Front Page Face-Off by Jo Whittemore Page B

hand-me-down thing.”
    â€œPlease.” Paige laughed. “I got this for Christmas but never wore it, so I put it aside to give to the less fortunate.” She gestured grandly at me. “And here you are!”
    â€œThanks.” I was starting to miss the emotionally fragile Paige already.
    â€œAnyway, green makes me look on the verge of ill, and even though you never dress to show your figure, I thought we might be about the same size.”
    The fabric was simple cotton, but the hem and waist were accented with silver beads. I had to admit it wasn’t that bad … until I saw the neckline. Instead of a zippered collar, it was two lengths of ribbon tied together.
    I was going to be a reporter in a halter top.
    Paige watched me the entire time, and when I didn’t squeal with girlish glee, she grunted in frustration. “You’re not oohing and aahing!”
    â€œI can’t wear something so revealing. My stepdad would kill me.”
    â€œWhich is why you hide it under this.” She pulled a silver scarf out of the bag with a flourish and draped it around the dress. “ Now what do you think?”
    It was better than a towel and might actually get an admiring glance from Ben, but I was baffled that Paige had put so much effort into making sure I looked good. I wanted to ask, but I just took the dress.
    â€œThanks. I’ll find a way to pay you for this.”
    â€œJust come up with a better clique story than Ava does,” said Paige, “and don’t embarrass me tomorrow night.”

Chapter Eleven

    Who is this guy again?” Major stopped the car in front of the
Brighton Country
Club and reached into his coat pocket.
    â€œMajor”—I buried my face in my hands—“tell me you didn’t bring a miniature version of the banned boy book.”
    â€œOf course not. … The print would be too small. These are just the names of the most serious offenders.” He withdrew an index card and held it up.
    Marcus was at the very top of the list.
    â€œGordon Elliott,” I said automatically. “I’m meeting a guy named Gordon Elliott. I doubt he’s on there.”
    I knew he wasn’t. Earlier I’d peeked at Major’s book and chosen the most harmless-looking guy in green marker, a seventh grader who snorkeled at the school pool during lunch hour.
    Major scanned the index card and nodded. “All right, then. But I want you to take this to be safe.” He handed me a tiny spray canister.
    â€œUh … no. I’m not going to Mace any of my classmates.”
    â€œThis is cinnamon extract. It stings just as much when sprayed in the eyes, but the effects don’t last as long.” He forced it into my palm. “Also, the smell triggers memory functions, so your date will remember not to attack you in the future.”
    â€œHe’s not my date.” I dropped the cinnamon spray into the silver purse left over from my flower girl days. “I’m just showing up with him because I can’t go alone.”
    I looked out the car window and almost jumped when I saw Marcus standing by the entrance to the country club. I ducked my head so my hair hung over my face, but I quickly realized it was a terrible disguise since I was the only redhead pledging the Little Debbies. Still, I peeked at him through my dangling strands.
    Marcus had actually skipped his usual sports ensemble and worn a button-up shirt and tucked it into his jeans. If he’d bothered to brush his hair, which stood up in odd, spiky tufts, he could have passed for someone fairly gorgeous.
    â€œI should get going,” I told Major. “Gordon’s probably waiting inside.”
    Major peered around me. “He should have waited for you out here, like that young gentleman is doing for his date.” He pointed at Marcus, who chose that moment to glance in my direction. “You know, he looks vaguely familiar.”
    Up until that