Red(14)

A little red envelope tumbled to the ground at her feet.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Haylie asked, reaching for it.

“Nothing!” Felicity frantically snatched the envelope out of her friend’s fingers and shoved it deep into her pocket.

For a moment, Haylie looked wounded, but then her eyes lit up. “Oh my God, do you have a secret admirer? What is Brent going to say?”

Felicity nearly laughed—what she had was pretty much the opposite of a secret admirer. “Trust me, it’s nothing like that,” she said. She shoved her books into her bag in record time, then slammed her locker shut much harder than necessary, as if the violence might scare away any future envelopes. “I have to go.”

Haylie put a hand on her arm. “Hey, you’re not mad, are you? I was just kidding about the secret admirer thing.”

“No, it’s not that. I just … I’ll see you guys later.” Felicity tried to smile, but she feared it was one of those forced, manic smiles that looked more crazy than happy. As she walked away, she heard Haylie say, “What is with her lately? She’s been acting so weird.”

Felicity locked herself in a bathroom stall, then clawed the envelope open with shaking fingers. Inside was another piece of creamy stationery.

Well done yesterday. You will continue to make overtures of friendship to every brunette you encounter. In addition, there is a CD in the art show submissions box containing a painting of hyenas. You will include the painting in the gallery show. Fail to do so, and you know what happens.

Seriously? Her blackmailer was using her to get a painting into the student art show? How absurdly petty. Felicity stuffed the note into the bottom of her bag, feeling much more relaxed for the moment. At least this was a demand she knew she could meet.

When she arrived in the art room after school, Jonathan was already there with the box of submission CDs. He gave her a big smile as she dropped her backpack and sat down next to him; he seemed a lot calmer in the sawdust-and-turpentine-scented classroom than he had been in the chaotic hallway.

“I hope some of this stuff is decent,” he said as he slipped the first CD into the computer. “But I guess if it all sucks, we can just curate a whole show of horrible art, and then we can pretend it’s really deep and profound and go around spouting pretentious art criticism all night. There’s a whole museum in Massachusetts that does that, and people actually go.”

Felicity laughed, surprised. She hadn’t known Jonathan had a sense of humor hidden under his agitated exterior. “Honestly, I think that’s what they do in most galleries,” she said. “Can we wear berets? It’ll make us look more official.”

“Definitely. And black turtlenecks. They don’t let you say things like ‘The semiotics of this piece are so antediluvian’ if you’re not wearing a black turtleneck.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon going through the CDs and choosing the best pieces to display in their own “gallery space,” which comprised the school’s two squash courts. Felicity’s favorite submission was a photograph of a girl reclining in a bathtub full of Skittles. Even after staring at it for five full minutes, neither she nor Jonathan could tell whether it was Photoshopped.

Every time Jonathan inserted a new disc, Felicity wondered whether it would be the hyena picture. And when the painting finally made an appearance late in the afternoon, her stomach plummeted toward the floor. She had assumed it would be a realistic depiction of wildlife, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

As advertised, the piece featured a group of five slobbering hyenas, but each of them was dressed in a garish formal gown trimmed with ruffles, sequins, and lace. They were fighting over a sparkly tiara on a velvet pillow, ropes of drool hanging from their gaping mouths. Each hyena’s head was topped with red hair decorated with flowers and sparkly combs.

The painting was titled Miss Scarlet, and the dimensions were listed as seven by four feet.

Felicity wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach, suddenly afraid she might be sick. Jonathan snorted in disgust. “Are you kidding?” he said. “She can’t have thought we’d actually put this in the show. This has to be some kind of joke, right?”

Felicity knew it wasn’t. And as she looked at the painting more closely, she realized that the hairstyles on the hyenas weren’t arbitrary. One of them had two buns secured with butterfly barrettes. Another wore its hair in a messy pixie cut. A third had long bangs swept to the side. Felicity’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized herself and her two best friends.

“It’s really well crafted for a joke,” she said. “Looks like someone spent a lot of time on it.” Her voice sounded strangled, and she took a big sip of her Diet Coke.

Jonathan shook his head. “This is ridiculous. I mean, I’m a guy, and I don’t even have red hair, and I’m offended.” He closed the window on the screen, and the picture disappeared.

Once it was out of sight, Felicity found it a little easier to focus, and something Jonathan had said suddenly registered. “Wait, you just said, ‘She can’t have thought we’d actually put this in the show.’ Do you know whose this is?”

“Yeah, it’s Gabby Vaughn’s. She’s in my art class. She’s been working on it all month. I bet you can imagine how much the rest of my class loved that.”