Top 8 (15 page)

Realizing that I hadn't been missed, I walked to the back row and sat next to Ginger, who was asleep over her sketches. I bundled up in my sweater and opened my script.

Then I pulled out my list and crossed Sarah off.

My phone rang as I was heading out of rehearsal, saying goodbyes to Ginger, Sarah, Mark and the rest of the theater kids, who seemed to be on the path to forgiving me. Plus, with the whole Megin and Jamie scandal, it was clear I was becoming old news.

I looked down at the display and saw that it was my mother. As I mentally scrolled through anything I might have forgotten to do, or had done that I shouldn't have, I answered the phone.

“Hi Mom,” I said, heading over to Judy.

“Hi hon,” she said, sounding harried. “Listen, your father's at a night game, and I'm dealing with a potential two-point drop in stabilized inflation and need to be on a conference call for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh,” I said. “Um, that sucks.”

“Don't say ‘sucks,' Madison,” she said, almost by rote. “But I'm going to need you to pick up your brother. And go ahead and grab a pizza or something for dinner. I'm not going to be home until late.”

I sighed. I hated picking Travis up, as it allowed junior high school boys the opportunity to make comments — factually accurate comments, no less — about my cup size. “Fine,” I said, getting into the car, slamming the door, and turning on the ignition.

“Thanks, sweetie,” my mother said. “I owe you one. And listen, don't give Travis too hard a time about that girl he likes. You remember what it was like at that age….”

My ears positively pricked up. “Girl?” I asked, caught somewhere between nausea and the feeling that I'd stumbled onto a gold mine. “What girl?”

If my mother hadn't been so stressed, she absolutely would have noticed the glee creeping into my voice. But she didn't, so I say hooray for a two-point drop in stabilized inflation.

“Oh, he mentioned something to your father last night. Apparently, he wanted advice ‘for a friend' about asking someone out. Isn't that sweet?”

“Adorable,” I said. “And what was her name, again?”

“Oh,” my mother said, sounding more distracted than ever. “I think it was something like Olivia…
something. The last name began with a
P,
I think. Pearson, maybe?”

Score
. “Good to know,” I said, doing a little foot jig.

“Now, Madison,” my mother said, clarity coming back into her voice, “I'm telling you this in confidence. Please don't tease your brother about this.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” I assured her. “Good luck with the point drop. We'll save you some pizza!”

Then I hung up and began plotting. This was my chance to find out if Travis had been the one who hacked me — and, as an added bonus feature, to get him back for thirteen years of evil Demon Spawn behavior.

Pearson
…something Kittson had said at the nail salon was ringing a faint bell. I had her number stored in my phone for prom emergencies (she hadn't specified what this meant, and I had been a little afraid to ask). I called it.

She answered after four rings. “Kittson,” she said by way of greeting.

“Madison,” I replied, thinking maybe this was the new thing.

“Hey. Wait. What?” she asked. “Who is this?”

“Hi Kittson,” I said, feeling that her answering system left something to be desired. “It's Madison.”

“Hey Madison,” she said. “What's up? How are your feet? I was right, right? Wasn't the spa pedicure sooo worth it?”

I glanced down at my bright red toenails. It was odd, to be talking to Kittson like this. Almost like we were… not friends, exactly, but something. Somewhere in my brain, I knew I should probably be mad about the whole Justin thing, but I wasn't, really. It was beginning to seem like a long time ago that Justin and I were even together. “Absolutely,” I said. “My toes look great. But I had a question —”

“And don't forget,” she continued as though I hadn't said anything, “we have a committee meeting on Monday. We need to figure out decorations and glitter colors.”

“Right,” I said. “I'll be there. But I had a quick question for you. Your sister…” I let my voice trail off. I could have sworn Kittson had said something about a sister, but I wasn't 100% sure.

“Olivia?” she said. “God. What did she do this time?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, feeling a grin spreading over my face. “I was just wondering if you'd bought her that top. I thought it was cute, but didn't want to get it if she had it too.” This made no rational sense at all, but I had a feeling it would be logical to Kittson.

“No,” she said, “she so doesn't deserve presents right now. She's being a brat. I think she has a crush on some guy.”

“Interesting,” I said. I was a heartbeat away from asking Kittson what she had decided to do about Justin —
if they were still going out, if they were going to the prom together — but I restrained myself. “Well, I gotta go,” I said, glancing at the Jetta's clock. Rehearsal had run a little long, and I was late to pick up TDS.

“Me too,” she said “The
Hills
-athon is about to start. Don't forget about the meeting. Later!” With that, she hung up.

I did a quick Google search on my phone and found the address I was looking for. Then I pulled a piece of paper out of my bag and stuck it in the cup holder. Finally, I revved the engine and headed to Putnam Middle School, which was only a few blocks away from the high school.

Thankfully, because I was late, none of Travis's pre-adolescent cronies were around to make fun of me. There was just Travis, sitting sullenly on the bench by the entrance. When I pulled up he walked over to the car and got in, slamming the door much harder than necessary.

“Where's Mom?” he asked, slouching down in the passenger seat and changing the song on the iCar.

“She had to work,” I said. I glanced down at the address on my screen and began to drive in the direction of 65 Lakeview Drive. “But she said we should pick up pizza for dinner. Sound okay?”

“Whatever,” he said, pulling out his PSP and beginning to blow things up.

“So Travis,” I said casually as we headed in the opposite direction of Putnam Pizza, “you sure were online a lot while we were in the Galápagos.”

