Red(39)

“Why is this hard for you to understand? I just told you. I need him as my prom date.”

Gabby couldn’t possibly be serious—it was just too ridiculous. Felicity’s nervous laugh echoed off the tile walls. “Brent’s not going to take you to prom,” she said. “That’s insane.”

Gabby shrugged, totally unconcerned. “He will if you tell him he has to. He wouldn’t dare disobey you. The guy has the mental capacity of a collie.”

“But he can’t take you. He’s taking me. Everything’s already arranged. Besides, he has no interest in brunettes. I can’t force him to like you, Gabby.”

“He doesn’t have to like me. He just has to take me to prom. Good thing arrangements can always be changed.”

“What if I can’t get him to agree?” Felicity choked out.

“Then everyone finds out about your hair color before the end of the night. Just think how exciting it’ll be. Everyone loves a good prom scandal.”

This wasn’t a joke—Gabby really wanted to take her beautiful, adoring date away. An image of Brent doing the prom court dance with her enemy sprang to mind, and Felicity started to feel sick. She stood very still, trying not to hyperventilate as she watched her prom night go up in flames. Her mom snapping photos of her and Brent, groomed and primped and grinning—gone. The moment Brent would wrap his strong arms around her and pull her close for the first slow dance of the evening—gone. The after-party at Haylie’s, followed by a whole night of sleeping with her head resting on her boyfriend’s chest—all of it gone in an instant.

Of course, it was technically possible to go to prom by herself. But no redhead ever showed up without a date. That alone could undermine her red cred. And how could she ever hold her head up if Brent was right there in the same room with another girl? Whispers and pitying looks would follow her all night. Did you see how Felicity’s sexy boyfriend ditched her? And for a brunette, of all people. What kind of girl can’t hang on to her boyfriend on prom night?

They would wonder why he had left her. And if they tried hard enough, maybe they’d find out.

Tears of fury and frustration pricked at the corners of Felicity’s eyes, and she dug her nails into her palms and tried to concentrate on the pain. No matter what happened, she couldn’t let Gabby see her cry. “You won’t get away with this,” she hissed. “You can’t just go around terrorizing people and expect there not to be any consequences.”

Gabby smirked at her. “Ooh, I’m paralyzed with fear.”

“I’m serious. You’re not the only one who can spread rumors. I could have the whole school talking about you in a second if I wanted to.”

“What could you possibly have on me, Felicity?”

“Why should I tell you?” Felicity held her head high, hoping Gabby couldn’t tell she was grasping at straws. “I could say anything—it wouldn’t even have to be true. I could tell everyone you’re pregnant. Or that you’ve been texting naked photos of yourself to the football team. Nobody around here even cares if the gossip they spread is real.”

She expected to see fear flicker across Gabby’s face, but instead her enemy broke into a radiant smile. “Oh, that’s perfect,” she said, more to herself than to Felicity.

“What? I’m serious. I’ll do it unless you leave me alone.”

“Fine. Do it. I dare you. Tell them I cheated on my SATs. Tell them I have an after-school job at the strip club on I-80. Tell them I’m a crack addict. I can’t wait to see what people will believe.” Gabby picked up her bag and turned to go. “And in the meantime, have your boy toy call me so we can make arrangements. I’ll be wearing red, so a corsage of red roses would look nice.”

Felicity stared at the closing door, more confused than ever. Gabby wasn’t just being stoic—she seemed genuinely delighted at the prospect of having her character defamed. If Felicity went ahead and spread malicious rumors about her, it seemed she’d be playing directly into her enemy’s hands. Was Gabby really so desperate for attention that she’d stoop to this? What could she possibly be trying to achieve?

Of course, this meant that Felicity had only two choices: give up her boyfriend on prom night, or give up her secret, her shot at winning the pageant, and her dream of going to art school.

Her tears finally spilled over.

She let herself cry quietly for a few minutes, then gathered a wad of toilet paper and patted her eyes dry. Personal crisis or not, she had to go back to the squash courts. The art show had to come down, and she couldn’t make Jonathan do all the work himself. She inspected her face in the mirror. Her eyes were a little red and her mascara was a bit smeared, but she didn’t look too awful. It was possible Jonathan wouldn’t notice anything was wrong as long as she kept her distance. She took a few deep, calming breaths and tried to rearrange her mouth into a convincing smile.

Unfortunately, Ms. Kellogg had arrived in her absence to help take down the show, and she waved Felicity over immediately. “Do you have nails?” she called. “I can’t peel off these sticky strips.”

“Yeah, I can do it.” Felicity tried to keep her tearstained face averted as she picked the adhesive off a painting. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“He’s carrying stuff back to the art room. Hey, are you okay? What’s the matter?”