but related was related. Melissa’s great-grandmother had had an affair with one of the nephews and got pregnant with Melissa’s grandfather. The royal family flipped out and the nephew eventually sent great-grandma packing to the U.S. with the baby and a wad of cash. The money was gone long ago (thus public school for Melissa), but the lineage was still there. I mean, wow, to know you’re a member of a royal family? How cool would that be? Yeah, Melissa was no cling-on.

Whenever one of us was having a crap day, we’d meet at the coffee shop in Meriton for large doses of caffeine, sugar, and chocolate or at the mall for some shopping therapy. A problem like switching schools definitely called for the mall. But shopping didn’t make a dent this time. In fact, I pretty much just wandered from store to store in tears.

“I’m telling you, my mom would totally let you live with us,” Tara said for the fifth time. She gave me a one-armed sideways squeeze and touched her head to mine.

“I wish,” I said. “My parents would never let it happen, though. Besides, we’d probably start killing each other within weeks.” I forced a hollow laugh.

“Yeah, most likely,” Tara agreed.

“You should just emancipate yourself,” Veronica chirped.

“Divorce your parents,” Cerise added.

“Then you could do what you wanted,” Veronica concluded.

“There’s no time,” I said. I’d already considered this option on the ride over here. “I start school right after break.”

“Well, we’ll just have to have a blowout spring break, then,” Tara said. She hooked one arm through mine and the other through Melissa’s. “Come on, ladies. Let’s buy our girl here a giganto-sized caramel macchiato or three.”

I dragged the sides of my index fingers along my bottom lash line to wipe off any smudged mascara and put on what I hoped was a convincing lady look. “Sounds great,” I said.

We headed over to the food court and got our caramel macchiatos. Tara also got a handful of chocolate biscotti and passed them around at the table.

“My parents are actually meeting with a real estate agent as we speak,” I said, dunking my biscotti, “to look for a new house and put ours up for sale, which seems totally surreal. I can’t imagine not living there. I just … I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s being so selfish.” I chomped down on the dripping end of the biscotti.

“I know! What is his deal?” Veronica said, stirring a third packet of sugar into her coffee.

I swallowed. “All he cares about is his career. Making more money. Getting a higher position. I mean, he didn’t even ask any of us what we thought. It’s like we didn’t even matter.” Tears filled my eyes again. I started dunking violently.
Tara passed me a napkin, and I dabbed the corners of my eyes so that whatever was left of my mascara would be spared.

“I felt the same way about my dad moving us here,” Melissa said. “He got a promotion, so it was like, no question that we’d move. Meriton’s not bad, though. I miss my old friends, but it’s actually kind of cool to start with a completely clean slate, you know? Someplace where you have no history to live down.”

“Except that she does,” Tara muttered to her cup.

Melissa eyed us one by one. “So what did happen, anyway? I never heard.”

I swallowed the last lump of biscotti, and it tried its best to lodge in my throat. I guess I was taking too long to respond, because Cerise jumped in and started babbling.

“Okay. Well. Over at Ash Grove, they have this yearly tradition where the seniors put on a scavenger hunt for the juniors in spring term. It’s a kind of a race, where they have to find each object and turn it in to hear what the next object will be. Whoever turns in the final scavenger hunt object first wins some huge mystery prize.” As Cerise spoke, Veronica made hand gestures as if she were the one talking. It was one of the more creepy things the pair of them did.

“Like impossible-to-get concert tickets and a limo,” Veronica said. “Or a weekend at the shore.”

“Something awesome, you know?” Cerise continued. “So last year, since Blythe’s dad is the principal, one of the clues was to get a picture of him in his regular home life. Doing anything.”

“Mowing the lawn, getting the mail, whatever,” Veronica added.

“The stuff they have to find is all goofy,” Tara interjected. “Enema bags, a case of fortune cookies, that kind of thing.”

Melissa nodded and stirred her coffee methodically.

Veronica piped up. “So this one kid actually crept up to Blythe’s kitchen window and snapped a picture of her dad inside.”

“Which, I think, is illegal or should be, and that kid should’ve been charged,” Cerise added. Veronica nodded vehemently.

I stepped in. “Well, my dad would never press charges and alienate his precious student body, but whatever. The kid took the picture. The problem was, I was in the picture too.” I held up my foamy stir stick. “Now listen. Let me explain something first. I was just getting over a cold and my nose was super sore from blowing it. And I had a tissue right there in my hand, but it was hurting to try to use it, so …”

Tara jumped in. “She picked her nose! Right when he took the picture!”

“My nose was sore,” I cried. “And it was only my pinky, which is barely even a real finger! So yes, kill me, I picked my nose, and everyone does it so whatever.”

Tara was cracking up so hard that she hugged herself in pain. I shoved her, and she held up her hands in surrender. “I know! I know. It was totally scarring for you. And completely unfair.” She snorted. “But it was kind of funny.” She looked to the other girls for affirmation, then turned back to me. “You have to admit it,” she continued. “I mean, it’s
not like it was a picture of you naked or making out with your cat.”

“I don’t have a cat.”

“Well, if you did have a cat.”

“It was bad enough,” I said.

She gave me a soft grin and ran her hand across her short, razor-cut hair. “I know it was. I was right there with you the whole time, remember? I’d have taken that bullet for you in a second, and you know it.”

I made little rips around the rim of my cup. “I know …”

“Okay, so someone took a picture,” Melissa said as a puzzled look spread across her face. “How does that translate into some major history you have to live down?”

I inhaled, preparing to answer, but Veronica beat me to it. “It went viral. As soon as this kid turned it in for the scavenger hunt, some senior jerk noticed Blythe mining for gold in the background. He cropped and magnified the picture and e-mailed it to all his friends.”

I shook my head at the memory. “Every time I think of Ash Grove, I think of that picture, and this flood of embarrassment and humiliation rushes through me all over again. How am I going to go to school there every day?”

“It’s so old news,” Cerise added. “Nobody’s going to remember.”

“I remember,” I said.

“Oh my God, you have got to get over it,” Tara said. She reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. “Seriously, Blythe. You’re making it worse for yourself. Just let it go.”

“I know, I know,” I said. I tipped my cup way back and tapped the bottom, but the last dollop of foam wouldn’t slip down. I gave up and set my cup down hard on the table.

“The picture even ended up in the Ash Grove school newspaper,” Veronica whispered to Melissa.

“Hello?” Cerise cried at Veronica. “Not helping!”

Melissa’s eyebrows knitted together. “Wasn’t there a staff adviser? How could they allow that?”

“It wasn’t the real school newspaper,” I said, waving the air like the newspaper was nothing more than a bad smell. “There’s this unofficial online student newspaper that supposedly tells the truth about all the hush-hush things that happen in school. You know, like which teacher got a DUI or how some study group turned into a drunken orgy … That’s where the picture was posted. I guess they were making fun of the principal’s kid. Hilarious.”

“Wow,” Melissa said. “There’s no way that kind of bullying would have been tolerated at my old school. Those kids would be expelled.”

Bullying?

To be honest, I’d never thought of it as bullying. I’m not sure why. I guess I never considered myself as the victim type. All along, I figured that the whole fiasco was partly my fault because I did, in fact, pick my nose. And it’s not like it was a sexting picture. Was it bullying?