Red(18)

5


     THURSDAY, MAY 6


Felicity arrived at school the next day prepared for battle. She had once seen a nature documentary about what to do if you encounter an animal predator while hiking, and she had decided to follow the same protocol regarding Gabby: Make yourself look as large and threatening as possible. Make a lot of noise. Whatever you do, don’t show your fear. Gabby is a mountain lion, she told herself as she walked down the hall. Convince her that you’re dangerous prey, and she’ll find someone else to eat.

When Felicity opened her locker, there were no little red envelopes in sight, and she smiled. It seemed like a good omen.

Gabby arrived at her own locker five minutes later, and Felicity’s heartbeat accelerated as she watched her enemy rummage around for her books. She took a deep breath. Just as Gabby moved to close the door, Felicity looped her arm through her adversary’s in what she hoped looked like a friendly way. “Hey, Gabby,” she chirped.

Gabby looked surprised, but before she could pull away, Felicity dug in her nails and steered her toward the nearest bathroom. “I need to talk to you,” she hissed.

The bathroom was mercifully empty. Felicity checked each stall for feet, just to make sure, then leaned against the door and wedged it closed with her heel. She didn’t want this conversation interrupted by giggling freshmen eager to redo their lip gloss, and being in control of the only exit made her feel safer. Gabby lolled against the sinks across the room, looking totally unintimidated.

“I assume these are from you,” Felicity said in her best authoritative voice, pulling the three little red envelopes from her pocket.

“Impressive detective work.” Gabby surveyed her nails and picked at some chipped polish on her pinkie. “Took you long enough.”

It was incredibly annoying that she seemed so relaxed. Felicity wished she could move closer and shake the notes in Gabby’s face, like they sometimes did on cop shows, but she worried the gesture might come off as ridiculous.

“Why would you write this?” she snapped instead. “It’s obviously not true. You know my hair’s been the same color my entire life. You’ve been in my class since second grade.”

“Just because it’s always been the same doesn’t mean it’s real. It’s that sandalwood perfume you wear that finally tipped me off. For years, every time you walked by, I always thought, God, that smells so familiar, what does that remind me of? And then a couple weeks ago, my mom came home from work smelling the same way, and I finally put it together. It hides the smell of the dye, right?”

Felicity breathed a little more easily. If that was all Gabby had to go on, it might not be so hard to make this whole situation go away. “Are you serious?” she snorted. “That’s your proof? That I wear the same perfume as your mom? I know this might be hard to believe, Gabby, but sometimes, different people like the same smells.” She made a face of exaggerated shock.

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Oh, give it up, Felicity. I can see your roots.”

Felicity’s smile died on her lips, and she struggled against the wave of terror that crashed through her. It took every bit of her strength to resist rushing to the mirror, but she reminded herself sternly that this was reality, not The Dream. She had been to Rouge-o-Rama four days ago, so she couldn’t possibly have roots. Gabby had to be bluffing.

“You think I’m going to fall for that?” she said. “This whole thing is ridiculous. You can’t have roots unless you dye your hair. Which I don’t.”

Gabby shrugged. “Say what you want. But I think my mom missed a little spot this time. Right about here.” She pointed to her left temple.

She looked so serious that Felicity’s mask of calm began to crumble. What if Rose really had missed a spot? There was a first time for everything. Before she could restrain herself, she was across the room, inspecting her hairline in the mirror. Everything looked fine, and for a moment all she felt was relief. Then Gabby snickered, and Felicity realized she’d been tricked.

“I don’t have any roots, you bitch,” she snapped. She stalked back to the door, her face flaming with fury.

“No, you don’t. But you obviously thought you did, which kind of proves my point. Plus, I’ve seen you leaving the salon. Unless you just like to hang out in supply closets for fun.”

Felicity felt unbelievably betrayed. Rose had told her there was no way anyone could know who came to Rouge-o-Rama. And yet here Felicity was, rendered completely powerless by the stylist’s own daughter. “How do you even know where the salon is?” she sputtered. “It’s supposed to be secret. Does your mom know you spy on her clients?”

“Of course not. But she keeps a set of blueprints for the salon at home from when she helped renovate it. It’s right there in her office with the key to the appointment-book code names. She even has her work calendar synced to her home computer. She didn’t make it very hard for me to spy.”

“Isn’t it illegal that you looked at that stuff? Like, invasion of privacy or something?”

“Sometimes you have to break the rules to get information, Felicity. Do you always follow the rules?”

Felicity felt her face grow even hotter. Though she hadn’t technically broken any rules, her whole life as a redhead was one big lie. She was much worse than Gabby, really. You have to get a grip, she told herself. Don’t lie down and let the mountain lion eat you.