Identity Crisis (2 page)

Orange: 8

Red: 7

Tan: 5

Brown: 7

Green: 10

Total: 54

As we get started on the worksheet, I can't help but sneak another peak at the clock over his head. It's a quarter after already. What's
taking
my mom so long? Could she still be on hold? I'd told her to have Ticketmaster send me a confirmation text so I'd know the instant the deed was done. But my phone's in my pocket set to vibrate, and hasn't so much as made a twitch.

“What's with the time check?” Cooper asks, tracking my gaze to the dial face. He arches an eyebrow at me. “Secret fourth-period rendezvous? Should I be jealous, Bradley? I thought this was
our
special time.”

“Puh-leeze.” A jock like Cooper wouldn't get it. Sports is his thing, not music. He'd probably mock Viggo's signature blue streak in his bangs, or Teen Heart Throb status, or how he got his start on the Disney Channel when he was eight, like most haters. Cooper probably still listens to Kanye. Or, worse, country.

The room fills with the sound of pencils scratching on paper and low murmurs. As Cooper and I work through the answers, heads tipped together and whispering softly, I can feel eyes boring into the back of my head. I glance over my shoulder and, sure enough, from two rows behind me, Eva Winters is giving me her trademark death stare, the one she's perfected just for me. Brrrr. I quickly turn away.

After about fifteen minutes, Ms. Pinella comes around to collect our work, reviews the answers, and gives us all permission to chow down on the leftover candy during the last few minutes of class. Cooper offers me some, but I shake my head. As if I'd really want them, after his grimy boy hands have been all over them. Not to mention I've lost my appetite. A pit is beginning to grow in my stomach. Still no word. How could my mom blow this simple assignment? I am dying to text her for an update, but I know if Ms. Pinella even catches me checking my phone during class, she'll confiscate it for the rest of the day, and I can't take the risk. I'll just have to wait until class is over to find out.

I sit there, antsy, distracted, willing the bell to just ring already,
ring
! as Cooper pops a handful in his mouth, savoring the taste of dissolving milk chocolate. He plucks another one, tan this time, holds it up, and looks me dead on in the eye. “Ever think how much M&M'S reflect humanity?”

I look at him warily. Where is he going with this? I'm really not in the mood for another dumb horny guy joke.

“We may come in different colors on the outside, but underneath?” He thumps his chest twice and makes the peace sign. “We're all the same.”

Inwardly, I have to sigh. Cooper is relentless. Ever since we ended up as seat mates in math this year, he's been doing verbal backflips to get my attention, and I'm pretty sure I know why. But I'm not falling for some wannabe homeboy's charm act. Not again.

“Wow, Cooper,” I say. “You are soooo deep. Like, Grand Canyon worthy. I had no idea.”

Cooper puts on a face like he is actually wounded. “You know, Annalise, you have no idea of a lot of things about me.”

“Oh, really? Illuminate me.” I cross my arms. “Tell me your deepest desire, Cooper Franklin. Your innermost thoughts.” This ought to be good. Amused, I pop a piece of candy in my mouth and lean back to enjoy the show. I have no illusions. When it comes to Cooper, what you see is pretty much what you get.

Clearly, my challenge has put him on the spot. He opens his mouth, grasping for what to say. “Well—”

Before he can finish his thought, the bell rings. Freedom! I zip to my feet and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “Maybe next time,” I say, tossing the words behind me as I race into the hallway and pull out my phone. I need to text my mom right now and find out what's going on with those tickets. I may not know Cooper's deepest desire, but I definitely know my own.

Even though nothing Eva does should shock me by now, I still honestly can't believe her sometimes. She invites herself over to my house after school, with Tori, naturally, in tow, sprawls dramatically across my canopy bed, and announces, “Did you see how that skank Annalise was, like, throwing herself at Cooper all through math class? It was disgusting. She was all, `Oooh, Cooper, you are so funny. Oh, Cooper, you are soooo deep. Oh, Cooper, I want to scarf down green M&M'S with you.'”

Tori, the only one of our threesome who wasn't with us in class, because she's in remedial math—which we all know, but never mention—stops unwrapping the new lip plumper I'd just tossed her and turns to me sympathetically, as if to say
seriously
?

