The Importance of Getting Revenge Page 2

  I was busy contemplating which ensemble I should wear first when the phone rang. I was too engrossed in the task to even bother attempting to answer it, figuring it most likely wasn’t going to be for me, anyway.

  However, about ten seconds after it stopped ringing, there was a loud knock at my bedroom door. “Lexi, it’s for you,” Aaron said.

  “Thanks,” I called back to him as I picked up the phone. “Hey, Trish.”

  There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before a deep voice said, “Uh, this isn't Trish. It's Jeffrey.”

  My heart stopped beating. Jeffrey? Why would he be calling me? For one foolish second, I wondered if maybe he’d been at the mall that afternoon and had seen my sexy new hair and regretted dumping me.

  I somehow refrained from laughing out loud at how stupid that sounded.

  “Hey,” I said, as casually as possible. “What’s up?”

  “I, uh…” It could have just been my imagination, but he sounded nervous. “Did I happen to leave my copy of The Great Gatsby at your place? Because I can’t find it anywhere and I know that, uh, I had it over there last week, so…”

  It was actually a week and a half ago, but I wasn’t going to correct him.

  “Um, I don’t know.” If he thought I was going to waste my time going to look for it, he was sadly mistaken.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  “I’ll check for it later,” I said calmly, even though my heart, which had resumed its beating, was pounding hard inside my chest.

  “Thanks.” He sounded moody. Perhaps things weren’t going so great with Amber-Lynne Rose. Maybe they’d broken up, and now Jeffrey wanted me back, and he was using The Great Gatsby as an excuse to call me and break the ice...

  “Well, bye.” He hung up before I had a chance to respond.

  Okay, maybe not.

  The phone remained frozen to my ear for a good minute after he was gone. I just sat there listening to the dial tone, realizing for the first time how hypnotic dial tones could be. If you sat and listened to them long enough, you could start to hear things, like little voices telling you how much of a loser you are and that no matter how much of a makeover you get, you will never be Amber-Lynne Rose and no guy will ever love you again.

  I hung up the phone and considered throwing it up against the wall. Figuring my parents would not be too impressed by that, I set it down on my nightstand instead and let a sob escape my throat.

  Oh, here we go again, I thought to myself, crying over Jeffrey Weston. It was starting to become a nightly ritual.

  By the time I heard a soft knock on my door, I was curled up in a fetal position on my bed, with a box of tissues in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. Mr. Snuggles had been my teddy bear for over ten years, and he had endured a lot during those years. Like at that moment for instance, as I gripped onto him so tight I was surprised his head didn’t pop off.

  There was a clearing of a throat coming from behind me and I rolled over to see who had entered my room without permission. I knew it was Aaron even before I caught sight of his shaggy, dirty blond hair and his tall, lanky form standing in the doorway.

  “So.” He glanced down at the floor. “I like your hair and stuff.”

  I blinked, sending a fresh set of tears spilling over onto my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away. “Thanks.”

  He glanced back up at me, or rather, glanced at Mr. Snuggles and said, “So I was gonna watch a movie if, you know, you wanted to watch it with me. It’s a comedy.”

  “A romantic comedy?” I sniffled.

  He twisted his face in disgust. “Eww. No.”

  Knowing Aaron's taste in films, it was probably a gross-out comedy. Not exactly my style, but I wasn't about to turn down such a sweet offer from a kid who normally wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.

  “Sure, I’d love to.” I gave my nose one final blow.

  Aaron looked uncomfortable at the fact I’d been crying. Aaron was a typical male, who wouldn’t recognize emotions if they slapped him across the face and yelled at the top of their lungs, “WE'RE EMOTIONS!” so it was probably weird for him to see me displaying mine on my sleeve. I wondered if perhaps our parents had coaxed him into coming up here and suggesting we watch a movie together. But I figured it didn’t matter either way. It would be nice to take my mind off of Jeffrey for a while.

