Chapter Eight

Caleb

I'll admit, when Carlie suddenly appeared amidst the tables clinging to Stevie Jackson, I was more than a little bit surprised. She was whispering something to him with a devilish light in her eyes, something that made him smile. As Delaney disappeared from view under the table, all I could focus on was the way their hands were clasped together so effortlessly.

Every muscle in my body yearned to slide down in my seat and make myself invisible, but I hadn't gotten where I was by being a wimp. Instead, ignoring the feelings of confusion and vexation raging through me, I sat up straight and lifted a slice of cheese pizza to my lips, forcing myself to take a bite even as the pair approached.

Two seconds later, Carlie saw me.

At first her gaze merely dusted over me. Then her eyes snapped back, meeting mine, and a sudden look of horror dawned upon her features. She ripped herself away from Stevie, gasping. It only took a moment for her to compose herself, but by that time Stevie had noticed her shock and seen me as well.

"Caleb," Carlie said slowly, stretching a plastic smile across her lips, "fancy meeting you here." Though she seemed completely collected, I saw her fingers twitch as she spoke. Obviously, she hadn't intended for this encounter to happen any more than I had, which made us even.

Although, it seemed she had more to incriminate her than I did.

"Ditto," I replied fluidly, setting down my pizza. "Particularly you, Stevie." Keeping a poker face, I tried to pretend like none of this bothered me, when in reality I was ready to explode in a fit of rage.

"Not that it's any of my business," I continued sarcastically, "but what are you both doing here?"

To his credit, Stevie looked genuinely contrite as he stared intently at the tiled floor beneath his feet. Carlie shifted for a moment, her lips twisting with unmistakable discomfort. She glanced around nervously, as if searching for an answer in the air, and pulled at the hem of her too-short black dress. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes lit on something on my table and widened.

"I could ask the same of you," she retorted, her usual indignation back at full blast. "Obviously, you have company as well." Fury made her nostrils flare as she stabbed a finger at Delaney's piece of pizza, still sitting untouched on its plate.

I cursed mentally, but wiped my face clean of a reaction. "Maybe I just like using two plates."

"Don't feed me that crap, Caleb. I know you, and you wouldn't go out alone on a Sunday night. So 'fess up. Who is she, and where did she go?"

I tried not to glance down, where Delaney was hiding. "I don't think you're in any position to be interrogating me like this."

Carlie's eyes narrowed to slits. "Stevie," she said quietly, without looking at him, "maybe you should leave."

The boy immediately opened his mouth to protest, but Carlie held up a quieting hand, her eyes still on me. "Just go. I'm done with you. You've served your purpose."

Just then, I became aware of eyes on me, and realized that people at a few of the nearby tables were watching our exchange with uncanny interest. A moment later, I found that I recognized every single wide-eyed face staring me down. And then it hit me. All of this was set up by Carlie. It was a clever, Rank-boosting orchestration, and my appearance was the only flaw.

A sick feeling weighed down my stomach.

Carlie, catching my momentarily disconcerted expression, smiled with infuriating smugness. She leaned her hands on the edge of the table, swishing her blonde hair so it caught the light.

"Yes, Caleb," she sneered. "Look around you. There are people from school sitting all around us. So if you won't tell me who your little date is, they will."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Unlike some certain people here, I am definitely not on a date. Besides, even if I was, I don't know why you'd be so concerned." Those last words came out bitter, and I eyed Stevie with such a venomous glare that he slunk out of my view.

Despite the facade I was so carefully maintaining, I was hurt by the fact that Carlie was cheating on me. Keeping her guessing on my "date's" whereabouts was only partially distracting me.

Carlie stepped forward, closer to me, looking dangerously beautiful in her tight dress and cunning smile. Her left foot disappeared under the table. Seconds later, a muffled cry came up from beneath me. I winced.

My girlfriend froze, her face going slack. Then, with surprising grace considering her outfit, she ducked down and whipped up the table cloth. Now even more people were staring, not just Carlie's set-ups.

"You have got to be kidding me!" she shrieked. "This Loser? I expected Samantha Markowitz, or many even Bethany Hines. But her? I thought you'd have better taste."

I clenched my teeth as Delaney's head appeared, a look of shock on her face. Rising to her feet, Carlie glared.

"Get the hell up, Loser," she snapped. After a moment of hesitation, Delaney stood up and brushed off her sweater, looking Carlie in the eye with a distinctly surprising lack of fear. Even when Carlie stepped closer to her, she hardly flinched.

"What made you think that you could just take my boyfriend from me?"

Delaney lifted her chin. "I thought no such thing."

"Then why did you try?"

