#scandal (33 page)

“Hell no.” Jayla beams. “I’m honored.”

“Fascinating,” Franklin says, still staring at the credits onscreen. “The emotion you brought to those final, knowing moments, death clutching you in his arms. That was bloody brilliant!”

“Definitely bloody,” Stephie says.

“Will they let you keep the Porsche?” Asher asks.

Tens wings a corn chip at his head.

“What?” Asher says. “I’m just saying, that car is
hot
. It was
made
for her.”

“I’m not usually one for televised drama,” Roman says,

“but shit. Are the older seasons on Netflix streaming? I mean, not that I have Netflix streaming, or the Internet for that matter. I just like to be aware . . . you know, in case anyone asks and . . .” Roman rubs his Mohawk. “Are there any more Doritos?”

408

420 giggles. “Sorry, dude. Have some fruit salad.”

“Luce?” Jayla smiles. “Honest critique?” I rub my chin, strike an intellectual pose. “Blood. Guts.

Fatal compound fractures. That might be my favorite episode ever.”

Jayla throws a handful of popcorn at me, but her ear-to-ear grin softens the blow.

Neighbors. Friends. Aunts and uncles. Everyone’s hugging her, patting her on the back, encouraging her. Mom pops a bottle of champagne, and soon there are congratulatory cheers for both of us, clinking glasses, tarts and mini bundts and fruit salad for days.

How much can life change in a moment? A week? A month?

When those pictures first showed up on Miss Demeanor’s scandal page, blasted from my own Facebook account, I was certain my life was over. Certain I’d lost the few close friends I had, all my years of ducking the spotlight for naught.

But now I look around the TV room and kitchen, packed with people I never even knew before my private life got broadcast across the Internet, and I can honestly say I’m glad it happened. I wouldn’t have planned it that way—I hate what it did to Olivia and the other seniors who got in trouble at home. I hate that things with Ellie and me 409

are patchy at best, and that it’ll probably be a very long time—maybe even never—before I speak to Griffin again.

But without the #scandal, none of the people in my house right now would be in my life. In my heart.

People like Franklin, who gave me a chance even when all the evidence was stacked against me, even when almost everyone else decided I was the worst friend in the world.

Asher and the (e)VIll crew, kids I’d written off as a whackadoo fringefest for years, kids who in their own crafty way had my back the minute the scandal broke. Jayla, happier than I’ve seen her in years, signing autographs, setting up Xbox for a Fruit Ninja rematch with Asher and Tens.

Marceau, who may not be reporting back to Canada with an American girlfriend, but who’ll have plenty of stories to tell anyway. Besides, he and Stephie have been cozying up all night, bonding over their shared fascination with the concept of fish sticks in a landlocked state, the great debate of clever packaging versus food shortage conspiracy.

And Cole. The one and only boy I ever truly fell for.

Our first kiss was forbidden, and every one after a stolen secret, a whisper in the dark. A dream I didn’t dare to hope for by light of day.

Yet here he is, smiling at me with mischief in his eyes, the unspoken promise of a summer of adventure, of nights under the stars, of walks in the woods. Of zombie game 410

marathons and campouts with Spike and Night of the Living Dog. Of all the stories we still have to tell each other, all the memories we’ve yet to make.

Friends. With real faces and names, no mythical creature costumes required. With smiles I can see and laughter I can hear. Hugs and high-fives and heartbeats I can feel.

Status update?

Totally real. Totally here. Totally content.

Vacarro out.

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ACKNOWL EDGMENTS TK