Double Date (8 page)

“There, that's settled.” Amanda dropped her phone on her bag. “Want a soda or something?”

“Sure.” Devon nodded, following Amanda into the kitchen. It was enormous. Probably almost as big as Devon's mom's entire house. Not that Devon wanted to think about that. “This is pretty,” Devon said as she ran a hand over the sleek, cool granite countertop.

“My mom designed it,” Amanda said nonchalantly as she pulled open a drawer that was really a fridge, pointing to the drinks inside. “She's got a design firm downtown. Norton's Interiors. Maybe you heard of it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Devon reached for a Coke.

“So here's what I'm thinking for the dance,” Amanda said quickly. “I want it to be elegant. Formal. I'm thinking red and white.”

“Red and white?” Devon was confused.

“All the girls' gowns must be red or white.”

Devon considered her auburn hair and pale skin. “I don't look good in red or white.”

Amanda studied her briefly. “No, you probably wouldn't. How about this? Red, white, and green.”

“Green?” Devon nodded. “That works.”

“Okay. Red, white, and green. Although I want it to be elegant and formal, we should keep it simple so there's not too much work. Of course, we need a photo booth.” Amanda started shooting out ideas, as if she'd given this plenty of thought.

“So, you got all that?” Amanda asked as the doorbell rang.

“I guess so.” Devon grinned. “Anyway, I know you do.”

“Because I want you to back me,” she said as she went to get the door. “You can pretend like some of the ideas are your own too. This will keep things much simpler”—she gave Devon a sly grin—“than if we let the others try to take over. You know?”

“Absolutely.”

Before long their committee was settled in the family room, munching on pizza, and Amanda, with Devon's help, was tossing out ideas. Whenever others—like Tristin or Sienna—questioned anything or tried to go another direction, Devon spoke out in support of Amanda. Did she feel a bit like a puppet? Sure. But maybe it was worth it. Who better to pull her strings than someone with the kind of influence Amanda Norton had?

E
mma loved the direction that the Christmas ball was going, and she was happy to help on the Project Santa Sleigh committee. But as Cassidy drove her home afterward, she felt uneasy.

“You're awfully quiet,” Cassidy said as she pulled up to Emma's house. “Something wrong?”

“Sort of,” Emma confessed.

“Did I say something to offend you?” Cassidy asked.

“Not this time.” Emma made a stiff smile.

“Well, that's a relief.” She turned to peer curiously at Emma. “What's wrong?”

“I keep thinking about Felicia,” Emma admitted.

“Oh?” Cassidy frowned. “I feel bad for her too. I even put her on my prayer list. I've been asking God to turn her life around.”

“What if her life doesn't need to be turned around?” Emma challenged her. “What if Felicia's the victim here?”

“Huh?”

“I studied those MyPlace photos, supposedly of Felicia—
before they were removed, that is. Something about them just seemed fake to me.”

“How so?”

“They were just so cheesy looking, Cass. And the words—it was like someone was trying to set up something that looked really disgusting without crossing over a line, you know?”

“What kind of line?”

“Like a legal line. Like in case they got caught. It couldn't be called pornography. Just really bad taste.”

“I don't get it. Why would someone do that?”

“I have no idea, but I want to find out if it's true.”

“How is that possible?”

“I'm going to visit Felicia.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh-huh. I've tried to text her and call her, but I think her phone's disconnected.”

“Do you even know where she lives?”

“I know where she used to live. We used to be in Girl Scouts together. Sometimes Mom and I gave her a ride.”

“Oh . . .” Cassidy looked concerned. “Are you sure you want to get involved in something like—”

“My mind is made up—I'm going.” Emma looked longingly at Cassidy. “It's just that, well, I don't want to go alone.”

Cassidy looked uneasy. “You want me to go with you?”

Emma nodded eagerly. “Will you?”

“Do you really believe that—that someone set Felicia up like that? That she's not the one who did it to herself?”

“I know I could be wrong,” Emma confessed, “but I'd rather go talk to her and be wrong than to ignore this hunch and be right.”

“Yeah . . . I can understand that.”

“So will you go with me to see her?”

“When?”

“How about tomorrow morning? Not too early. Ten-ish?”

Cassidy pressed her lips together and Emma could tell she was torn. “Okay,” she said finally. “I'll go too.”

