But upsetting enough to have turned him preppy?
‘So, Nikki, just to get you up to speed,’ Mr Greer said, startling me from my full-on open-mouthed astonishment, ‘we’re doing five-minute persuasive arguments on a topic of the student’s choice. I won’t expect you to have anything ready for this week, but if you feel up to it you can try next week.’
‘OK,’ I said quickly, tearing my gaze from Christopher and sliding into my seat. I automatically flipped open my brand-new notebook — anything to take my mind off what had happened to Christopher — and stared blindly straight ahead.
But it was really hard to concentrate on what McKayla was saying. I couldn’t stop thinking about Christopher and his hair, even though, now that my back was to him, I couldn’t see him any more.
What had happened to him? Had the Walking Dead assimilated him, just like they had my little sister? How could this have happened in such a short time? I realize I’d been gone over a month, but still! How could he have cut his hair like that? He’d resisted the Commander for so long-
And then I died, and bang… resistance was suddenly futile? No! No, that was just so wrong!
Not that his haircut looked bad. Quite the opposite, actually. Even Frida would have to admit Christopher looked good. Really good. This was an alarming development I wished she’d warned me about. Supposing Christopher, now that he had this new look, was actually attracting female attention? I mean, besides mine.
No. It wasn’t possible. The only female attention Christopher had ever attracted before was mine, and he hadn’t even been aware of it (or at least, that I’d been female).
But he looked really, really good now. I mean, I always thought he looked good. But now everyone had to have noticed how good he looked. What if he was going out with someone? Oh, why hadn’t I thought to ask Frida what was going on with him, romantically? A lot can happen in a month — obviously. I mean, look at me. Talk about makeovers… I had a whole new body. Not to mention a new face, name, Social Security number…
As if the fact that I suspected my best friend might be cheating on me with other girls (only not really, because he never knew I’d liked him that way in the first place, plus, he thought I was dead) wasn’t bad enough, I kept getting the feeling that everyone in class was looking at me.
I was probably only being self-conscious.
But a quick glance up from the doodles I was making in my new notebook confirmed it: I wasn’t imagining things… everyone was staring at me. The minute I looked up, every head in the room swivelled quickly away from me… except, when I pretended to drop my pencil and swung down to pick it up and took a quick look in his direction, Christopher’s head.
Christopher’s gaze was fastened on to McKayla.
He hadn’t even noticed me! What was up with that? Why was he even awake anyway? He always slept through first period. Was Christopher going out with McKayla? No way. McKayla was head of TAHS’s business club. Business club. No way could he like her. All she could talk about was how after she graduated from Harvard, she was going to revolutionize Wall Street. Christopher couldn’t like her. He couldn’t possibly…
I could see I was going to make a lot of progress thinking in that direction.
Frustrated, I began doodling harder. I drew a tiny poodle, this one of Cosabella. Lulu had promised last night to look after her while I was in school all day. The poor thing had whined and yelped when she’d seen me leaving the loft without her. I didn’t know much about dogs, but this didn’t seem like the most stable behaviour. Had Nikki really taken her dog EVERYWHERE with her? Because Cosy certainly acted like it was a federal offence if she was left behind.
I was dreading the mess I’d find at home when I got back. I highly doubted Lulu was the most responsible dog-sitter. I was fairly certain there’d be some major carpet-scrubbing to do tonight.
Oh well. Nikki’s fingers needed limbering up anyway. They were basically useless. I couldn’t draw a thing with them… not even a measly poodle. What had Nikki Howard done with her hands all day anyway?
You can only put on so many layers of nail polish, right?
‘Psst.’
I looked over my shoulder, hoping Christopher was the one pssting me. Only he wasn’t. Whitney Robertson smiled at me.
Yeah. Whitney. Smiled. At me.
The next thing I knew, a folded-up piece of paper sailed in my direction. I caught it.
When I unfolded it, I realized it was a note.
A note from Whitney.
I didn’t know what to do. Whitney had never thrown me a note before. I saw her fellow Walking Dead member, Lindsey, twinkle her fingers at me. Like, hello! She was smiling, as well.
Instinctively, and before I could stop myself, I smiled back. Wait! What was I doing? Smiling at the Walking Dead?
Ducking my head so that Nikki’s hair fell down to hide my face, I looked at the note.
Hi! it said, in curlicue writing with a flower dotting the i. Welcome to TAHS! We’re so excited to have you here. I’m Whitney Robertson. I know you probably get this a lot, but seriously — I’myour biggest fan. I know a lot of people say that, but in my case, it’s really true. I’ve been an admirer of your work since you first started back in print ads.
Anyway, I know it must be weird for you, starting a new school and all. So I just wanted to say Hey! And if you have Period B lunch, there’s totally a place for you at our table! We’re by the salad bar. XXX000
Whitney
Then she put her cellphone number.
I stared at that note for a long time. A lot of different responses went through my head as I read and then reread it. I thought about crumpling it up and throwing it back in her face.
Then I thought about writing a response, and saying that I’d heard all about Whitney and how mean she’d always been, and that I wouldn’t sit with her and her friends at lunch if they were the last people on earth.
But I didn’t end up doing either of those things. Because — and I know this sounds bizarre — but I really didn’t think Nikki Howard would do either of those things.
Not that I was actually trying to BE Nikki Howard of course. At least, not at school.
But since I WAS her, I just… I don’t know. I just couldn’t see Nikki Howard — what I knew of her anyway — caring about what some twerpy girl like Whitney wrote to her in a note.
I guess that’s because, when I looked deep down within myself, I just couldn’t be bothered to care about Whitney any more, or her stupid oneupmanship. I had too many other problems.
Like that my best friend couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with me. Still, I knew if I didn’t acknowledge her note at all she’d feel slighted. And I didn’t need to make a new enemy my first day. Even if she wasn’t exactly a NEW enemy.
So I flipped my hair back, turned in my seat and smiled at her.
And something extraordinary happened.
Whitney Robertson blushed.
Seriously. I never thought I’d live to see the day. But her cheeks turned bright pink with pleasure, and she smiled back at me and waved, and Lindsey, behind her, waved too.
And Whitney mouthed, Call me! And pantomimed making a phone call.
I smiled again to acknowledge her, then turned back in my seat. This being Nikki thing was easier — in some ways — than I’d thought it would be.
Whitney was all over me the minute class ended. Which wasn’t cool, because I’d just been about to turn to Christopher and make a little comment as a sort of icebreaker, like, Is this class always this boring, or what?
Only I couldn’t, because the Prom Queen From Hell was on me like ketchup on a steak.
‘How ARE you?’ she hurried over to ask me as soon as the bell rang. ‘I saw on Entertainment Tonight about your… you know. It must be so awful, not being able to REMEMBER anything!’
‘I can remember some stuff,’ I said as I gathered my things. For instance, I could remember all the times Whitney and her friends had laughed at my underwear in the girls’ locker room, because they were Hanes Her Way briefs and not Victoria’s Secret thongs, which is what they all wore.