The Revenge Playbook (18 page)

Melanie Jane is regarding me with extreme curiosity. Or dread. Sometimes it's hard to say which with her. “What are you doing?”

I grin. “
We
are going to say our own vows.”

I have to do something to turn this night around, and I think this is my best chance.

“Um, that sounds cool,” says Peyton.

I throw one of the robes over my clothes and lean over a crate so the candles cast eerie shadows on my face.

“Tonight we honor an ancient tradition,” I say in my best spooky voice. Peyton moves to stand beside me. Ana starts to hang back, but Melanie Jane prods her along.

“You are about to become part of an elite sisterhood. We are brave. We are strong. We have honor . . . and some other lame shit.”

Ana smirks and steps forward. I've got her now.

I turn serious. “Tonight we did something no one else has ever done. We started something. And we're going to finish it. We will steal that football. We will have our revenge. And we will change this town.”

I pause. No one is smirking now. There is only hunger on their faces.

“It won't be easy. But it will be worth it. And the only way we can make it happen is if all of us are in this together. If you're in this, say ‘I swear.'”

I barely get the words out of my mouth before Peyton says, “I swear.” Her voice is soft, but her face isn't. I offer her the wine, and she drinks.

Melanie Jane is next. “I swear.”

She sips the wine and wrinkles her nose and scoots the urn in Ana's direction. We all wait for Ana, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest—she's the only one I'm not sure about. She stares us down for a few uneasy seconds before letting out a prolonged sigh and gripping the urn with both hands.

“I swear,” she says, and something like surprise flutters behind her eyes.

She passes the urn of wine back to me, and I lift it to my lips. “I swear.”

As the words roll off my tongue, the most unearthly tingle crawls up my spine. Like the vow we've made tonight is bigger than all of us.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

1.
  
   
Fill a condom up with water. Draw a face on it. Put it on Principal Corso's doormat, and ding-dong ditch. (One person)

2.
  
   
The egg-on-a-string trick. Hang an egg from a power line by a string and watch a car run into it.
(Everyone)

3.
  
   
Paint the David Bowie statue at Old Lady Howard's corn maze. (Everyone)

4.
  
   
Chair race through Walmart. (Everyone)

5.
  
   
Get a picture of the team with the Ranburne Panther. (Everyone)

6.
  
   
Go to the Dawsonville football field. Find that stupid rock they touch before their games. Pee on it. (Everyone)

1.
  
   
Visit the illustrious Delta Tau Beta fraternity at Vanderbilt. Have a beer with Panther alum TJ McNeil and take a picture of the legendary scar he got during a game-winning play against Dawsonville. (One person)

2.
  
   Go to LP Field and reenact the “Music City Miracle.” (Everyone)

3.
  
   Go to Centennial Park and jump into the pond behind the Parthenon. (Everyone)

4.
  
   Go to The Jackrabbit Saloon. Walk to the very middle of the dance floor and attempt to do the worm. (One person)

5.
  
   Go up to a girl who is totally out of your league, get down on your knees, and ask her to marry you. (One person)

6.
  
   Go up to a fat girl and tell her “You're so beautiful . . . for a fat chick.” Bonus points if she throws her drink on you. (One person)

7.
  
   Hug a biker. Bonus points if he has a mullet. (One person)

8.
  
   Get a girl to give you her thong. (One person)

DARES REMAINING:
7.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

11:20 P.M.

PEYTON

“What's next? What's next?” Liv is still on a high from her stolen kiss. She keeps asking to see the scar picture every five minutes. “Doesn't it look like a kraken to you? I think it looks kind of like a kraken!”

I check the list. “LP Field is next if we go in order. And then jumping in that pond at Centennial Park. Maybe we should save that for last since we're going to get all wet.”

Melanie Jane walks shoulder to shoulder with me so she can read the list at the same time. “I think we should go straight to the bar. If we beat them there, we could get some of this stuff done without them seeing.”

“Yeah. That's a good idea,” says Ana.

She unlocks her car, and we pile in. Melanie Jane mans the GPS and gets us there in record time, while Liv and I discuss exactly what it was like kissing the legendary TJ McNeil.

We walk through the swinging doors of The Jackrabbit Saloon, which is everything you expect when you hear the words “honky-tonk bar”. A stage stretches almost the whole length of the main room with a band playing country music, complete with fiddles and harmonicas. There are tons of people dancing. Tons. And even more at the various bars and the bull-riding arena and smaller rooms I can't see the
inside of. The decor is kind of hokey—rough wooden walls, barrels for tables, riding gear and wagon wheels and so many animal heads I'm tempted to have a moment of silence. It's definitely over-the-top country. So are most of the people here.

Liv races off as soon as we get inside and returns with the biggest grin on her face. “They're not here!” she squeals. “The old Varsity guys are playing pool in one of the other rooms though, so if we want to do dares, we need to do them in here.”

“Perfect.” Melanie Jane points to the dance floor where the line dancing is going full force. “You ready to do the worm?”

Liv's grin disappears. “I can't do the worm.”

“What?!” Melanie Jane and Ana both look like they're going to have coronaries.

“How can you not do the worm? You dance better than anyone in school,” says Ana.

Liv lets out a serious sigh. “And it is one of my great downfalls as a dancer that I am unable to do the worm.”

Melanie Jane paces in her heels. “Well, what are we going to do? I can't do the worm.”

“I can do the worm,” I mumble.

Ana takes a quick peek at the list before shoving it back in her purse. “It says attempt. We just have to attempt it.”

“I can do the worm,” I say a little louder.

Ana grabs my arm. “Wait. What?”

I sigh. “I said I can do it. The worm, I mean.” I can completely humiliate myself in public and have everyone stare at me and probably contract a disease from lying on the floor of a bar.