I interjected. "Carlie, it wasn't like that, Delaney was just—" But I was silenced with a look.

"You can shut up now, thank you."

Anger flooded me, and I leaped to my feet. "I wouldn't be talking either if I were you, Carlie. You've obviously had this all planned out from the start. Let me guess, another Rank-booster? But then again, I'm sure I'll hear all about your little plan when my parents give me a lecture on how terrible I am for breaking up with you."

I saw a butterfly of surprise flit through her eyes. "You're breaking up with me?"

"I am," I confirmed. I knew my parents would give me hell for it later, and a part of my mind told me that I was acting without thinking. But it wasn't my thoughts driving me, it was fury, and I had little control over my actions.

"But..." Carlie stumbled back, a hand flying to her lips. "B-but...I love you!"

I smiled dryly. "You know, they say that if you tell a lie enough times, you begin to believe it yourself. You don't love me, Carlie. You never have, and you never will. Better that we end it right here, right now. And anyway, you had your show. Your Rank will be fine.

"In other words, babe," I said, "it's over."

Carlie stared at me open-mouthed, lips quivering and eyes wide. For a split second, I thought I caught a snip of satisfaction dash across her pretty face. But in an instant it was gone, and Carlie burst into tears and, head in her hands, ran out of the restaurant, sobbing all the way.

○●○●○●○

"I'm so, so sorry," I said for probably the fiftieth time as the car pulled up in front of Delaney's house. The girl next to me sat rigid, eyes hard behind her glasses. I groaned, trying not to think about how the night had gone so horribly wrong.

"Yeah, I get it," Delaney snapped. "You've told me." She didn't get out of the car right away; her hand rested on the door handle, but her mouth was slightly open as if she had something more to say. I waited, but she merely sighed.

After Carlie left, Stevie had followed suit. Gradually, the attention of my peers turned away from our table, and they went back to their meals. Despite the soft music playing and the chatter from elsewhere in the restaurant, the air felt heavy and silent.

Delaney had one hand on the table, and it was shaking. A few strands of dark hair were falling into her face, but she made no move to push them back.

"I'm sorry," I murmured lamely, for lack of anything else to say. Delaney looked at me then, her face twisted up strangely.

"Take me home, please," she said. I left money on the table, and we left, ignoring the stares that followed us out.

Delaney said nothing to me during the ride except once, to give directions. I plugged the destination in silently, wishing that for once, I could actually drive the car. At least it would give me something to do.

When fully automatic vehicles were developed, the legal driving age was lowered to fourteen. All cars still had classic steering mechanisms built in, but we weren't allowed to use them until the age of eighteen. But even once passing that age, most people continued using auto, just for the sake of convenience.

"I'm sorry," I repeated again, glancing at Delaney sideways. The autopilot light was blinking blue, waiting for me to tell it where to go.

Delaney glared at her lap, refusing to meet my eyes. "Just stop, alright? Enough is enough." As she got out of the car, I wondered if my incessant apologies were all she was referring to.

She slammed the door forcefully, but I rolled down the window and called out her name. She stopped, but didn't turn around.

I felt like a total jerk saying it, but I did anyway. "So, I'll talk to you later then? About the..." The look she gave me actually silenced me.

"We'll see," she called. "If I actually decide to forgive you."

And then it dawned on me, the reason why Delaney didn't trust me, the reason she was so angry with me. She'd expected something like this to happen all along. Except that she thought I was involved. At the same time, though, she had a hard time believing I'd had a part in Carlie's scheme. That was the look I had seen on her face earlier: indecision.

"Hey, Delaney," I shouted, catching her just as she was unlocking her front door. She glanced over her shoulder. "I had nothing to do with Carlie's plan. You know that, right?"

Lips pursed and eyes downcast, Delaney hesitated for a second. The she nodded. "Yeah, of course," she yelled back, without conviction. "I know."

Then, with a small wave, she disappeared into her house, leaving no sign in the darkness that she'd even been there. Sighing, I keyed my address into the autopilot and leaned back against the seat, but I couldn't relax. As the car drove me home through Seattle's busy streets, I could only worry.

About Carlie, and how angry she would be the next day. About my parents, and what they'd say upon learning of the break-up. About my classmates, and the gossip they'd spread and were already spreading.

But most of all, about Delaney, and her reaction to all of this. She didn't trust me anymore—not that she ever had in the first place. I knew that Carlie would ruin her, and she would blame me. I cursed myself for being so careless in the first place, for not anticipating an event like this. Now, the chances that Delaney would help me were terrifyingly slim. Because, despite her agreement with my claim of innocence, she wouldn't be swayed so easily. I knew I'd had no part in it, but Delaney didn't.

And I was the last person she would believe.