Page 106 of Foolish Games

“I would never cheat,” Krissy huffs.

Mrs. Wheeler sighs and lowers her clipboard. “What’s going on, Krissy? You know the dress code doesn’t allow hats. This is a school sanctioned event.”

I look down at my neatly tucked Wampus Cats Quiz Bowl t-shirt to hide my smile. Yes, I’ve just become the villain of the day, but the bitch had it coming.

It’s not about Chaz anymore. She can have him.

But this is the culmination of something that started the day she recorded the exchange between my brother and Sebastian. Okay, maybe it started before that. When I was with Chaz, she was just his annoying friend with a crush. I don’t think she stole my boyfriend or anything like that. But the moment she got him, she became a complete bitch, and I’ve put up with it long enough.

Every day at school has been a nightmare since she aired the announcements. Guys ask me how much Sebastian got for the bet, and if I’d give it up for free or if they’d have to pay me. I’ve seen others openly betting when I walk past, probably just to mess with me, but it still stings. I can’t go back to eating in the cafeteria, where the entire school will stare at me. Where would I sit, anyway? Even the girls who call themselves the Slut Club probably wouldn’t take me, thanks to my betraying Lexi, their leader.

So, I hold my head high and walk into the quiz bowl practice I set up in Mrs. Wheeler’s room every day. My arrival is always met with snickering and whispers, but I know the only alternative is eating alone in my car, and that’s just too damn pathetic.

“It’s—it’s for medical reasons,” Krissy stammers.

“Oh,” Mrs. Wheeler says, her brows rising. “Well, then. I… I guess that’s okay?”

She starts rifling through the rule book, trying to find the dress code. Before she can, we’re called to the stage. We hurry on, taking our seats along one side of the kidney table. There are only a handful of people in the auditorium, since Quiz Bowl doesn’t exactly pack the stands. But I spot the camera crew from a tiny local station, so I put on my game face. I may have lost my reputation at school, but I would never embarrass my parents on the news—even a station that no one watches.

“Faulkner High, microphone four, please remove your hat,” drones the moderator, a skeletal guy who speaks in a nasally monotone.

“I can’t,” Krissy says, her voice ringing out. “I have a medical condition.”

Mrs. Wheeler hurries over to our table.

“Can you wear a scarf instead? So they don’t think you have answers written under the bill.”

“I don’t have one,” Krissy mumbles, staring at the table.

I think she might cry, and I push away the dart of sympathy I feel. She deserves this.

“I have one,” I say, smiling sweetly and reaching for my purse. I pull out a silk handkerchief and pass it down.

“Do we have a problem?” the moderator asks, not even sounding remotely curious.

“No problem,” I call. “She’s just switching it out now.”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Krissy hisses.

“For heaven’s sake, just put it on,” Mrs. Wheeler says. She’d probably have more sympathy if she couldn’t see that Krissy still has her long, mousy brown hair hanging down her back. It’s not like she’s bald.

At least, not completely.

Tears pool in Krissy’s eyes as she yanks off the ballcap, snatching the bandana up and ducking her head as she reaches back to tie it. But she wasn’t quite fast enough to keep from revealing what she’s been trying to hide all morning. Her big, white, shiny bald head. Well, not totally bald. The hair all around the sides of her head is still long, making her look a bit like my grandpa with a ruff of hair all around the edges of his bald dome—except this one is dull brown and reaches halfway down her back.

She really would have looked better if she’d finished the job I started after she drank too many wine coolers in her hotel room last night. No one except Sasha, who was sharing her room, knows that I was the last to leave. Sasha got in the shower, and I got to work. She must know I’m the one who performed this little act of revenge for the humiliation Krissy’s caused me. I know she won’t rat me out, though. We both know that Krissy crossed a line when she aired that video.

Not only that, but on the bus ride to the hotel yesterday, Krissy stood up in front of the whole team and asked Mrs. Wheeler if I should sit this one out. After all, she argued, did Faulkner High really want a girl like me representing them on TV?

That was the last straw. Before that, I’d been determined to stew in my anger until it went away. To take the high road, like a perfect Delacroix daughter.

But sometimes, it feels so damn good to take the low road.

Sebastian taught me that. He taught me to be brave and daring and sometimes crazy, and to take risks, because even when you play it safe, you can still end up trying to scrape your dignity off the floor by fake dating someone because the nice guy didn’t turn out to be so nice after all.

Since I’ve become the school slut thanks to Krissy’s decision to air that video, I’m no longer a poster child for the Delacroix family. That’s okay. Blaise can have that honor all to herself. Now I’m really disgraced, though, thanks to Krissy. What’s a little prank on top of that?

I wish I could say I regret it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little better knowing her bald head is going to be televised. And it doesn’t hurt that Chaz literally chokes on his tongue at the sight of his girlfriend’s new male pattern baldness hairstyle. Jerome gapes in wordless shock. Sasha gives me look, and I see a gleam of pride in her eyes.

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