“Thank you!” Emma exclaimed gratefully. “I just have to get to the bottom of this. One way or another I want to know the truth, Cass.”

“I know you do.” Cassidy sighed. “I guess I do too now.”

By 10:00 the next morning, Emma was having second thoughts. Maybe this was crazy. Really, was she going to just go up and knock on Felicia's door? And then what? What would she say? What would she do? What if Felicia didn't want to talk? Or what if Felicia admitted she really had been the one behind all of it? Well, at least that would be the end of it, and then Emma could just put it all out of her mind.

“Ready to do this?” Cassidy asked as Emma got into her car.

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

“Do you know what you're going to say?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, I've been praying about this,” Cassidy said as she drove. “Asking God to help us.”

“Thanks.”

Before long they were parked in front of Felicia's house. It was similar to Emma's house, except that it was in better condition. Like someone there cared. “I looked up their address online last night,” Emma told Cassidy. “I'm pretty sure the Ruez family still lives here.” She took in a deep breath. “Let's do this.”

A woman who looked like an older version of Felicia answered the door. She had on a dark blue jogging suit and white athletic shoes. “Hello?” She peered curiously at them. “Are you selling something?”

“We came to see Felicia,” Emma told her.

The woman narrowed her dark eyes. “What for?”

“We're worried about her,” Emma said.

“Why?” the woman demanded.

“We're from Northwood,” Cassidy said quickly. “We want to make sure she's doing okay.”

The woman's features softened slightly. “Felicia is
not
okay.”

“Can we talk to her?” Emma asked.

“Who is it, Mom?” a voice called from behind the door.

“Friends. I think.” The woman scowled. “From your school.”

The door swung open wide, and Felicia appeared with a dark look and her hands planted on her hips like she was ready for a fight. “Oh? Emma? And Cassidy?” She looked confused. “What are you doing here?”

“We want to talk with you,” Emma said.

“Are these the ones who did this to you?” Felicia's mother demanded. “The girls that put that nasty—”

“No!” Cassidy exclaimed. “No way.”

“Absolutely not,” Emma added.

“Come on.” Felicia grabbed their hands and tugged. “Come to my room to talk.”

Once they were sequestered in Felicia's room, Emma jumped in. “I want to know the truth,” she said. “Did you really put that stuff on MyPlace? Or did someone else do it to hurt you?”

“Of course someone else posted it!” Felicia said quickly. “But besides my family, no one believes me.”

“You had nothing to do with it?” Cassidy asked.

“
Nothing.
” Felicia firmly shook her head. “Those pictures weren't even of me. Not the bodies anyway. Someone pasted my head onto someone else's creepy photos.”

“That's what I thought too,” Emma declared. “It looked totally fake to me.”

“It was
all
fake. Everything they wrote too. I never said any of that stuff.”

“Do you know who did it?” Cassidy asked.

Felicia slumped down into a hot-pink beanbag chair and sighed. “Not really.”

“But you suspect someone?” Emma asked.

“Maybe . . .”

“We want to help you,” Emma told her, “but you have to tell us everything you know.”

“For starters, Felicia, can you tell us why you changed your appearance so dramatically?” Cassidy asked.

“You remember how I used to dress?” she asked them. “Well, my mom always picked out all my clothes. Sometimes I'd get teased for looking like a little girl.”

“Yeah,” Emma admitted. “I do remember how you mentioned that to me.”

Felicia's forehead creased. “So I wanted a makeover.” She looked down at her lap. “I just wanted to be more like you guys.”

“
What?
” Emma was shocked. “You think we dress like . . . well, like you were doing?”

“I don't know about that, but I knew you guys figured out how to get boys to pay attention to you. You were the first ones to get dates to the homecoming dance and then to the masquerade ball. I just wanted to be like you. I wanted the boys to notice me too.” She pointed at Emma. “I was so impressed by how you changed your appearance earlier in the year. Remember how I asked you about it? And we talked together . . . like we were friends. You made me think that you were going to help me too.” She made a sad little sigh. “But then you didn't.”

Emma bit into her lip. That was all true. Emma had acted like she wanted to help Felicia, and then she'd let her down. Big-time. “So that's why you started to dress like that?” Emma asked meekly.

“I just wanted to look pretty.”

“But your clothes . . . they were so . . . well, I'm sorry to
say this,” Cassidy made a grimace, “but they were kinda, well, skimpy.”

