Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2)

Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2) Page 32

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Giggling, I fall back into the hammock. “But you guys, he’s so gross. I’ll be throwing up in my mouth every time I have to pretend cozy up to him.”

Kat tosses the stretchy dress at my head. “At least try it on.”

Mary says, “Yeah, Lil. Anything’s going to look pretty on you.”

I groan.

“Lil, trust me on this. I know what I’m talking about. Do you know how many lead singers I made out with this summer? Four! There were hotter girls there than me, but I’m the one they picked out of the crowd. You wanna know why? Attitude. It’s all about attitude. You act like you’re hot shit and guys are so dumb they’ll totally believe it.”

She’s completely right. Look at Rennie. Rennie’s all attitude. Whatever she wants, she gets. She has the whole school under her spell. Forget Marilyn. I’ll just channel Rennie.

I pick up the dress. “So what do you guys want me to wear first? This streetwalker dress or this bra top?”

Mary squeals, and Kat’s eyes gleam as she says, “Definitely the dress.”

When we pull into the school parking lot on Monday, Nadia sees her friend Janelle and gets me to drop her off by the front entrance. I take my time parking and then fixing my hair in the rearview mirror. I put it in my mom’s hot rollers before I went to bed and then I slept on it so it wouldn’t be too bouncy. Bombshell hair, Kat kept saying last night. This isn’t exactly bombshell hair, but it’s fancier than my normal style. I dab some pink gloss on my lips, too.

When I step out of my car, I make sure to keep my trench coat buttoned and tied tight around my waist. Right as I close the car door, I spot Kat watching me from across the lot, hanging on the chain-link fence. She shakes her head and mouths, No coat. I mouth back, I’m cold, and I shoot her a pleading look, but she shakes her head again. She mouths, Marilyn. Slowly, I peel the coat off and stow it in my trunk.

I make my way across the parking lot and into the school. I’m wearing my highest heels, the pale pink patent-leather ones from homecoming. I walk up the steps carefully so I don’t trip and fall. The dress is super tight but also totally comfy, because it’s basically spandex. It barely covers my butt and it makes my boobs look huge, which never, ever happens. I hope I don’t get sent home for wearing it. My mom would probably faint.

Right away I can sense people staring, but I look straight ahead, head up, shoulders back. A sophomore girl whispers to her friend, “Damn . . .” and a couple of boys whistle. I walk like I don’t hear them; I walk like I own this school. This must be what it feels like to be Rennie.

I drop off my bag in my locker and only carry a purse, which is way sexier and more Marilyn than my school bag. I touch up my lip gloss, too. There’s five minutes before the bell rings, which means that Reeve will be by the vending machines with Alex and PJ like every morning.

Which they are; they’re leaning against the wall of lockers, eating donuts, except for Reeve, who is eating an apple. No Rennie, thank God. My heart is thudding in my ears as I wave hi and sail past them. I go straight for the vending machine. As I punch the numbers for chocolate donuts, I peek in the glass to see if Reeve is looking. He’s not. He’s polishing off his apple. I notice too that he doesn’t have his crutches anymore. And he’s traded in his soft cast for a walking boot.

PJ lets out a low whistle and calls out, “What are you all dressed up for, Lil?”

Turning slightly, I say, “I have to give a presentation in French class.” Which would totally make sense if I were giving a presentation on the Moulin Rouge.

“Très bien,” PJ says appreciatively, and I give him a curtsy.

My dress is too short for me to bend down and pick the donuts out of the slot. Luckily, Alex comes right up beside me. “You look—wow,” he says, in a low voice.

I can feel myself blushing. “Thanks.”

Alex stoops down and grabs my donuts and hands them to me. “Wow,” he says again. His eyes are wide, and he’s staring at me.

I try not to smile. I can’t remember—should I have already attempted physical contact with Reeve, or do I go straight to making him jealous? I don’t even know if he’s looking at us.

I’m about to sneak a quick peek at Reeve when I see Rennie coming down the hall with Ashlin. Quickly, I link my arm through Alex’s. “Walk me to class?” I chirp.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll be your bodyguard.”

Reeve’s looking at me now. His eyes flicker over me and then, just as quickly, away from me. Completely disinterested. He’s not even making an obnoxious joke about the way I’m dressed. He wipes off his mouth and tosses his apple core in the trash without another glance in my direction.

Maybe he’s still mad about the things I said to him on Halloween. Crap. If this plan of ours has any chance of working, I’m going to have to eat humble pie and apologize to him, which is the last thing I want to do.

At the lunch table, I’m all set to sit next to Reeve and make amends, but when I get there, he’s already sitting at the end and Rennie’s next to him. Her eyes go huge when she sees me in my getup, and I have to resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

I slide into the seat across from her. My plan is to pretend our Halloween fight never happened. “Hey, guys,” I say, opening my bottle of blueberry white tea.

She acts like she didn’t hear me, and then she puts her head on Reeve’s shoulder and says, “Do you want me to get you something from the lunch line, babe?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, shaking a box of Muscle Milk. “Okay, I’m gonna get some fries. I’ll be back in two secs.” Rennie practically skips over to the lunch line. When she’s gone, I lean forward and quickly whisper, “Hey, um, I’m sorry for those things I said on Halloween. I think I had too much to drink.”

My little apology barely registers. He says flatly, “Yeah, ya think?”

Clearly, Reeve’s not going to make this easy on me. How very Reeve of him. I swallow, lower my head, and then look up at him through my lashes. I’ve got to put on an Oscar-worthy performance here. In a contrite voice I say, “Reeve, I really am sorry. I should never have said that stuff to you . . . especially since you came to Fall Fest and tried your best to help me out, even with your injury.” I reach out and touch his arm lightly.

Reeve moves his arm away from me. “I didn’t come to Fall Fest to help you out. I did it because I made a commitment to the kids.” He tips back in his chair.