Size 12 is Not fat by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Meg Cabot]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2006-10-13T07:00:00+00:00

17

* * *

You told me/It’s over

I just didn’t/Believe you

You told me/I’m a pushover

I just want to/Be with you

Then I saw you/You were with her

And all I have to say is/Whatever

Whatever/Whatever

All I have to say is/Whatever

“Whatever”

Performed by Heather Wells

Composed by Valdez/Caputo

From the album Summer

Cartwright Records

* * *

I’m right about one thing:

Rachel is totally curious about Jordan, and the nature of my relationship with him.

The minute I walk into the office the next morning—wet hair, mug of steaming coffee from the caf in my hand, big scarlet letter on my blouse (just kidding about that last part), Rachel is all “So you and your ex-boyfriend seemed to be getting along pretty well last night.”

She has no idea how true this statement really is.

“Yeah” is all I say, as I sit down and look up the phone number for Amber’s room.

Rachel totally doesn’t take the hint.

“I saw you two outside,” she goes on. “Talking to President Allington’s son.”

“Chris,” I say. “Yeah.” I pick up the phone and dial Amber’s number.

“He seems nice,” Rachel says. “The president’s son.”

“I guess,” I say. For a murderer.

Amber’s phone rings. And rings.

“Cute, too,” Rachel goes on. “And I hear he’s quite wealthy. Trust fund from his grandparents.”

This last is news to me. Oh my God, maybe Christopher Allington’s like Bruce Wayne! Seriously. Only evil. Like maybe he’s had this whole cavern dug out from beneath Fischer Hall, and he takes innocent girls down there, has his way with them, then drugs them and takes them back upstairs and drops them down the elevator shaft…

Except that I’ve spent a lot of time in the bowels of Fischer Hall with the exterminator, and there’s nothing under there but mice and a lot of old mattresses.

Someone picks up the phone in Amber’s room. A girl’s voice says sleepily, “Hello?”

“Hello,” I say. “Is this Amber?”

“Uh-huh,” the sleepy voice says. “This is Amber. Who’s this?”

“No one,” I say. Just wanted to make sure you were still alive. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Amber says groggily, and hangs up the phone.

Well, Amber’s still alive, anyway. For now.

“So are you and Jordan getting back together?” Rachel wants to know. She doesn’t seem to think my calling students and waking them up for no apparent reason at all strange. Which actually says a lot about the weirdness of the place where we work, and our jobs there. “You make the cutest couple.”

Fortunately I’m saved from having to reply by my phone, which begins ringing right then. I answer it, wondering if Amber has caller ID and wants to know what the hell I’m doing, waking her up at nine in the morning on a school day.

Only it isn’t Amber on the other end. It’s Patty, going, “Okay, tell me everything.”

“About what?”

I’m not actually feeling very good. All I wanted to do when I woke up this morning was pull the covers back over my head and stay in bed forever and ever.

Jordan. I slept with Jordan. Why, God, why?

“Whadduya mean about what?” Patty sounds shocked. “Haven’t you seen the paper today?”

I feel my blood run cold for the second time in twenty-four hours.

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