Populazzi (9 page)

"You look
great,
" Claudia amended. I swear she could read my thoughts. "Do you feel seductive?"

"I kind of do."

The drive to Archer's was all but impossible; I was concentrating so hard on my breathing, I forgot little things like headlights and turn signals. I took limited solace in the fact that if I died in a car wreck, I'd be wearing not just clean but cute, matching underwear.

As I parked and walked to Archer's door, I had to keep wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt. This was crazy! I'd been here a million times before! Why was I freaking out like a complete loser?

But of course I knew exactly why, and it made me blush the moment Archer opened the door.

"Wow ... you look great," Archer said with more than a hint of surprise. Was it bad that me looking great surprised him?

I held up the DVD. "Ready to see
Saw?
"

"Seesaw? I've always been more of a monkey bars man myself, but sure."

We said hi to Archer's parents. Bina took in my outfit with a look that made me immensely grateful my mom and Karl were out. If they weren't, I had no doubt Bina would be on the phone with my mom immediately. I put the thought out of my mind and vowed not to think about Bina and Edward being right upstairs while Archer and I did whatever we were about to do. We grabbed two enormous cups of soda—not that I'd be touching mine—and a huge bowl of popcorn, then disappeared into the basement and put in the DVD.

I honestly can't tell you what happened in the movie. For me it was all about finding moments nerve-racking enough to lurch into Archer's arms and cower close. Luckily, there were a lot of those moments. Within the first fifteen minutes, Archer and I were locked together, gripping each other for dear life. My eyes were technically on the screen, but I saw nothing. I was completely tuned in to my other senses: the smell of Archer's skin, the feel of his body pressing against mine, the sound of his quickening heartbeat thudding against my ear.

In my head, I pored over Archer's every move. Was he holding me because of the movie or because he really wanted to hold me? His hand was moving on my arm ... was he caressing me or was it just a distracted motion? Was he breathing harder because he was frightened or because we were closer than we had ever been? The few glimpses of the movie that actually sank in were gruesome, hideous, and everything I despised. It was disgusting ... and I wanted it to go on forever.

Then it ended, and suddenly we had no excuse: we were just two people tangled in each other's arms. We shifted apart awkwardly. I knew what I had to do next—but I was terrified. And thrilled. My heart beat triple time. I felt like I was being chased by wolves.

Archer licked his lips and smiled. Did he know what I was thinking? Was he thinking the same thing?

He picked up his soda and took a sip. "So ... what did you think?" he asked. His voice sounded higher than usual. Could he be nervous? Could he be secretly dying to kiss me but too afraid to do it? If so, it really was up to me. It had to be now. I'd never find a better time.

I shut my eyes for just a second and took a huge breath. This was it. I dove forward to close the gap between my lips and his—

"Want more popcorn?" he yelled, and leaped back and away so fast that the entire couch toppled over backwards. His soda poured all over us.

"
Ow!
" I screamed as my head thudded onto the floor.

"Oh God! Are you okay?" Archer leaped up and held out his hand to help me, but physical contact with him was now the last thing I wanted.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" The soda plastered my thin shirt to my body. When I stood, the sticky liquid drained down my legs and into my boots. Then I felt the soda seep into my underwear. Perfect.

"You're soaked. I'm so sorry. Here, I..." Archer grabbed a bunch of napkins and reached out as if he was going to dab me dry, but he just waved the napkins in front of my drenched skirt and shirt, clearly too mortified to dream of actually touching me.

He didn't have to worry; he had nothing on me in the mortification department. "It's fine," I said, taking the napkins and uselessly blotting the mess.

"Cara, I—"

I couldn't bear an explanation.

"No, stop," I said. "Please. I'm okay. I just ... I need to go."

I grabbed my purse and raced up the stairs, but he stopped me halfway.

"Cara, wait!"

I winced. I swear I didn't want to hear how much he hoped we could still be friends. Reluctantly I turned and looked at him. The soda had spilled all over him, too. He looked wet and miserable. Of course he was miserable. The idea of my lips touching his had repelled him so much that he chose to risk concussion rather than let it happen. I could see it in his eyes: he thought I was pitiful.

