Phoebe

The herd of students was rampaging through the cramped halls but I still saw them – Ivy, with each blonde hair in place and a smile on her face, holding hands with Kevin, who was eyeing some girl stealthily lest he be caught by his new girl. What an ass.

I still felt the pressure -- the heavy weight that comes with being angry -- on my chest, but I could do nothing to assuage it. Instead I had to watch them disappear up the hallway and wish that Ivy would come to her senses. But she would never consciously admit a mistake; she was the same as me in that regard.

A sudden thought grabbed my interest. Maybe I conceded, moving through the remaining pupils to my homeroom class.

A shadow appeared and then a tray clattered onto the table. The chair in front of me was being pulled out when a voice I knew said, "Can I eat with you?"

I glanced up.

"Sure. But I'm not sure if Daphne and Lorraine will like that too much."

"Do you care if they do?" He said, his tall frame falling into the chair.

"Not really," I replied, scooping up a fry. "It's more of a matter of what they will do when they see a football player at their table talking to the new girl."

He laughed then. "I forgot you don't know my name. I'm Joseph Reed, but everybody calls me Joey."

"Phoebe Whitaker," I returned.

"Phoebe," he murmured to himself, and then to me, "You seem like a Phoebe."

"Really?" I was one of those people who loved their name -- but for another person. Personally, I didn't think that Phoebe suited me but here was Joey telling me that it did. And there had to be something to that.

"Yes. I don't exactly know why, but you personify the name."

"Well, if it's anything, you seem like a Joey."

He nodded. "In my family, the first son is always named Joseph and given the nickname Joey."

There really was nothing to answer that statement with so I said, "Oh."

A silence was issued then -- a byproduct of having nothing better to say, and I awkwardly ate another French fry. (There's something so unnerving about eating in front of people you just met.)

"You seem . . . calmer now."

Joey was studying me and I gazed back. Neither one of us blinked, and I was reminiscent of earlier days when staring contests were a main pastime at lunch.

I nodded after choosing the words that would best describe. "That's because I'm over it."

"Over it?"

"Yes." I paused. "I decided that it's pointless to be mad at someone. And especially so in the case of Ivy. We're both so stubborn -- maybe because we're both Tauruses? -- so I know we'll be at a stalemate for a long time. Perhaps, eventually, we'll speak to each other again."

Joey took a bite of his hamburger. "So you're not going to even try?"

I grinned. "I know talking to her will be pointless so I'm not even going to try. I do have a plan of course but I don't know if it will necessarily work."

"A plan?" He looked doubtful. I didn't really blame him. I didn't really make much sense sometimes.

"Have you ever read Gone With the Wind? You have? Good. Remember how Rhett finally married Scarlett because he conceded that she would always be married, that he might as well just enter matrimony to have her? It's sort of like that. Rhett wanted Scarlett but not to have to marry her, and I want Ivy not to be an idiot in love. Well, obviously he didn't get her to be his mistress just like I won't get Ivy to deliberately dump Kevin. So I have to play dirty essentially. I have to go behind the scenes and meddle with what I have no business messing with."

"And how are you going to do that?"

I smiled again. "You think the magician gives away his tricks?"

Joey chuckled and I had no clue why until he voiced his thought. "Magicians need assistants, don't they?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Break out the sparkly red dress. But not now because here come Lori and Daph."

Joey glanced up at the approaching girls. Daphne was talking animatedly to her best friend and pointing excitedly at Joey and then at me; Lorraine was smiling pleasantly at the notion that she was about to meet an actual living breathing football player. Both were reacting closely to what I had predicted. (What can I say? I read people well.)

By the end of the day, I was thoroughly convinced that the only way I would get anything accomplished on the Poison Ivy Dilemma was to be nosy. So I decided to search the entire school for Sara. Granted, I didn't know her last name or what she looked like, but I was all for attempting.

But then, I didn't need to struggle so much. I ran into one of the girls from her clique -- Dava.

"Hey," I said urgently after my brain processed that I passed her in the hallway. Since there was no one else in the hall it was apparent to whom I was speaking.

"Yeah?" she questioned, snapping shut her cell phone.

