The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(71)

She’s scowling. “What is his problem?”

“You know one of them.”

That’s mean, I tell myself.

But Shadow Sage is stirring in her shallow grave, raking the earth and whispering in my ear. Since I’m holding a figurative sword over Dylan’s head, I have to decide what to do. I could retaliate for him picking on Shane, but I’m not ready to ruin so many other lives. Yet he shouldn’t get away with hurting people. Someone needs to show him how it feels. Only I don’t want to drag his mom into it, let alone the principal, his wife, and his kids.

Lila snickers. “I never knew you could be so bitchy.”

“It’s a closely guarded secret.”

Then she sighs, watching Dylan and crew sweep past. “I wish we could bring him down a peg or two.”

Tall and fit, dressed in jeans and letterman jackets, the jocks are untouchable because being good at sports makes them the next thing to royalty at this school. None of them got punished for underage drinking out the Barn, unlike the rest of the student body. I hate that they get away with everything. In particular, there are no consequences for Dylan. He flattens people like a steamroller but nobody ever brings the fight to him.

“Give him a taste of his own medicine, you mean?” An idea takes shape, though it’s absolutely the inverse of being the Post-it Princess.

“I wouldn’t say no,” she whispers.

Her eyes are deep and hurt; she’s still not over the way Dylan trashed her reputation. Once people think you sleep around, it doesn’t much matter if you do or not. So I let the idea develop fully before speaking. It’s deliciously awful, and I put away my misgivings. He’s earned this. And if we’re careful, we can get away with it.

“Do you know where the spirit squad stores their supplies?” I ask.

Lila nods. “Why?”

I tell her. And her smile is both wicked and luminous.

After school, we raid the closet and take poster board, balloons, and streamers. Since the girls sometimes decorate players’ vehicles, at first glance, nobody will realize there’s anything wrong with Dylan’s truck. But wait until they read the messages. Giggling like mad, we sneak into an unlocked classroom after school and get to work. We have to be fast since the team’s at practice now.

Lila scrawls half the messages and I cover the rest. Most of them are childish, taunts about his habits and personal hygiene. I’m a nose picker. I eat them, too. I wet the bed until I was 12. My favorite porno mag is Grannies Gone Wild. I’m afraid I will die a virgin. But I save the best for last, writing in huge block letters: I CRY WHEN GIRLS TOUCH MY WIENER.

Since we don’t care about neatness, it doesn’t take long to finish up. In stealth mode, we creep out to the parking lot, which is deserted at this hour. The teachers are gone except for those who sponsor afternoon activities. Students in clubs haven’t come out yet; the rest are on the way home. I forgot how good it feels to be bad. This is a rush, but I remind myself why we’re doing this. The justification definitely matters.

Lila and I keep watch while duct-taping the signs, balloons, and streamers all over Dylan’s black truck. I cross my fingers that someone sees it before he and his buddies arrive. But still, just humiliating him in front of his teammates is better than nothing, more of a comeuppance than he usually gets. One of his * friends drove Jon Summers to his death. Dylan didn’t lead that witch hunt, but he didn’t stop it, either.

“We should get out of here,” Lila says.

“Agreed.”

We take off before anyone spots us and I’m on pins and needles all night, wondering about that *’s reaction to our prank.

The next morning, I’m locking my bike up when Dylan’s truck screeches into the lot. The evidence is gone, but people are still laughing like crazy when he parks.

One kid yells, “Maybe you’d like wiener touching better from a dude, bro!”

I glance over, and he’s waving his phone. Even at this distance, I glimpse a photo of our handiwork. A few seconds later, my phone pings, as Kimmy’s forwarded the picture. I guess that means everyone knows, because I hear text tones all around me, and the laughter gets louder. To make matters worse, Dylan’s given his mom a ride to school; she looks so confused and upset, especially when she hears what the guy said. She touches Dylan’s arm and he shrugs her off, looking mad as hell. Since Shadow Sage was running the show, I didn’t think about how he’d feel about his mother’s reaction. I’ve given him the shittiest Valentine’s Day ever, and … I feel crappy.

Yeah, there’s always fallout to being bad. Always.

He comes over to me, smiling, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know you did this. And I’m going to make you sorry you were ever born.”

I meet his gaze, trying to seem calm. “Good luck with that.”

Inside school, I see flyers posted all over for the rose sale the student council sponsors to help fund the prom. I’m not part of that committee, and I figure Shane won’t be interested in a school dance. He does romance in a different way; I touch the eighth note at my throat.

Later, the delivery people delight in interrupting class, and Mr. Mackiewicz is particularly perturbed by the delay. But since they have permission to do this, he can’t complain. He harrumphs and stomps to his desk while they circulate, handing out roses. I can see which people expect to get one by the way they watch. Others pretend to work on their geometry, and I’m one of the latter, until the guy taps me on the shoulder.