The Comeback Part 9

"Got it nailed," he said. "What about you?"

"Almost," I said. In reality, I was memorizing Angie's stage moves as well as my own, which meant it was taking me a little longer.

"Give me a call if you want to study," he said. "I could always use the extra practice."

Monet grabbed a bag of Cheetos and some sodas. "Are you done monopolizing my friend?" she said.

He said, "Not quite. So, Sophie, what did you think about-?"

He didn't finish his sentence because Monet smacked him with the Cheetos bag.

"Hey, I was going to eat those," I said.

Dev snickered. "Be my guest."

When I got home, the answering machine in the kitchen was blinking, but I ignored it. No one called me on that line.

I checked for messages on my cell, but there weren't any, yet another sign of my waning popularity. But even more vexing was Stephanie's lack of response. I mean, it wasn't like she had anything better to do than call me.

I was in my room when Mom got home from work. "Sophie, there's a message from Stephanie on the phone downstairs."

Stephanie turned out to be the information jackpot. Angie had gone to Adams with her and they had both attended Eisenhower before Angie transferred to Kennedy.

I did my nails as she talked, listening with only half an ear while she rambled on and on about how wonderful Angie was. I was trying to decide between pale pink or a bright orange when something she said caught my attention.

"And we even went to fat camp together the summer before eighth grade. I lost fifteen pounds," Stephanie bragged, "but Angie lost thirty."

Fat camp? I didn't have any room to talk, especially since I hadn't been exactly model thin myself in those days. Still wasn't, but I'd learned to make the most of what I had. So had Angie. But could I use it against her? I couldn't sink so low, could I?

Apparently, I could.

"Do you happen to have any pictures of you and Angie lying around?" I tried to keep the excitement from my voice.

"Forget I said anything," Stephanie said quickly. "I heard all about those photos of you that Haley Owens plastered around school. I don't want anything like that to happen to Angie."

"You heard wrong," I said sharply. "Haley is a friend of mine. She'd never do that."

"Some friend," Stephanie said. "If that's how the popular kids treat their friends, I'm glad I'm not popular."

"I'm telling you, you're mistaken. It wasn't Haley," I said, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

"I'm sure you're right," Stephanie said soothingly.

"I am right. Now, do you have any photos, or what?"

"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about fat camp," she fretted. "Angie asked me not to. Don't say anything, please."

I thought quickly. "I'm writing a piece about her," I lied. "It's a surprise-an inspirational piece about how she triumphed over her weight problem. It's for church."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

We didn't even go to church, but Stephanie obviously didn't know that.

"I guess it would be all right. I'll scan them and e-mail them to you."

"Can you do it tonight?" I said eagerly.

"Sure," she said. "I'll do it right now. What's your e-mail address?"

Ten minutes later, the incriminating photos were delivered to my in-box.

I stared at the photos. One was a group shot of the entire camp. In the other one, a much larger Angie wore shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt. You could clearly see the words ANDERSON HEALTH CAMP FOR GIRLS stamped across the front of her s.h.i.+rt.

I hesitated for about a second. Angie would know where those photos had come from and Stephanie would be in deep trouble. Angie didn't strike me as the forgive-and-forget type, but I had to do it. I told myself that Stephanie had to know that I had been lying. She was on her own.

Would tras.h.i.+ng Angie make me feel any better? She'd been fat in middle school? So what? I had been a pudgy little dweeb. Did that mean she deserved to have her secret revealed to the entire school?

I stared at the photo. Angie's hair had been different then. Apparently, she was a bottle blonde, but it was the absolute self-loathing on her face that captured my attention. I had known that feeling well, especially in middle school.

Part of me wanted to forget about it and move on. But I couldn't. Angie Vogel was going to find out who the real queen bee was at Kennedy High. Those pictures would make sure of it.

Chapter 13.

At rehearsal, I worked the word Anderson into every conversation. Once I even flubbed a line and called Dev "Anderson" instead of Lucentio.

Finally, Angie pulled me aside. "Look, I know you know about fat camp."

I was stunned. I never thought she'd actually voluntarily admit it.

"I know you hate me, and maybe it was kind of c.r.a.ppy the way Connor and I broke the news to you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Kind of c.r.a.ppy?"

"Okay, it was awful," she said. "I didn't mean for him to tell you in front of everybody. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," I said slowly. She seemed sincere.

I was just starting to think I'd been wrong about her, but her next words changed my mind.

"Sophie, I really like him," she said. "And it's clear that you two were over before I ever entered the picture. It's just pathetic the way you're hanging on to the past."

I was fuming, but instead of reacting, I shrugged. She stared at me in exasperation before walking away. I seemed to be getting a lot of that these days.

