Truth or Dare (19 page)

If the photo had been digital, Tenley would have just cropped Caitlin and everything else out. But you couldn’t crop a Polaroid without destroying it. Which was why she’d kept it carefully hidden—until now.

Tenley flopped down on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. Caitlin would be humiliated if this got out. And worse, the darer was right; her “Angel” campaign for student-body president would be ruined. There
was only one option. Until Tenley got her answers, she was just going to have to take the dare—whatever it was—so that didn’t happen.

“Miss Tenley?” Sahara’s voice rang out in the hallway, and a second later Tenley could hear the maid knocking at her door. Tenley lay very still, her face in her pillow, hoping Sahara would think she was asleep. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now, especially not someone who had subtly accused Tenley of being spoiled
and
sloppy in their very first conversation.

“Miss Tenley,” Sahara said again. “Package arrive for you.”

Tenley sighed. Her grandma Nova had been promising for weeks to ship a necklace Tenley had left in Nevada. It must have finally arrived. “Leave it on my desk,” Tenley mumbled into the pillow. She waited until she’d heard Sahara enter and then leave before dragging herself up to a sitting position. On her desk was a small box, wrapped in plain brown paper. Tenley’s eyes narrowed as she reached for it. There was no delivery address on it, just her name written across the top in loose, flowing cursive.

This box wasn’t from Grandma Nova.

Her heart was beating fast as she tore the brown paper off. Underneath was a ring box with a folded-up note taped on top of it. “Not again,” Tenley whispered. Her heart was thudding as she unfolded the note. This one was different from the first two. It was handwritten, not typed, in the same flowing cursive that had been on the box. And on it was simply a dare.

I DARE YOU… to put this in Jessie M’s water bottle before the pep rally on Tuesday.

Tenley glared down at the box, anger surging inside her. She wanted to throw it across the room, stomp on it until it broke into a
million pieces, then drive them all straight to the dump. But instead, she found herself slowly flipping the lid open. Inside, resting on a silk bed, where a ring was supposed to be, was a single pink pill with two X’s on the front. Tenley sucked in a breath as she looked back and forth between the pill and the note.

… put this in Jessie M’s water bottle…

“Holy. Shit,” she whispered.

This wasn’t a game anymore.

Tuesday, 11:07
AM

THIS YEAR WE’LL FOCUS ON CAMPAIGN STRATEGIES
through history,” Mr. Haskin said, pacing back and forth at the front of the classroom in his brown tweed vest. “We’ll also talk about presidential styles and local government, including our very own government here in Echo Bay.” As Mr. Haskin droned on about the government class syllabus, Caitlin leaned back in her chair, her thoughts wandering.

It wasn’t even noon, and already she’d plastered the school walls with posters, slipped campaign letters into every locker in school, and gathered the ten signatures required to officially run for student-body president. She’d also had three classes, but she was having a hard time remembering what she’d learned in any of them. She just couldn’t stop thinking about the dare she’d gotten last night.

It wasn’t just what it said—which Caitlin had already spent all night obsessing over—but also where she’d found it. In the pill bottle
inside
her purse. The thought of someone going through her bag and touching her things, without her knowing… it made her skin crawl.

“Caitlin Thomas?” Caitlin looked up with a start. Mr. Haskin was standing over her desk, looking down at her expectantly.

She zoomed back to the present—where, apparently, Mr. Haskin was waiting for an answer from her. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hating the way her voice squeaked when she was caught off guard. “What was the question again?”

“About the president? Which one you’d most like to emulate?” Mr. Haskin crossed his arms against his chest. “As a candidate for student-body president, I thought you might have some thoughts on that question.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Caitlin cleared her throat, straightening up in her chair. “Clinton,” she said firmly, trying to banish the last of the squeak from her voice.

Mr. Haskin raised his bushy eyebrows at her. “The choices were JFK or LBJ. But thanks for that insight, Caitlin.”

On the other side of the room, someone tittered. Caitlin looked over to see Abby Wilkins and Delancey Crane giggling under their breath. Caitlin’s face burned red as Abby stuck her hand into the air. “I have an answer, Mr. Haskin,” she sang out.