Cara...

I was going to cry. If I had to hear him try to make it better, I was going to cry, and crying in front of him was the one thing that would make this even worse. I gripped the railing, curled in my lips, and bit down on them, fighting back the tears.

"You're, um, forgetting the movie," Archer said. The tone of his voice had changed. It was flatter. Good. He must have decided not to explain. There was a chance I could survive. I realized he was holding out the DVD and I snatched it, making sure our hands didn't touch.

"GreatThanksBye," I said. I raced upstairs, out of the house, and into my car. I got there just before the tears started rolling down my cheeks. I was such an idiot.

Back home in my room, I peeled out of my wet clothes, put on my thickest pajamas, and crawled into bed. My skin was still sticky from the soda, but I didn't even care. I just wanted to get under the covers, close my eyes, and forget the day had ever happened.

It was nice in bed. With the covers pulled close around me, I could tune out everything else. I felt warm and safe. I guess there's a reason they call it a comforter.

I determined to stay right there for the rest of my natural life.

Whatever happened to taking to one's bed? Virginia Woolf once took to her bed for eight weeks. I barely got eight hours before Karl was banging on my door.

"Cara, wake up! Family constitutional!"

"Idonwannafamlyconstooshnl." I tried to sound incoherent and ill, just this side of my deathbed.

"You love a family constitutional. Come on!"

How did Karl speak deathbed? I tried another tack. "I'm tired!"

"You were home before us, and we're wide awake!"

Oh, that was a great way to make me feel better. Remind me my parents have a better social life than I do.

"I'm staying in bed!"

That did it. I heard the heavy tread of Karl's feet moving down the hall. Good. Now I could go back to sleep and dream I was someone with an easier life than mine. Like a leper.

Two minutes later I heard the return of Karl's heavy tread. "Make sure you're decent!" he called.

Oh God, really? Was he really going to come in here? I willed myself to lie perfectly still so he'd think I was asleep.

He opened the door. I could hear him at the side of my bed. He was waiting for me to move and blow my cover. Wouldn't happen.

"You leave me no choice, Cara," he said.

He gently poured a Dixie cup of water on my head.

"
KARL!
" I screamed, bolting upright. "Are you mental?"

When I was
six,
the Dixie cup of water on my head had been funny. At sixteen? Not funny. And after last night's drenching?
Especially
not funny.

Karl didn't seem concerned. "Ah, so you
are
awake! Come on, get out of bed. Family constitutional time. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Infuriating. But he won. I took a quick shower, pulled on some clothes, and twenty minutes later I was out the door for a family constitutional. It was really just a
walk,
but Karl liked the more proper sound of "constitutional."

It was nice, actually. Karl was in a good mood. He and Mom had lots of funny stories from their party. It was warm for October, and the air smelled like freshly mown grass. For maybe five minutes I could almost forget last night's disaster.

Then we got home and my cell phone was beeping and of course it was Claudia and of course I told her everything.

"So what do you think?" I finished. "Think our parents will mind if I move in with you and go back to Pennsbrook?"

Claudia sighed. "We already asked, remember? They turned us down flat. So barring that, the next best move is clear: you rise like the phoenix from the ashes—or like the kitty cat from the ashes—and you go to tonight's Halloween dance."

"Oh, Claudia, there's no way."

"You have to show him this didn't break you. 'The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; / He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.'"

"I know that one.
Othello.
It's a tragedy. Everyone dies at the end."

"Not the duke, and he's the one who said it," Claudia noted. "You don't have to go for long. Just put in an appearance. The cat costume looks amazing on you. Archer will
wish
he'd wanted you. At the very least he'll see you're not pining over him. And if you really put your mind to it, you might even find your next rung on the Ladder."

I didn't even want to think about the Ladder, but I did like the idea of Archer seeing me in the cat costume and maybe regretting his decision. And I
really
liked the idea of him knowing I had better things to do than pine over him.