I chose my words carefully knowing that if I said the wrong thing I would never get in touch with Sara. (Dava was definitely one of those protective friends, one that guys later would complain about when trying to pick up one of her friends at a club. Unyielding and strong; a deadly combo.)

"You're friends with Kara, right?"

Her dark eyebrows knitted. "Yes," she said guardedly.

"Could you tell her to give me call tonight? I'm having some trouble in," I paused to think of a class a girl like Kara would be taking, "Geometry. Kara's so smart and I really need some help."

Dava lost some of her protective wall. Obviously I guessed right; Kara must be a grade ahead of the other sophomores in math. And apparently Kara was smart enough and friendly enough to tutor so it didn't come as a surprise for people to ask. Lucky me.

I'm so going to Hell.

"Does she have your number?"

I shook my head. "I don't believe so."

Dava opened her phone and tinkered with the contacts list. "What's your number?"

I told her and then thanked her oh so graciously for helping me out. Is there any possible thing I could do to repay her? Etcetera etcetera, laying on the flattering thickly so she would suspect nothing but a girl anxious about her upcoming math test.

"Thanks again; I really really appreciate your help." And that wasn't a lie.

I started to walk away, but Dava called after me. "Kara might not call until late. She's volunteering at the Humane Society until six, and then she has a piano lesson for an hour, then dinner. So I expect she'll call after eight."

"Oh, I didn't realize she was so busy." True. If I had thought Kara was a busy person, I would have just gone for Lisa. But Kara was a softer spot to enter through in Dava's defenses and Lisa struck me as a bit of a blabbermouth; so I didn't bother saying Lisa needed tutoring from me.

"Yeah, well, she is, but Kara will help you just because she is the type of person she is."

It was nine o'clock when Kara finally got around to calling. When I answered I was greeted by a flurry of words.

"Yes, Hannah? What did you need help with? I'm a bit pressed for time."

"I'm not Hannah," I replied, my words drastically slower than her own had been.

"But isn't this----" she commented, rattling off my number.

"Why yes, yes it is," I said a bit playfully. (Some sick part of me enjoyed scheming and messing with peoples' minds.)

"Then -- then could you get Hannah for me? My friend told me that she said she needed help in Geometry." She was getting a bit exasperated with me so I decided to plunge right into it.

"No, I'm afraid she's not here. And yes, that is true about the help -- sort of. Listen, I have a lot to talk to you about. Could you just meet me under the oak tree by the parking lot tomorrow morning? I'll feel so much better talking to you there."

Ivy very possibly could be eavesdropping and I didn't need her to know I was scheming anything. And even if she had picked up the phone, listened to my conversation with Kara, and found out that I was planning something, I wasn't about to let any details fall into her lap.

"Who -- who is this?" Her voice was getting a bit nervous now; she was probably thinking I was a pedophile or something. I better tell her before she hung up.

"You know your friend?"

"Uh--which one?" Kara asked. She was definitely getting panicky.

"Not Dava or Lisa."

"You mean -- Sara?" She had said the last word hesitantly and almost too quietly for me to hear.

"Yes. Listen. I need to talk to you about her. I want to help you -- her -- out and I think I know the perfect way."

"Okay." Kara wasn't borderline freaking out anymore . . . which was good. Her voice had taken on the confidence that comes with protecting what you love. "I'll meet you under the oak tree."

"Good. Oh, and Kara? I'd appreciate it if you don't tell your friends about this conversation. I want you to know exactly what is going on before, okay?"

"Gotcha."

"Brilliant. You'll understand me taking precautions, yes? I'll be sitting on the ground. Take a seat on the bench and then I'll leave. You'll follow at a distance, seemingly worried that you forgot some homework. That is also what you will tell your friends if they try and stop you. This is all going to be very inconspicuous, understood?"

"Yes. I get everything you're saying. But you must understand that I need my own safety measures. When I first sit on the bench, start whistling 'Yankee Doodle'. And as you leave, list as many U.S. Presidents as you can starting with the 32nd and then looping back to Washington."

"I know what you said, but how are those demands really protecting you? An eavesdropper would only have to look them up."

Kara laughed. "The way I figure, if someone were that desperate to talk to me and did all those things, then they deserve to talk to me."