Then the two of them inspect my face, trying to gauge how upset I look. Even among my two besties, I hate being the subject of scrutiny like that. Hate it. Which Eva, of all people, should know. I try to tell her it wasn't that big a deal, but it's no use. Eva and Tori also know my dirty little secret that's unfortunately crystal clean. That I've been in love with Cooper Franklin forever.

“Yes it was,” Eva says, indignant I dared contradict her. “You should have seen her giggling and squeezing his muscles. You were all the way on the other side of the room, but I was right behind them. I heard the whole thing.”

She's right about one thing. Even from three rows over and two seats up, I can tell that Cooper's into Annalise. He's always stealing glances at her while we're supposed to be doing the problem set—just like I do at him. It's been like that since we all ended up together in fourth period math this year, either by fate, total randomness, or because some computer program has a wicked sense of humor.

I'm not sure Eva's right about Annalise, though. She doesn't seem
that
into him. Today, she was staring mostly at the clock on the wall, like she couldn't wait to get out of there. But Eva's what my English teacher, Mr. Charles, calls an “unreliable narrator”: a person telling a story that you really can't trust, like the creepazoid in the book we just finished,
Lolita
. She's had it out for Annalise ever since what happened last year with Amos. Even now, she puts a slutty spin on every move that girl makes.

Eva must have read my mind, because she brings up his name. “First Amos, now Cooper. Someone has to keep that girl's claws out of Dansville's entire male population.” She hops off my bed with an evil gleam in her eye, the same one that convinced Tori and me to cut class last spring and head into the city for a daytime
Divergent
marathon. The same one that got us busted when Tori's mom found her ticket stub in her jacket pocket. Usually, I envy Eva's bravado, something I totally lack. But not when it gets me grounded for a week.

Eva settles into my desk and starts tapping away at my laptop, suddenly shouting, “Noelle! Oh. Em. Gee!” so loud Tori practically smears the lip gloss across her perfect upper lip.

I rush over to the screen, freaked she's discovered a virus about to fry my hard drive or some Net Nanny monitoring software my parents have secretly installed. But no. She's just pulled up Annalise's profile and is scrolling down through her friends, photos, favorite books, movies, TV shows, and music, where there's just one artist listed: Brass Knuckles, with a link to their fan site. Well, duh. Anyone with half a brain can't help but notice how Annalise cycles through a different Knucklie T-shirt every week, plasters their photos all over her notebook like she's in middle school, and talks about them incessantly.

Eva whips around and scolds me. “I can't believe you're still friends with her! You traitor!”

Clearly, I'd missed the memo that I was supposed to defriend Annalise after the “Amos incident.” But I dreaded the defriending process. What if someone noticed and called you on it? Confrontation is not my thing. Besides, I don't have over a thousand contacts like Eva, who friends every person she's ever met—and even more she hasn't. Or Tori, who's practically an Internet celebrity, with a zillion tween followers from her weekly beauty pageant,
InstaHotOrNot
? When you have a measly 151 friends like me, every one counts.

I mutter something about forgetting to get around to that, not sure when I'd even friended Annalise to begin with. At the beginning of freshman year, probably, when the three middle schools in Dansville merged into Dansville High. Those first few weeks, things were fluid and everyone was still super-friendly to everyone, until you looked around and suddenly cliques had hardened into place, just like the chocolate dip on a Dairy Queen ice cream cone that starts all gooey then an instant later turns into a shiny candy shell.

Eva shoots me a look and says, “Well, I guess I can forgive you since it's going to work to our advantage.” Tori drops the lip plumper and strolls over to the computer, curious what Eva is up to, and Eva turns to both of us and smirks mischievously. “Like I said, something needs to get her distracted from Cooper. Something like . . . an online romance!”

Tori laughs cautiously, asking with who, and Eva replies, “With nobody! With someone we invent. The perfect guy. Someone cute. Someone she has so much in common with they are meant-to-be. Her soul mate. A Brass Knuckles fanboy! And, someone who lives far away, so they have to do the long distance thing.” I see the familiar determined look in her eye and realize she is dead serious. I secretly believe everybody, whether they know it or not, has a defining motto, a principle by which they live their lives. Eva's would be:
only boring people get bored
. She's the original Drama Queen, even if she has to occasionally create her own.