So I went to the dance. I went late. I wanted Archer to be there already, and I knew he and his friends liked to make an entrance. Plus I wanted extra time to make sure I looked hot—which I did. The costume was basically a sleek black leotard over densely woven fishnet stockings. The neckline was just low enough to show a little cleavage and trimmed in fuzzy black fur. With a thin black ribbon choker around my neck, the headband ears pulling back my curls, the tail pinned to my butt, a little bit of eyeliner to make my blue eyes pop ... I looked really good. If I had turned myself down the night before, I'd see me walk in and know I had made a horrible mistake. I pulled on a pair of heels, promised Mom and Karl I'd be back before my midnight curfew, and took off for Chrysella.

The dance was in the gym, and I could feel the deep bass thrum of the music from my car as I pulled up. I fully intended to do just what Claudia had said: strut in, show my stuff, make a round, maybe dance one song just to pound home the fact that I was well beyond okay, then leave. I honestly don't know what changed my mind—a small voice of self-preservation?

I did strut—but only to the nearest doorway. Then I stopped. Safely hidden in its shadow, I peeked in.

The gym was packed, but all I could see were the Populazzi. With all four grades at the dance, there were a lot of them, and they lit up the party, especially the Populazzi girls. They ruled the center of the room, dancing and laughing and having more fun than anyone else.

The junior class Populazzi in particular jumped out at me ... mainly because they were wearing my same costume. Let me clarify: they were dressed as cats, just like me ... but they were cats in heat. "We're the Pussy Posse!" I heard one of them squeal.

Their costumes were two-pieces. The tops were black bustier halters with red velvet bra cups and plunging decolletage. The red velvet skirts flared out in black ruffles that fell only to their upper thighs. Like me they wore fishnets, but theirs were topped off with rhinestone-studded garters. Their choker collars were also rhinestone-studded, their cat ears were lined in more red velvet, and their tails were wispy ... as opposed to the rat tail hanging off my rear end.

There was no way I could go into the dance now. The Pussy Posse were feline supermodels. Next to them I'd look like a mangy alley cat fresh from the dumpster. I should have turned around and left immediately, but I couldn't take my eyes off them, especially Trista. She was constantly engaged. I saw her lean in close and share things with the senior class Populazzi, with the younger classes, with her Penultimates. Everyone glowed brighter when she turned her spotlight on them—though no one glowed as brightly as Trista herself.

A slow song came on, and Trista gave a hopeful look to her boyfriend, Brett. The hopeful part was just to be cute; she must have known he'd come to her. When he did, it was like a scene in a romantic movie. He looked at her as if she was the most dazzling girl he'd ever seen. As he pulled her close and she rested her head on his chest, I almost cried. It surprised me, but then I realized why.

It was exactly the moment I thought I'd have tonight with Archer.

Where was Archer? I hadn't even looked for him. I clung even more tightly to the shadows as I scanned the room.

My breath caught in my throat. He was ... a Greek god. As Poseidon, Lord of the Sea, he wore a flowing aquamarine toga festooned with seashells. A long dark wig braided with more seashells curled past his shoulders, a huge shell-crown sat on his head, and he carried a large trident. Every bit of his costume, hair, and face had been brushed with glitter, so his whole body glistened like it was under water.

He looked magnificent. Worse, he looked happy. The Theater Geeks might not have been in the center of the room like the Populazzi, but they'd carved out their own corner, and within it they sparkled. Their costumes were a million times more ornate than anyone else's, and while that seemed to draw more sneers than awestruck stares, they didn't care. They danced and laughed and struck poses of godlike glory.

Archer wasn't missing me at all. Why would he? He was in his element, having the time of his life with all his closest friends. I had to be the furthest thing from his mind.

As I kept staring, one of the other Theater Geeks walked up to him, and it took me a minute to realize it was Sue. She was Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, a la
Venus on the Half Shell.
She wore a glittering skin-tone unitard, perfectly adjusted to push her every curve into its ideal position. Her long blond wig cascaded to the floor, clinging strategically to her body as it fell.