  As I followed my brother out of my bedroom, he turned to me and said, “You’re better off without him, you know?” He was referring to Jeffrey, of course. “Everyone at my lunch table agrees he’s an ass.”

  “Watch your mouth,” I half-seriously scolded him. But I smiled behind his back. That was my kid brother’s attempt at being supportive. And it was a pretty good attempt, if you ask me.

  Chapter Three

  I’m not sure my own mother recognized me as I joined her and Aaron for breakfast the next morning.

  Despite our bonding over a pretty bad movie the night before, Aaron was back to either ignoring my existence, or just being oblivious to it. I couldn’t tell which it was. He didn’t even look up from his Lucky Charms as I entered the kitchen. My mother, however, took one look at me and froze in place; a glass of orange juice in one hand, a box of cereal in the other, and a look of pure shock on her face.

  “Sweetie,” she said, her eyes wide, “what are you wearing?”

  I glanced down at myself and shrugged. “Clothes, Mom. I wear them every day.”

  “Yes, but…you’re wearing a skirt.” She spoke the last word with caution, as though saying it could somehow make the world blow up.

  “I realize that, Mom.” I grabbed the cereal box out of her hand and headed for the kitchen table.

  “But honey, you haven’t worn a skirt since I stopped dressing you myself.” She set the glass of juice down in front of me.

  “I realize that too, Mom.”

  “This—” She pointed at my attire. “The new clothes, the new hair, wouldn’t have anything to do with Jeffrey, would it?”

  I groaned as I proceeded to pour myself a bowl of Corn Flakes. “Not everything in this world has to do with Jeffrey.”

  “Sweetie, you don’t need to change anything about yourself.” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “If Jeffrey stopped loving you for who you really are, then obviously something is very wrong with his brain. That doesn’t mean you should—”

  The doorbell rang and I jumped up from the table. “That’s Trish. She’s here to do my makeup.”

  “Makeup? You don’t wear makeup.”

  With a shrug, I said, “Apparently I do now.”

  I rushed to the front door as my mother called after me, “Your cereal will get soggy!” I didn’t care though. I wasn’t very hungry.

  I threw open the door to find an ecstatic Trish standing on the doorstep, looking fantastic as usual. She had a grin on her face that stretched from ear to ear as she took in my appearance.

  “Holy crap, girl, you look amazing,” she said as she let herself in.

  While I didn’t entirely disagree with her, I did think there was room for improvement. I wasn’t used to seeing myself in a skirt, so I thought I looked weird. But I couldn’t have looked too bad, because Trish’s compliment seemed genuine and she was always very honest with me. So I smiled at her and said, “Thank you.”

  “I brought my makeup kit with me.” As she heading for the staircase, her gaze flickered to something over my shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Aaron leaning suavely up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to look cool. Aaron had the biggest crush on Trish, even though he would never admit it. He thought she was hot, and he loved it when she called him “kiddo”, because it meant she was acknowledging his existence. Trish had picked up on his crush too, and she thought it was adorable. Of course, she would never date him, being three years older than he was, but I think she had a soft spot for him.

  “Hey, Trish,” he crooned. “How are you?”

&nbs
p; Trish, being the saint she was, refrained from bursting out into a fit of laughter. “I’m great, Aaron. And you?”

  He shrugged. “I’m pretty good.”

  “Aaron, you’ve got a bit of drool…” I pointed towards the corner of his mouth, trying hard not to snicker.

  He glared at me. Using his sleeved arm, he instinctively wiped at his mouth. Of course he hadn’t been drooling, but I just couldn’t help myself. What kind of older sister would I be if I didn’t torment him in front of the girl he had the hots for?

  Once Aaron stalked back into the kitchen, Trish and I broke out in a fit of giggles and ran upstairs to my bedroom.

  “If your brother were only a few years older, I would totally date him.” She plopped down onto my bed.

