What If... All the Rumors Were True (2 page)

Motormouth would make a great nickname for Whitney,
Haley thought, watching her classmate babble on.

“It doesn't seem like such a big deal,” Haley said. “Zoe's a musician. She probably just wants to learn the business from professionals.”

“Yuhright,” Whitney scoffed.

Dark, beautiful Zoe Jones had been voted Most Talented, Best All-Around and Most Likely to Be Famous in last year's freshman class, making her a clear and present danger to her older female peers. Whitney was just one of the girls who felt threatened. Zoe was also the current star of the local new-wave pop group Rubber Dynamite, which had won the Hillsdale-Ridgewood Battle of the Bands contest in the spring, mostly on the strength of Zoe's musical talent, beauty and stage prowess. Just another reason for Whitney to fear and revile her.

“Does learning the business involve throwing yourself at Pi-Rex, and offering to do anything, and I mean anything, to go on tour with them?” Whitney asked, her face growing flushed at the thought of the
scandale.

“Maybe she meant ‘anything' like loading amps and setting up mikes,” Haley suggested.

“Well, I heard she did everything but,” Whitney said. “With all of them. That's pretty slutty for a girl who isn't even a sophomore yet.”

Haley was skeptical. She didn't know Zoe all that well, but then, neither did Whitney. “Where did you hear this?” Haley demanded.

“Oh, come on, Miller. Everybody knows about it,” Whitney said. “So it must be true. Now. I've got to run, but I'll see you at school. Oh, and at SAT prep. You're going, right? Big kiss!”

“Right,” Haley said, her mind wandering as Whitney teetered away in her summery high-heeled lime green espadrilles.

SAT prep. Haley vaguely remembered that her mother had mentioned something about signing her up for that. The conversation had taken place on a particularly sweltering day, when the thermometer had topped out at 105 degrees and Haley had vegetated in an almost catatonic state in front of the fan in her room. No wonder it hadn't really registered.

Haley wandered into the teen department and picked out the most neutral pair of jeans she could find—higher-waisted than the lowriders she already owned, which sometimes exposed her underwear and infuriated her parents, but not crazy-high, like mom jeans. The leg was a little fuller than her stovepipes, but not bootcut…. It was a very delicate balancing act, finding just the right pair to go anywhere at any time.

Haley caught up with her mother and little brother at the checkout counter.

“I bought a bow tie,” Mitchell announced, showing off his red plaid Young Republican neckwear.

“Great, Mitch,” Haley said, practically ignoring him.

Joan sighed. “As if coming to the mall weren't bad enough, he insisted on shopping the country club aisles. Welcome to Mitchell's latest phase. Now that he's not a robot anymore, he's turning into Merv Griffin.”

“Who's Merv Griffin?” Haley asked, completely lost.

“Only the greatest entertainer who ever lived,” Mitchell interjected, putting on his new bow tie over his T-shirt.

Joan rolled her eyes. “He was an old talk-show host. What do you kids say we stop off at Golden Dynasty on the way home and pick up some Chinese takeout for dinner?”

“Fine with me,” Haley said. Irene Chen's parents owned the Golden Dynasty, and Irene sometimes worked there. It might be interesting to see who else was hanging around. Like, say, her friend the adorable photographer Devon McKnight.

Joan called in the order on her cell as they carried their bags through the parking lot to their hybrid SUV. Ten minutes later, they were pulling up in front of the Golden Dynasty. Joan handed Haley some cash, and Haley climbed out of the car and walked under the gold-painted dragon that arched over the entrance to the restaurant. Just as she had hoped, Irene was working the hostess station, but there was no sign of Devon or, for that matter, Irene's boyfriend, Shaun.

Irene's jet-black hair was streaked with blue, braided and knotted Princess Leia–style on top of her head. She had a rather large white peony tucked behind one ear, and she wore a white vintage housedress with a red vinyl belt. Her striped black and white leggings led down to gold vintage pumps. “Hey, Haley. I believe this is yours?” Irene handed Haley a large heavy bag that smelled not unpleasantly of hoisin sauce. “Tell your dad I put extra MSG in there just for him.”

