Unfriended (28 page)

Leaning against the side of the First Concession Stand, I checked the time on my phone and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and convince myself that we were doing the right thing. Because in just a few minutes, this would begin, and there would be no turning back.

I had been in position for about twenty minutes now, which was really too long to hang around the side of a building without looking suspicious. But luckily, it was the side that faced the parking lot, so I hadn’t had to encounter a lot of foot traffic. It was a blazing hot day, and Schuyler had been messaging us all morning to remind us of the importance of applying—and then reapplying—lots of sunblock.

As I felt sweat begin to form at the base of my neck, I checked the time again. We really had to pull this off. Because in addition to all the other reasons we were doing it, I was now seriously in debt to my brother and didn’t want it to be for nothing.

It had taken some real persuading to get him to agree to switch phones with me for the day. I had to promise that I wouldn’t put anything on there that would confuse or upset Olivia, or make him lose his “street cred” with his friends. And in return, he promised to remain in the house all day, writing depressed journal entries on my computer and updating his status on my phone, so that the location would show up. For getting him to agree to these terms, I had to promise to buy him snacks whenever he wanted for the next week and to drive him and Olivia on one date a month come fall. I had agreed, knowing that at this point, much like poor Rosa on the
telenovela
, my hands were tied.

Once I’d called all my friends and let them know that, for the next day, I would be Travis and he would be me, they had all followed him, and then made their updates private. Since nobody was friends with Isabel, we didn’t have to use codes, like we had during the prom, but could communicate openly. With everyone, that is, except Kavya. She’d claimed that it would be
far
too damaging to her social status to be seen joining a less-than-cool social networking site, even for the day, and had refused to rejoin Constellation. So the only way to communicate with her was through calling or texting.

When it was a minute until go time, I texted Kavya.

OUTBOX 1 of 41
To: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 3:59
P.M.

Kavya, are you ready?

I stared down at my phone as I waited for a response, feeling my heart begin to beat a little more quickly when one didn’t arrive right away. The “Concession Entrapment” part of the plan, as Peyton had dubbed it, hinged on what she had told us was a collision play. Which meant several things had to happen, all at the same time, in order for this to work. Which meant that if Kavya had gotten distracted by something, the whole thing could be in jeopardy.

A moment later, my phone—technically Travis’s, but mine for the day—beeped with a response, and I let out a sigh of relief.

INBOX 1 of 36
From: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:00
P.M.

Ready.

I switched to Constellation and updated my status as fast as I could.

I checked the time, waited thirty more seconds, then texted Kavya back.

OUTBOX 1 of 42
To: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:01
P.M.

Go.

I peered around to see if I could see her approaching the concession stand window, but it remained empty. I was just about to text her when my phone beeped again.

INBOX 1 of 37
From: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:02
P.M.

You know, you could say “please,” Madison.

I looked around and saw that Mark had already started his approach, and there was no time to waste by having a meltdown.