The F- It List Part 14

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"Not that I know of yet. I can ask her."

Changing the subject all too easily, Eliza cattily asked, "Did you hear that Lottie McDaniels is back?"

"The b.i.t.c.h is back," Brandon sang.

Lottie McDaniels was Becca's major compet.i.tion when she fi rst started in freshman drama, but last year she opted for a boarding school with a stellar acting program. Good riddance. Having her back the same year Becca would be MIA from productions would ensure her superstar status and enlarge her already infamously ginormous head.

"Oh-" I started, remembering something from Becca's list. I unfolded the soft paper from my pocket. "Aha!" I exclaimed.

"What is it, Dr. Watson?" Brandon asked.

"Becca asked me to do some things for her-"

"I thought you said there wasn't anything we could do for her,"

Eliza whined.

"Simmer down, Doolittle. This is stuff I can do for her. Only me.

When your best friend gets cancer, then it's your turn." Dramatic sigh from Eliza. I always thought she would have been better on stage than behind it.

Number 14: Tell off Lottie McDaniels.

That should be interesting. I never really spoke to Lottie; she just yelled commandments at me during my minuscule stint in stagecraft.

Becca told me tales of sabotage, like when Lottie threw out Becca's base makeup because she claimed it smelled weird. I never liked the look of Lottie. There was something messed up about a high school student who wore stiletto heels. How would she fare in a zombie attack?

The lunch bell rang, and I went on my mission. My lunch friends --1 attempted to push and prod me to tell them what I was reading off of, -0 -+1 8 1.

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what Becca wanted me to do. But that list belonged to me and Becca.

Plus, they didn't need to see the items I had already checked off . Not that I felt ashamed of any of them, but I didn't need to give out expla- nations either.

Eliza had gym with Lottie next period, and I found Lottie in the new girls' bathroom outside the small gym. The administration was slowly redoing areas of the school, and a new bathroom meant auto- matic handles, toilets, and sinks. Soon they'd be p.i.s.sing and s.h.i.+tting for us, too.

Lottie watched herself in the mirror as she applied a thick layer of refl ective gloss to her plump lips. She smacked them together and then, as though I weren't in there to berate her, winked at herself in the mirror. She had almost a foot on me in her heels, but I didn't care.

I don't know if I would've cared much before Becca's list, but having a mission and someone to answer to made me even bolder.

"Hey," I said to gain Lottie's attention.

"He- ey," she sang to her own image in the mirror.

"You're Lottie McDaniels, right?" I was 99 percent sure, but revenge was only best served if it was at the right dinner party.

"Of course." She had yet to look at me. I had yet to actually fi g- ure out what I wanted to say. Was I supposed to tell her off in the name of Becca? As Becca herself? As just some random Lottie hater?

A second bell rang, indicating we were both late for cla.s.s. I didn't care, since I had art next and for all Mr. Bowles knew, I was working in the darkroom.

"s.h.i.+t," Lottie said to herself, and stuff ed her makeup into her purse. I never understood purses at high school either. Just carry a -1- frakkin' backpack. She brushed past me, as if we hadn't been having 0- a meaningful, "hey"- fi lled conversation.

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"Hey!" I called to her loudly. This time she turned to look at me.

Her expression read no recognition. "I have a message from Becca Mason."

"Oh yeah?" She put her hands on her hips and waggled her head like a bobblehead version of herself. "What?"

Obviously, she hadn't been informed of Becca's cancer. Or maybe she was that cold of a skag. Either way, it was my job to tell her off .

I said the fi rst thing that came to my mind. "You're a scene- chewing, talentless tart who needs to pull the jeggings out of your camel- toe."

I looked pointedly at her too- defi ned crotch area, then whipped around on my gym- shoed heels and walked out. She clacked after me.

"Becca told you to tell me that?" Her mouth was agape. I saw a gray pile of gum dangling on her tongue.

"Not in those words exactly. I put my own gentle touch on them.

Becca would have been more eloquent, but, alas, she's not here right now to talk to you. I hope I made a suitable replacement."

Lottie sputtered and sighed, a look of disgust on her face. "You tell that b.i.t.c.h she'll never make the lead roles this year now that I'm back."

"You can tell her. When she gets done with chemo."

"What?" Lottie's head shrunk back, her eyes opened wide.

"Becca has cancer. She wanted me to tell you you suck, in case she dies and doesn't have the chance to do it herself."

"You're kidding. That's horrible. She said that?"

Sometimes I don't realize how awful I can sound until I see the person's face react to my words. Becca would never have the nerve to say what I did, and even if she did, would she have wanted to?

"You know what? Forget it. I just, like, went off my meds or --1 something."

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I began walking away, cursing my social inept.i.tude. Lottie clacked after me and yanked me around by my arm.

"Does Becca really have cancer?" Her look was genuine con- cern, not actorly fakeness topped with perfect lip gloss. I shook away her gripping hand, met her eyes, and blankly answered, "Yes."

"Tell her I hope she gets better soon. Tell her"- she considered her words-"there won't be any compet.i.tion without her."

I gulped. "I will." We stood looking at each other for a minute, until I'd had enough and turned away. "I gotta go," I mumbled, and tripped over my feet, not getting away fast enough.

Apparently I was moving too fast, looking back over my stupid, insensitive, cold- as- ice shoulder, because I slammed right into the chest of Leo Dietz.

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CHAPTER.

14.

I looked up at Leo, a tad out of breath.

"Running from some zombies?" he questioned.

"Something like that." I looked down at his shoes, identical to my ratty black Chucks, except for the ma.s.sive size diff erence. My expression must have been somewhat telling. Why was it that I never said the appropriate thing, but my face betrayed me and showed off every emotion?

"You okay?" He gently held his knuckle under my chin to raise my head. It was so strangely comforting and annoyingly masculine, I wanted to suck on his fi ngertips in the middle of the hallway.

"Just put my foot in my mouth. Maybe two feet. I can't do any- thing right even when I'm trying to do right by someone."

"I don't know what that means. But I'm guessing you probably do a lot of things right." He let go of my chin and stuff ed his hand into his army jacket pocket.

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wouldn't be dead and Becca wouldn't have cancer. I know that's f.u.c.king stupid." I cut myself off . I had a lot more to say on the matter, but I'd done enough talking earlier to fi ll my a.s.shole quotient for the month.

"I don't think it's f.u.c.king stupid. I think s.h.i.+t like that all the time.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong person. What if. All that bulls.h.i.+t."

We stood in the hallway, the cloud of my idiocracy hovering over us. "Come with me." He grabbed my hand and pulled me along.

"I can't leave school. I have a quiz in AP History this afternoon,"