Front Page Face-Off Page 5

  “You owe me an apology.”

  I snapped my phone shut and stared at him. “Not going to happen.”

  Marcus’s face reddened, and his eyebrows formed a V of anger. “I had to change schools because of you, and you won’t even say ‘I’m sorry’?”

  I frowned back. “You’re the one who should apologize. To the entire school.”

  “I only dunked, like, ten people!”

  “Yes, but you intimidated everyone,” I said. “Kids were terrified they might be next. The school counselor’s schedule was booked solid for a month!”

  Marcus’s expression relaxed, and he looked a little pleased. “Really?”

  I gave an exasperated groan. “Wrong answer. You should feel horrible for ruining people’s lives!”

  He stared at me, dumbfounded. “So should you. Instead, you’re being welcomed into the popular crowd … all because of an article that made me look bad.”

  “Actually”—I cleared my throat—“because of an article that made the Little Debbies look bad.”

  “Whatever!” He waved his arms like a madman, a sign for me to start moving again.

  “Good-bye.” I quickened my pace toward the main building, and he matched me, stride for stride.

  “Who are you going to exploit next?” His voice was close enough to my ear to startle me. “I mean, that is your pledge task, right?”

  I swallowed and fixed my gaze ahead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed, but it was mirthless. “I’ll bet you don’t. I’ll also bet that whoever you’re about to destroy doesn’t deserve it.”

  We reached the doors, and I jerked one of them open, pausing to look back at him. “Marcus, I’m sorry you did something stupid and got caught at it, but I’ll never be sorry I told everyone.” I was thankful to see Jenner waiting for me at one of the tables. “And since we talked about this now, I assume we won’t have to talk tomorrow or ever again, so …

  have a nice life.”

  I nodded to Jenner, who scooped up an envelope sitting beside her and followed me down the hall.

  “That’s not really an apology!” called Marcus. “Crazy redhead!”

  Jenner waited until we’d stepped off campus before saying, “I guess that’s a ‘no’ on the follow-up interview?”

  I sighed, relaxing my shoulders until they were no longer up by my ears. “He actually came looking for me. To get an apology because he had to change schools.”

  “Wow. Nothing like a little guilt before dinner.”

  I took the envelope from her and folded the flap back. Inside were pictures of various members of Hot Stuff she’d nabbed from the journalism room.

  “Marcus left because he couldn’t live with what he did,” I said. “Not because of me.”

  “Well, it was a little because of you.” As soon as she’d said the words, Jenner pointed to the envelope. “And before you smite me, remember that I busted my butt to run down here with these.”

  “Okay, okay.” I pulled out the photos and flipped through them slowly. Nothing jumped out at me. I hadn’t really expected to see anything scandalous, but it would have been nice to see a picture of Katie shoplifting or kicking a puppy. “There’s nothing unusual about Katie Glenn,” I said with a sigh.

  “Oh, yeah. Nothing unusual.” Jenner leaned over my shoulder and smirked. “Unless you count her obsession with sea turtles, the fact that she only wears long-sleeve shirts, and her tendency to wander off mid-conversation.”

  “She does that to you, too? I thought I was the only one who drove her to boredom.”

  Jenner shook her head. “If you don’t have a shell, you’re lucky to get five minutes of her time.”

  “Note to self,” I murmured. “Purchase turtle costume before talking to Katie.” I held up a picture of her at a basket-

  ball game the previous school year. “Her hair was really short back then. Shorter than it is now.”

  “Well, it does grow.”

  I gave Jenner a withering glance. “That’s not what I mean. She hasn’t worn it that short ever since. Why not?”

  Jenner shrugged. “Because she realized it made her look like a guy? Who knows.” She took the picture and fanned herself with it. “What exactly did the Little Debbies ask you to do to Katie, anyway?” The disapproving tone I’d been waiting for finally worked its way into her voice.

  “They want me to bring down her clique, which involves digging up dirt on her officers.”

