Messy (28 page)

“Because, Brooke,
you
are the one who told me it was just for kicks. For PR. You told me it was
nothing
,” Max pointed out. “And you told me you wouldn’t hook up with him. But I guess that was all just a big lie to get me to go along with your insane little plan to snag him.”

“I didn’t lie. I said that I wouldn’t lead him on, and I
didn’t
,” Brooke insisted. “I
like
him. He’s awesome. He looks at me like he expects good things to happen when I talk. And obviously I’m used to that at school, but sometimes I think they’re not really listening to
what
I’m saying—they just want to be around me when I say it, because I’m so charismatic.”

“Right,” Max said, infusing her voice with as much disbelief as she could.

“And since you’re trying to call me a liar, I’d
love
to know how Jake would feel about this whole Brady thing,” Brooke continued, curling her lip. “I think Brady and I saw
you
kissing someone that night, too.”

So they did see.
He
saw.

“Jake and I are not meant to be,” Max said. “I mean, we
didn’t even leave together. He kissed me, and then he disappeared and spent half the night arguing with Jennifer.”

“So you decided to torpedo my relationship, too?” Brooke said, knocking her purse off the ledge and inadvertently dumping its contents on the floor. A lip gloss rolled under one of the stall doors. “I can’t help it that Brady likes me.”

“Does he, though?” Max said. “Are you sure about that?”

Brooke touched her lips smugly. “Felt pretty definite to me.”

“Really? Interesting. Because it seems to me all he can talk about is how cool your
blog
is, and how smart your
writing
is,” Max said as Brooke visibly squirmed. “And we all know which one of us is responsible for
that
.”

“Don’t get pissed at me because people believed it,” Brooke said. She angrily got down on her hands and knees and dug the gloss out from behind the toilet, wincing as if she’d just been asked to exfoliate with a porcupine. “And don’t blame me for the fact that a great guy likes me. And
definitely
don’t blame me for the fact that you’re too much of a coward to stand up for what you want and live your own life instead of hiding in the shadows of somebody else’s.”

Max felt her spine crumple a little. “I knew I never should’ve gotten mixed up with someone like you,” she whispered.

Brooke grabbed her purse and started throwing everything back into it. “I didn’t realize this was such a
miserable
assignment,” she said. “I thought you were actually having fun. I thought we were becoming friends, Max, I really did.”

“Yeah, because it was so much fun letting you order me around just so I could write something that you took all the credit for,” Max said. “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. But I let you do it.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I let you. I know better.”

Brooke picked up a crumpled envelope from the floor and thrust it at Max. “Well, if it’s so horrible to be in the presence of such a grotesque human being, then why don’t you just take your paycheck and quit,” she said. “You can go back to being a bitter nobody, and we’ll just see how much I need you.”

Max took the envelope and rubbed it between her fingers. Her bank account was finally within spitting distance of the money she needed for NYU. She might be able to figure out the rest another way. Babysitting, maybe. Maybe she could even pick up a couple of shifts at Fu’d. Not too long ago that had seemed like the worst-case scenario, but after today, it looked like a party. Fu’d may have smelled awful, but at least it didn’t
hurt
.

“Okay,” Max said. “I quit.”

She pocketed the check and quietly marched out of the bathroom. At the same moment, Carla Callahan burst out of the Playhaus.

“Max?” Carla called out. “Is Brooke coming back?”

“I don’t care,” Max said. “I’m done here.” She stopped and gave Carla a sly look. “But for the record, someday maybe you’ll make a
wonderful
Nancy.”

Carla obviously remembered their earlier conversation, because a gleam of greedy understanding flashed in her eyes.

Have fun with that one, Brooke
, Max thought savagely, turning on her heel and heading for her car.

OPENBR
KE.COM

APRIL 25

My on-set tutors keep giving me tons of homework. On
top
of the homework I’m doing for my high school. Is that allowed? Aren’t they just supposed to check my work? Or do it for me? Don’t they know I’m getting up at the crack of dawn every day? What is the deal with that? I might call the union.

And why is it so cold on set all the time? I guess it’s because the lights are hot. But I’m freezing when they’re not on. This can’t be good for my immune system. Power Bar needs to make an echinacea flavor. Why don’t they? Maybe I’ll buy a cardigan. Cardigans are so hot right now. Mr. Rogers was the man.

Yesterday I had makeup on my legs that made them look like I had hives. I tried to take a picture and upload it but it wasn’t working. I looked gross. Movie makeup is really crazy!

Love,

B.

OPENBR
KE.COM

APRIL 27

Nancy has to wear leggings today. It’s not my fault. I guess they think she sleuths better this way. Like
anyone
can be stealth with a panty line. But I don’t get to decide, even though it’s my panty line. Suddenly the word
panty
reads really weird to me. Panty. Panty. Panty. If you type it over and over it stops making sense. Panty. It looks like
party
, or
pantry
, but it’s not. Panty. I hate it. I mean, I don’t hate wearing them, I just hate typing
panty
. Why am I still doing it?