That night, I posted the fat camp pictures all over the DramaDivas Web page. Anonymously. I made sure to post comments at every single junior and senior page I could think of. It took me half the night, but by morning, the halls at Kennedy were buzzing with news that Angie Vogel, who most everyone seemed to think was perfection personified, had been fat.

My plan was working. I was sure that the image-conscious crew known as the popular people would give her the cold shoulder. Connor might even break up with her.

I watched as she received a little taste of what I'd been experiencing the past few weeks-whispered comments, stares, and outright cold shoulders. Some people, of course, treated her just the same.

"It's working," I said gleefully to Monet.

"What is?"

I pointed to the table where Angie and Connor were having lunch alone. It was as if fat (even former fat) was contagious and they were in quarantine. To my dismay, Connor didn't even seem to notice that there was no one else around him. He was busy staring into Angie's eyes.

"Haven't you seen the fat camp photos?" I said.

Monet shrugged. "Sure, I have. What's the big deal? So she needed to lose a little weight. She lost it."

"That's not the point," I said. "The point is that when I sent those pictures-"

"Wait. You sent those pictures?" She slammed down her juice box. Oh, no. Monet had to be seriously angry to mistreat her juice. "Since when did popularity matter so much to you that you'd be willing to trash someone else?"

I knew she wouldn't approve, which is why I hadn't planned on telling her. She was right. I should really learn that count-to-ten-before-opening-my-mouth thing.

But Monet was too angry to listen. "I knew popularity mattered to you, but I guess I didn't realize just how much. This is pathetic."

The lunch bell rang before she could finish reading me the riot act, and I made my escape. I had a free period after lunch, so I decided to go to the library and check my DramaDivas page.

Wow, there were a lot of new comments. I scrolled down and was horrified to see how many of them were nasty. "Sophie's a b.i.t.c.h and we're glad Connor dumped her" seemed to be the general theme.

There was a mention of Angie's page on one of the postings, so I quickly searched for it. There were quite a few postings about her fat camp, but Alexa's was the one that caught my eye. "U R MY HERO," it read in giant purple letters.

Gag. I was tempted to post something anonymously, but I'd wait until I was home. I didn't want anyone looking over my shoulder.

"Miss Donnelly, is this the best use of your study time?" Mrs. Hubbard's voice broke into my thoughts.

"No, Mrs. Hubbard," I said obediently and signed off. I spent the remainder of my free period plotting to regain my power. With Angie out of the way, tossed firmly into the leper category, I would regain my true status.

I went through the rest of the day with a smile on my face. Even Mr. Fanelli yelling at me at rehearsal didn't faze me.

I was at the vending machine during snack when I ran into Alexa again. This time I was careful to stay well away from her grubby little hands. Still, some good PR couldn't hurt.

"Hi, Alexa," I said with forced cheerfulness.

"Sophie," she said, "have you heard the news about Angie?"

I tried to repress the glee in my voice. "I think I heard something about that. Fat camp, right? I guess she's having a hard time."

"She says that everyone finding out about fat camp is the best thing that's ever happened to her. And that she owes it all to me," she said importantly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Angie's new contract with my mother's weight-loss clinic," she replied.

"What? When did that happen?"

"When I saw those 'before' photos of her, I knew she'd be perfect for the new campaign."

"Yeah, perfect." I couldn't seem to muster a thought.

Her eyes gleamed. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Whoever posted all those pictures of her actually did her a favor."

"That is ironic." Alexa knew it was me, I was sure of it. Her next words confirmed my suspicions.

"Maybe that person will think twice before putting someone down just because she's fat-or used to be fat."

And with that, she flounced off.

Chapter 14.

Thanks to me, Angie was even more popular. She was suddenly a huge celebrity, at least at Kennedy High.

"Every time I try to regain my popularity, it goes horribly wrong," I moaned to Monet. "Why is that?"

"I don't know," Monet replied. "Karma?"

Dev showed up as we were leaving for lunch and wanted to b.u.m a ride.

"We're hitting Taco Bell," Monet said. "So if you want Wicked Jack's, you'll have to mooch a ride from someone else."

Dev looked at me knowingly, but didn't comment. "Taco Bell's cool," he said.

Monet and Scott went to order and Dev and I grabbed a table.

"Do you want to come over on Friday night?" Dev said.

"What about Beth?" I said. Was Dev asking me out? My heart rate accelerated, then slowed. Was it a pity date?

"She has a track meet out of town," he said, sounding perplexed. "Besides, I don't think she wants to watch us prep for the play."

The play. Of course. He wasn't asking me out. I didn't examine why I didn't feel more relieved.