A Match Made in High School (8 page)

I shrugged. “We could try it. How about pizza sauce?”

Sam rifled through the pantry. “Nope. No pizza sauce.”

“Spaghetti sauce?” Todd suggested.

“Nope.”

“Tomato paste?” I asked.

Sam pulled the fridge open again. “We have ketchup.”

I paused a moment to consider the palatability of bread topped with ketchup and cottage cheese. Questionable. “We’ll dump on lots of garlic salt and oregano. You do the pizzas. I’ll get the popcorn going.” I pulled out the soup pot and poured olive oil in the bottom. I added a layer of popcorn kernels, slipped on the lid, and set the pot over medium-high heat. Todd leaned on the counter and watched. How typical that he wouldn’t help cook. “Hey Sam, how’d your first few days of school go?” I asked.

“Well. First of all, Ginny and I are
not
friends anymore.”

“
What
?” Ginny Genovese was Sam’s best friend. Her one true friend. Ginny was Sam’s Marcie. “What happened?”

Sam slapped three slices of white bread onto the toaster oven baking sheet. She squeezed ketchup on them and began spreading it with a spoon. “Well. There’s this new girl, Olivia Purdy. And she has a really big house with a pool and a big-screen TV and everything. She’s really rich or something, I guess. So Ginny decides that she wants to be this girl’s best friend so she can use her pool and all. So she goes to Olivia and says that the other girls, me included, are all jerks. And she will show Olivia around and stuff. And not to be friends with anyone else and neither would she. They’d be best friends.”

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“How did you hear all that?” Todd asked. As if he cared. She glared at Todd and finally answered him. “Ginny told me.” She sprinkled garlic salt and oregano over the ketchup.

“She told you?” I cried. “She told you that she said all the other girls were jerks?”

“Well, no. That part I heard from Dominick Mancuso. He heard it on the bus from Olivia’s older sister. But Ginny told me about the part where she and Olivia were going to be best friends and everything.” Sam swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and then stood at the counter with her arms crossed. She was crying. I left the pot and wrapped my body around her. “I am so sorry, sweetie,” I said. I heard the popcorn oil sizzling and the first kernels pop. Before I could get back to the stove, Todd stepped in and started sliding the pot back and forth. The popping reached a fierce crescendo, and when it finally subsided, he moved the pot to a cool burner and shut off the hot one. I kissed Sam on the back of her head and went over to the stove. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot on the floor until Todd moved out of the way. I opened the pot and sprinkled the dry Italian dressing over the hot popcorn. I put the lid back on, shook the pot, and said, “I can
not
believe Ginny would do that to you.”

Sam straightened up and dug a spoon into the container of cottage cheese. “It was truly tacky.” She dolloped the cheese onto the pizzas and slipped them into the toaster oven to broil.

“It was truly tacky,” I said. “And anyone who would do

that is not worthy of Samantha Pickler’s friendship.” She shrugged.

“Hey, you know what you should do?” Todd said. “You should put a curse on her.”

I rolled my eyes, but Sam turned to Todd and smiled.

“Really?”

“Sure,” he said. “Send her some bad mojo.”

Sam’s face lit up. “Yeah, voodoo style. Do you know how to do it? Or do you, Fiona?”

I shrugged. Then gave Todd the stink-eye. I didn’t trust him for a second.

Todd said, “We can wing it. Have you got anything that belongs to her?”

“No,” Sam said. “Wait, yes! I borrowed a bracelet from her a couple of weeks ago. Will that work?”

“Might as well try,” Todd said.

Sam tripped upstairs for the bracelet.

“Have any candles?” Todd asked.

I wheeled around on him. “Why are you being so nice?”

“I’m not being nice,” he said. “I’m just bored, Princess.”

I stuck my finger right in Todd’s face. “Listen, Señor Shitslacks. If you do anything to upset that kid, I am personally going to castrate you.”

“Quit talking about my balls. You’re turning me on.”

“You are disgusting.”

He smacked my finger away. “Just get a candle,” he said.

“Is there paper anywhere? And a marker or something?”

I pointed to the junk drawer but kept my eyes on him.

“In there.” I glowered at him on my way to the dining room 86 Kristin Walker

to rummage around in the hutch for candles. The only one I could find was a cinnamon-and-cranberry-scented one called “Heartful Home.” Not exactly voodoo material. Oh well. We weren’t exactly voodoo priests and priestesses either. Or witches. Or hex putters. Or whatever. Todd found a piece of paper and a black marker and drew a large circle with a pentagram inside it. Sam came barreling into the kitchen. “Here.” She handed the bracelet to Todd. A silver chain with little purple stones dangling like charms.

“That’s pretty,” I said.

“Well, I’m
not
keeping it. Let’s put a curse on her and a curse on the bracelet and then I’ll give it back to her and she’ll get a double dose of evil.”

“I like the way you think,” Todd said.

I lit the candle and Sam turned out the lights. The three of us sat on the floor with the pentagram between us. I set the candle in the middle of the star. I had no clue what I was doing, but it looked spooky enough.