“Thanks,” Haley said, smiling knowingly. She could not get over how girly Irene looked. Getting a boyfriend was having a miraculous effect on her friend's wardrobe. “So, what's new since I saw you last?”

Irene shrugged and indicated the restaurant around her. “Do you see anything new around here?”

“I know the feeling,” said Haley, reflecting on her own less-than-exciting summer.

“Of course, anything's better than school,” Irene said. “This year's going to suck worse than usual, too. My father and Shaun's dad have teamed up to get us a tutor. So on top of going to school all day five days a week, I've got to get schooled after school. All because my dad thinks I'll never get into any college if I don't get my GPA up.”

At that moment, Irene's father smiled from the back of the restaurant, waved, pointed to the new Harvard sweatshirt he was wearing, then motioned toward Irene.

“Clearly, he's crazy if he thinks I'm getting in there,” Irene said, swirling her finger in the air next to her head.

Haley smiled and waved back to Mr. Chen.

“I think it's sweet he's being so supportive,” said Haley.

“Whatever. At least he's gotten used to the idea of me spending time with Shaun. Of course, he's insisting Devon join us on the tutoring sessions. And anyone else we can find. He doesn't like the idea of Shaun and me spending so much ‘semi-alone' time together. As if a group would stop us from making out. So, what do you say, you want in?”

“Huh?” Haley asked.

“On our tutoring group,” Irene repeated. “Look, Miller, I know you're a genius and all, but it's free help on your homework. Even Annie Armstrong would accept an offer like that.”

“I'll have to think about it,” Haley said, paying for the food. “See you Monday.” She grabbed the bag and hurried out to the waiting SUV as Irene took out a manicure kit and began filing her nails.

“How's Irene?” Joan asked as Haley climbed into the car and slammed the door.

“The universe is totally off-kilter.”

“What do you mean?” Joan asked.

“Well, Irene's gone glam, and she's…getting a tutor,” Haley said, still perplexed at the thought of her friend actually studying. “She asked me if I wanted to join her. I mean them. Shaun's doing the tutoring sessions too.”

“What about De-von?” Mitchell asked, making kissy faces in Haley's direction. “Are you two gonna quiz each other? What happens if you get one right?”

“Shut up, twerp,” said Haley, shoving Mitchell against the backseat. “I think I liked you better as a robot.”

“That won't work with your SAT prep class,” Joan noted. “There isn't time after school for both and everything else you've got going on. And Barbara Highland thinks it's important for you kids to get in some practice work for these tests. They can be very stressful, from what I hear, and even bright kids like you and Reese can use a little help and reassurance now and then.” Barbara was Reese's mother; that probably meant Haley's hot neighbor was in the class. “It's your decision,” Joan added, pulling out of the Dynasty's long driveway. “But I really think SAT prep is the way to go.”

Haley thought of Reese, and then of Devon, and she wasn't entirely sure she agreed.

It's back-to-school time, and that means back to social cliques, back to gossip and, unfortunately, back to studying. Haley's already got a lot on her plate for her busy junior year. As an upperclassman, she'll have more fun—and more responsibility. But those underclassmen are catching up fast. Could the talk about Zoe Jones possibly be true? Haley has no idea, but she does have a sinking feeling she'll be hearing an awful lot about Zoe this year.

In the meantime, Haley's got to buckle down and get ready for college. Almost everyone in her class—and that means studious Annie and Dave, Sasha, Cecily, Reese and even Coco De Clerq and Whitney Klein—will be taking the same SAT prep course. Not a surprise, really, since the Hillsdale
Sentinelclaimed “the course
is guaranteed to deliver the highest possible SAT scores,” and what Hillsdale parent could resist that promise? Haley knows she could use the help, but on the other hand, a lot of counselors emphasize grade point averages over SATs. Maybe small-group tutoring would actually help her more?

