Identity Crisis (17 page)

“Thank you, Noelle,” Ms. Pinella says. “Nice job.” I faintly hear Tyler and his buddies mimicking Ms. Pinella under their breath. I have survived for now. But only barely. I try to catch Eva's eye, but she is leaning over and whispering something to Amanda Gerard. And Annalise? She is staring down at her own test paper, like the answers there reveal the meaning of life.

As soon as the bell rings, I rush out of the room towards the girls' bathroom to try to repair the damage done—the sweat stains of fear, my matted bangs, my bruised psyche.

It takes ten more minutes until my heart rate returns to normal.

Could this day get any worse? First, my argument with Maeve this morning. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Then, no sign of Eva and Amos fighting at all. No whispers in the hall, no rumors being swapped between classes. Eva swaggered into math class a minute ago like nothing happened, no signs of a big fight with Amos or Tori, no tear-streaked mascara stains trailing down her cheeks. The girl is a pretty good actress, but even she couldn't cover up her emotions that well.

And now this.

A 66 on my math test.

“Come see me after class,” Ms. Pinella has scrawled at the top of my page. This cannot be happening. There's no way my mom will let me go to a concert tomorrow night if I come home with this kind of grade. I am trying to figure out how I'm going to keep this from her when Cooper leans over and whispers he wants to talk to me after class, too.

I'm suddenly the most popular person in Room 209.

Noelle Spiers is standing at the board, explaining in fast-talk how she got the bonus question right, like the rest of us can possibly keep up with her superior brain, while all I can do is stare at the practically failing grade, feeling a sinking sensation in my stomach. I knew it would be bad, but not stay-after-class bad.

When the bell rings, I expect to see Cooper waiting for me, but instead, he bolts out of class, completely forgetting whatever it was he had to say. I brush away a twinge of . . . could it actually be
disappointment
? For what, Cooper? Another unreliable member of the male species? Whatever. Probably he wanted to study together again and changed his mind when he saw my abysmal test score. I slowly stuff my books in my bag, waiting for everyone to leave so I can go do the Walk of Shame over to Ms. Pinella's desk without the whole class knowing.

“Annalise.” Ms. Pinella pulls her reading glasses off and lets them hang on a chain around her neck. She cocks her head at me in concern. “What happened? Do you not understand the material? You seemed to be doing okay so far. Or were you having an off day?”

“Yeah, that,” I mumble, not needing to tell her that instead of studying, I'd spent the afternoon before the test reenacting a Shakespearean melodrama down at the mall. “A really off day.”

She looks at me quizzically. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I nod. “Now it is.”

She sighs. “Well, in my book everyone is entitled to one mulligan.”

Mulligan?

“Golf term,” she says, smiling at my puzzled expression. “It means a do-over. So, you have two choices. You can retake the test today, during your lunch period, and I'll use that score instead. Or, if you don't feel ready to try again now, I can set you up with a tutoring session, and you can retake the test later in the week and I'll average it in.”

I hesitate. I don't want a stupid tutor, but I also don't want to take the test now—lunch will be my best chance to spy on Eva and Amos and see what is going on. And if I bomb the test again, I'm in big trouble. I agree to take the test later in the week. Assuming I do well next time around, my mom will never have to know. Ms. Pinella tells me she will wrangle a tutor to meet with me, and to come back after last bell.

When I step out into the deserted hallway, no one is there. I hesitate, not sure if I should stick around or wait a minute for Cooper. Plastered to the bulletin board is a neon yellow poster for the Environment Club that reads: Rising Seas, a Film About a Growing Menace. Wednesday 4 P.M. BE THERE!

If only a giant tsunami would come along right now and sweep me away so I wouldn't have to retake the math test.

Then I see Cooper, rushing back down the hallway toward me. He waves. “Annalise.”

“Where'd you go?” I say, surprised at the peevish tone in my voice.

“Sorry about that. Um, I went to check if Noelle was okay.”

“Noelle? Why?” She's not the one who bombed her test. She was the one standing at the board, explaining things to the rest of us.

“She has serious stage fright. Couldn't you tell? I thought she was going to have a coronary up there.”