Todd held out the bracelet. “Everybody grab hold,” he said. We held it above the flame. “Now bow your head.”

Then he let loose with the bull. “Attention, spirits of the otherworld! We call upon you in this time of need. Young Samantha has been wronged by another, the owner of this worldly possession.” We lifted the bracelet higher. Sam chimed in. “Hail, gods of friendship and loyalty!”

“Yes, gods!” Todd called. “We humbly request that you wield your devastating power upon—what was her name?”

“Ginny Genovese,” I whispered between clenched teeth.

“Upon Ginny Genovese! And bring her to her knees!”

“Give it to her! Give it to her good!” Sam cried. We stretched our arms as high as we could, suspending the bracelet above our heads. Todd started to lower it, and Sam and I followed. I decided to jump in. “Unleash your powers, oh, great ones,” I said. “Bring unto Ginny Genovese the pain she brought to our dear sister Samantha. Use this bracelet as a vehicle to carry your curse and all of your wrath. Deliver it to Ginny as we deliver this trinket to her.”

“No mercy!” Sam cried.

Todd said, “By the powers of everything good, loyal, and true, we hereby declare this bracelet and its owner, Ginny Genovese, cursed for all time.”

“Or until we decide to let her off the hook,” Sam added. We set the bracelet on the pentagram and blew out the candle together.

“It is done,” I said.

“What do you think will happen to her?” Sam asked. I cackled and rubbed my palms together. “Time will tell.”

The toaster oven dinged. The pizzas were done. Sam sighed and smiled. “Let’s watch the movie.”

But halfway into the movie, we heard a key click in the front door lock. Mrs. Pickler bolted up the stairs. Soon after, Mr. Pickler strolled in, peeling bills from his wallet. “Sorry, Fiona. Oh, hi there. Todd, right?” Todd stood up and shook his hand. “Jake Pickler. Listen, Sam’s mom has a migraine. We won’t be needing you anymore tonight.” He held the bills just out of my reach, so I had to stand up to get them. Slight hint to get lost. “There’s a little extra here for your trouble.”

“But Dad, we’re watching a movie,” Sam whined. 88 Kristin Walker

“Not tonight, Sam. Head up to bed.”

“But—”

“
Sam
,” he barked. “
Bed
.”

Sam trudged toward the stairs. I followed her as I headed for the door. “’Bye Sister-witch,” I whispered as she turned and climbed the first step. But it didn’t seem to cheer her any.

“See ya,” she muttered and skulked up. “’Bye Todd.”

“See ya, Squirt,” Todd said as we walked outside. As soon as the front door closed behind us, Todd held out his open palm. “Hand over the cash, Princess.”

“What? No! Why should you get to have it?”

“Because the man earns the money, that’s why.”

“Ha! Screw that,” I said, stalking over to my bike. “I’m going to be the one with the job. This
was
my real job to begin with.”

Todd followed me. “Real job, maybe. But
theoretically
, I’m the breadwinner.
Theoretically
, you’re fat and lazy and stay home watching TV all day, getting fatter and lazier.”

I spun around. “
Theoretically
, you are a butt-head caveman—oh, I’m sorry, did I say theoretically? I meant really.”

He put on an exaggerated hillbilly accent. “No woman—

or whatever you are—in my household is gonna earn cash money.”

I gaped. “You are not seriously that chauvinistic?”

“Hmmm . . .” He stroked his chin dramatically. “Maybe not in real life.” Hillbilly again: “But as your fake husband . . . yes, I think I am.”

I eyed him up and down. “I need to call the
Guinness Book

of World Records
or
Gray’s Anatomy
or something, because I am standing here looking at the single largest asshole ever known to man.”

He snapped his fingers and held out his hand again. “Just give me the money, honey.”

Honey? Had he actually just called me
honey
? I was about to lay into him again when I realized I truly didn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not I earned any fake money in a fake marriage to a jerk I hated in real life. Let the poor bastard have it. “Fine.” I slapped the cash into his hand. Hard. “But it’d better all be there when you hand it in on Tuesday.”

Todd counted the bills. “Twenty-five times 150—damn, we already have $3,750.”

“Tell me you just did that in your head.”

“What? Easy. Divide 150 by four, then multiply by a hundred: 3,750. Duh.” Todd laughed. “Poor Amanda. She and Gabe pulled a 50. They’ll be lucky if they make all month what we made tonight.”

“Oh, what a shame,” I said. I grabbed my handlebars and booted up my kickstand. “Guess dating her means that you’re slumming now, huh?”

Todd pocketed the money. “Should I tell Gabe you said that?”

I froze with one foot on my pedal. Holy crap. He
had
heard. I felt hot blood pulsing up my neck and into my face. I tried to laugh lightly, but it came out sounding like a highpitched machine gun. “What? Why? I don’t care.”

Todd tapped his fingertips together. “Oh, don’t you?”

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“
No
,” I insisted way too forcefully.

