Starry Eyed

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Don't ninjas wear all black?" I ask Star as she combs her hair back into a sleek ponytail. Her nimble fingers stretch a hairtie around a billion strands, and she shrugs.

"Black is a fashion nightmare. I don't care if I'm a ninja, I'm not wearing it."

"Okay, so you've got a grudge against black. Moving on," I mutter as we slip through the hallways together. "How are we going to do this if he's in the room?"

"He won't be in the room," Star replies, as if the answer is as easy as that. I get the feeling she's sneaked around like this before. "He'll be out in someone's room."

"Oh. Then that'll be easy!" I exclaim. Suddenly everything seems simple. "We just walk in and get the phone."

"Geez, Luca. I know you're inexperienced, but come on. What guy goes out somewhere where there are possibly girls without his phone?"

I shrug. "I don't see your point."

Star laughs, flicking a strand of blonde hair out of her face. There are dark bags under her eyes from hard sleep, twelve 'o' clock nightmares. "It's our issue and our loophole, Luca, my dear friend. Think about it. James meets a hot girl, asks her to put her number in his phone. Hot girl has phone. Hot girl runs with phone and gives it to Star."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised by her creative planning. "You really think that'll work?"

Her lips stretch into a small, secretive smile. She doesn't respond, just grabs my wrist and drags me down the hallway.

There is one flaw in her plan, of course. We have no idea where James is. He could be at some lame five-person party in somebody's dormitory, he could be busy locked away with a girl in her room, he could be playing a cheesy game of Truth or Dare with some kids from his science class. And Star might have an idea of where he could be, but I'm not exactly king of the high school party. I don't know what's going on in school right now. Hell if I know where the drinks and the drugs are.

"Do you know where we're going?" I ask as Star tugs me around winding corners and down creaky staircases. She laughs again. Her laugh sparkles and shimmers as it melts back down into the air.

"I know who James hangs out with. I've had invites to some of their little cool kid meet-ups, you know. I only went to three before I gave up."

"Really? They have meetings?" I repeat in disbelief. It sounds totally lame to call it a meeting. She snorts, obviously amused by my stupidity.

"Not meetings. Just secret little get-togethers. On Friday nights, they take out their wine and their cigarettes and they silently break every rule this goddamn school has. And nobody knows a thing."

"If you've gone and you know about it, how do they know you won't rat them out?" It seems simple to me. I'd just dob James and the cool kids in, and they'd be done for. The perfect revenge. At my question, Star stops walking and turns to me, staring at me like I'm insane.

"Rat them out?" She echoes, horrified. "No way in hell. I don't like them all that much, but I don't need a reputation as school telltale. Nobody likes a snitch."

"I'd do it," I shrug. "Nobody likes me anyway."

"But what you don't understand is that people like me," she says, starting to walk down the staircase again. Two steps at a time. "I have a reputation to uphold. And you... well, you really don't have a reputation at all. But you don't want to make one out of ratting people out. So don't."

"Why not? It's not going to affect you."

"Yes it will!" She exclaims, sounding very distressed by my string of thoughts. I watch her glossy lips form each word, careful, pronounced. "They'll know I told you. And that counts as dobbing. So do me a favour and shut up about it, okay?"