The New Guy (20 page)

“I’m on birth control,” I say softly, and then switch back to my normal voice because I don’t think that dogs understand what we’re talking about. “Just to let you know. But I think we should use condoms too.”

“I figured that we would,” Alex says. “I’m not some irresponsible jerk, you know. I think I’m pretty nice.”

“I know you are,” I say, because no matter what he had to do with Chaos 4 All’s success or TALON’s numbers, I believe that.

On Monday I get to leave third period early so that I can sign for the papers. Carlos is allowed to join me, so we each cut open a box.

“This looks awesome,” he says.

“It looks
perfect
,” I say, and we high-five. In my head I picture Alex reading it and feeling free from his past missteps.

And then I picture Natalie. I picture Natalie for
much longer
. I think about the TVs never turning on again during Friday first periods, and the student body reading the
Crest
because it’s the only place to get news about the school, and it’ll be like Eagle Vista Academy—and my senior year—are back to where they were supposed to be.

And Sadie will understand now, because TALON’s bad behavior is in print for everyone to see. She’ll understand how seriously I had to take the battle. Sadie and I will be fine.

The pizzas show up after fourth period as the bell rings for lunch. The majority of the staff helps themselves as the
freshmen sadly trudge out to hand out papers. My phone’s out where I can see the screen, because I’m sure Alex will text.

And he does.

“I have to go,” I say, stumbling out of the desk chair. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so obvious that the article would thrill everyone but Natalie.

The hallway looks like one of my fantasies. Everyone—
everyone
is reading the
Crest
. I’ve never, ever seen my school look so engaged in my paper. My lunch table is sitting quietly, reading the
Crest
. It’s probably the wrong moment to realize I’ve never even seen my best friends look so engrossed in the paper.

“Guys, I have to—”

Sadie silences me with a look. “I guess the
Crest
won, huh?”

“No, I—guys.” I make eye contact with Alex. Well, I try, but he won’t look up. “Alex.”

“This was the article I was interviewed for?” he asks. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Can we talk?” I ask. “Please?”

“Alex is really upset,” Sadie says. “You being here is just making it worse.”

“Why? I was trying to… I thought…” I start to cry. It’s right then that I realize everyone near us is staring. People across the cafeteria are staring too. Basically the entire school
is watching this happen. People are watching Alex looking more deflated than I’ve ever seen him, and it’s not at all his fault.

To be completely fair, once upon a time, it
was
his fault. He lied and cheated in a huge way, but in the midst of falling in love with him, it was so easy to write that all off as Former Alex. Young Alex. The Past’s Alex. On-screen Alex.

Not my Alex.

And now it seems like he’s none of those Alexes anymore.

“Fine,” he says.

We walk out into the hallway together, though we have to stick near the cafeteria entrance so we don’t get into trouble.

“You were so relieved when TALON ran the video of us,” I say.

Alex crosses his arms across his chest. “Uh-huh.”

“And you’d mentioned… that there were things about Chaos 4 All you couldn’t even talk about now,” I say. “Your quotes to Marisa made it seem that way too. I thought you’d be so happy to just have it out there and not have to hide it anymore.”

I hope it’s okay to leave out the part where I wanted to beat Natalie.

“Jules, shit,” he says. “I just meant that I hardly ever saw my parents and I felt like I didn’t have control over my life and there’s no way to really get ready for being that famous. Not that I cheated.”

“I was trying to help,” I say.

“I knew you cared about the rivalry more than almost anything, but I guess I was stupid enough to think I wasn’t part of the
almost
.”

“You weren’t—you aren’t. Alex, please. I only ran it for you.” I hate how that’s only partially true. Right? Oh, god, I don’t like doubting myself. “I know you’re mad, but—”

“I can’t believe you’d expect me to believe that,” he says. “If you ran it for me, why not check with me? Why link me to the TALON shit, when that’s
recent
? There’s no way you did this for me.”

“You seemed relieved when we were finally public,” I say, “as a couple. I thought this would be the same. And you were in the article!”

“You thought accusing me of faking my past success, and using that to fake TALON’s success would… relieve me?” He shakes his head. “You were the first girl after all of that who I thought I could trust. I could be myself around you. Guess I called that wrong.”

He turns from me and walks back into the cafeteria.

I numbly find myself walking back through the hallway and into Mr. Wheeler’s classroom. Everyone’s eating pizza and chatting, but they look up at me when I enter the room. I touch my face and remember that I’m crying.