Haley's decision is in your hands. If you think she should follow the crowd—and Reese Highland—to SAT prep,
"SAT PREP"
. If, on the other hand, you think Haley should worry more about boosting her GPA—and spending quality time with Devon McKnight—
"MEET THE TUTOR"
.

Will Haley reach for the Ivies, settle for a safety school or blow off college altogether when the time comes? And for now, will she spend her free periods hitting the books, loading up on extracurricular activities or joyriding through Hillsdale with all the newly licensed drivers in her class? And which boy will she choose to ride with? Hot neighbor Reese? Brooding photographer Devon? Or will a new boy enter the scene…?

For junior year, every decision counts double—particularly every mistake. Rumors will fly about everyone, including Haley Miller. What if…they're all true?

SAT PREP

There are people who test well naturally, and then there are people who work the system.

“T
he college admissions game is tougher than ever, Snoodles,” Perry Miller said as he steered the hybrid SUV into a strip-mall parking lot in downtown Hillsdale. “I see it at Columbia every day. Your mom and I just want you to have your best shot at getting into whatever school you decide you want to attend. I know it's stressful, but the key is to focus on your strengths, and, uh, strengthen them. Even more.”

“Okay,” Haley said skeptically. The problem was, she wasn't sure what her strengths were, exactly. She was smart, but did she have the academic drive of, say, Annie Armstrong? Haley was athletic, but was she soccer-scholarship material? And what about all her other interests? Which one would help her get into her dream school? And for that matter, what was her dream school? “It's all kind of overwhelming,” Haley confessed, looking over at her dad.

“That's why boosting your SAT score is such a good idea.” Perry pulled up in front of a storefront with an
SAT PREP
sign taped on the plate-glass window. A banner splayed across the brick facade promised
THE BEST COURSE AROUND-GARUNTEED
!!!

“Huh,” Haley said. “They misspelled
guaranteed.
That's not a good sign. How much did you and Mom fork over for this?”

“I'm sure it's just a misprint,” Perry said, though he looked a little alarmed. “All their ads seemed legit. And Barbara Highland told me these people got Richie Huber's brother into Dartmouth.”

“Well, if Richie's brother is anything like him, that's a small miracle,” Haley said as she got out of the car, relieved she wasn't a sixth-year senior. The term
stalled adolescence
had been invented for people like Richie Huber. He'd be lucky if he graduated from high school before age twenty-five.

Haley sauntered through the glass door wearing her new jeans and a pale blue and white chiffon top, her hair pinned away from her face with barrettes. She caught a glimpse of her pretty reflection in the window and liked what she saw. Haley's curves had continued to mature over the summer, and her shape was now approaching knockout status. Confidence bolstered, Haley marched up to the receptionist to check in before claiming the only free desk she saw amid a sea of familiar faces. This place might as well have been called the Hillsdale High Annex, Haley noted. Only a few Ridgewood students were sprinkled throughout the crowd. The rest of the eager test takers were Haley's classmates.

Seated on either side of Haley were Sasha Lewis and Annie Armstrong—but it was the desk behind her that Haley was most interested in. That seat belonged to Reese Highland, who took immediate notice as Haley approached. She did her best to ignore him. She was, after all, here to study. And Reese hadn't exactly been attentive for the past three months.

“Hey, Red,” Reese leaned forward and whispered, his breath warm on Haley's neck. “How was your summer?”

“Not bad,” Haley said cryptically.
He's not going to get off that easily,
she thought, taking out a yellow legal pad and two perfectly sharpened number-two pencils, and waited for the lesson to begin.

Dave Metzger sat on Annie's right, nuzzling Annie's hand. Beside him, the tiny savant Hannah Moss buried her head in a math book. On the other side of Sasha, the whole sweater-knotted-over-the-shoulders set—Coco De Clerq, Whitney Klein, Spencer Eton, Cecily Watson and Drew Napolitano—sat in an insular cluster. Haley had heard most of the beautiful people were trying out for the upcoming Hillsdale High production of
A Midsummer Night's Dream—
anything to pump up their transcripts with extracurriculars. On top of that, Coco and Spencer were busily campaigning for Spencer's mother, who was running for governor. Haley checked the room once more and couldn't help but notice that the only person missing from the SAT prep roster was the handsome Spanish exchange student, Sebastian Bodega.

