If I'm Being Honest(55)

Brendan watches me for a long second. “Your dad sounds like a dick.”

He says it so evenly, so thoughtfully, I feel a laugh nearly escape my lips. The joke lifts a little weight from my chest. “Yeah, I guess he kind of is,” I say. “He and your dad would probably get along.”

Brendan gives a short laugh. “They would,” he agrees.

“But really,” I go on, “that was bullshit, Brendan. A 1540 is amazing, and The Girl’s a Sorceress is too. Which is why”—I get up from his bed and walk to his desk, where I grab the SAT book and return it to the bookshelf—“you should blow off studying and come to Rocky Horror with us.”

His expression’s conflicted, but I can tell he’s intrigued. “I can’t do that,” he says grudgingly.

“Of course you can,” I urge. “Tell him you’re going to study in the library and come witness my public humiliation. Virgin sacrifice, remember?”

Brendan chews his lip. “I don’t even have a costume.”

I smirk. I have exactly what I need to end this discussion.

I found it in Party Central and bought it on a whim just to see Brendan’s reaction. I had no idea how perfect an opportunity he’d give me. I reach into my bag and pull out a shiny gold Speedo. I fling it onto Brendan’s lap.

His mouth drops open, but before he can get out a reply, I feel my phone vibrate. I check it quickly. Finally.

“I’d like you to be there, Brendan,” I say, walking to the door. I throw a meaningful look in the direction of the Speedo before I leave the room.





Twenty-Six



I RUSH TO PAIGE’S ROOM. THE DOOR’S open, and everyone’s nearly in costume. Grant’s in his corset, which has a new trim of lace. Abby’s French-maid costume is perfect, just like the pictures I saw online. Charlie’s vaguely disturbing in bloodstained operating-room scrubs with a pearl necklace. Everyone turns to me when I burst in the doorway.

“Come outside with me,” I say quickly. “I have a surprise.”

Nobody budges. Paige eyes me skeptically. Not exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.

“Trust me,” I tell her.

Paige hesitates. I can’t exactly blame her for doubting my intentions. I keep her gaze, throwing sincerity into my expression.

“Well, I’m curious,” she finally says and walks to her door. Relieved, I wait while everyone else files past me into the hall. Even Hannah, who cuts me a suspicious glare.

I follow them out the front door, where a yellow van waits in Paige’s driveway. I walk to the van’s rear doors. “I was told there would be a costume contest tonight,” I tell the group grandly. “Obviously, we have to win.” I steal a glance at Hannah, whose brows, I’m pleased to find, have furrowed in confusion, not anger. “And no look could be complete without the perfect hair and makeup.”

I throw open the doors with a flourish, revealing Elle. She sits at her mobile vanity, surrounded by racks upon racks of wigs and makeup, brushes and mirrors. Her “Elli” logo is painted on one wall, pink lips dotting the “i.” In front of her she’s taped up pictures of every Rocky character.

Everyone leans in for a look, impressed. Even Hannah’s mouth drops open.

Elle watches them a little haughtily. “Who’s first?”

Without hesitating, Abby climbs into the back of the van.

Elle gives her costume a once-over. “Magenta.” Elle purses her lips, her eyes flitting to the corresponding picture on the mirror. “Fun. Great wig. Now, everyone out,” she announces, waving her hand with a diva’s drama. “I need space for my art.” Everyone steps back, and I close the van doors.

I rejoin the group and find everyone chattering excitedly. I hear Grant, relieved, confessing he would have definitely screwed up his Frank-N-Furter makeup on his own. Charlie eyes me approvingly. “Cameron, this is awesome,” he says. I nod demurely, inwardly pleased. Only Paige watches me with something less than gratitude.

She looks skeptical, even distrustful. I know what she’s thinking. She already figured out I have an ulterior motive in Andrew. She’s the only who knows that everything I’m doing here—coming to Rocky, bringing Elle—is part of a plan.

It hurts, not unexpectedly. I don’t want Paige to be wary of everything I do for her. I want her to enjoy this. I want us both to enjoy this.

I pull her away from the group. “Everything okay?” I ask.

“Everything’s fine,” Paige says lightly. “I know you have an agenda here, and what you’ve put together here is really cool. I do appreciate it,” she goes on. “I just hope you understand we’re not just pieces to push around in whatever game you’re playing.” She gives a sad half smile. “When all this is done, I’d hate to have reason to think you’re nothing but a cruel popular girl.”

“I don’t want you to,” I reply quickly. “Look, I wouldn’t be dressed like this, spending my Halloween watching the world’s weirdest movie, if I didn’t really want to.”

Paige nods, and I’m hit again with the rush of nerves I felt sitting on the bleachers. I don’t want to disappoint Paige. I genuinely enjoy hanging out with her, and that won’t change regardless of whatever happens with Andrew and my amends list.