“I guess,” he muttered, continuing to wage war against the tiny aliens.

“What were you doing online, all that time?”

“What do you care?” he asked, turning up the volume on the iCar.

I turned it down. “Just curious,” I said. “I also didn't know if you wanted to explain this,” I said, pulling the paper I'd found in his room last night out of the cupholder and tossing it at him.

His eyes widened when he saw it. “Where did you get this?”

“From your trash can,” I said. “Care to explain?”

“You stole this out of my room!”

“It's you trying to figure my password out, isn't it?” Travis was silent, which I took as a confirmation. “My Friendverse got hacked while we were on spring break,” I said. “Someone who really wanted to hurt me did it.”

Travis was still staring straight ahead. The ignored aliens on his PSP were probably gaining in force and numbers to take over the planet.

“Did you do it?” I asked, taking a turn a little more sharply than I technically needed to. “You'd better tell me.”

Travis smirked at me. “Or what?” he asked. “You'll tell Mom and Dad? Ooh, I'm so scared. I'll just tell them you
stole
that paper out of my room.”

“No, not Mom and Dad,” I said conversationally, making the turn onto Lakeview Drive. “But we're heading toward Olivia Pearson's house right now. You know, the girl you have a crush on?” I was rewarded by seeing Travis's face turn bright red, then super pale, in the course of about four seconds.

“How did you know that?” Travis asked, his voice cracking.

“Oh, I have my ways,” I said. “But unless you want me to tell her all about how much you like her, you'd better tell me the truth.”

“You wouldn't,” Travis croaked, growing even paler.

“You want to try me?” I asked. I pointed ahead to the mailbox bearing the number 65. “We're almost there. I'm sure she'd love to hear all about how you were asking your
dad
for advice on how to ask her out….”

“No!” Travis cried. “I'll talk, okay? I promise. Let's just go, now, before she sees me.”

“Promise?” I asked. I swerved close to the driveway and tapped my finger lightly on the horn.

“I promise, I promise!” Travis babbled. “I swear! Just please, go, Madison!”

I paused for one moment, as if considering it, just to get him back for all the things he'd done to me over the
years. Then I removed my hand from the horn and made a U-turn. “Fine,” I said. “Start talking.”

“I didn't hack you,” Travis said quietly, still about five shades paler than he normally was, but gaining some color back the further we got from 65 Lakeview Drive. “I promise. I didn't even know you'd been hacked until you told me right now.”

“So what's with the paper?”

“Just because I didn't hack you doesn't mean I haven't tried,” he said with a smirk. “But I never got it right.”

I made the left that would take us back to the center of town, and Putnam Pizza. “So what were you doing online the whole time we were on the ship?”

“Oh,” he said, now beginning to blush a little. Travis's complexion was getting quite the workout today. “I was trying to send an e-mail to Olivia.”

I noticed that Travis said her name in the tones he usually reserved for words like “Tony Hawk” and “Doritos.”

“The whole time?” I asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Everything I tried to write ended up sounding stupid, so I never sent anything. Well,” he amended, “I sent your e-mail address to some spam websites, but that's it. Have you been getting any offers to refinance your home or get a super cheap loan?”

“No,” I said, glaring at him, “but I guess I have that to look forward to now. Don't do that stuff anymore. I still have her sister's phone number,” I added when it looked like he was going to say something snarky.

Travis nodded. “Fine,” he said grudgingly.

We pulled into the parking lot of Putnam Pizza, went inside, and placed our order. Dave wasn't there, but neither was Big Tony, so it looked like I had a fighting shot at getting pineapple on my half.

We went outside to wait on the patio. As Putnam Pizza was next to Gofer Ice Cream, my eyes kept drifting over to where Nate and I had sat and had ice cream. Was it only three days ago? It felt like I'd known him much longer than that, somehow.

“So you won't tell?” Travis asked after a moment of silence. “Olivia? Or her sister?”

I crossed my heart. “I promise, as long as
you
promise to stop trying to hack me. Deal?”

He nodded. “Deal.”

“So why do you like this girl?”

Travis rolled his eyes at me. “Um, because she's the hottest girl in eighth grade.”

“Is that it?” I asked. “Really?”

Travis began to blush again. I tried not to enjoy the spectacle too much. “No,” he said. “I mean, she's totally hot. I mean, really hot. But she's really nice, too. And she
always laughs at my jokes. I don't know,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just do, okay?”

“Sure,” I said. “And just so you know, when I spoke to her sister earlier, she said she thought that Olivia had a crush on some guy.”

“Yeah?” Travis asked, looking really interested, but trying not to look at all interested.

“Yeah,” I said, “and maybe you're that guy!” We sat in silence for a second, and then I said, “I could ask for you, if you want. Subtly.” I wasn't sure that Kittson would actually understand the concept of subtle, but I could give it a shot.

Travis nodded so vigorously, he resembled Ruth's bobble-headed Darwin. “Yeah,” he said, “that might be cool.”

“Right,” I said. “But listen. Don't go out with someone just because they're hot. You want to go out with someone that you can talk to, someone who shares your interests, someone who makes you laugh —”

“Pizza's up!” Little Tony yelled through the open door, and Travis jumped up to get the pie.

I found my gaze wandering over to the bench where Nate and I had sat. I suddenly realized that when I'd been describing the right kind of person to like, I hadn't been talking about Justin at all.

I'd been talking about Nate.

It was hard to write a history paper on Queen Victoria, I found, when your friends wanted you to IM with them and refused to take no for an answer.