“You wouldn't happen to be looking for Mr. Bodega, would you?” Annie asked as if reading Haley's mind. “I heard he went back to Spain over the summer for good. He's apparently engaged to that model Mia Delgado.”

Haley's eyes grew as wide as saucers. Was this bit of gossip for real?

“That's not it at all,” Dave whispered. “I heard Sebastian got recruited by an Olympic coach, and that he's training down in Florida. Been there since July.”

That would make sense, Haley thought. Sebastian had already broken all sorts of high school records.

Hannah leaned across Dave's desk. “You're both wrong. Well, sort of. Sebastian is coming back this year.”

Haley smiled.

Then Hannah added, “And so is Mia.”

“What?” Annie, Dave and Haley exclaimed simultaneously.

“I helped out with paperwork in Principal Crum's office over the summer,” Hannah explained. “It was the only way I could get a key to the library. Anyway, last week, I saw a folder for Mia among the stack of files for new students. Sebastian was in Miami training all summer, but Mia was there with him.”

Haley gulped. Mia Delgado was about the most gorgeous thing to come out of Spain since, well, Sebastian Bodega. She had a modeling contract in New York, and Haley had even spotted her in several fashion-magazine spreads. With that girl on campus, even the stunning Sasha Lewis would look plain. What would that mean for Haley?

“Hey, Miller,” Sasha said brightly. The all-American beauty was wearing green soccer shorts and a yellow tank top, her long blond hair pulled into a ponytail. “Do you have a date later or something?” she teased Haley, sizing up her swank outfit. “It's too bad you didn't come in sweats. You could have run home with me and Reese after class. Soccer starts next week, you know.” Haley glanced over her shoulder at Reese, and saw that he too was in his running gear.

Shoot!
Haley thought, regretting the missed opportunity, and thinking ahead to tryouts and practice and just who would captain the boys' and girls' soccer teams this year.

“So how was summer?” Sasha asked.

“Not bad,” Haley said. “But then, not great either. I can't believe how little there is to do in this town.”

“Why do you think I took up guitar?” Sasha replied, then expounded on the many songs she had written over break. Sasha had briefly been a member of her boyfriend's band, the Hedon, back in the spring. But the two had quickly decided it was much better to be lifemates than bandmates. Haley wondered why Sasha wasn't mentioning said boyfriend, Johnny Lane. Haley'd heard that Sasha and Johnny had gone camping together in Virginia over the summer. So why didn't Sasha mention the trip now? Was everything okay between Sasha and Johnny? Their relationship had always been a little rocky. Haley was curious to know their current status. She would have asked, but somehow SAT prep didn't seem like the right time or place.

“Hey, did you hear about Zoe Jones?” Annie suddenly whispered. Her braids dangled over Haley's desk.

“Of course,” said Haley. “Who hasn't heard that one? Doesn't mean it's true.”

Sasha scowled. “Ugh, I'm so sick of that rumor.”

Haley wondered if Sasha wasn't just sick of hearing about Zoe Jones. Zoe's band, Rubber Dynamite, had annihilated the Hedon at the Battle of the Bands last spring. Sasha, who'd been trying to juggle track and Hedon practice all semester, had choked and forgotten the lyrics to the Hedon's one big song. It was a humiliating experience. And after a blowout with Johnny, Sasha had dropped out of the band to go solo as a singer-songwriter and to concentrate on her sports. All had ended well, but Haley wouldn't have been surprised if the whole subject was still a bit touchy for Sasha.

 

At that moment, the SAT prep teacher finally waltzed in, a small, thinly bearded and bespectacled young man who looked barely a year out of college. He wore a checkered cotton shirt, jeans and black high-top sneakers. “Good afternoon, young minds,” he bellowed before writing his name on a chalkboard on wheels. “I'm Doug Hausner. And welcome to the most important chapter of your life to date. Statistics tell us that the college you attend will more than likely determine the jobs you will take, the cities in which you will live, the men or women you will marry. And your test scores, of course, will determine your college.”

