Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Sara
Stupid Patrick. How dare he call me a chicken?
Well, I did backslide into a lie. I love writing. Patrick knows this. There’s a good chance I’d love writing for the school newspaper—except when I said it wasn’t my kind of thing.
This is so typical of me. I’ll work myself up until I have enough courage, and then completely wuss out. My tutoring session with Subwayboy yesterday is a prime example.
I’m afraid of what people will think, and it’s my fear that holds me back. How do people walk around with so much confidence? It’s baffling. Everyone’s probably clued in on some big secret to living effortlessly. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to make a fool of myself.
But I’m never going to romanticize my life if I don’t summon enough courage to try.
“Yeah, Joe! You can sign up right here.”
Up ahead, Rose and Joe are gathered near the student bulletin board. I slow my pace, pretending to fix my shoulder strap when, really, I’m eavesdropping.
Joe takes the pen from her hand then scribbles his information on the sign-up sheet. “You sure I don’t need to apply first?”
“No, no. It’s fine!” Rose tosses her gleaming hair and leans closer to him. “You can even be in charge of applications.”
“Uh, you really think that’s okay?”
“Of course.” She releases this tinkling laugh. Even I can tell it’s over-the-top. “You’re so silly.”
Joe returns her pen, then says something I can’t make out because now their backs are to me. They’re already walking away.
Once they’re gone, I approach the bulletin board. Since the school year just started, sign-up sheets clutter every square inch of free space. My eyes roam over the options. movie club! cheer tryouts! anime club! And then—there it is—newspaper club!
Joe’s name is written in neat capital letters.
His phone number is on the line next to it.
I press my lips together. I guess I really am a chicken, because I wouldn’t dare cross Rose’s path.
It’s clear she’s interested in him—giggling and giving him preferential treatment.
If this was a movie, she’d play the pretty, popular blond who gets the attractive new guy.
There’s no way I can compete with her, so why bother?
I check the time on my phone. Tutoring starts in ten minutes, which means I have time to pop into the bathroom and collect myself before dealing with the Subwayboy problem.
It’s quiet in here. Good. I need to think. Except I wind up fiddling with my hair, trying mimic Rose as I toss my short bob. It doesn’t work. My hair sort of flies upward before landing out of place. No wonder I’m practically invisible.
Maybe I can channel her confidence if I practice.
I pull out my phone and pretend to dial Joe’s number.
“Oh, why hello there. Is this Joseph?” I attempt to flutter my lashes but instead of giving cute, it looks like I’m malfunctioning.
So I stop. “It’s me, Sara Lin. Yeah. I’m calling to let you know I’m joining Newspaper Club.
I heard you’re doing auditions? Wait—it’s not auditions. What is it?”
“Psst.”
My heart attempts to jailbreak from my chest. “Agh! Who’s there?”
Lulu glides out of the last stall. I didn’t even know she was in here.
“Oh god, Lulu. You scared me.”
“I sense your distress, Sara. It’s about a boy.” Lulu slithers toward me. “Do you want me to read your fortune? I can help you get your man.”
I consider this. Lulu’s been into astrology for as long as I’ve known her.
She’s a Leo—she’s told me a gazillion times—and knows all about moon phases and retrograde and, most recently, tarot.
Sometimes I’ll look over at her table at lunch and find her shuffling her deck and reading someone’s cards.
It can’t hurt, can it? It’s not like I’m killing it on my own. May as well see what my fortune has in store. And at this point, I need all the help I can get.
She must sense I’m about to give in because she grabs my hand and tugs me toward the last stall. There’s a sign on the door that says out of order, but this doesn’t stop her.
Once we’re inside, I realize she’s transformed the space. She’s thrown a blanket over a stack of books to make a table, and two velvet floor cushions sit on either side. Twinkling string lights drape over the stall’s wall, creating a moody atmosphere.
But—uh. Where the heck is the toilet? I’m scared to ask.
Lulu’s silver-contact-lensed eyes greet mine as she lowers herself onto a cushion. “You shouldn’t be afraid of joining Newspaper Club, Sara.”
Ever since she began hanging out with the artsy kids, Lulu does her makeup in this cool, bold way.
Deep mauve eyeliner with shimmery dark eyeshadow.
Her staple gold hoops dangle from her ears, matching the eccentric gold jewelry she’s collected on her fingers.
She told me once her grandmother gave them to her, along with the knitted cap she’s wearing, a ribbon threaded through and tied neatly in the back.
I admire Lulu for having her own unique style. It’s hard to accomplish when you go to a school requiring uniforms.
I kneel on the cushion opposite her. “Uh, wait—how do you know I—?”
“There’s someone new who’s started showing interest in you.” She shuffles her cards. “Beware. This might cause trouble.”
What? Trouble? That’s the last thing I need. I’m already on thin ice with Dad and calculus, and he’s the one who told me to stay very far away from boy problems.
But my curiosity gets the best of me.
“Who?” I urge. “Is it Joe?”
She shrugs. Three cards fall from the deck, landing face down. “Or! This could mean it’ll be awesome.”
I crook a brow. So mysteriously vague. Which one is it?
Lulu flips the first card over. “This one says stay away from the new kid. He’s no good for you.”
I lean over the table, inspecting. There’s a smiling gray moon on this card. How cute. That seems harmless enough, but wait—
“Where does it say that?” I scratch my head. “And which new kid? Is it Joe? Or Subwayboy—he’s also new.”
Instead of answering, she reveals the second card. “Ah, just as I thought.”
Thought what?
“What’s it say?” The eagerness in my voice is apparent. “Is it about Joe? Or Subwayboy? Or Patrick—?”
Lulu dips her head low, as if bowing to the cards, and closes her eyes. She stays like this for several seconds. Then, ever so slowly, she lifts her head. Her silver eyes bore into mine, and I stare back, waiting. If she’s going for suspense, it’s working. My fingertips tap the table nervously.
“It says,” she says breathily, “you’re gonna die.”
I reel back. “What! Lulu, come on.”
“Oh, no, sorry.” She squints at the card, nose hovering inches from it. Then her head jerks upright. “I always mess this one up.”
She falls quiet, full concentration mode activated.
I inch closer, antsy, wondering if there’s something about this card that I can interpret myself.
The image looks kind of like a court jester, and just as I’m racking my brain to figure out what it could mean, she slams her palms on the table, scaring the bejeezus out of me.
“A-ha!” She snaps her fingers. “It says someone will try to steal your man!”
My nose crinkles. What on earth? That can’t be right.
“Who?” If it’s true, then I need context. “Can you be more specific?”
Lulu moves her hands over the cards as though she’s fanning a flame. “Go in peace, child. Your fortune has been read.”
“Wait, Lulu—”
“May the wind in the east combine with the one in the west.” She slaps her hands together over her head, closing her eyes. “And may you have better outcomes than your terrible fortune!”
“Hold on—”
Before I know what’s happening, she stands, then kicks open the door. It hits the wall with a loud thud.
“Now get out of my stall.” She grins. “Or you’ll be late for tutoring.”
What choice do I have? I rise from my place on her cushion and make my grand exit.
Whatever. I don’t believe in this hocus pocus, anyway. What does she even know? Someone stealing my man? Ha! This requires me to have said man, like that would ever happen.
Thanks for nothing, Bon Bon.
Shaking my head, I thrust open the bathroom door and make a sharp right turn, but because I’m not paying attention to my surroundings, I smack directly into someone’s torso.
Ow.
I’m stepping back when a voice says, “Oh geez! Sorry about that!”
And as I glance up, I realize who I’ve mistakenly bumped into—and that person is none other than Joe.