“Okay.” He winked. “Whatever you say. I’m outta here. See ya, Princess Pisspants.” He strode off down the driveway. As I stood there on one foot, my whole body buzzed like someone had scooped out my insides and filled my empty skin with bees. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even respond to the name-calling. Not that it really mattered. Because one thing was for sure: being called Princess Pisspants was nothing compared to Todd Harding knowing about Gabe. TuESdAy MoRNING I STood ouTSIdE MAGGIE kLEIN’S

office, waiting to go in for our counseling session. No sign of Todd yet. Just as well. I took out
Pride and Prejudice
to read until Señor Shitslacks got there. I must’ve been pretty into the book, because I nearly hit the ceiling when Johnny Mercer tapped me on the shoulder. “Holy crap, Johnny!”

He twitched his head and blushed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to know if you were feeling better.”

I shut my book. “Yeah, thanks. How was the rest of the dance?”

“Boring. Oh, except when Principal Miller started dirtydancing with Mr. Evans.”

Mr. Evans was the janitor. Old-school style. He wouldn’t let you call him anything but janitor, not some wussy title like sanitation engineer or custodian. Rumor was, he’d worked at the high school ever since the day he graduated from it thirty years ago. He was one of those guys who looked like he’d been born with a crew cut, muscles, and a lit Marlboro hanging out of his mouth. But he’d do anything for a student, especially if it meant putting one over on the administration. 92 Kristin Walker

So to picture him grinding with Principal Miller was, well . . . a stretch of the imagination, to say the least.

“Mr. Evans?” I asked.

Johnny scratched at one of his long sideburns. “Well, it was only one dance. Part of one dance, actually. She kind of grabbed him and started dancing and he went along with it. Pretty funny.”

“Maybe I should’ve stayed.”

“Next time,” Johnny said.

Suddenly, Maggie Klein’s office door clicked open. “Oh, Fiona. I thought I heard voices.”

I waved to Johnny. He gave me a nod, popped in his earphones, and took off.

Maggie Klein said, “Come on in. Todd’s inside already. He and I have been having a little chat about your . . . interactions last week.”

Interactions? Right. Try war games. And what was he doing here early? Soaping up Maggie Klein, no doubt.

“Now, I understand that you two have been . . . shall we say, at loggerheads? I think we need to address the situation.”

She looked at me for some response. “Fiona? Would you like to begin this time?”

Argh.
I rolled my eyes. I shrugged my shoulders. I gave her all the little cues that said I didn’t want to talk, but she just stared at me with an expression of utter compassion and persistence. Fine.

“He started it,” I said.

“I did not.”

I gaped at Todd. “The mock wedding?”

“You threw a hot dog at me first.”

“After your little drawing on the bulletin board.”

“That was just a joke.”

I snorted. “Yeah, well, I missed the punch line.”

“What about what you did at the dance?”

“You deserved it.”

Maggie Klein clapped twice. “Todd, Fiona, this is serious. I understand that there is some resistance to this course. However, I believe strongly in its merits, and so does the school board. And until they say otherwise, this course will continue. You two must find some common ground. Like it or not, you’re marriage partners. Now, I want you to look at each other. Really look. And then I’d like you each to say something positive about the other person.” Todd and I both sighed and shifted in our seats. I looked past Maggie Klein and watched a squirrel with an acorn in its mouth climbing the tree outside her window. “Come on,” she said. “Turn and face each other. Now Todd, you go first.”

Todd eyeballed me up and down. “She appears to have all her teeth.”

“Ooh, good one, Todd,” I cooed. I turned to Maggie Klein and smiled sweetly. “And Todd smells very little like a pile of goat crap.”

Maggie Klein shook her head. “Kids—”

“Fiona has enough self-esteem to not care about the condition of her wardrobe.”

“And Todd is kind enough to volunteer his time with mentally deficient students. Like his girlfriend, Amanda.”

“Leave her out of this.”

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“How can I? She’s practically surgically attached to your groin.”

“
Kids
.”

“At least I
have
a girlfriend. Oh, wait. I forgot about your lesbian lover, Marcie.”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean nightmares.”

“TODD! FIONA! ENOUGH!” Maggie Klein rubbed her face and sighed. “Right. Look.” She laced her fingers together like she was praying for us to stop. “I know neither of you is happy about this situation. But this course is important. Finding, choosing, and maintaining a life partner isn’t easy, you know. Believe me; it can be scary out there. Some people . . .” She drifted off and shook her head. “What I mean is, this is a skill that can be learned and should be learned, for your own good. Do you see?”

We responded with dead silence.

She threw her hands in the air. “Okay, look at it this way,” she said. “If you want to graduate and get into college and get as far away from each other as possible, you need to finish this course, got it?” She looked at us each in turn as we sulked like a couple of three-year-olds. “Okay. Now, what’s the status on your budget and your shared activity? Are you on the same page?”

Todd dug into his back pocket and pulled out the cash from Saturday night. He handed it to Maggie Klein. “Here ya go. Twenty-five big ones we made this weekend.”