Red(10)

But when the boy turned around, Felicity saw that it was only Jonathan Lyons, the senior who was curating the student art show with her. He was tall and wiry, and he wore glasses with thick dark frames, walking the fine line between nerdy and trendy. Jonathan was an impressive painter, and the smear of green acrylic on the shoulder of his T-shirt indicated that he had already spent time in the school’s art studio that morning. He was probably trying to finish his piece for the show by the submissions deadline. When Ms. Kellogg, the art teacher, had appointed Jonathan and Felicity as curators, she had also guaranteed them spots in the show. Felicity wondered what Jonathan was working on; he was in the other art class this year, so she hadn’t seen any of his recent paintings. Whatever it was, it was sure to be spectacular.

Her forced smile turned into a genuine one. “Hey, how’s it going?” she called.

Jonathan nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose a little. “Pretty good. I just checked the art show cubby in the main office, and we have a ton of submissions. Like, a ton of them. They wouldn’t even all fit in the cubby, and there were CDs piled up in this whole separate box on the floor.” He talked rapidly, as if he were worried Felicity might find something better to do before he finished. “So we have a lot to choose from, which is really great. Do you want to go through all the stuff after school on Wednesday? I mean, if you’re free.” His hands fluttered around like nervous birds, straightening his glasses, slipping into his pockets and out again. They seemed unwilling to settle anywhere.

“Yeah, sure. I can do Wednesday.” Felicity set her coffee cup on the floor and opened her locker door, the inside of which was plastered with postcards of paintings and sculptures by Cézanne, Rodin, and Picasso. A small red envelope fell out and landed at her feet, and she picked it up. It looked like some sort of invitation.

“Okay, great,” said Jonathan. “So, do you want to meet at a coffee shop, maybe? We could go through the submissions on my laptop.”

A coffee shop was a bad idea. Felicity liked Jonathan, but being seen with a non-redhead outside of school would be a crushing blow to her red cred. “Maybe we should just use the computer in the art room,” she said, trying to sound casual. “That way, we won’t have to lug all the CDs out of the building.”

“Yeah, sure, okay. That makes sense. I’ll probably finish my piece in class today. Are you almost done with yours?”

While Jonathan was talking, Felicity tore open the red envelope and pulled out a small card. Handwritten in the middle of the creamy stationery were the words

I know your secret, artie.

For a few seconds, Felicity’s heart completely stopped beating. She clutched the card to her chest so Jonathan wouldn’t see what it said. Maybe this was just another version of The Dream and she was actually safe in her bed. Wake up, she urged herself. Everything’s fine. You’re just asleep. She pinched her arm, hard. But nothing changed, and Felicity could only conclude that this time, her nightmare was very, very real.

Images rushed through her mind like a slide show gone haywire, showing her everything she would lose if her secret got out: her boyfriend, her popularity, the respect of all her peers. Even her closest friends probably wouldn’t stand by her if they found out she’d been lying to them about something so important. She might be kicked out of the pageant for having “questionable morals.” Ginger would be crushed, and she might even lose her job in the mayor’s office.

“Felicity?” Jonathan reached out to touch her shoulder, but his hand stopped a few inches short of her and then retreated. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Felicity shoved the note into her back pocket. Jonathan was still looking at her expectantly, but she couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about.

Oh, right—the art show. The whole thing suddenly seemed totally unimportant. If someone at school knew she was an artie, she could be a social outcast by the end of the day. The art show would be the least of her worries.

But she couldn’t very well lose it in the middle of the hallway, so she smiled and tried to look normal. “I’ll be done by then. I’ll see you Wednesday, okay?”

“Great, okay. See you later.”

As soon as he was gone, Felicity scanned the hall. Whoever had left her this little gift might be lurking nearby, waiting to see her reaction. Gabby was most likely the one who had discovered her secret, considering her mom’s connections with the artie population. But she could have told her friends, and any one of them could have decided to use the information to her advantage. Felicity’s eyes flitted from brunette to brunette, searching her classmates’ faces for signs of guilt or hostility.

Unfortunately, that was no help—Felicity found hostility on the face of every brunette. Marina and Sayuri were chatting happily at their lockers, but they looked up and glared when they caught her staring. Amanda Westin and Sarah Lowes rolled their eyes at her and turned their backs. Gabby shot her a “What are you gaping at?” look. Did the entire brunette population of Scarletville High know her secret? Or had these girls always given her dirty looks, and she’d just never noticed before? Was this note the only step the culprit had taken, or was a widespread announcement on the way? Gossip at Scarletville High spread faster than head lice at a day camp, so if even a few people knew her secret now, everyone would know by lunchtime.