Felicia frowned. “Yeah, I guess so. It didn't seem like it at the time. Not to me anyway. Oh, my parents wouldn't have approved. But they'd like to keep me dressed like I'm still seven. So I had to sneak my new wardrobe to school and get dressed in the bathroom.”

“You changed your clothes at school?” Emma tried to imagine Felicia dressing in the dimly lit bathroom where the mirror above the sinks only reflected from the shoulders up. Even less if you were short like Felicia. No wonder she looked so strange.

“But where did you get those clothes?” Cassidy asked.

“I studied what girls were wearing in magazines and on fashion websites. Then I bought some things online and at a thrift shop. I thought I was doing it right.” Felicia pointed at Cassidy. “You changed your looks too. Remember? I just wanted to step up my game. You know?”

“I get that now,” Emma told her. “That explains a lot. But we're not here to talk about your clothes. So you really did not put that crud on MyPlace? You had absolutely nothing to do with it, right?”

“That's right.”

“But it's why you were expelled?”

Felicia shrugged. “First I got a warning about my clothes—the school day was almost over and I promised Mrs. Dorman that I'd wear acceptable clothes the next day. Then I got called back to the office in the middle of seventh period. I thought it was about my clothes again. But she showed me that MyPlace stuff.” She choked back a sob. “I was so shocked and embarrassed. I couldn't believe it. Even when I told her and Mr. Worthington that I didn't do it, they didn't believe me. I'm sure it was because of the way I was dressed. Anyway, they called my parents and that was that.”

“Do your parents believe you?”

“At first they didn't know what to think.” Felicia was crying hard now. “We talked and talked and finally they accepted the truth. My dad wanted to hire a lawyer, but it's pretty expensive. Besides that, the MyPlace page got taken down so we don't even have any evidence.”

“Who do you think did it?” Cassidy asked again. “Who put that stuff up? And why?”

“I don't know.”

“Have you ever been threatened or bullied by anyone?” Emma asked.

“Sure. Who hasn't?”

“Who bullied you?” Cassidy pressed.

“Lots of girls . . . over the years. It's why my parents pulled me out of public school and put me into Northwood. To get away from some bully girls who just wouldn't stop.” She made a sad laugh.

“But girls at Northwood bullied you too?”

“Sure.”

“Who?”

“Want me to make a list?”

“Really?” Emma was surprised. “That many?”

Felicia frowned. “Maybe not that many.” She held up a hand with three fingers. “I guess I can only count three.” She told them three names—all that were surprising to Emma.

“Wait,” Cassidy said suddenly. “Tristin Wilson bullied you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did she bully you?” Cassidy asked.

Felicia shrugged. “Who knows why? Because she's mean?”

Emma looked at Cassidy. “Why this sudden interest in Tristin anyway?”

“Don't you remember when Devon showed us the MyPlace page? Hadn't she gotten it from Tristin?”

“You honestly think Tristin put it on MyPlace?” Emma couldn't imagine that someone like Tristin would do something that low.

“It's interesting that she's the one who showed it to Devon.” Cassidy turned back to Felicia. “Why do you think Tristin was picking on you?”

“I don't know . . . I guess because I'm Hispanic.”

“Really?”

“That's usually part of it . . . at least that's how it feels.”

“Or it could be because you're really pretty,” Emma told her. “Girls might be jealous.”

Felicia brightened. “You think so?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah. Everyone knows that. You're gorgeous, Felicia. That would definitely make some girls jealous. Mean girls, anyway.”

“Jealous enough to make that MyPlace page?” Cassidy asked.

“Maybe.” Emma was trying to wrap her head around all of this.

“Thank you guys for coming to see me,” Felicia said quietly. “I know it probably won't do much good as far as Northwood goes, but it makes me feel better.”

“Do you think your dad will get a lawyer?” Cassidy asked. “Because I'll bet there are some lawyers who would take this on for free. Just because it's a good case about bullying.”

“I hope Dad can just forget about it. That's what I want to do.”

“So you don't want to go back to Northwood?”

“Not after that.” Felicia sadly shook her head. “Too humiliating.”

“But you shouldn't be embarrassed,” Emma told her. “Whoever did this is the one who should be humiliated. Publicly.”

“Maybe we can find out who did it,” Cassidy said eagerly. “I'd sure like to know.”

“Me too,” Emma agreed.