Also, nobody ever talks about how hard it is to memorize all these lines. I have a two-page speech that I have to learn by tomorrow, but I also have all this math homework to do. I can’t
remember words if all I’m thinking about is what
X
is. Can’t some mysteries stay mysteries? Nancy Drew can’t solve everything. It’s true.

Love,

B.

OPENBR
KE.COM

APRIL 30

What no one tells you: Leggings chafe. Also, I’m really into sauces right now. Try it.

B.

“YO, FOZZIE BEAR,”
Chaz Kelly shouted across the cafeteria.

Max groaned inwardly. She wasn’t sure what was worse: years of being called Kermit, or Chaz deciding her new dye job merited a new matching Muppet nickname. Technically, it was her own fault for wearing a polka-dot bandanna over her brown locks because she hadn’t fallen asleep until 4
AM
, then snored straight through her alarm and woke up with no time to wash her hair. Actually, it was even more her fault for not just dying it green again, but at first she’d been too preoccupied to think about her hair, and then she’d started to enjoy the change. After the first day of people staring at her, or in Mavis Moore’s case asking if she was a new student, everybody seemed to
have forgotten she existed. In her current mood, this was just fine by her.

“Dude, Foz, bring me a Coke,” Chaz yelled. “For old times’ sake. It’s the least you can do for stomping on my buddy’s heart like that.”

A few heads turned. Max blew out air through her nose. It was hot, like she was blowing actual smoke instead of just imaginary plumes. She caught herself reaching for meatballs, then backtracked and grabbed a dish of mac and cheese (at CRAPS, this was made with whole-wheat macaroni, gorgonzola, and cruelty-free cream, whatever that meant). She headed in the direction of her usual table across the lawn—which of course meant passing straight through Chaz’s lug-headed orbit.

“I liked you better when you were Kermit, bro,” Chaz huffed as she stalked past him. “Somehow your new hair makes you
meaner
.”

Max paused. With a beatific smile, she said, “Well,
your
new hair makes you look way smarter.”

Chaz frowned. “I didn’t change my hair.”

“Ah. I spoke too soon.” Max casually upended her mac and cheese bowl onto Chaz’s stringy brown hair. “
Much
better.”

As Chaz yelped and scraped pasta and béchamel off his head, Max stormed toward Molly and dropped her tray on the table with a bang.

“I hate everyone,” she announced.

Molly cracked open her Diet Coke can and made a sympathetic face. “I would, too, if my lunch was a tray full of nothing. Guess you picked up a few more tips from Brooke than I thought.”

“I picked up nothing from Brooke except frown lines,” Max said. She sank her chin into her palm. “And apparently also a fear of frown lines.”

“I thought quitting was supposed to make you feel better.”

“It did,” Max insisted. “It’s like someone tried to drown me in the shallow end and then let me go right before I died. I feel great. I feel rejuvenated. I feel fan-freaking-tastic. Can’t you tell? I’m annoyed all the time and I want to stab myself in the face with a fork. Back to my old self.”

Molly laughed, then gazed thoughtfully at Max. “And I’m sure your return to gloomy form has
nothing
to do with Jake tweeting something about abandonment issues and then—what was it?—‘a good woman made me a broken man.’ ”

“No!” Max all but shouted. Then she flushed.
Way to sound defensive, moron.
“Maybe a little,” she said. “Chaz Kelly just basically called me a life-ruiner, and someone put a note in my locker calling me a ‘dog-faced mold bucket.’ ”

Molly winced. “Yikes,” she said. “That has to suck.”

Max tapped her finger against the table. Honestly, it surprised her that she didn’t feel worse. She was embarrassed,
and a little uncomfortable—like she had accidentally seen someone naked—and, judging by Macaronigate, perhaps a little testy. But she wasn’t
upset
.

“It’s my own fault,” she said, reaching over to snatch one of Molly’s french fries. “I deserve it. I totally ditched Jake on Saturday. I should not be allowed in polite society, because obviously I don’t know how to function in it.”

“You two really should talk,” Molly said, watching Jake cross the cafeteria and shoot them a mournful look.

Max stole another fry and laid her head down on the wooden tabletop. “He tried,” she muttered. “He called. But I’ve had… other stuff going on.
And
I’m using my patented avoidance-and-denial strategy, which has been very effective.”

She grabbed one of the toothpicks in Molly’s club sandwich, one with a crinkly blue toupee, and started stabbing fries with it one by one. “What am I supposed to say, anyway?” she added through a mouthful of potato. “I can’t be all, ‘Hey, whoops, sorry I ran off and never came back, but when you kissed me in public I almost punched a hole in the floor just so I could crawl through it, and so it turns out I might not like you!’ ”

“Would it make you feel better to hear that I saw Jake and Jen sniffing around each other again?” Molly asked. “They were whispering by the lockers.”

“Any canoodling?”

“I’d say maybe a half canoodle.”