Perfect Revenge Read online

  Perfect Revenge

  K.L. Denman

  orca currents

  Copyright © 2009 K.L. Denman

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced

  or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Denman, K.L., 1957-Perfect revenge / written by K.L. Denman.

  (Orca currents)

  ISBN 978-1-55469-103-6 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-55469-102-9 (pbk.)

  I. Title. II. Series.

  PS8607.E64P47 2009 jC813’.6 C2008-907664-8

  Summary: Stripped of her popularity, Lizzie is willing to do anything to exact her revenge. She’s even willing to turn to magic.

  First published in the United States, 2009

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2008942005

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover design by Teresa Bubela

  Cover photography by Getty Images

  Orca Book Publishers Orca Book Publishers

  PO Box 5626 Station B PO Box 468

  Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA

  V8R 6S4 98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper.

  12 11 10 09 • 4 3 2 1

  For Mom, who exemplifies the beauty of empathy and the joy found in laughter.

  I invoke the power of three,

  But stand aside to relate,

  There’s a duo found in trinity,

  Kindred spirits who create.

  She of the high meadows,

  And the goddess of the moon,

  They peer among the shadows

  For word-spells out of tune.

  I thank this special pair

  Without naming, not this time,

  For while they’re not so holy,

  They would spare you this rhyme.

  The universe is full of magical things, patiently

  waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

  —Eden Phillpotts

  chapter one

  Everything is going my way. It’s no accident that this is how it is. I’ve earned it. Like this morning, I put on my new skirt and my new lip gloss, and the mirror says it’s all perfect. Combine that with my amazing shiny hair, and I’m good to go.

  It’s too bad I’m only going to school, but that’s okay. If nothing else, school is great for hanging with my group of friends. Not just any group, the group in my grade. They’re gathered in the usual place, the covered area by the side door. When I get there, everyone’s all, “Hey, Lizzie! How’s it going, Lizzie? Oooh! That skirt is hot! Where’d you get it? You always find the best stuff!”

  And then, a whisper, “There he is! Omigod, Liz, it’s him.”

  It is him. Kyle, my crush.

  “Lizzie, don’t look now, but he’s walking this way!”

  I don’t look. I say something to Haley about her hair. I pretend that Kyle doesn’t exist right until the last minute when I can feel him passing. And then I look. It’s no more than a quick glance in his direction, totally casual. Our eyes connect. I smile.

  He smiles back!

  And that’s it. He goes by and I laugh with my friends like it was nothing. Of course, they saw the smile. Haley says, “He likes you, Liz. I can tell. He is so over Rachel.”

  Rachel, the pathetic wannabe.

  It’s like this. I am in the group of girls who have “it.” We naturally shine. If the girls in our grade were an eye-shadow palette, my group would be the main color base, the glowing center. The other groups would be the smaller pockets of color, optional extras. Sometimes their colors blend with ours. Rachel’s copycat group is like a beige highlight, useful sometimes— but not necessary. Rachel so wishes she could be part of us, like she once was.

  She still gets to talk to us sometimes. She still has access to certain information, like if one of us wants something, she hears about it. So she knew about my interest in Kyle, and she had the nerve to move in on him anyway. It was just, like, so wrong of her to do that. This is why I had to do what I did.

  I turn to Haley. “They lasted for, what, five days?”

  She giggles. “If that. Once he heard about you know what, he was done with her.”

  I shrug and say, “Did I mention how nice it is that your Josh is best friends with my Kyle?”

  She nods. “You did mention it. But he’s not your Kyle yet, girl.”

  I blink at her. “You know it’s going to happen. You saw his smile. He wants me. And you know he’s in my science class, right?”

  She does an eye roll. “I think you might have told me, like, fifty times.”

  “That is so not the point. It’s just that I think it would be perfect to get him for a lab partner. Any ideas on how I can make that happen?”

  Her brow wrinkles in thought, but then she sighs. “Sorry. The only thing I’ve got is, you ask the teacher for a switch. But then he could stick you with anyone, right? Although...”

  “What?” I ask.

  Haley arches her brows. “How are your grades in science?”

  It’s my turn to do an eye roll.

  “Then how about this. You tell the teacher you need a better partner, someone who’s good at the labs. Kyle is really smart.”

  “He is?” I ask.

  “Oh yeah, for sure. Didn’t you know that?” Haley blinks a few times, waiting for me to show gratitude for this information. When I merely shrug, she adds, “Josh told me that Kyle gets, like, ninety-five percent on everything. He studies really hard.”

  “Are you kidding?” I need a moment to consider this. Kyle is cute and he’s smart? Do I want a boyfriend who’s smarter than me? Hmmm. On the other hand...I grin at Haley and say, “It’s worth a try, right?”

  Science isn’t until last period. The day drags past—an off day with no more Kyle sightings. When the wait is finally over, I get to class a bit early. As I’m walking in, Rachel is walking out. She says, “Oh. Hey, Lizzie. How’s it going?”

  I give her my widest smile and say, “Great. How’s it going with you?”