Annie was practically bouncing out of her desk with excitement. “I'm
so
focusing on school this year,” she whispered to Haley. “After the debacle at the end of last year, I can't afford another slipup like that. Right, Dave?” She turned to Dave and smiled. He beamed back at her and then grabbed her forearm and began kissing it again.

“High school determined the man you're going to marry,” Dave growled, devouring Annie's flesh.

“No distractions,” Annie said firmly, retrieving her limb and focusing her attention on Mr. Hausner, while Dave pouted momentarily before taking out his books.

Good to have the old Annie back,
Haley thought. When Haley had first met Annie, she thought she was wound a little too tight. Okay, Haley thought Annie was like one of those accordion snakes in a can, so compressed and coiled in on itself that it was just waiting to burst. But last spring, Annie and Dave had uncoiled each other. Maybe a little too much. They had blown off their yearbook-editing responsibilities in favor of making out and slacking off, and, in the process, they had nearly kept the Hillsdale High students from having a
Talon.
Not to mention the damage they had almost done to their impeccable GPAs. Since then, Haley had revised her earlier assessment. It was just in Annie's nature to be pent up and on edge. Who was Haley to try and change her? In Annie's natural state, she was capable of almost anything. Haley wouldn't be surprised if one day Annie went on to be president or cure cancer or achieve peace in the Middle East.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm going to leave time for a little fun, too,” Annie said. “College admissions officers want to see personality. Anyone can read
Beowulf
in Old English, but can anyone say they've rewritten Chaucer as a show tune? I don't think so. Speaking of fun, I'm trying out for the debate team next week. You should try out too, Haley. College admissions officers love debaters.”

Of course Annie's idea of fun would be to join the debate team, Haley thought with a smile. But she was right about one thing—debating did look impressive on a college résumé. And it was also probably a useful skill to learn. Imagine the arguments one could win against parents.

Mr. Hausner faced the class and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, kids, let's get started.” It was sort of laughable the way he called everyone kids, when he was only a few years older himself. Nevertheless, the students quieted down. “As I said, my name is Doug Hausner.” He pointed to each part of his name on the board as he said it, as if they couldn't read. “I'm your prep coach. So, um, let's see. Why don't we start with some questions. Yes, the girl with the braids.” He called on Annie.

“What did you get on your SATs?” Annie asked boldly.

Mr. Hausner stuffed his hands in his pockets, seemingly unsure of how to respond. “Well, that's not really the point here—”

“I think it is,” Annie said. “After all, our parents are paying a lot of money for this course. We should know what kind of teacher we're getting.”

“You're getting the best teacher around—G-A-R-U-N-T-E-E-D!” Mr. Hausner smiled as if he expected them all to laugh at his sort-of joke, but no one did.

“Tough crowd. Moving on. So, do you all have the practice test books?”

As Mr. Hausner passed books and handouts to the class, Haley realized that he hadn't even come close to answering Annie's question. Not only did they not know his scores, they also didn't know what college he attended, or whether he'd even gone to college.
Could this place be some kind of scam?
she wondered.
Eh, who cares, as long as Reese is here.
She could feel him staring at the back of her head.

“So, let's learn how to take a test, people. What do you say?” asked Mr. Hausner. “Step one: sit at a desk. Step two: pick up a number-two pencil. Step three: take a deep breath….”

Haley found herself daydreaming of Reese. His hair had gotten longer over the summer—his mother would probably say that he needed a haircut, but Haley admired the way the black tendrils curled above the collar of his bright blue T-shirt. She didn't need to be staring at that gorgeous face to see it—the sparkling eyes, the aquiline nose, the full set of lips that curled into a mischievous and irresistible smile…Reese Highland was, quite simply, to die for.

Concentrate, Haley,
she scolded herself, snapping out of it. This was her future at stake here. And besides, Reese wasn't going to win her all over again that easily.