“Peyton!” Liv spins me around. “This is amazing!”

My eyes don't leave the dance floor. So many people. “I guess so.” I gulp.

I walk the path to the dance floor like it's my very own green mile. I can do this. People will watch. People will laugh. But it will be over soon, and it has to happen. We need this in order to beat them. I weave to the very center of the wooden floor, taking care not to bump any of the dancers.
I hope no one steps on me,
I think as I lay down and try to ignore the sticky spot under my right arm. I take a deep breath. And then, in a feat of nearly impossible muscle coordination, I send a ripple down my body. Once. Twice. Three times. I alternately contract and relax my muscles in isolated segments, creating, what I have to say, is a very impressive wormlike effect.

I stand up to cheers all around me. To huge hugs from Ana and Melanie Jane and a tackle hug from Liv that nearly lands me on the floor again. I'm sweating, that's how nervous I was, and I know my cheeks are redder than red. It feels amazing.

The country band fires up a fast one, so we celebrate with some victory dancing. The girls agree I've done enough daring for now and could use a break. Liv, inspired by my worminess, demands to go next.

“Find someone out of my league!” she tells us. “I'll do the asking.”

She grabs my hands, and we dance around while Ana and Melanie Jane have a debate that goes something like this:

Melanie Jane: OMG. That guy is so cute.

Ana: Yeah . . . no.

Melanie Jane: Are you kidding?

Ana: He isn't.

Melanie Jane: Is.

Ana: Not. You'll have to excuse Melanie Jane. She has tall goggles. It's why she always dates athletes.

Melanie Jane: Not always.

Ana: Okay, who?

Melanie Jane: Someone.

And then she's all tongue-tied and blushing and totally un–Melanie Jane–like. Ana doesn't push her on it because at that moment a seriously gorgeous man walks past us. Not even his Lee jeans and plate-sized belt buckle can eclipse that kind of breathtaking splendor.

“Him!” we all shout simultaneously, and then burst out laughing.

Liv salutes us all and follows him to the bar, where she gets down on one knee and proposes as I take a picture. He's laughing as he helps her up. He's got to be at least ten years older than us. Then he kisses her hand and tips his hat and goes back to ordering his drink.

Liv skips all the way back to us.

“And that, ladies, is how it's done. Next.”

“I'll go next,” says Melanie Jane. “Some bikers just sat down over there. We weren't lucky enough to get a mullet sighting, but one of them kind of has a rat tail.”

Ana nods with mock seriousness. “I feel a rat tail is a perfectly acceptable mullet substitute.”

Melanie Jane links her arm through mine. “Come with me. I need you to take the picture.”

I'm glad she picked me because there's something I've been meaning to talk to her about. “Hey, um, how's it going with Ana?” I ask as soon as we're far enough away.

“I tried to talk to her, but it didn't really work.” She's staring at Ana with longing and regret stamped all over her face, but luckily Ana is preoccupied with making sure Liv doesn't climb on top of a table.

“I think it helped. She's been . . . different. Maybe you should try again.”

Liv is gesturing wildly, and it's clear she thinks both she and Ana should be dancing on the table. Ana stands with her arms crossed.

“I don't know,” says Melanie Jane.

“You should. I feel like, I don't know, like tonight is this magical night, and there's this window of opportunity where anything could happen.” Melanie Jane is staring at me now instead of Ana. “It's dumb.”

“No. I kind of feel it too.” We watch them for another minute, and then she bumps her shoulder against mine. “C'mon. Let's go hug some bikers.”

For the first time, I take a good look at said bikers. I am marginally concerned. These guys are huge. And old. And they have tons of tattoos and scary leather jackets with skulls and did I mention they are
huge
?

Melanie Jane struts right into the circle of intimidating bikers and squeezes Rat Tail's arm. “Ohmygosh, are you Chance Foster?”

Wow, she's always had an accent, but she just kicked it up, like, eight notches. He peers up at her from whatever he's drinking. Whiskey? Moonshine? The blood of his enemies?

“No.”

She giggles like this is hilarious. “Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just he's this local country singer. And my dad is such a big fan. And, well, you look just like him.”

He grins at this, and his teeth are straighter and whiter than you would expect. “Nah. I'm no singer.” Except he says it “sanger” not “singer.”

Melanie Jane looks at him through her eyelashes like she's this shy Southern belle. Ha. “Okay, so, this is going to sound weird, but would you mind if I took a picture with you? Just to show my dad and all. He'll never believe me. You really do look
just
like him.”

His friends chuckle, but Rat Tail seems to be enjoying the limelight.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Awesome! Thank you so much.” Before he can blink, she puts one arm around his back and another across his chest and squeezes him into a hug as I snap the picture.

“Thank you again!” she drawls. “You totally made my day!”

“That's what I'm here for. Making dreams come true.”

His friends all belly laugh and go back to their drinks while we run over to show Liv and Ana the picture. We celebrate with more dancing, and I try to teach Melanie Jane how to roll her hips, but it isn't going so well. She's just starting to learn how to relax her body when we see them. The football team. And clustered around them, the cheerleaders, because didn't you know they're incapable of not being in the same place at the same time? It's like magic or physics or something. They can't have been here long. The space by the bull-riding arena was empty the last time I checked. I scan their faces. I see Trevor. And there's Weston. I wonder where Rey is.

There's a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Rey bending down in front of me. His hands reach for mine and swallow them up.

“Hi there.” He grins. “Will you marry me?”

A light flashes. Someone taking a picture. People are clapping and staring all around us. Is this really happening? Wait. Does this mean Rey thinks I'm out of his league? I feel my cheeks go pink. Oh, no. Am I supposed to answer? What do I say?