I shrug. “I guess.” A twinge of jealousy pinches my heart. I can't believe I care, that he rushed off to check on her, but I do. Have I made a big mistake, blowing off Cooper all this time for a fantasy, something that didn't exist? Now, it was probably too late.

Except he'd come back. There was that. “Pinella is giving me a retake. Hopefully I don't bomb the next one, too. I was a little off Friday.”

“Yeah, I heard,” he says, making me wonder how much he'd heard. About me getting stood up, too? At least he's not lecturing me for stupidly turning down his offer for a study date. “So, Eva actually won those tickets? Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah. You kind of called that one. Maybe you're psychic.” He laughs, but I am confused. Is this why he has hung around waiting for me? To talk about the concert? Or worse, to gloat that I'd been stood up? I think of something to say that will let me retain a shred of dignity. “Actually, you won't believe this—” and I quickly tell him the good news about what happened with Colin Dirge and how he's promised to leave me floor seats.

But instead of looking happy for me, he looks stricken. “Guess you don't need these, then . . .” he says, his words trailing off, and then I look down and see what he's holding out in his hands. A printout for two tickets to the show.

He chuckles softly. “Funny. I, um, scored a couple of comped seats. My cousin's an intern at
Stuff It
magazine and his boss passed them along. I was going to see if maybe . . .”

He holds out the sheet of paper and I inspect the tickets. Funny, they don't look like comped seats, they each have the price $250 printed right on them, and comps typically have no value.

He takes it back, folding the paper and carefully tucking it into his back pocket. “But, I guess you're all set, so maybe I'll just ask someone else.”

I'm about to tell him that, although I am touched by his effort, I've already got my plans set. I'm going with . . . well . . . who? I won't be there with Declan, not
my
Declan, who doesn't even really exist anyway, and not with my back-stabbing best friend Maeve, who's probably thrilled that she's off the hook from going to the concert with me, and can now go plot world destruction somewhere with the real Declan.

I think how instead, I could go to the concert with Cooper, who must have heard all the nasty things said about me last year but has never seemed to care. Who has clearly tried so hard to please me, maybe actually spending gobs of money on these seats, but not saying that, so I won't feel obligated to say yes out of guilt. Who will probably take Noelle if I turn him down, which some small evil gremlin living deep down inside me doesn't want to happen.

Plus, at least this time, Cooper's gaze meets me squarely in the eye, not my boobs.

“Wait,” I say, spontaneously changing my mind. Why not? “Yes. I'd love to.”

“Really?” He smiles in partial disbelief, as the bell rings.

“Really.” It's ironic. Only a few days ago, I had no shot at any concert tickets, and now I've got two pairs. We linger, going over travel arrangements, and as he turns to go, I can't help teasing him. “Wait a sec. I thought you hated Brass Knuckles? What happened?” He freezes, and holds my gaze. I expect him to backpedal, to claim he has belatedly discovered Viggo Witts's true genius after watching an episode of Behind the Music.

Instead, he gives me a lopsided grin. “Oh, I still do,” he says, leaving me a parting wave and a wink. “With a passion.”

I find Amos at his locker after school, fishing through what appears to be a rancid pile of crumpled papers, smelly jockstraps, and chewing tobacco.

“Hey,” I say, keeping my distance from the boy-stench. I've waited all day until this moment, knowing this was the best place to corner him, with Eva's locker all the way on the other side of the building.

“Wassup, Noelle.” He nods but continues to rummage around, probably thinking I'm just there to deliver a message from Eva. Something simple, like she's running late.

“Amos. I need to talk to you.” My voice must reveal some urgency, because now he glances at me expectantly, his forehead crinkling with concern.

Where to begin? I go for a sudden attack, to catch him off guard and force him to reveal the truth.
J'accuse
! I lean in and whisper, “I know what's going on with Annalise.”

He flinches a bit at her name, then looks at me blankly. “Annalise Bradley? Um, that's ancient history.” He grabs a textbook from a pile and bangs his locker shut, as if to punctuate his words.

“Are you sure?”