  “Eww, gross, Trish.”

  “What? He has the potential of being a total hottie after he grows out of his awkward puberty stage.”

  “Stop it!” I squealed, covering my ears. “If you don’t stop that right now, I’ll start telling you about how hot I think Jase is.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You think Jase is hot?”

  “N-no,” I stammered, even though it was a total lie. Of course I thought Jase was hot. He shared the same DNA as Trish, which meant he was gorgeous. He didn’t have his sister’s abnormally red hair, though. It was more dark brown with a slight hint of auburn, but only in the sunlight. He was tall like Trish, and had aesthetic facial features like her, too. I might have had a little crush on him a few years ago, before I’d entered high school and fallen in love with Jeffrey, but that crush was long gone. Jase entered high school a year before me and Trish, and it changed him from a lovable goofball to a stuck up snob. Once he started waking up to the fact that girls found him attractive, he and his ego decided they were too cool to hang out with their little sister and her best friend. Which didn’t exactly break my heart at the time, because I was too busy fawning over Jeffrey to really care.

  “Earth to Lexi.” Trish waved a hand in front of my face. “Oh gross. You weren’t just fantasizing about my brother, were you?”

  I reached over, grabbed my pillow and hit her with it. “No, I wasn’t.”

  She grabbed the pillow from my hands and hit me right back with it. “Thank God. Otherwise, I’d have to seriously question your sanity.”

  Smoothing out my clothes from their encounter with the pillow, I said, “Can we get this makeup thing over before we’re late for school?”

  “Oh, right.” She jumped up from the bed and opened up her backpack.

  I hated wearing makeup, which was why I never wore any. So needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to this.

  She held out a tube of something for me to see. “This will help conceal the dark circles under your eyes. And this,” she said, showing me another tube, “will help to conceal the blotchy spots on your cheeks.”

  I grunted. “Do you have anything that will help conceal the hump on my back?”

  “Don’t be so sarcastic.” She squeezed some concealer out onto her fingers. “You’ll need to keep a positive attitude if this is going to work.”

  “I don’t even know what this is, exactly. I mean, I still don’t know what we’re hoping to accomplish here.”

  “We’re going to make you drop-dead gorgeous. And by doing so, we’re going to make Jeffrey regret dumping you. But at the same time, we’ll be giving you more confidence, which will help you eventually get over the jerk. Which I hope happens sooner rather than later, because you are way too awesome to waste your time pining for a worthless scumbag.”

  Aw. I felt a fresh set of tears spring to my eyes, but not tears of misery; they were tears of appreciation. “Thanks, Trish. This means a lot to me, even if I don’t exactly show it.”

  “You’re welcome, hun.”

  She continued to work her magic on me for maybe five minutes until finally she stood back and stared at me with a satisfied look on her face. “I’m going to have to pat myself on the back for this.” She reached over and grabbed a hand mirror off my desk and held it up for me to look at myself.

  At first, I wasn’t even sure it was me I was looking at. It was amazing what a little makeup did for someone’s appearance. Suddenly, I no longer looked as though I had been crying every day for the past week. My face looked fresh and glowing. I maybe even looked somewhat pretty.

  “Great job, Trish,” I couldn’t help but praise her.

  She beamed over at me. “Shall we go show you off now?”

  With a grin slowly forming on my face, I nodded.

  We gathered up our stuff and ran down the stairs. “Bye, Mom!” I yelled into the kitchen as Trish opened the front door.

  “Wait,” Mom called back, rushing to meet us in the hallway before we left. She held out something for me to take. “I found this in the living room last night. You'll probably need it.”

  I glanced down at the book-shaped object in her hands. It was a copy of The Great Gatsby. It wasn’t mine; I clearly remembered throwing my copy into my backpack just this morning. I gulped as I reached out and took the book from her.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled as Trish and I turned to leave. I hadn’t told Trish about the phone call from Jeffrey the night before, so she had no idea what significance the book held.