Giving Caitlin a disapproving look, Mr. Haskin crossed over to Abby’s desk. As Abby launched into an eloquent description of why, as the
other
student-body presidential candidate, she’d choose JFK, Caitlin slumped back down in her chair, her face hot. It was only the first day of school, and already she’d made a bad impression in government class.

When the bell rang for lunch, Caitlin couldn’t leave the class fast enough. She pushed her way through the crowded hallways, keeping
her eyes on the tiled floor. But when she got to the cafeteria, she froze in the doorway. Emerson was sitting at the back table, waving her over. On the other side of the room, waiting in line for the hot meal, was Tenley. Also waving her over.

Caitlin swallowed hard, her eyes flitting between the two of them. Finally she gestured to Emerson that she’d be over in a minute. “I can’t believe you’re actually eating the school meal,” she said when she reached Tenley. She dangled her own brown-bagged lunch in the air. “You’re a braver girl than I am.”

“Well, it was that or ask the Reeds’ maid to pack me a bagged lunch,” Tenley said. She reached down to adjust the red skirt she was wearing belted with a black shirt. “And I’m pretty sure she thinks my mom and I are direct descendants of Satan.” She grabbed a yogurt and a banana, forgoing the brown, steaming pile of glop that claimed to be sloppy joes. “So lunch line it is.” Tenley adjusted her skirt again, seeming almost nervous. Caitlin was surprised. She always thought of Tenley as unflappable, but maybe being the new girl was as hard for her as it would be for anyone.

“Love your poster, Angel,” Hannah Shandelman called out as she walked by.

“Yeah, can those miracles include new lunch food?” Lucy Crawford added, wrinkling her nose as she eyed the sloppy joes.

“I’m trying for a salad bar,” Caitlin promised. “So,” she said, turning her attention back to Tenley. “How’s the big first day been?”

“What?” Tenley blinked, looking startled.

She was definitely suffering from first-day jitters, Caitlin decided. “I was just wondering if Loselow was everything you remembered it to be,” Caitlin said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Oh, yeah.” Tenley cleared her throat. “Everything and more. I’d even forgotten about the Pledge of Winslow. Just think, soon that’s
going to be you chanting that horrendous thing over the loudspeaker every morning.”

Caitlin cringed. The Pledge of Winslow was Winslow Academy’s own ridiculous pledge of allegiance, written back when women still wore poodle skirts. Once the student-body president was voted in, it was his or her job to recite it every morning, before giving school announcements. “Only if I win,” she corrected.

Tenley waved a hand dismissively through the air. “Like you could lose. From what I’ve heard, your main competition has more purity rings than friends.”

Caitlin couldn’t help but laugh, even though she knew it was mean. “Why don’t you come sit?” Caitlin nodded toward the orange table in the back of the cafeteria where Emerson and some others were already gathered. She was relieved to see Hunter wasn’t there, at least not yet. “We finally get the senior table,” Caitlin added, smiling persuasively.

The table in the back was the only one that sat on a raised platform, left over from the days when the cafeteria had been an auditorium. Personally, Caitlin didn’t understand the appeal of the table. Who wanted to be on display like that while eating lunch? But it was a Winslow tradition. The most popular seniors always ate at that table. Emerson had been waiting three years to claim it as their own.

Tenley averted her glance. “I actually have a few errands to do during lunch. I swear they make new students jump through hoops of fire here.” She laughed weakly. “So I think I’m just going to take my gourmet meal to go.”

“You sure?” Caitlin studied Tenley as she tossed the banana and yogurt into her backpack. She had a feeling her skipping lunch had more to do with how Emerson was holding court at their table than any so-called errands.

Tenley nodded. “Got things to do. Principals to see.” She gave Caitlin a quick hug, then hurried out of the cafeteria.

“Took you long enough,” Emerson said when Caitlin slid into the seat she’d saved for her. Emerson looked over at the hot food line. “Where did Mama Grizzly go?”

“She had some errands to do,” Caitlin said.

Emerson tapped her spoon against the table, watching the door where Tenley had disappeared. “What kind of errands?”

“She didn’t say. Some kind of new-student stuff. Why?”

Emerson shook her head. “No reason. I’m just surprised she didn’t carry you with her in her teeth is all.”

“Give her a break, Em,” Caitlin said, elbowing her friend playfully in the side. “Hey,” she added, trying to keep her voice casual. “Do you know where Hunter is?”

