Everyone here at The Wordsmith agrees completely with Lisa Anne Montgomery: It is unconscionable for someone to use a school publication to further a personal vendetta. However, that’s not what we are interested in doing. We simply want to give students an opportunity to reimagine the world through fiction.
Any similarity to real people or events is entirely coincidental.
So back off, Lisa Anne.
—from “Censoring The Wordsmith,”
by Jane Smith
Published by The Wordsmith
“That’s not what I was doing!”
It was funny watching him get all bent out of shape over it, especially because I couldn’t shake the bone-deep feeling that I was right.
“You’re not doing a very convincing job of faking it with Melanie,” I said agreeably. “But that was the plan, right? Get Melanie to act like your girlfriend and wait for the social storm to blow over? No real feelings—how could there be when she’s hung up on Dylan?”
Spencer laughed outright at that. “I don’t think you were supposed to tell me that little detail. In fact, I’m positive you weren’t supposed to let that slip.”
I felt my cheeks flush guiltily. He was right. Melanie had trusted me with her secret and I had definitely let the cat out of the bag. But since it was out in the open now, there was no reason to let Spencer believe I couldn’t hack an honest conversation—he was the one who constantly tried to be evasive.
“As if you hadn’t already figured that out on your own,” I said defiantly. “We both know better.”
Spencer grinned. “You really hate being in the wrong, don’t you?”
I crossed my arms tightly across my chest and sucked in a deep breath. Nothing to fear here. No reason to notice that when Spencer teased me, his eyes crinkled attractively at the corners. He would probably age like Robert Redford, with a cool sense of self-possession that could only come from years spent entirely satisfied with the person he’d become.
“I wouldn’t know. It happens so infrequently. It’s not exactly difficult to be right when everyone around you is inevitably wrong.”
Okay, so I was overstating it a little. More than a little. It wasn’t like there was nobody else at Smith High School who could keep up with me on an intellectual level. There were plenty of smart kids there, most notably Mackenzie Wellesley, Jane Smith, and Scott Fraser. Well, I hadn’t actually taken a class with Scott because he had only recently transferred to our school, but I assumed he was smart. I couldn’t picture Jane spending time with anyone who couldn’t hold up his end of a conversation—let alone start dating him.
And since the two of them were every bit as adorable together as Mackenzie and Logan, I was willing to bet he had no trouble keeping up.
The only problem was that none of them was a freshman, and I wasn’t exactly winning any popularity points with my classmates by being in all advanced courses. If it wasn’t for my friendship with Melanie, I would probably have a bull’s-eye painted on my back.
Okay, so I had Sam too. Nobody messed with Sam-never-Samantha. Not if they wanted to make it through their time at Smith High School without being besieged by flying condoms.
Spencer laughed at my bravado, and even though it wasn’t the first time I had heard the sound coming from him, it still felt like a jolt to the system. A strange electric pulse that made me feel . . . alive.
Suddenly it made sense to me why there were always girls surrounding him, and it had nothing to do with his cash inflow and class status. There was something about Spencer that was infectious.
I had no intention of coming down with whatever it was that he carried.
“You seriously need to unwind, Isobel.”
I shoved my glasses frames higher, half expecting that the smile on Spencer’s face was the product of my imagination or a residual thumbprint on the lens. I had trouble trusting my eyes, but there was no denying my ears. “You said my name correctly.”
“Did I?” He shrugged with apparent unconcern, but his laugh lines deepened as he took in my openmouthed disbelief.
Spencer leaned closer toward me and for a millisecond my breath caught in the back of my throat. I felt like I was back in middle school, heck, maybe even elementary school. Back to having sweaty palms and a heartbeat that was pounding too quickly every time I interacted with the cool kids.
“Melanie’s beautiful.”
It was a total non sequitur, but it was the only thing I could think of that would ease the pressure from my chest. The only way to get this conversation back on track. Spencer was still just the golden boy Notable and I was the pain-in-the-ass nerd who was trying to psychoanalyze his interest in my best friend.
“Yes, she is,” Spencer said agreeably.
That was all it took to quell the quivers running up and down my side from his proximity. Of course he thought Melanie was beautiful. It was an undisputed fact. She was one of those girls who made everyone think enviously, Man, it must be fun to glance in the mirror and see that looking back.
At least that’s what I inevitably ended up thinking.
“So why did you think you’d avoid being crowned prom king if you started feigning interest in her?”
I couldn’t bring myself to look Spencer in the face as I asked that incredibly intrusive question, so I felt more than saw him stare out the driver’s side window before he eased the car back onto the street.
“I wasn’t feigning anything,” he said carefully, which only made me snort derisively.
“If you were really interested in Melanie right now, you wouldn’t be sharing the car with me.”
It was the truth. He would have chased after Melanie instead and offered her a ride home. And if Dylan told her to leave him alone, Spencer would’ve been the safe shoulder to cry on, and from there . . . who knows?
Regardless of the outcome, I would have been calling my mom for a lift.
Spencer turned right at the light, which at least proved that he had been listening to my words earlier. I felt a soft glow of warmth at the thought that something I had said—even something as meaningless as driving directions—had made an impression on someone who was probably accustomed to calling all the shots.