  “Oh.” Jenner’s tone changed to one of surprise. “So, you’re just writing an exposé on another clique.”

  I nodded. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same girl doing the same things.”

  Jenner nodded. “While wearing a hideous purple whistle.” She pointed to my neck and I blushed.

  “It’s supposed to be my personal security system.” I tucked the whistle under my shirt. “When I blow on it, mermaids swim to my rescue or something.”

  “Not a bad idea, given your situation,” she said. “You should definitely wear it to the beach tonight.”

  I stared at her as if she were speaking a different language. “The beach?”

  Jenner gasped in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me the Little Debbies aren’t in the know!”

  I pushed her. “Paige is allergic to seaweed, so she doesn’t care about the beach. Why? What’s happening there?”

  “Twilight Surf.” Jenner leaned forward conspiratorially. “And rumor has it that a certain editor and his new girlfriend will be there and there may be a few sea turtles as well.”

  “Really.” My fingers curled around the edges of the pictures. “How interesting.”

  Chapter Seven

  As I rummaged through my closet for Twilight Surf clothes, I gave serious thought to blowing my whistle. On the list of Little Debbie emergency situations, I was certain that fashion crises ranked somewhere between breakups and bad facials.

  Even though I owned enough khaki to outfit a preppy army, my wardrobe suffered from a severe lack of sundresses, skirts, or anything remotely feminine. Nobody, in my opinion, would take a reporter in a halter top seriously.

  After waffling between a dress with a lace collar and a skirt covered in smiling ladybugs, I chose the lesser of the two embarrassments and slipped into the dress.

  When I strolled into the kitchen, Major had his head buried in the refrigerator, so I tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Bye, Major! I’ll be back after dinner.”

  I managed three steps toward the door before I heard him say, “Hold up there, Delilah.”

  I scowled at the ceiling before turning around. “Yes?”

  Major stood “at ease,” legs apart and arms folded behind his back. “You’re wearing one of your old dresses.”

  I glanced down as if noticing it for the first time. “Yes.”

  “To the beach.”

  My weight shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes.”

  Major leaned forward and, in a voice barely above a whisper, asked, “Why?”

  “Because …” My hands went to the lace collar, which now felt like a noose. “Most girls … I mean, this guy …”

  From the look on Major’s face, I knew there was no right answer.

  “Delilah,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of you changing yourself for anybody.” He frowned. “Especially if it means you’ll be dressing like an urban pilgrim.”

  “Pilgrims don’t wear sneakers,” I pointed out.

  Major turned me to face my bedroom. “Into your normal clothes, please.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was stepping onto a city bus with Jenner, wearing khaki shorts and a polo shirt.

  “You look nice,” she said. “That outfit is very you.”

  “But it’s the me Ben already knows,” I countered. “The simple Delilah who threw up in his living room. I want him to see a more sophisticated Delilah.”

  Jenner blinked at me. “You’re twelve. Sophisticated doesn’t happen until colleg
e.”

  I regarded my reflection in the bus window. “Ava’s sophisticated.”

  “Blah. Ava’s an alien from the planet Pretentious.” She dug into her beach bag and pulled out a magazine and a pack of licorice.

  “What’s this about?” I took the magazine from her.

  It was the same issue Paige had shown me the day before but with some of the pages marked by scraps of paper. “You never read these kinds of magazines.”

  “My mom got me a subscription over the summer.” She snapped a licorice whip in half with her teeth. “And I found some articles that made me think of you.”

  I flipped through the marked pages, reading the headlines.

  peer pressure: the personality killer.

  the good girl’s guide to getting what you want.

  squashing the jealousy bug.

  I lowered the magazine and fixed Jenner with a steely gaze. “What a thoughtful friend you are.”

  She sighed. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “No, you’re pointing out what you think is wrong with me!” The bus driver glanced at us in the mirror, and I lowered my voice. “None of these articles apply. I mean, they’re even more irrelevant than this.” I jabbed at an article entitled “The 411 on Flirting.”

