Red(27)

Jonathan furrowed his brow in mock concentration. “Let’s see. Firefighters?”

“No!”

“Hairdressers?”

Andy opened his eyes wide in horror. “Eew, no!”

“What, then?”

“Paleontologists! We’re gonna discover new kinds of dinosaurs, and then we’re gonna be famous. And then we’re gonna buy planes with red lightning on the wings!”

“Sounds awesome,” Jonathan said. “I’m going to be a painter. Will you fly me to my art shows in your planes?”

Tyler looked panicked. “We don’t know how yet!”

Felicity laughed. “Thanks for watching the boys. I was supposed to be doing that.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. They’re great.” Jonathan held out his hands, and the twins slapped his palms, each trying to outdo the other in enthusiasm.

Felicity was just starting to feel relaxed again when she spotted Gabby across the squash court. She was standing near the hyenas and wearing a bright orange dress that no redhead could possibly pull off—if Felicity put it on, she’d look like a safety cone. But it looked elegant against Gabby’s long dark hair, which was loose around her shoulders. It was almost as if she were flaunting the fact that her hair wasn’t red.

When she saw Felicity, she gave a little nod, then held up her phone. Felicity had no idea what she was trying to signal, and she shot Gabby a confused look. Gabby rolled her eyes, then pointed back and forth between the phone and Felicity.

Oh—Gabby wanted her to check her phone. She dug it out of her sequined handbag and found a text.

Unknown number: meet me in the bathroom by the weight room, 2 minutes.

Felicity felt her stomach plummet. She already had enough on her plate tonight—she really didn’t need the added stress of another confrontation with Gabby. How had Gabby even gotten her phone number? She tried to act normal as she handed the twins off to her mom, then excused herself and headed toward the weight room.

All four of the faucets in the bathroom were dripping, creating an eerie soundscape. Felicity considered trying to turn them off, but the plumbing in this bathroom was notoriously sketchy, and she was afraid to touch the knobs in case one of them sprayed her dry-clean-only dress. Instead, she leaned against the wall farthest from the sinks and waited for her enemy. Her heart tripped along as if it were trying to match the uneven dripping of the water.

Gabby finally arrived, her dress glaring like a road flare against the gloom. She seemed to be in a good mood and gave Felicity an uncharacteristically wide smile. “The show looks good,” she said.

Felicity tried to seem relaxed. “Yeah, I’m happy with how it turned out.”

“So, the hyenas didn’t ruin your life after all. Imagine that.” Gabby wedged her heel against the door, blocking it shut.

“Actually, you might not believe this, but I kind of like your painting, now that I’ve had a chance to really look at it,” Felicity said. “It’s clever.”

“Thanks. I like your piece, too, for what it’s worth. It’s very … enlightening.”

Felicity blushed as she realized Gabby was the only person at the show who completely understood her sculpture. Jonathan got the basic idea, but it took on a whole different meaning for someone who knew about her hair. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“So, let me get to the point,” Gabby said. “You’ll be nominating me for prom queen at the assembly tomorrow.”

Felicity felt the blood drain from her face, and the room suddenly felt colder. “What? But I promised I’d nominate Haylie, and we only get one nomination each!”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

There were plenty of other people who would be willing to nominate Haylie. She had lots of devoted friends. But Felicity knew she would never be able to explain nominating Gabby. Her recent behavior had already made Haylie suspicious; this would only confirm that something strange was going on. Besides, pulling a stunt like that would be terrible for her red cred. Brunettes were rarely nominated for prom queen at all, and they were never nominated by redheads. “Can’t you get one of your own friends to nominate you? I don’t see why it has to be me.”

Gabby shrugged. “You don’t have to understand it. You just have to do it.”

Felicity was suddenly struck with an idea, and a single ray of hope pierced through her panic. She squared her shoulders and looked Gabby right in the eye. “If you make me do this, I’ll tell your mom you’re blackmailing her clients,” she said. “She’ll never let you get away with it. She’s legally bound to protect our secrets.”

To Felicity’s horror, Gabby just laughed. “First of all, I’m not blackmailing her clients, plural. I’m blackmailing you. And my mom would never believe you. I’ll just tell her you’re spreading malicious rumors about me because you hate brunettes. Who do you think she’s going to trust? Her artie client, who pays her to lie, or her own daughter?”

“I can prove it. I still have those notes you put in my locker. She’ll recognize your handwriting.”

Gabby’s look hardened. “Felicity, if you make my life difficult in any way, I will make sure my mom drops you as a client.”

Felicity almost snapped back, “If you do that, I’ll tell everyone your mom runs the salon,” but she quickly realized she could never follow through on that threat. What would she do without Rose? Dye her own hair? She had no idea how to mix the right shade of red. How would she explain it when she screwed up and her hair changed color overnight?