Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(53)

I rub the cover on my pant leg to clean off some of the dirt.

“What do we have here?” a girl’s voice says as the loose papers are snatched from my hand.

I turn to see Bronte rifling through the pages and am momentarily spellbound by the tight white sweater she’s wearing that hints at her lacy bra underneath. Then, like a fist to the face, it hits me that the Our Lady of Mercy form is somewhere within that stack.

“It’s just garbage,” I say, lunging for my papers.

Bronte dodges my hand and laughs. “Must be something pretty juicy if you want them back so badly. Love notes, perhaps?”

“Just give them to me. I’m late for class.”

“Ah-ha!” Bronte shouts, waving the application and letting all the other papers drift to the floor. “I had a feeling there was something good in here. I’m psychic, you know.” She winks at me, then looks over her shoulder and calls out, “Prudence! Come here. Look who’s been holding out on us.”

Prudence saunters over to us, looking fairly bored. “What’s going on?”

Bronte triumphantly hands the application over to Prudence.

She flips through the form. “I thought you said you weren’t done with this. This looks pretty complete to me.”

“I just finished it over the weekend,” I say, my palms starting to sweat. “But —”

“But what?” Prudence studies me.

“I still need to confirm a few things.” Part of me feels like grabbing the papers and hightailing it down the hall but instead I just stand there. I don’t want them to think I’m not still on board with the plan. Because I am. I’m just — well — I don’t know what I am anymore. Life was so much simpler when I didn’t have all these stupid “feelings” to contend with.

“Wow. You even got her mother’s signature.” Prudence grins like a cat with a cup of cream. “Pretty impressive, Coop.” She chortles as she folds the papers up and places them in her purse. “Can you imagine the look on Helen’s face when she gets her acceptance letter in the mail? Absolutely supreme.”

“All she’ll need is that one final”— Bronte makes a little shoving gesture —“push over the edge, and she’ll be gone, baby, gone.”

Bronte and Prudence bump fists, exploding their nugs on impact as they crack up.

I force a laugh, but inside I feel seasick. Like the whole world is canting.

Why, though? What’s the problem here? If Helen transferred schools it would solve all of my problems. It’s want I want. Isn’t it?

Of course it is, you idiot. Do not let whatever evil seed Helen has planted in your brain cloud your logic. Maybe she’s hot. And maybe she’s funny. And maybe she’s cooler than people think. But . . . that’s the thing. None of it matters. Because perception is the key here. You can never forget that.

Oh, God, I’m losing my mind. Can you go insane at sixteen?

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Prudence says.

“Huh?” I stare at her, wondering if she can hear my thoughts.

“What’s the straw that’ll break the Hot Dog’s back?” Prudence peers at me. “You’ve spent quite a bit of time with her lately —”

“Not that much.”

“More than the rest of us,” Prudence says. “What have you learned about her? Something we can exploit. A weakness? Her biggest fear?”

My gut grips up. “I have no idea. I don’t know her that well. All we’ve done is work on the project.” I glance over my shoulder. “Look. I have to get going.”

Bronte takes a step closer, boxing me in. “You seem nervous. Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just . . . late for class.”

“Oh, come on, Coopee.” Prudence leans in and whispers in my ear. “Don’t go yet. Just think for a sec. What would rock the Sausage Queen to her core?”

Her warm breath spreads out over my cheek, nearly making me swoon. “I — I don’t know. I mean, people have been tormenting her forever and she still hasn’t switched schools.”

Prudence nods. “You’re right. It has to be something big. So big she can’t ignore it as just another prank.”

“It should be public,” Bronte adds. “To make it that much more humiliating.”

Suddenly Prudence squeals with excitement. “Oh, my God. I’ve got it! I am so good.”

“What?” Bronte smiles.

“Yeah, what?” I ask, my throat dry.

“Well . . .” Prudence stops herself. She looks at me sideways. “Actually. Now that I think about it. I’m not sure Coopee should know about it.” She turns to Bronte. “He might try to put a stop to it.”

“What?” I say, feeling like I’ve just been smacked. “That’s ridic. Why would I do that?”

Bronte studies me. “Yeah, he’d probably leap in and try to save her at the last minute.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I would not.”

“Oh, be honest,” Prudence teases. “You’ve developed a soft spot for the Hot Dog, haven’t you?

Bronte laughs. “It’s only natural. With you spending so much time with her and all. It’s like Stockholm syndrome or something.”