The Best Laid Plans(41)

“She’s going with James Dean, obviously,” Ava says, taking a sip of her smoothie. At least, she claims it’s a smoothie—it looks like brown sludge and is so thick she’s struggling to suck it up the straw.

“I never thought you’d find something you couldn’t suck,” Danielle says dryly, her eyes on Ava.

Ava pulls the straw out of her mouth. “You’d know. You’re the expert on sucking!”

Danielle’s lips quirk up into a smile. “So I’ve been told.”

“What are you drinking?” I ask, pointing at the sludge. Some of the liquid has started to separate, spreading into two colors like a test tube experiment.

“It’s coca-kale-a,” she says, as if it’s obvious. “It’s made from diet kale.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say diet kale?” Hannah asks. “Isn’t all kale diet kale?”

“This stuff is better.” Ava tips the drink toward us. The smell wafts pungently across the table. “They strip out all of the calories from the kale before they puree it. All that’s left are kaleories. I heard Beyoncé drinks one before every show.”

“I bet.” Danielle wrinkles her nose for a moment at the drink and then turns to me, her eyes sparkling. “So, James Dean then?”

“I don’t know,” I say, picking through my Caesar salad with a plastic fork. I bought it from the school cafeteria, so the lettuce looks brown and wilted, and I’m only eating the croutons. “He just doesn’t seem like the . . . prom type.” Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re just hooking up and not dating and people definitely don’t take their hookups to their high school prom.

Danielle shrugs. “Do you have any other prospects?”

“She’s the only one of us with any prospects at all,” Ava says, setting her drink down on the table. The liquid inside doesn’t even jiggle—it’s congealed into a solid. She turns to Danielle. “Who do you want to go with?”

“No one,” Danielle says. “Our class is pathetic. Chase is out, obviously, and I’m not touching Ryder after he called me a slut. Besides, we all know Ava’s gonna fuck him again.”

A small, strangled sound comes from Ava’s mouth and her eyes go wide. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Danielle is trying to be funny or if she’s just mean. And lately, the mean has gotten a lot meaner.

“I’m not going with Ryder to any more dances,” Ava says.

“That’s what you said last year,” Danielle says, tilting her head. “But then . . . wait, tell me again about the fall ball?” She takes a bite of her salad and smiles.

Ava looks stung. “Well, maybe I’ll go with Chase this year if you’re not.”

Danielle laughs. “Do you actually think he’d ask you?”

Ava clenches her smoothie and backs away from the table. Her mouth opens and closes a few times like she has something to say, but then she sighs and turns around, storming away from the table.

“Lighten up,” Danielle says, “I was just kidding.” She sighs and stands, following Ava out of the cafeteria. I hate watching them act like this, but I don’t know what I could do to make anything better. Danielle wouldn’t listen to me.

“Promise me you’ll always be nice to me,” Hannah says once they’re gone.

“No matter what,” I say.

She swirls her straw in her drink. “So you really don’t think you’re going to ask him?” We’re back on James Dean. “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know.” I bite into a crouton, picturing Dean in a tux, and it’s kinda beautiful. But then I remember the relief that flashed across his face when I told him I wasn’t a virgin, and the image pops.

“You’ll be fine. Beautiful unicorn princess, remember?”

“I’m a lying, idiot princess.”

“Well, at least you’re still a princess,” she answers. “That counts for something. Just ask him, okay?”

We get let out of French early because Madame Deschenes has a headache, so Hannah and I take our time in the bathroom after class and then head to the senior lounge. It’s mostly empty, except for some of the guys in our French class. When we walk in, Andrew and Edwin are huddled over by the window with Ryder and Simon Terst. I say bonjour to them, but no one answers me. They’re all focused on something on the wall I can’t see, pointing and whispering in a way that can only mean something bad.

“What does it say?” Simon asks from the outside the circle, trying to break through. Ryder is blocking his view of whatever they’re looking at because he’s practically seven feet tall.

“It’s so gross, man,” he says to Simon by way of explanation.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Andrew steps aside so I can see. Someone has taken a Sharpie to the wall and written a message in thick black ink.


DANIELLE OLIVER TASTES LIKE ROTTEN FISH



The letters are messy, like someone scrawled them there in a hurry. I feel my stomach clench. Hannah takes a sharp breath next to me.

“Who wrote this?” I ask, feeling slightly queasy. This is so much worse than a few hidden notes stuffed into a bag or a locker. This is public. Who would do something so messed up?