“When I managed to free myself from his lip lock, he grinned at me and said, ‘You’re welcome.’
“I guess I should have thanked him because he did something I wouldn’t have thought possible until tonight. He finally cured me of an unwanted crush.”
When I stepped back, miming a mic drop, the crowd applauded, and I accepted the yellow star from Miranda. I clutched it like a talisman of good fortune. I’d successfully navigated a potential minefield, and I was still standing.
Good luck defeating me now, Tristan.
As I stepped down, I caught Alfie’s eye and raised my hand, palm forward. From across the bar, he didn’t leave me hanging, and we connected in a long-distance high five.
Miranda called for Tristan, who shot me a glare. Yup. I’d weakened my opponent. I sat beside Zane, and he whispered, “Damn. That was an autopsy.”
Bryce said, “You can stop murdering the boy. He’s already dead.”
I might have felt a little bad about how I’d annihilated him, but not after he’d raised the challenge. He didn’t know who he was dealing with if he thought I’d take it lying down.
As Tristan climbed onto the stage, there was an uncomfortable shifting in the audience. The spotlight hit him, and his cheeks flamed. I could have sworn he was embarrassed for once in his life. He leaned into the mic, and silence blanketed the entire room, as we anticipated his response. My hands shook a little from residual adrenaline, and I steeled myself for what was to come. I didn’t think for a moment he wouldn’t return fire.
Tristan cleared his throat.
“That was an Oscar-worthy performance.” He nodded my way. “Or maybe we should give her a Pulitzer.”
He seemed awkward, and a small part of me took pity on him. But then he said, “Because that was a complete work of fiction.”
He raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. “You may wonder how I know that.”
My missing page slid out of the notebook, and he held it up.
“Because I have Sierra’s actual journal entry right here.”
Whispers and gasps rippled across the room.
“It’s true. She lent me her notebook last week, and I found this entry. It was so flattering, it warmed my heart, and I confess I stole it to remind myself how she once felt about me. I wasn’t planning to share it, but considering she’s decided to malign me, slander me, what choice do I have but to set the record straight with her own words?”
Fuck me.
It was a trap, and I’d walked right into it.
What had he shown me this morning? Had he made up that whole journal entry to trick me into confessing to the crime before he produced the evidence? Not that I believed whatever he planned to read would be any truer than my own words.
Had we ever even kissed? Or was this all a setup and a hit job?
It didn’t matter. He held the audience in his grip, and they believed him. The truth no longer mattered. I rolled my eyes and settled in for the ride.
“Shall I read on?”
I’d so viciously taken him down, nobody was going to tell him to show me any mercy. In any case, he didn’t wait for any response but snapped the paper open and, in a voice I presumed was mine, he began.
“I kissed Tristan Spencer.”
The audience erupted in hilarity at his preposterous high-pitched teen girl affectation. Honestly, I might have laughed myself if it weren’t aimed at me. Instead, I crossed my arms and sucked on my teeth.
“I probably shouldn’t have kissed him, but I did. He showed up at the bar where I’d been drinking, and he looked as beautiful as always. He came right over to me. Oh, my God. I said, ‘Hi,’ like it was the cleverest thing in the world. And he said, ‘Hi.’ ”
The laughter had changed. It was harsher, more mocking. He was imitating me, and the audience could smell blood. My blood. The bar had become an arena, and someone was going to die. Tristan’s eyes gleamed with power, and I trembled.
“Tristan Spencer was right there. I told him, ‘If you come a little closer, I’ll tell you a secret.’ He came a little closer, and I grabbed his shirt and kissed him. Just like that.
“Oh, my God. I thought I might die.
“I said, ‘Oh, my God, I kissed you. You’re Tristan Spencer.’ ”
This whole thing was so dumb and over the top, I didn’t think anyone could possibly believe I’d actually written it, but even Zane and Bryce were spellbound. Traitors. Everyone was dead to me.
“He said, ‘I thought you were with that guy.’
“I said, ‘What guy?’
“He pointed across the room at that dweeby guy Alfie from our class, and I said, ‘That guy?’
“He said, ‘Yeah.’
“I said, ‘Ew. That guy creeps me out. He’s always following me around.’ Then I got a brilliant idea. I said, ‘You could help me brush him off.’
“Tristan Spencer said, ‘How?’
“And I said, ‘Kiss me again. Like you mean it.’
“He said, ‘If you want to prove you’re not into him, you should kiss me.’
“Well, that made total sense, and I wanted to kiss Tristan Spencer again, so I stood on my toes and my dreams came true.
“Kissing Tristan Spencer was better than anything I’d ever imagined. I knew I’d never get the chance again, so I went for it. It was like magic. He must be the best kisser in the whole world.
“When I looked back, Alfie had left, and Tristan Spencer said, ‘Well, mission accomplished, I guess.’
“I started to ask him if he’d walk me home. I wanted him to take me to bed. I wanted him. I opened my mouth to speak and threw up all over his shirt. He went to clean up, and I ran out of the bar so embarrassed. I think I might actually die. Oh, my God.”
The room was quiet.
I hated him.
I wanted the earth to swallow me, but if I got up and fled, it would only draw more attention to me. Zane rubbed my shoulder. “Hang in there.”
Miranda gave Tristan a yellow star, and he held it up like the bloody head of a foe he’d vanquished. Even Miranda seemed stunned, like she didn’t know what had just happened. The applause was muted. A couple of people started to clap, but they must have realized they were outnumbered.
Everyone started chattering, and it sounded like a thousand bees. Zane and Bryce consulted with each other, then rose together and flanked Miranda, whispering to her passionately. Heather and Quinn joined the powwow.
I stayed in my seat, fingers twisted together in my lap. Bryce returned with a look of concern, but he leaned over and said, “Everything will be fine.”
Miranda stepped up to the mic. “Quiet. Can everyone quiet down?” When the room stilled, she went on. “We don’t exactly have any rules in place against fabricating stories told here, nor have we thought out how to handle a situation like this tonight where one contestant has apparently used another contestant’s journal entry. The other contestants have made it clear they don’t want to participate in a contest where admitted theft is involved, and so it has been determined that any votes cast for Tristan tonight will not be counted. Since he can’t receive any votes, Tristan is effectively eliminated.”
The volume increased immediately, and it took a minute to gain enough control back to allow Zane to take his turn. I sat paralyzed through his presentation, and I wondered if anyone gave him proper attention. But when he finished, Miranda sorted through the vote slips and announced, “Continuing on to next week will be Heather, Quinn, Sierra, and Zane. And Sierra, congrats. You’ve won the Get Out of Jail Free card.”