  She smiles back. “It’s all good. I’m glad we ran into each other. I have something for you.” She pulls a folded wad of paper from her purse and holds it out.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Take it,” she urges. “It’s a gift. Just to show there’s no hard feelings.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Hard feelings? Why would there be hard feelings?”

  She shrugs. “No reason. Anyway, I just want to give you this. Here.”

  I have no choice but to take the paper. “Thanks,” I say, as I stuff it into my purse.

  “You’re welcome,” she says. There’s something in her eyes that doesn’t match her smile, and I get a little chill.

  chapter two

  The chill from Rachel melts when I spot Kyle on the other side of the lab. He’s early too. I take my seat and gaze in the general direction of the teacher. Mr. Sparks happens to be standing near Kyle, and when I slide my glance a little to the left, omigod! Our eyes meet. Not mine and Mr. Sparks’ eyes, mine and Kyle’s.

  Kyle grins and stands up. He’s coming my way when Mr. Sparks says, “Be seated, everyone. Books on the floor. Pens and calculators only for this exam.”
<
br />   Exam?

  Someone asks, “Are we allowed scrap paper?”

  Mr. Sparks says, “Yes, scrap paper is allowed. But be careful. I’ll be checking that the scrap is blank.”

  Exam?

  I turn to my current lab partner, Mandy. She’s okay, totally dope for someone in the optional shadow colors. The way our school just randomly sticks us in classes, backup people like her are necessary for social survival. I ask her, “Did you know we’re having an exam today?”

  “Wow,” she says, “can you believe it?”

  “Did the teacher even tell us?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Should I ask him?”

  I blink at her. “Sure.”

  Mandy puts up her hand. When Mr. Sparks notices, he says, “Yes?”

  “Um, Mr. Sparks. Did you, like, warn us about this?”

  He sighs. “Yes, Mandy. I mentioned it several times. And it’s been posted on the blackboard for a week.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Mr. Sparks sweeps his gaze around the room, sees that most everyone is settled and starts handing out the exam. I sneak a peek at Kyle, and he looks totally serious, like he’s already focused on his test.

  I have no idea what this exam is about. Periodic table of the elements? Forms of energy? What have we been doing in here anyway? I know what I’ve been doing, and it wasn’t science. Unless a crush is part of biology? The thought makes me giggle, but I cover that up with a cough and scrounge in my purse for a pen. Oh, and some scrap paper too. That’s allowed.

  My hand closes around the wad of paper Rachel gave me. I pull that out along with a pen. Mr. Sparks drops the test on our table and moves on. When everyone has a copy, he says, “All right, class. You’ll have the entire period to write the exam. If you finish before the bell, please remain seated and use that time to review your answers. This counts for twenty percent of your final grade. You may begin.”

  A tense silence descends on the room— the silence that only happens during exams. The only sounds are those of paper shuffling, throats clearing and the scratching of pens. I look at the first question.

  1. Gastric juice is composed of mucus, hydrochloric acid, water and digestive enzymes. The purpose of the mucus is to:

  A. digest proteins into smaller particles

  B. prevent the gastric juice from digesting the stomach

  C. assist the hydrochloric acid with digestion

  D. prevent heartburn from occurring

  I feel sick. Mucus? I didn’t pay attention when Mr. Sparks talked about that stuff. I couldn’t. I mean, who wants to know about mucus? Not me. Isn’t science supposed to be about satisfying curiosity? Who was the geek that was curious about mucus?

  I glance at my wad of paper and realize that this makes me curious. What does Rachel’s note say? Judging by the size of it, she had a lot to say.

  I unfold the wad and...what the heck? It looks like the science test. She gave me her test? Where’s the note? I start flipping through the pages, looking on both sides, and I can’t find her note anywhere. And then Mr. Sparks is behind me, peering over my shoulder.

  “Well, well,” he says. “Lizzie Lane. This is a surprise.”

  “Excuse me?” I say.

  “Absolutely,” he says. His voice gets louder. “You are excused. You may go directly to the principal’s office and wait for me there.”

  “Uh...why?”

  He snorts. Literally snorts. “The consequences of cheating aren’t obvious?”

  “Cheating?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake! I find you with my exam answer key and you’re going to pretend it’s invisible? Or am I supposed to believe it just magically appeared on your table?”

  “Answer key?” He’s getting through to me now. “You mean this exam has the answers on it?” I look again, and sure enough, the answers are typed right beside the questions. I wasn’t looking for type print, I was looking for handwriting. Rachel’s handwriting.

  Rachel.

  She did this.

  “Elizabeth. The principal’s office. Now!”

  “I can explain.”

  Mr. Sparks shakes his head. “I’m sure you can. And you’ll have your chance in the office. Are you going?”

  I have no choice. My hands tremble as I gather my purse and books. My face burns. My legs feel wobbly. I cast a look around the room, and all eyes are on me. All, that is, except Kyle’s. The way he is so harshly not looking at me makes me feel he’d rather look at mucus.

  chapter three

  It’s easy to give people the wrong impression. Sometimes, I even give myself the wrong impression. Like thinking life was good and that I was in control of it.