  At least now I had pretty good excuse to show off the new me to Jeffrey.

  ***

  “I want to go home and change,” I whined, leaning up against the side of Trish’s car and crossing my arms self-consciously over my chest.

  “We just got here. Nobody has even seen you yet.”

  “Exactly. And if I go home and change right now, nobody has to.”

  Trish shook her head impatiently. “Sweetie, you look gorgeous. Pink is really your color.”

  I glanced down at the baby-pink lacy halter top that nicely showcased my lack of breasts. I was pretty sure there was supposed to be some sort of cleavage peaking out somewhere, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find it.

  “Are clothes like this even allowed in school?” I asked.

  “Have you or have you not seen every single outfit that Amber-Lynne Rose has worn since she started going here? And she has yet to be sent home for indecent exposure.”

  Trish had a good point. Most of Amber-Lynne Rose’s skirts contained the exact same amount of fabric as hand towels. And what I was wearing was no different from what Trish herself wore every single day. I had to admit I felt a lot more exposed than I looked. The skirt, which was pink like the shirt, conservatively hit just above my knees, but its disgustingly feminine floral design was enough itself to get me kicked out of school. In my opinion, it was hideous. The whole outfit looked like some kid had eaten cotton candy and Skittles and then thrown up all over me.

  Where was my faux flannel shirt when I needed it?

  Trish grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the car. “We’d better hurry up; we need to find Jeffrey before classes start.”

  I didn’t have any classes with Jeffrey that day, nor did we have the same lunch. So the only opportunity he had to see the new me was between classes, or before and after school. I was actually quite thankful I didn’t have to sit in any classrooms with him. The only class we shared together was Health, and it was really hard to sit and listen to our teacher talk about sexuality when the guy I had planned on having sex with just the day before—the guy that dumped me—was sitting at the desk right beside me. Luckily, our class had moved onto a new subject: the negative effects of smoking tobacco.

  As we entered the school, I glanced around for any sighting of Jeffrey. Usually in the morning he would hang out in the senior’s lounge, because he was friends with quite a few members of the senior class. Even when we were going out, he would spend every morning over there while Trish and I hung out in the cafeteria. It never really bothered me at the time that we spent every morning apart from each other. It bothered me now, though, thinking back on it. He never exactly invited me and Trish to hang with him and his friends. Why hadn’t he
wanted to be with me every chance he could get? Wasn't that what a good boyfriend was supposed to want?

  “You’re frowning,” Trish said, with one of her own. “Smiling makes you look so much prettier than frowning.”

  So I plastered a humongous, fake smile onto my face and directed it at every person who walked by and glanced my way. Which was actually more people than usual. For the first time since I could remember, I was getting noticed more than Trish was.

  As we neared the senior’s lounge, I scanned the crowd for Jeffrey. He wasn’t there, but Amber-Lynne Rose was. She was sitting on one of the couches with a guy on either side of her, laughing at something one of them had said. I felt a pang of jealousy pierce my heart. Obviously, she had been invited to the senior’s lounge.

  “The lazy ass probably overslept this morning,” Trish mumbled.

  Jeffrey always did have a habit of being late for things. Namely, our dates.

  “This is so dumb,” I hissed. I turned around and began heading in the opposite direction.

  “What’s dumb?” Trish asked, jogging to keep up with me.

  I stopped mid-step, causing Trish to crash into me.

  “This.” I motioned to my outfit. “This whole plan of yours is dumb. This new look of mine isn’t going to make Jeffrey regret anything, except for maybe not having dumped me sooner.”

  Trish looked crushed, and I don’t think it was just because I insulted her plan. She felt sorry for me.

  “Aw, sweetie.” She reached out and stroked my hair.

  I swatted her hand away out of frustration, and then felt bad about it. I was taking my anger towards Amber-Lynne Rose out on Trish and she totally didn’t deserve it.