The Revenge Artist by Philip Siegel

Author:Philip Siegel [Siegel, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, Young Adult
Published: 2015-11-13T07:00:00+00:00

School lets out at noon the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The doors nearly burst off their hinges with eager students ready to pig out, watch football, shop and not think about school for the next four and a half days. It takes me a good twenty minutes to leave the parking lot. My car crawls to the main road. I accelerate as fast as I can once I’m out of there. past streaks of the outside world. Val has a soft embargo on any conversation. She will acknowledge me in the hall, even mouth hi, but no stopping for chitchat. It’s not cold shoulder/you’re-dead-to-me.

That’s Leo. Today he sat as far away from me as he could in Theater Arts.

Yep, I need these four and a half days off. I need to relax, recharge, and rescheme. I won’t let the Revenge Artist get away with this. I have no business calling myself a savvy businesswoman if I roll over and allow my livelihood to be destroyed.

My car hums down my street, and I pull into my driveway where a freshly delivered cardboard box waits on the front steps. I pick it up and do this maniacal laugh that I warn myself never to do in public. This is just like Christmas. Better because I don’t have to thank anyone for this gift. Only the smart folks at Hi-Tech Industries. I toss the box into the backseat and drive off, revving the engine all the way down the block.

By the time I get back to Ashland High, the place is more deserted than a post-apocalyptic, pre-dystopian wasteland. Even though everyone’s left for the holiday, thus meaning I have free rein over the student parking lot, I still park in my normal space. It feels like a breach of social conduct if I park anywhere else.

I rip open the box and carefully take the camera out of its Styrofoam cocoon. The shape reminds me of an old-fashioned microphone, a chic black egg on a pedestal. I set up the network connection, and a few minutes later, I’m looking at footage of myself on my phone. I wave hello.

I sneak around back to the teachers’ parking lot. The orange glow of the waning sun bounces off the school’s windows. It’s a well-known secret that the door connecting the teachers’ lounge with the parking lot has a busted lock. The easier it is for teachers to fit in a quick cigarette between classes. My shoes squeak against the floor in deep echoes that remind me just how big this place is.

Three years ago, the school installed fake ficus plants around the halls to beautify the perimeter. They’ve turned into de facto trash cans sadly. I stick the camera in the plant across from my locker. I shove it between thick leaves but make sure the view is clear. And it is.

I stand in front of my locker and watch myself on my phone wave at the camera. I heart technology. The next time the Revenge Artist decides to leave me a present, I’ll be ready.

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