Chapter Three

Ayla

I glanced down at my Zelda watch for the hundredth time and cursed. Where the hell was Luke? He was supposed to be here at two thirty for his interview with me. It was now three fifteen, which meant I was officially late for drama club for the first time ever. Not to mention, I had no idea how I’d meet my deadline. My article had to be turned in by midnight tonight. No Luke meant no interview, which meant no article.

Gritting my teeth, I swiped my notebook and bag from the table and stalked down the hall. What a tit toboggan! Just because he was popular didn’t mean he could waste everyone else’s time. I mean, the paper might not be important to him, but it was to me, even if I did have to live under a censorship umbrella. He could’ve at least sent me a note or a text or something telling me he wasn’t going to show.

When I got to the auditorium, Mrs. Parkins glanced up from the piano, where she had students lined up for Little Shop of Horrors tryouts. “Ayla, good, you’re here. I hope you had time to go over the parts.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late, I had newspaper stuff.”

“It’s okay, just have a seat. I’ve got to get through a few more auditions before I’m ready for you anyway.”

Chloe waved at me from the front row of seats, and I sank down beside her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Luke Pressler is a giant dick face. He blew me off for the interview today.”

“Typical.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I’m tired of him and his buddies thinking they can just do whatever they want. I’m going to take him down.” Of course this sounded good in theory, but I didn’t really have a lot of experience taking down anybody. In fact, I normally just stood back not saying anything. But that needed to change, right?

Chloe quirked an eyebrow at me. “Um, okay…”

“I’ve got some dirt on him. I mean, something huge.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and slipped down farther in the seat. My finger slid across the screen as I brought up the video of him and his friends then pushed play.

“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe they’re the ones that did this. It was all over the morning news. So what are you going to do?”

“The jocks have gotten away with hazing people in the locker room and hassling kids in the halls. The administration won’t even acknowledge stuff like this happens. And since Luke is too good to sit down for an interview, I guess I get to do an exclusive story about the destruction of Statue Falls Park. I can title it: ‘Good Guy Goes Bad—the Stone-Cold Truth.’ Let’s see them ignore this.” Perfect for the front page of the paper. Well, that was if Mr. Fairchild approved it. Even if he didn’t, could I go through with it and chance getting our paper canceled? Maybe I could write up a freelance piece for the local paper instead. At least they’d pay me for it and it’d be one more thing to add to my résumé. Maybe I should feel guilty for exposing him. But wasn’t it his own fault? He was stupid enough to damage public property. Besides, wasn’t it time for some of the popular kids to actually face consequences for things they did?

“Ooh, I like it. I bet you’ll have more readers than ever for this issue.” She squeezed my arm with excitement. “It’s about time these guys quit getting away with stuff.”

“Exactly. Just because they’re popular doesn’t mean they’re above the law.” But that’s exactly what it meant. Or it did, until now.

Once everyone finished with auditions, Mrs. Parkins let us go with the promise to post parts later on the drama club webpage. So basically I’d go crazy for the next couple of hours waiting for the news. Top that off with the angry energy from Luke’s nonappearance, and I was ready to explode.

What I needed was pizza. “Hey, want to go to Crusty’s with me?”

“Actually, I kind of have to help my mom with something. I promised her I’d be right home.”

I laughed. “Have fun with that.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chloe called over her shoulder. “If you need to talk later, I’ll be around.”

“Okay. I might send you my article to read through for me.”

“You don’t even have to ask—besides, I want to be the first to get all the juicy details.” Chloe laughed, hurrying from the auditorium.

I trudged out to my car and dumped my stuff in the passenger seat. Without even thinking about it, I veered in the direction of Crusty’s Pizza. Yep, I was driven to death by pizza for a second night in a row.

When I got to the restaurant, it wasn’t too busy. So I parked, grabbed my change purse from my school bag, and headed inside. There, standing no more than ten feet from me, working the front counter, was Luke Pressler. It was like fate had delivered him to me—I didn’t remember seeing him working the register before. Frazzled, I adjusted my glasses, trying not to make eye contact. Not that I expected him to recognize me. He grinned at the pretty redhead in front of me. God, I wanted to puke. Or punch him. Maybe both. Okay. I could do this. I could totally confront him. Or maybe not.

When it was my turn, I stepped up to the register to order.

“Hi, welcome to Crusty’s Pizza. What can I get for you?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed. I needed to be assertive and stand my ground with him. “Seriously? That’s all you can say to me?”

Confusion seemed to overtake him as his brow furrowed. “Was there something else you think I should’ve asked?”

“Oh. My. God. You totally bailed on the interview with me today. You didn’t leave a message for me, or text, or have a note sent to my last hour. You just didn’t show. I have a life, too, you know. It might not be as glamorous as yours—but it matters to me. Because of you I almost missed tryouts for the musical.”

His cheeks reddened. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry. I totally forgot. Look, my kid brother got sick, and I had to stay home with him before work.”