  I have to wait outside the principal’s office until after the final bell. When Mr. Sparks finally shows up, and I tell them what happened, they don’t believe me.

  Mr. Sparks says, “Rachel is a model student, while you, Lizzie, quite frankly, are not.”

  “Science isn’t exactly my thing,” I say.

  Mr. Sparks ignores this and keeps talking. “Also, you’re often late to class and today I noticed that you were early.”

  The principal says, “We will be contacting your parents.”

  Mr. Sparks says, “Your grade on the exam is zero.”

  Not to be outdone, the principal leans forward and says, “And our usual policy for cheating is suspension from school.”

  I feel like I’m going to cry.

  “However,” he adds, “since this is your first offence, we will consider one week of detention. This will depend upon you.”

  “Me?” I squeak.

  “That’s correct. If you return tomorrow with a written apology for Mr. Sparks, you may be allowed to serve a week of detention.”

  Such a deal, I think. I desperately want to get out of there and run to the comfort of my circle of friends, so I simply nod. They release me.

  The empty hallways feel creepy, and I don’t even bother to go to my locker. I head straight for the covered area, but when I get there, nobody’s there! Not even Haley. I pull out my cell phone to call her, but the battery is dead. It gets worse. I have to walk home by myself. It feels so strange and lonely. I keep my eyes down. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, Lizzie Lane, walking alone.

  When I finally get home, the house is empty too. Mom and Dad are still at work, which is normal, but it’s not too often that I go home alone. I usually bring friends with me or I go to their place. It’s like I’ve entered some weird alternate universe.

  I grab the phone and head out into the backyard to call Haley. She finally answers on the fourth ring and her voice sounds cold. “Oh. Hey, Lizzie.”

  That’s it? No stream of questions about what happened to me? I say, “Omigod, Haley! You won’t believe it.”

  There’s a tiny space of silence, and then she says, “Actually, I heard.”

  “You did? So you know about Rachel?”

  “Rachel?” Haley still sounds cold. “What does she have to do with anything?”

  “Everything!” I yell. “She made it look like I was cheating on a science exam.”

  “Oh, come on, Lizzie. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

  I say, “Huh?”

  “Look, everyone knows what happened. I mean, enough people saw it, right? And I can figure things out too, you know. Like, I tell you that Kyle’s really smart so you have to try and be smart too? Just so you know, he hates you now.”

  I can’t believe this is happening. It must be some sort of nightmare. I give my hair a tug to see if I can feel it. I don’t know why that’s supposed to change nightmares, but I’ve heard of people doing stuff like that.

  “So yeah,” Haley says, “I’ve gotta go. We’re all going to the mall.”

  “But,” I splutter, “you don’t even know what happened! Rachel gave me that answer key. She said it was a gift. I thought it was a note.”

  “That’s pathetic, girl. She isn’t even in your class. You know, you’ve
been really mean to Rachel. She’s not a complete loser. And you telling everyone about her lopsided boobs to get her away from Kyle—was that even true?”

  “I told you, she showed me! In grade six. She has to stuff one side of her bra to even out. And I’m not the one who wrote it on the bathroom walls or told Josh! You—”

  She cuts me off. “Yeah, I so believed you. It’s not like she could prove it wrong, is it? Not unless she wants to go around flashing everyone. And now you’re trying to pin your cheating on her too? Get real!” And Haley hangs up.

  I stare at the phone. I throw the phone. If Rachel was here right now, I’d throw her too. Or something. My head feels like it’s on fire, my stomach too. In fact, my entire body is burning. Bit by bit, the extent of damage caused by Rachel’s little gift starts to sink in. I’m in trouble at school. My parents are going to be furious. My friends have ditched me. My crush hates me.

  I’ve never felt so much anger. Rachel is going to pay for this! And then I collapse on the lawn and start sobbing, just wailing like I’ve never wailed before.

  I do that for a while, long enough to feel like a blob of melted jelly. I start hiccupping, and that makes me cry more. There’s nothing left of me but hopeless pain and rage. And then I hear a voice. It occurs to me that I’ve been hearing it for a while.

  It says, “Hey. Are you hurt? You need help?”

  I lift my head and look around. There’s the back door, the patio, the fence. I hear it again.

  “It’s Lizzie, right? Are you okay?”

  There’s a tree by the fence, and the voice is coming from there. From the tree. That’s it, for sure I’ve lost my mind now too. I moan and lie back on the grass.

  “I’m coming over, okay?”

  I sit up again and stare at the tree. It’s coming over? Part of me knows I better get out of there, fast, but my body refuses to move. My brain is saying, “go,” but my body’s just not getting it.

  Sure enough, the tree starts rustling, and I think I’m going to faint now, just check out, when a long skinny leg emerges from the leaves. That leg is followed by another. Both legs are clad in striped socks. Seriously, red-and-black-striped socks.