He expels a harsh laugh. “Extremely. Eva'd have my balls on a platter if I even glanced twice at that chick.” Still, his blue eyes are flecked with concern. Innocent—or not? “Why?” he demands. “What have you heard?”

“It's probably nothing . . .”

“It is nothing. Trust me.” His gaze presses into my skull.

“It's just . . .” Now, I squirm uncomfortably. “Something that happened between you two Saturday afternoon? At the Tedeschi's?” Maybe there is some innocent explanation, after all.

Amos shakes his head, relieved. “Not possible. I was away at a soccer match all day. In Duxbury. No lie. You can check the team website. Scored two goals.” Something in the way he looks right at me makes me know he is telling me the truth. That his alibi will hold.

“Really?” I blush and now I want to get out of there in the worst way. “My bad, I must have gotten it wrong.” I start backing away but he grabs my arm and stops me, indignant.

“Wait, what is she saying?”

“N . . . nothing,” I stammer. “She didn't say anything. It's just a dumb misunderstanding.”

He sighs heavily, as if bringing up her name releases some toxic fumes. “Look, just between you and me, I do feel bad about what went down with her last year. Her getting trashed afterwards. I didn't mean for that to happen. But I haven't spoken to her since. Seriously.”

I nod, knowing what we had done, with our rumors. Well, what he had done. Even if she had tempted him to mess around, he didn't have to go along. It takes two to tango, right?

He gazes at me, as if he can read my mind. Then, he grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him, glancing around the hall to make sure no one is listening. “Noelle, I'm a straight up guy. I wouldn't mess around on someone I'm with, you know?” He speaks low, urgently, as though it's important I understand. It occurs to me that anyone passing could easily misinterpret this discussion as a not-so-innocent rendezvous. It could get back to Eva and then I'd be on the receiving end of her jealous rage. We have to wrap this up, and fast.

But then I tune in to what he is saying. “You know, after Eva told me we were done I was upset. And pretty drunk. But nothing even happened . . .” He trails off, shaking his head in dismay.

“Wait, what do you mean?” I am beyond confused. What does he mean,
we were done
? And what does he mean,
nothing happened
?

“Forget it,” he says, stuffing his textbook inside his bag and zipping it back up. “Ask her.” I'm not sure who he means. Eva? Or Annalise?

“Amos,” I say, but he is already taking off, leaving me standing there, wondering why Eva hadn't told me the whole truth. But more importantly, neither had Annalise. If Amos hadn't gone anywhere near her on Saturday, why did she lie and say that he had?

I want to go find Eva and ask what Amos was talking about, but I can't. Ms. Pinella had cornered me in the hallway earlier, delighted that I had signed up in the math department to be a tutor, and asked me to come by after last bell to meet a potential student. So I push my way down the hall toward room #209, against the masses of students trying to head out of the building. Suddenly, I feel a hand in the crowd grabbing me. My heart skips a pump when I realize it is Cooper.

He pulls me to the side of the hall letting everyone stream around us. “I see you've recovered,” he smiles. After the debacle in math class, Eva had vanished. But Cooper had barged after me, right into the girls' bathroom, scattering a flock of gossiping seniors like angry wet hens, just so he could tell me that I'd done fine and not to worry about idiots like Tyler Walters.

“Barely,” I tell him.

“Good.” His eyes dance. Not for me. “She said yes!” he says, waving something in my face.

“Who? What's this?” I am confused for only an instant before my heart sinks, realizing that I am too late, that “she” must be Annalise. “Oh. She did?”

“Yup. We're going to see Brass Knuckles tomorrow night. Thanks to you, No. You were genius. About her doing anything to see the band. My brother got me tickets on StubHub. I had to pawn my Ted Williams baseball card, but whatever, it's worth it, right?”

My mind is trying to process all this. “Wait. She's going to the concert. With you?”

I slump against the wall, and he nods happily.

I feel betrayed. What about Declan? I know he can't go, but how could Annalise just waltz off to the concert with another guy? How could she do this to me—I mean, to him? To us? How dare she cheat on me––on Declan––like that? Was she planning to tell him? Or just never let him know? And why had she lied to him about Amos hitting on her? Suddenly, I am white-hot angry.