“Yeah, he said he had to meet with Coach Whistler during lunch.”

Relief shot through Caitlin, making her feel relaxed for the first time all day. On the other side of the table, Nate and Sean were talking about this year’s football lineup—Sean’s arm draped casually around Tricia’s shoulders. “Your hair looks pretty today, Em,” Tricia called across the table.

Emerson blushed, reaching up to touch her meticulously straightened hair. “If only it didn’t take me, like, two hours to get it like this….”

Caitlin shook her head; it was just like her best friend to dodge a compliment. Next to her, Marta was giggling loudly as Tyler pelted her with grapes. Marta was wearing a royal blue shirt that looked great with her red hair, and she had her blue eyes fixed squarely on Tyler. “Look,” Caitlin whispered to Emerson. “Those two seem especially friendly today….”

“What was that, Caitlin?” Tyler asked, shooting her a sly look.

“Oh, nothing—” Caitlin began. But before she could say anything else, a grape hit her smack in the middle of her forehead.

“Marta Lazarus!” Caitlin exclaimed. “Did you just
grape
me?”

Marta threw another grape at her in response.

Caitlin looked at Emerson. “Fruit fight?” she whispered.

Emerson broke into a smile. “Fruit fight,” she confirmed.

They both grabbed banana slices out of Emerson’s fruit salad, tossing them at Marta. Soon everyone was pegging fruit at one another, laughing as a slice of kiwi got Tyler in the eye and a grape ricocheted off Emerson’s shoulder, landing on the tray of a terrified-looking freshman below. When a strawberry left a red streak on Sean’s white polo, he squealed like a girl, making Marta shriek with laughter.

“Trish just got me this shirt,” Sean whined, which only made Marta laugh harder. Marta had the kind of laugh that seemed to foam over, infecting everyone, and soon Caitlin was cracking up, too. When Nate asked Sean if Tricia had also gotten him a new bra to go with the shirt, Caitlin lost it, bending over the table as she gasped for air.

She was just straightening back up when Abby Wilkins walked by below, waving cheerfully up at Tricia. “I still can’t believe you were once in her ridiculous Purity Club, Trish.” Sean laughed, nudging Tricia in the side.

“I know.” Tricia rolled her eyes. “Serious lapse in judgment. Do you know they used to make us put on ‘purity puppet shows’ with these, like, huge puppets?” She buried her face in her hands. “I still have nightmares about those puppets.”

“Of
course
Abby likes to play with puppets,” Marta said, laughing.

“Seriously,” Tyler chimed in, tossing a grape into the air. “It’s probably the most fingering she gets.”

Which of course made everyone lose it all over again.

By the time the bell rang for next period, Caitlin was wiping her eyes from laughing so hard. As she went to throw out her trash, she realized she felt better than she had in a long time, as though all that laughter had wiped her clean.

“Best lunch table ever,” Caitlin decided as she and Emerson left the cafeteria.

“Mmm,” Emerson agreed absently. She was holding her backpack in front of her with one hand and rooting around in it with the other. As she stuck her arm farther in, Caitlin noticed a tiny red spot on the cropped leather jacket she was wearing over a long white tank top and skinny jeans. “Ooh, I think you got a little fruit stain, Em.”

“Mmm,” Emerson said again. She stuck her head into her bag, rooting around some more. “Where
is
it?”

Caitlin looked up at her curiously. “Where’s what, Em?”

“Big Foot!” With an exasperated noise, Emerson tossed her backpack onto her shoulder. “I can’t find it anywhere.” Big Foot was the bright pink rabbit’s foot Emerson brought with her to every game and pep rally she cheered at. She’d had it forever—since before she moved to Echo Bay—and she swore it was her lucky charm.

They stopped at their lockers, and Emerson began rummaging furiously through hers. “It’s not here either. I thought maybe Marta had it, but she said she hasn’t seen it. I swear it’s like it disappeared into thin air!” She slammed her locker shut, letting out a frustrated grumble.

“Hey.” Caitlin grabbed Emerson’s arm. “Em.”

Emerson sighed as she turned to face Caitlin. “Sorry, Cait. I know I’m being crazy. It’s only a rabbit’s foot. It’s just… I
always
have it with me when I cheer.” Several strands of black hair fell into her face, making it hard for Caitlin to read her expression.