  “Fine.” Jenner focused all her attention on shredding her licorice into strands. “Sorry.”

  Seeing the embarrassed look on her face, I wilted. “No, I’m sorry. You’re just trying to help.”

  She nodded. “I want you to beat Ava, but I don’t want you to forget about the real reason you’re doing it.”

  I gave her a questioning look, and she rolled her eyes. “The newspaper !”

  “Right! No, I won’t,” I promised. “In fact, I’m going to interview Katie while I’m there and see if I can learn more about Hot Stuff.”

  “Good!” She smiled and returned her attention to a novel that had a decapitated princess on the cover.

  To humor Jenner, I decided to read one of the articles she’d marked for me … until my eyes were drawn to the opposite page blasting the 411 on flirting.

  It was laid out like a comic strip, featuring a girl shooting

  a heart-shaped arrow at a boy. They didn’t look a thing like me or Ben—but that didn’t stop me from making the comparison. When I glanced at the rules for flirting, they seemed simple and straightforward:

  Be approachable. Flip that hair, show those pearly whites, and laugh it up. Guys love girls who know how to have fun.

  Maintain eye contact. Guys want to know you’re focused on them and only them.

  Compliment, compliment, compliment!

  Flattery will get you everywhere.

  Actions speak louder than words. Touch his arm and create that personal connection to let him know you’re interested.

  Be his mirror so that your body language matches his. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and, as we all know, flattery will get you everywhere.

  Jenner bumped my elbow. “Come on. This is our stop.”

  I closed the magazine before I reached the end of the comic, but I knew the girl had won the heart of the boy. And if a one-dimensional scribble could get what she was after, it couldn’t be that difficult for me, could it?

  Jenner and I grabbed our beach bags and trudged toward a big painted banner that read twilight surf in sickly green letters. Once the sun went down, the paint would make the words glow in the dark, like miniature moons.

  Twilight Surf was the annual opportunity for the seventh graders at Brighton to mingle with the students from their next stage of learning, Woodcliff Finishing School. Naturally, there was a surfing competition, but there were also bonfires, barbecues, and plenty of chances to be seen. Several girls had already set up their beach gear near the lifeguard stand where the Woodcliff guys hung out.

  “Where should we go?” I asked Jenner.

  “Well, I have to sign in for the competition first.” She pointed to her parents’ surf shop, Jenner’s Bay, where a line of teenage guys and girls flowed out the door and onto the sand. “Do you want to come with me?”

  I slid on my sunglasses to block the last rays of light and glanced around. “I think I’m going to see if I can find Katie.”

  Jenner nodded. “Head toward the shore. She’ll probably be camped out there, waiting for turtles.”

  We separated and I picked my way down the rocky slope toward the sand, checking each group of girls I passed for one with short, punky hair.

  And then I saw her.

  Ava, in another strapless dress, was chatting up a group of girls all wearing the same T-shirt with a large pair of wings patterned on the back. She looked infuriatingly pretty with her dark hair pulled into a messy bun and her French sophistication oozing out of every pore of her body. The other girls wore flip-flops, but Ava wore high-heeled sandals. Their beach towels were simple, funky colors, but Ava’s had a massive print of the Eiffel Tower.

  Slowly and quietly, I lowered my bag to the ground and opened it to grab my towel. Neither Ava nor the Angels had noticed me yet, and if I set up a towel behind them, I could probably hear their entire conversation and learn Ava’s plan of attack.

  It would have worked, except my phone chose to blast its ringtone at that moment. I turned my back to the girls before they could see me and grabbed my things, walking toward Jenner’s Bay as fast as I could. “Hello?” I whispered into the phone before Ava could discover the identity of her seaside stalker.

  “Delilah?” At the sound of Ben’s voice, I almost did a face plant in the sand.

  “Ben! Hi!” The volume of my voice shot way past normal; I cringed and cleared my throat. “I mean … what’s up?”

  “Ava’s following some story lead, so I’m hanging out at Jenner’s Bay. Did you want to grab a soda while I wait for her to get back?”