I snorted. He couldn’t be serious. He wanted me to believe that bullshit lie? “Yeah, right. Nice try.”

“No, I’m telling the truth.” He held his hands up in some scout honor thing. Like that would seal the deal for my believing him.

“Just put in an order for a small pepperoni pizza and some cheesy garlic bread. And make it to go.” Because there was no way in hell I could stay here. If I had to look at Luke Pressler’s perfect jawline for one more second, I might self-combust. It pissed me off that he’d use his brother as an excuse. That he didn’t even have the balls to tell me the truth. Which was all the more reason why I had to bring him down.

“That’ll be nine dollars and seventy-five cents,” he said. “It should only take about ten minutes or so.”

I put my money down on the counter then went to wait outside in my car. When I got to the parking lot, my phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a text from Chloe. There was a picture on it showing that Jenna Lee had already started putting up posters for the school elections. Crap. The posters had cute pictures of her on them, listing all the great things she’d done since she’d been president the last three years. All superficial stuff like awesome school dance themes, better food in the cafeteria, more spirit days for sporting events—pretty much nothing of value. There wasn’t anything she’d done for the regular kids. People like me.

Jeez, why the heck was I so angry? This so wasn’t me. Maybe it was because for so long, I felt as if no one else in the school mattered but the popular kids. Like if I was someone else and didn’t care about people, that things would go my way. Problem was, I wore my heart on my sleeve (or so my mom said). I wanted equality for everyone in the school. The arts to get as much funding as the sports programs. The administration to recognize the bullying that went on in the hallways, and that transgender rights mattered. I wanted people to be treated fairly…

Which brought me back to the election. Jenna Lee would get the votes, and nothing would change. Damn, I needed a miracle. My gaze shifted to the restaurant window, where I saw Luke wiping a table.

That was it.

Was I insane enough to actually do this? I dialed Chloe’s number. Maybe I ought to rethink this—I mean, I’d never actually done anything almost criminal. “Yello,” she answered.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan. A freaking cool-ass, plan,” I blurted. “Or maybe not really a cool plan, but a crazy one.”

“Come again?”

“You know, on how to get elected.”

“Great, let me get a pen and I’ll jot down some notes. Oh, and by the way, dress up for school tomorrow—I want to get a picture of you for your posters. I’ll have time in art class to work on them,” Chloe said.

“I don’t think you’ll need a pen,” I said, twirling a piece of my curly dark brown hair around my finger.

“Come on, I need to be prepared.”

“Look there’s only one way I might be able to take down Jenna Lee. I need backup—you know, some ammunition. So I’ve decided to blackmail Luke Pressler into helping me become president. I mean, I’ve got the dirt on him. So, he pretends to be my boyfriend, helps me get some votes, and for that small price I don’t tell anyone what he did.”

“Damn, girl, who are you and what have you done to Ayla Hawkins?” Chloe said. But then—“Are you sure about this? What if it backfires? There’s so much that could go wrong,” Chloe, my voice of reason, said.

“Well, that’s not quite the response I was hoping for. I thought you’d be more, ‘Your plan is brilliant. All the girls in the school practically worship the ground Luke walks on. All he has to do is smile at them and they’ll vote for you! Awesome idea, Ayla.’”

She snorted. “We both know I’m the practical one here.”

I rubbed my temples. “You’re right. Maybe this is a horrible idea. But look, if we don’t figure out some way to keep the paper going, people will lose possible scholarships. Me included. This is about so much more than getting even. This class presidency could really change some things—you said so yourself, remember?”

Chloe was silent for a moment, then she said, “You’re right. I know you are. Just be careful. If you can pull this off, you’ll be saving not just the paper but drama club, too.”

I gave a forced laughed. “I’m an evil genius, what can I say.” Or at least that’s what I told myself. Now all I had to do was convince Luke that I’d be perfect girlfriend material—or in other words, either he helped me or I’d turn over the video. “Okay, so I should probably go grab my pizza and break the news to Luke about our coupledom.”

Was I really going to do this? I mean, up until now, I’d been a goody-goody who stood in the background, thinking about all kinds of witty things to say to the jocks and popular kids. Words I never got the courage to speak. I was so much better at writing about stuff. But this wasn’t just for me—Stacy and Holly and everyone else deserved to be able to keep putting the paper out. There was so much at stake.

“Good luck. Call me later. I’ll need some details.”

After I hung up with her, I took a deep breath, wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, and marched back inside. Okay, I could do this. It was just a little blackmailing. I bet people did this sort of thing all the time. But you don’t. You’re a good girl, you don’t commit crimes. Wait, is blackmailing a crime? Please don’t let me faint. I hated confrontation, although Mr. Fairchild, our principal, might say otherwise. Before I could talk myself out of it, I cornered Luke and put on my mean face, which I probably should’ve practiced in the mirror.

“If you’re going to yell at me again, I don’t really have time,” he said.

With a sweet smile, I shoved my phone in his face and hit play on the video. “Do you have time now?”