“Melanie’s nice,” Spencer said simply. “I enjoy spending time with her. I wouldn’t think that’d be news to you, since you claim you’re best friends and everything.”
It didn’t seem like the right time to mention that I had every intention of killing my own best friend for putting me through this torture.
I need you, Izzie. Please say you’ll go with me. Please.
I couldn’t believe I had actually agreed. Melanie was now forever in my debt, no doubt about it.
“You had a plan. There’s no way Mackenzie just happened to invite you to her house for a Disney movie if you didn’t have some kind of endgame.”
Spencer took his eyes off the road only briefly. “Are you this suspicious of everyone? All the time?”
Well . . . yes.
Then again, I wasn’t a Notable either. I didn’t have the luxury of strolling into a room and expecting that everyone in it would jump at the opportunity to hang out with me. Just the opposite, in fact.
“Okay, then let me try to explain something to you. See, most people don’t need to have an endgame to hang out with their best friend and his girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’re not most people.”
Spencer’s grin widened. “Now, if I didn’t know better, I would think you had a crush on me.”
My stomach jolted as he winked at me. It was probably meant to be friendly, but my palms only started sweating again. “You can relax, Isocrates. I know better.”
“And . . . you’ve forgotten my name again.” Except I didn’t think he had. I was starting to think he’d known it all along and just enjoyed riling me up. Or maybe it was because he knew that as long as I could correct the obvious mistake, I wouldn’t have time to obsess over the potential subtext of his every word the way I usually do.
Although it was entirely possible that I was giving him way too much credit.
“If I was to hazard a guess—”
“Oh, by all means, hazard one,” Spencer interrupted.
“You thought that dating a freshman would be enough to keep you out of the running entirely. But you seriously miscalculated. Dating Melanie wouldn’t sink your prom king potential. All those guys on your hockey team would just say, ‘Hey, man, your new girlfriend is hot.’ ” I pitched my voice three octaves lower. “You dah man!”
Spencer burst out laughing. “Is that really how we sound to you?”
“Yo, bro, let’s kick it at Spencer’s house. His parties are dope.” It sounded ridiculous to my own ears, but then again, I wasn’t exactly a member of the Hockey erectus clan. That was only to be expected. What I didn’t anticipate was the rush of warmth that flooded through me at the satisfaction of making Spencer King laugh.
I might be a geek, but the King of the Notables found me funny. That had to count for something.
“So was I right?” I asked when his laughter died down enough for me to be heard.
“Nope, we don’t sound like that at all.”
“You did have a plan for Melanie,” I persisted. “Turn left at the sign.”
“A plan sounds so . . . planned. I’m not nearly as diabolical as you seem to think. Although I kind of like this villainous alter ego you’ve created for me. Feel free to spread it around. Maybe someday I’ll be the inspiration behind a comic book bad guy.” He paused to really consider it. “I think I’d like a double life.”
“And I’d like to receive a reduced high school sentence for good behavior and then skip every single stupid reunion. Looks like one of us is going to be out of luck.”
Spencer nodded sagely. “So do you think you’ll go to the tenth anniversary or the twentieth?”
I laughed, but I couldn’t help admiring his bravado. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to get exactly what he wanted—because he wouldn’t relent until he did. He lived his life like he was part of a freaking Nike commercial.
“Neither. What about you, Clark Kent? Planning on coming back to relive your glory days?”
Spencer shook his head admonishingly. “Now, that’s shortsighted of you, Instagram. And highly prejudicial. You should probably work on hiding your obvious disdain for other people if you ever want to make it as a psychologist.”
My mouth fell open. “How did you know I want to go into that field?”
“Well, the fact that I haven’t been this pumped for details about my life since the last time I went in for the obligatory mental tune-up was something of a giveaway. I also know a bunch of people in your psychology class.”
I stiffened automatically as I waited for the insult I knew was coming. Yeah, my friends have all complained about the freshman who keeps screwing up the curve. Everyone wishes they could vote you out of the class.
“Becka Cloober mentioned something about working on a group project with you a month ago.”
“And you remembered that?” Maybe Spencer had a point about my prejudices; I never would have expected him to be capable of paying attention to anything except himself.
“Sure, it was the reason we had to push back our . . . date.” He flashed his brightest smile and the car slowed down to a crawl.
“Are we close to your house?”
I pointed to the yellow two-story home that I had been born in. All through elementary school and even partway through middle school, my parents had taken my photo right next to the tree on the corner of the property. It was gnarled and rough, and it hadn’t appeared touched by the years, and yet it always made me feel safe and small.
Spencer parked and turned toward me while I fumbled with my seat belt.
“You made a good point,” Spencer told me before I could make my escape. His words pulled me up short.
“I made several,” I said slowly. “Care to be more specific?”
“Dating Melanie wouldn’t have been enough to sink my social standing.”
My fingers pressed against the latch and the seat belt whirred quietly back into place. “Uh, right. Well . . . live and learn. I’m sure you’ll have no problem concocting an equally insane plan B.”
“I already have.” The good humor that lurked in his eyes was still there, but this time he didn’t look like he was kidding me. He seemed as serious as a wealthy party boy could get.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You.”