Second Helpings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [75]
“Hey, Dad?”
Grunt.
“I have a technical question for you.”
Grumble.
“About computers.”
“What is it?” he said, his voice bitter and his blue eyes dimmer—ever since that tragic day his daughter destroyed his track-and-field dreams.
I explained how Pinevile Low was sent anonymously from a public computer and the administration couldn’t trace it back to the author blahdiddyblahblahblah.
My dad perked up a little bit, and used terms like “compromised routes” and “free proxy” and “erased logs” until my eyes glazed over.
Then I said thank you and walked out of the room not really understanding the situation any better than before I had asked. If from nothing other than the length of my dad’s explanation, I did glean that it’s fairly sophisticated stuff. Whoever is doing this has done his or her homework. It’s probably the same person we have to thank for our messed-up schedules back in September, which resulted in an additional two weeks’ being tacked onto our school year in June.
Who could it be? I’ve already ruled out the two people at PHS who are smart enough to pull this off. Len has the brains but would never jeopardize his acceptance to Cornell. And Marcus loves mischief, but he’s about as anti-techie as I am. Quite frankly, Pinevile Low just isn’t his style.
All I know is this: If Manda and Marcus get together, it proves that there is no rhyme, reason, or meaning in life.
I’m exhausted, too. Between the possibility of Manda banging Marcus, the application crisis, Bubblegum Bimbos, and all the effort I have to put into being a good girlfriend, I’m . . . done.
the eighteenth
I wasn’t going to read it. I wasn’t going to give in. This lasted three days.
On day one, Bridget tried to respect my wishes by not saying anything much about it.
“Jess, it’s not, like, that bad.”
“Stop! I don’t want to hear anything about it!”
“Okay,” she replied. “But you have nothing to get upset about. It’s actually kind of flattering.”
“Not another word!”
“Okay.”
I knew this was a moot gesture, since no such command would shut Sara’s yap. Even she shocked me by saying how the characters in Bubblegum Bimbos weren’t like real-life people at all.
“Omigod! Quote Kara unquote is supposed to be fat. I am not fat! And my family has been loaded for more than three decades, so we are not quote white trash with new cheddar unquote.”
“Okay,” I said, her arguments not entirely convincing me that “Kara” and Sara were unalike.
“Quote Randa unquote can’t get any guys to fall in love with her, which is the exact opposite of Manda.”
“Okay.” This was closer to being inaccurate, but was, in essence, still pretty true. Manda doesn’t get guys to fall in love. She gets them to fall in lust.
“And quote Gidget unquote is really pretty, like Bridget, but she’s a pathetic loser. Omigod! Everyone knows Bridget is the most sought-after piece of ass in school!”
Knowing Bridget like I do, that sounded exactly like her. Bridget is the most sought-after piece of ass in school, but that hasn’t done much to help her feel any less lonely.
“But quote Jenn Sweet unquote is totally not you. She rocked her SATs, like you, but that’s about it.”
“Oh. Okay,” I replied.
“So . . .” Sara said, dangling the hot-pink-covered book in front of my face. “Don’t you want to read it?”
“No,” I replied, averting my eyes.
“Okay,” she said. “Your loss.”
On day two, I couldn’t get those hot pink swirls out of my eyes. I asked for more info.
“What’s Jenn Sweet like?”
“Omigod! She’s smart, but that doesn’t stop her from partying and being the coolest girl in school. Quote Rose-slash-Hy unquote even kind of worships Jenn.”
“Really?”
“Yes! So she’s NOT LIKE YOU AT ALL,” Sara said, with pleasure. “No offense.”
“Oh, none taken.”
How could I take offense? She was right. Jenn Sweet didn’t sound anything like me.
By day three, the neon blurs bouncing on my retinas had gotten too distracting. So I asked to borrow Sara’s copy.
“Omigod! I knew you would give in and read it!”
She handed it over. I glanced at the jacket copy:
Rose Karenna Williams