IT’S FREEZING ON THE STAGE. Way colder than it was on the field. But Chloe had a hissy fit about people wearing coats over their gowns, so we left them under the concourse with the rest of our stuff.
Hold on….
The water gun in Dina’s bag.
The giggles when Chloe talked about getting me and John together.
The junk in Kathryn’s locker.
Whatever happens tonight, she asked for it.
Oh my God.
Chloe stands next to me, applauding as Ms. Van Whye pins a red cape to John’s shoulder pads. “Chloe,” I say. “What are you going to do?” She doesn’t answer. I reach behind and pinch the back of her arm. “Chloe! At the dance. What are you going to do to Kathryn?”
Chloe squeals, but not because of me. In fact, I barely got any flesh in my fingers because Ms. Van Whye just announced Queen and Chloe’s hands flew up to her mouth, like a beauty pageant winner.
“Oh my God!” she screams. “Did you hear that, Brooke? They just called your name!”
She bolts for the podium. When I don’t automatically follow she turns back, clapping her hands together. “This is it. Aren’t you excited? We won!” Then she starts up the steps like it’s her who’s getting the crown. I step forward and yank her back.
“I mean it, Chloe. Leave Kathryn alone.”
The other people onstage are laughing. To them it looks like we’ve gotten tangled up—like Chloe’s tripped or I’ve goosed her, just for fun. Chloe balances herself. Then she reaches out to straighten my sweater. “Don’t worry about Kathryn,” she says. “Everybody will have fun tonight, I promise. Even her, if she takes it the right way.”
She tries for the steps again, but I hang on and say the one thing that has any chance of getting through.
“If you touch Kathryn…If anybody does anything tonight, I swear to God I will do to you what I did to her.”
Chloe stares at me with that Miss America grin. She either doesn’t believe me or she doesn’t understand.
“I’m serious,” I tell her. “Touch Kathryn, and I will spend the entire rest of this year making you a leper.”
“Like you would.” Chloe tries to shake free. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
I bring back all of the blackness—the horrible, awful, awesomely powerful feeling that came with punching Kathryn—and I swing right for where I know it will hurt.
“Think about it,” I tell Chloe. “You’ve got the whole rest of this semester and the whole semester after that. Plus the summer. That’s a long time to be alone. No parties. No friends. No nothing. And Bill and Brice have contacts all over the place. College might not be that much better.”
The other candidates are motioning us to keep moving. Up in the stands, people have started stomping their feet. They’re waiting for the halftime show to be over. They don’t know that the real show is right here, between Chloe and me.
Doubt starts to creep across her face. But Chloe didn’t get where she is by giving up easily.
“I don’t need you,” she tells me.
“Then try it,” I shoot back. “Remember what I did to her? Remember how bad it got? I can do it to you, too. Easy.”
“Girls?” Ms. Van Whye gestures for us to get up there and get on with it.
“It’s a power thing,” I say. “That’s what you always told me. People keep track of who’s on my bad side so they don’t end up there, too.”
Chloe’s smile starts to lose its edge. I can see her weighing up everything I’ve said. Calculating her odds. She opens her mouth. Then she shuts it again. She tosses her razored hair, but she doesn’t look anywhere near as confident as before.
And then, she looks away.
“If anyone does anything,” I repeat, “I don’t care who, it’s all coming back on you. So if I were you, I’d spread the word fast.”
I go past her, up onto the podium. Ms. Van Whye hands me a bouquet of roses. John kisses my hand. And Chloe makes her way over with a tiara.
“You don’t deserve any of this,” she tells me as she reaches up to put the crown in my hair.
I reach up, too, like I’m going to help. What I really do is dig my fingernails into her wrist. She gasps, and I give a little shake. Just so she knows I haven’t forgotten my promise.
“When have I ever deserved it?” I say.