Of All the Stupid Things

EGMONT

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First published by Egmont USA, 2010

443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806

New York, NY 10016

Copyright © Alexandra Diaz, 2010

All rights reserved

10987654321

www.egmontusa.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Diaz, Alexandra.

Of all the stupid things / Alexandra Diaz.

p. cm.

Summary: Told from their differing viewpoints, high schoolers Tara, an athlete, Whitney Blaire, a beauty, and Pinkie, a mother hen, face problems in various relationships but the most devastating occurs when Tara finds herself attracted to a girl Whitney Blaire hates.

ISBN 978-1-60684-034-4 (trade hardcover)

[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Family life—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Lesbians—Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.D5432 Of 2009

[Fic]—dc22

2009026196

Book design by A. Castanheira

Printed in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

Para mami,

who always knew I could do it.

Contents

PART ONE

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Tara

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Tara

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Pinkie

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Pinkie

Tara

Pinkie

Tara

Pinkie

Tara

PART TWO

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Whitney Blaire

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Tara

Whitney Blaire

Pinkie

Tara

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

About the Author

PART ONE

Tara

OF ALL THE STUPID THINGS HE COULD HAVE DONE, Brent Staple had to go and do that. I used to think my dad was the king of stupid things, but now I don’t know who is worse.

Brent and I get to school early. He said he needed to talk with the soccer coach before anyone else got there. I don’t think anything of it. We’ve gotten to school early before and all it means is that I run on the school track instead of around my neighborhood. It’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

We start kissing as soon as he cuts the engine. Our hands are all over each other; I’m sure he’s forgotten about the meeting with the coach. I think about staying in the car with him, but that’s not a good idea. I had my rest day yesterday and I will feel sluggish all day if I don’t run. I pull away even though I don’t want to.

“Ah, baby,” Brent says. “But, you’re right. We both gotta go. He’ll be wondering where I am.” His hands drop from my waist. We gather our bags and get out of the car. I take a few steps before turning around. Even though he’s walking away, the happiness I feel when I’m around him hasn’t faded.

“Yo, Staple!” I call. He pauses and looks over his shoulder.

I make a point of checking him out across the parking lot. I raise my eyebrows and jerk my chin up to indicate I like what I see. It’s what he normally does to me, so it’s like a private joke. He bursts out laughing, smiling his great smile. That’s all I wanted. Just to make him smile. I walk on but I can feel his eyes on me all the way around the corner. That makes me smile too.

I run six miles in good time: 14.8 seconds faster than what I’ve been doing. I’m looking for endurance more than speed for the upcoming marathon, but the two together are working out nicely. The run leaves me fresh and energetic. A quick shower and I’m ready for class.

I head to my locker to switch bags. I take down the Spanish and history textbooks from the shelf and put them in my book bag.

I look up when I hear the
click
,
click
,
click
of heels scurrying down the school hallway. I would recognize that noise anywhere. Whitney Blaire: she never wears quiet shoes. Bouncing along after her is Pinkie. Her shoes are better, but still not practical.

Flipping her bleached-blonde hair over her shoulder, Whitney Blaire speaks first. “Tara, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What?” My attention shifts from her to Pinkie and then back.

“Don’t look at
me
.” Pinkie fidgets with her bag straps. “I don’t know anything. She’s being secretive again.”

Whitney Blaire looks around. As usual, people are looking at us. Or rather, they’re looking at Whitney Blaire.

“C’mon.” Whitney Blaire grabs hold of my arm and leads me to the bathroom. Pinkie follows us in and then leans against the door.

Whitney Blaire takes a deep breath. “You better sit down.”

I give her a look. Where am I going to sit? We’re in the school bathroom, and sitting on the toilets isn’t something I’d wish upon anyone. Besides, I’m not convinced this isn’t just one of Whitney Blaire’s dramas.

I lean against the sinks and fold my arms.

“Hurry up, Whitney Blaire.” Pinkie looks at her watch. “The bell will ring any minute.”

“It’s Brent,” Whitney Blaire finally lets it out. “Now, I just heard this, and I don’t think it’s true, but I thought you should know what’s going around….”

My fingers tap against the sink.

Whitney Blaire licks her lips and sighs. “Well, someone just told me that he caught Brent getting it on with one of the cheerleaders.”

Pinkie gasps. I swallow hard. My hands clutch into fists, my fingers digging into my palm. My eyes stay on Whitney Blaire. I don’t blink.

Whitney Blaire puts a hand on my shoulder. I stop breathing. I know she’s not done. There’s something worse yet to come. But I don’t know what can be worse.

Whitney Blaire continues, “One of the guy cheerleaders.”

My legs give out from under me. I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor with my back against the sinks.

Pinkie looks at both of us with wide eyes. “Wait…you mean, Brent and another guy were…you know…doing…doing
it
?”

Whitney Blaire nods. Pinkie pales and then quickly leaves her post by the door to dash into a stall. The bell rings. I still can’t move.