“Jules,” Carlos says.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I say as I sit down at Mr. Wheeler’s desk. No one moves or says anything for what feels
like forever, but of course eventually everyone goes back to eating pizza and talking.

“Hey.” Thatcher walks over to me. “You okay?”

“Obviously I’m not.”

“I’m not really good at giving advice,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe I should have talked you out of it.”

“You couldn’t have,” I say. “I think I tricked myself into believing something so I could…”

I don’t want to finish the sentence with
win
, and I’m glad Thatcher doesn’t do it for me.

“Just be honest,” Thatcher says. “There’s the advice I’ll give now. Be honest with everyone, especially with yourself.”

When the bell rings, I drag myself to Topics in Economics. I’ve beaten Alex there, and I hurriedly scribble onto a piece of loose-leaf paper before he arrives.

When Alex walks by I hold up the sheet of paper, but he just reaches down and balls it up into his fist.

None of my friends speak to me for the rest of the day,
though there’s no such luck with the rest of the school. Even though my name’s clearly not in the byline, people have questions about Ethan Summers, the research, and VidLook. I’m convinced I must look like far too much of a mess to be taken seriously, but when I duck into the bathroom to examine myself in the mirror, I look the same as always.

How does heartbreak look so normal on me?

Natalie is waiting for me at my locker when the school day finally ends.

“Hi,” I say.

She holds up a copy of the
Crest
. “We should sue you for libel.”

“It all looks very suspicious,” I say. “You can’t deny that.”

“Do you honestly think we’d fake our numbers?” she asks. “Do you think we’d
need
to?”

“Who outside of the school would even
care
about TALON?” I ask.

“Parents,” she says. “Friends from other schools. We’ve reached out to journalists and other school video programs. It adds up quickly, Julia.”

“Okay,” I say.

“We’ll put together something for this Friday,” she says. “But I’ll still expect a retraction in next week’s issue of the
Crest
.”

“I’ll have to consult with Mr. Wheeler about that,” I say, though that just reminds me that Mr. Wheeler doesn’t know what we published, and tomorrow he will. How were my instincts so incredibly wrong?

“Do.” Natalie drops the issue of the
Crest
at my feet and walks off.

At home I fly through my homework, and fake the best mood that isn’t suspicious on a Monday for Mom and Darcy. There’s so little I’ve kept from them, but the day has been rough enough. Hopefully it’s fair to hold off on letting them know just how much their only, very expensive, daughter screwed up for another day or two.

My phone is silent, even though I keep praying that it’ll beep with a message from Sadie or Alex or even Em or Thatcher with something comforting. When I check my email, it’s a flood of messages, but it’s hardly good news. Some sleazier celebrity blogs have picked up the story, and now the details aren’t just ours. The story belongs to the whole world now, or at least the whole World Wide Web.

I wanted national attention, sure. But I didn’t want that.

Sadie doesn’t look at me when I arrive in women’s history the next morning, but at this point it doesn’t surprise me. What does, however, is that moments after the bell rings, the overhead system squawks my name again, just like last week. Once
it tells me to report to Mr. Wheeler’s room, though, it doesn’t seem like much of a mystery.

Oh my god.

I slowly gather my books and my legs are shaking as I walk down the hallway. I expect to see a class full of freshmen when I walk in, but it’s empty besides him.

“I sent them to the library,” he says at my confused expression.

“Oh,” I say. And then, “Welcome back.”

“I’m sure you know why I called you in here,” he says.

“Yes,” I say.

“Sit down, Jules.” Mr. Wheeler sighs and picks up yesterday’s issue of the
Crest
. “I don’t even know where to start with this.”

“Mr. Wheeler, I can explain everything, really.”

“You’re the one who’s been talking about
legacy
all year, Jules,” he says. “And I’m gone for less than
one week
, and you’ve brought the paper down to the level of a tabloid.”

“Mr. Wheeler,” I say, and this is the moment where I can’t stop myself from crying in front of him. Mr. Wheeler has seen me in my pajamas, seen me fighting with my parents, and—though I’ve mainly blocked it out of my memory—once heard me singing a jingle for mayonnaise. But I’d relive any of those moments over crying.

“I know that you’re right,” I say finally. “I’m responsible for destroying our legacy.”

He taps at a few keys on his computer. The printer comes
to life and spits out one single sheet of paper. From where I’m sitting it looks like a letter.

“I sent this off last week.” Mr. Wheeler grabs the paper off the printer and hands it to me. “But I thought you should take a look at it.”

“Mr. Wheeler, I—”

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “I’ll see you later in class.”