  I would have turned cartwheels if my hands hadn’t been full … and if I’d had some athletic talent. “Sure! I’m on my way now.”

  I squeezed past the crowd on the shop steps and headed for the porch, where my heart momentarily stalled. Ben was leaning against the railing, looking out at the ocean. The sun highlighted his profile like a golden aura of gorgeous.

  “Hey!” He reached behind him and produced two glass bottles of cola with straws. “You still like these, right?”

  Old-fashioned soda was my favorite, and my skin prickled with goose bumps, knowing Ben had thought of me.

  “Amazing memory,” I said, taking a big swallow.

  Ben smiled even broader, and at that moment, I realized the magazine had been right. I’d paid a guy a compliment, and he’d been flattered!

  I, Delilah James, was officially flirting.

  With renewed confidence I smiled at Ben and flipped my hair over my shoulder. “I like your shirt, too. It … fits you well.”

  “Thanks.” He looked down at himself. “I guess Ava’s pretty good at choosing sizes.”

  My right eye twitched at the mention of her name and the fact that she was dressing him, but I flipped my hair again and kept smiling.

  “I’m glad you’re not still upset about the newspaper thing.” He studied my eyes, and I stared into his, unblinking.

  “You’re the editor,” I said, still grinning while I sipped from my straw. My cheeks were beginning to hurt from so much smiling. “You know what’s best.” I did another hair flip.

  Ben leaned away from me, and I leaned away from him, still maintaining eye contact and a winning smile. “Are you okay?” His eyes narrowed a bit while he studied me.

  I nodded and tried to touch his arm, which was difficult to do with both of us leaning away. In the end, I swatted at his wrist with my fingertips. “Of course!” I laughed heartily to prove my point, but Ben didn’t join in.

  “What did they put in this?” He grabbed my soda bottle.

  “Ha! You are so funny!” I patted his back harder than I intended as he brought the bottle up to sniff it.

  Until that moment, I’d never know
n how far a straw could go up a boy’s nose.

  “Oh, my gosh!” I could barely form the words, my jaw was so stiff from smiling. “I’m really sorry!” I tried to help him, but Ben turned his back to me and waved a dismissive hand.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

  I hovered behind him, glancing over my shoulder to see how many people had witnessed my failed flirting. Judging from the stares and whispers, I guessed all of them.

  A second later, Ben turned back around, straw in hand, rubbing his nose. “Ta-da!” He faced the crowd, who clapped appreciatively. “Thank you. For my next trick, I’ll pull a French fry out of my ear.”

  Everyone laughed, except me, and Ben nudged my side. “Oh, come on. After what you just did to me, I at least deserve a smile.”

  The guy was cute, funny, and sweet. At his request, I’d stick a straw up my own nose. Plus, it was pretty amusing. So, I grinned.

  “No offense, but I don’t think I want that straw back.”

  He laughed and I joined in, but our fun was cut short by a voice hissing in my ear.

  “I appear to have missed something very funny.”

  Ben stepped away from me and placed the sodas on the railing. “Hey, Ava! That was quick.”

  She swept past to stand between us, an arm curled around Ben’s neck. “You seem to have had a more interesting time than I did.”

  “Nah,” said Ben. “Just a little accident.” He pointed to his nose, and Ava cooed and clicked her tongue.

  “What did that wicked girl do to you?” She held his face in her hands and kissed his nose.

  I turned away, not wanting to see if he had kissed her back. “Well, thanks for keeping me company, Ben. I’m going to go find Jenner.”

  Ben disentangled himself from Ava. “Come find us later, okay?” And then he was smothered again by 115 pounds of French pretension.

  “Sure.” I pulled open the door to the shop. “Later.”

  Jenner waited just inside, pointing out one of the huge windows overlooking the beach … and the spot where Ben and I had been standing. “What was that?”

  I sighed and leaned against the glass, crumpling to the floor. “I don’t know. I was just doing what the magazine article said.”