“We can't do that!” I object, thinking how wrong that would be. Not like I have much sympathy for Annalise, after what she did to Eva last year. And watching Cooper flirt with her every day for the last couple weeks feels like being stabbed in the gut, Caesar-style. I had this delusion that sharing math class with him this year might actually lead to something, but instead, I just had to sit and watch him slobbering over her day after day. Still, there were too many potential pitfalls in creating a bogus boyfriend. What if we got caught? We'd had umpteen assemblies about bullying and cyberbullying. I'm pretty sure concocting a fantasy boyfriend would qualify. I can't remember exactly—wasn't there some news story, some girl, some state law . . . ?

But Tori and Eva don't listen, of course. They begin discussing strategy over my head, ignoring me completely—something they do more and more lately. Why is it that sometimes, the loneliest place in the world is sitting right in between my two so-called best friends?

“It'll never work,” I say.

“It will,” Eva insists. “But for this to be believable, it has to be someone real. We need someone who doesn't already have a profile.”

“Yeah, but, like who?” Tori wrinkles her nose in confusion, unable to imagine a world where someone could have no online presence.

“There must be someone . . .” Eva doesn't seem at all deterred, so I try another tactic, pointing out that Cooper isn't my boyfriend and can date whomever he pleases. This only makes her sigh in frustration. “Noelle, you need to get over this shy thing and make a move already. Something he can't ignore. Just go jump his bones. I mean, we're not freshman, anymore.”

I shake my head, looking away. Doesn't she get it? I've thought about it a hundred times. Well, not jumping his bones. But telling Cooper how I feel. But it's too much of a gamble. What if he shoots me down? What if he finds me repulsive? What if it turns our friendship into something all awkward? I just can't take the risk.

Tori eyes me critically. “Plus, you're ten zillion times cuter than she is. I mean, boobs aside, you have to give her that.” But Tori is just being loyal. Annalise is the kind of girl who's hard to miss. She has curves to die for and traffic-stopping, reddish curly hair. She gets noticed without even trying. My looks are cute enough to get by on. Straight brown hair, large brown eyes like a trusty basset hound. Nothing special.

“Right.”

Hearing the doubt in my voice, Tori insists it is true in the way she knows best. “Seriously. I mean, if I set up a pageant between you two, you'd totally win.”

Reflexively, I make a face. “Don't you even!”

I don't want any part of Tori's pageant. Early in their friendship, she'd put herself and Eva in the same pageant, and Eva had received two fewer “likes.” After that little episode, they practically didn't talk for a whole week. But we never mention
that
, either.

Eva stands up and slings an arm around me, her voice softer this time. “We're just going to chat with her. What's the harm? Besides, we're doing this for you, Noey. Because I just want you to be happy. Like me and Amos. With Annalise out of the way you totally have a chance with him. You guys could be so good together.”

Her words warm me. I do want what Eva and Amos have. A real boyfriend, not just a hook up. Someone to hold hands with during basketball games. Send me flowers on Valentine's Day. Maybe even some top-secret, late-night sexts. There is a connection there, I know it. But how much longer will Annalise stay immune to Cooper's full court press?

Eva sees me shrug and relent, and before I know what's happened, she's shouting, “Brainstorm! I've got the perfect guy!” She races over to my bed, snatches up her rhinestone-clad iPhone where she'd left it, and begins scrolling back through her photos until she finds what she's looking for. “My second cousin, Declan. He lives way out in Worcester. He's cute, I guess, but a total dork. He's this homeschool freak, and his parents don't allow him to do anything online. They're like, off the grid. He does, like, chess and fencing and takes classes at the science museum. That's it.”

She holds the screen up for me and Tori to see, and I have to admit, Declan's not heinous. He's decently tall, with really intense dark hair and eyes and is wearing a retro Disney World T-shirt. Tori gives Declan's picture her professional appraisal, then nods her approval. Eva smiles, grabbing the cord to sync her phone to my computer, and a minute later, the photo of the two of them sitting at a picnic table pops up on my screen.