The '68 Camaro Between Kenickie and Me (Pacifica Academy Drama Book 2) Read online

  Warren faced forward when Mr. Yates approached the Smart Board.

  I pulled out my textbook, spiral notebook and pen.

  My phone buzzed. Ella had texted me and included Quinn.

  Why didn’t you ask for a real car? That runs?

  Quinn muffled a laugh.

  I forced myself to ignore her and Ella’s text.

  This generation of cars were more car than anything they would get. Trying to explain that to them would be a huge waste of time. And was it really their fault they didn’t get it? I grew up appreciating classic muscle cars and hot rods. They didn’t.

  I slipped my phone into my sweater pocket and started doodling my beautiful Camaro.

  Ella sat in her seat beside me in English. “I’ve decided I’m going to be the next president of student council.”

  I stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She had never expressed any interest in student council. Her single contribution to school as of today had been joining the activities committee. They were in charge of planning all the big school events, like the dances and prom. She’d lasted for two meetings because nobody allowed her to be in charge.

  “And why the sudden interest in student government?”

  Her eyes flashed with irritation. “Since I found out there’s never been a female president in this school. It’s ridiculous. And how perfect is the timing? With my dad running for mayor this year? You and Quinn are going to help me win, too. And vote for me, of course.”

  We were…what?

  She couldn’t be serious. And it’s not like I didn’t have enough going on.

  It seemed…admirable…she wanted to be the first female president of our student council. Maybe her dad wanting to be the city’s next mayor had influenced this. But she, like me, knew nothing about student government. I didn’t exactly feel any kindness toward student council right now, either. Specifically, its teacher-advisor.

  “El, do you even know what goes on in student council? And we don’t know anything about campaigning.”

  She raised her right eyebrow. “How hard could being in student council be? From what I can tell, all they do is plan school spirit days and school-wide fundraisers for charities. And work with student activities on the dances.” She smiled. “Piece of cake. All you two have to do is help me with my campaign posters. And hand out buttons. I’ve already come up with my slogan.”

  She leaned across her desk and motioned for me to do the same. But when she caught a few kids sitting near us, listening, her eyes hardened. “Does it look like I’m talking to you?”

  Two kids focused on their notebooks and one turned in their seat to talk to another kid.

  I mentally cringed at how nasty her question had sounded.

  “Vote Ella Walker,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “The girl who will walk P.A. in the right direction.” She laughed. “Perfect, right? I know I’m going to win. Just like my dad.”

  We sat back in our chairs as Ms. Simmons stood behind her podium.

  I returned her confident smile, though I didn’t think she understood what she was getting herself into.

  Ms. Simmons picked up where we’d left off Friday in our poetry unit, and I absently retrieved my book and notebook from my backpack.

  Ella would also, most likely, be running against students involved in student council for the last three years. If she got elected, something about her win wouldn’t seem…fair.

  Guilt settled itself around me since Ella was one of my best friends. But helping her campaign for president made me feel like I would be cheating on my club, which needed me more than Ella did. Because I knew we could—somehow, someway—change Mr. Yates’s mind.

  All around our cafeteria table were loud conversations and bursts of laughter. A huge difference from the seriousness filling the circle between the five of us. And not one of us had touched our lunches yet.

  Kassidy looked at me, Warren and Lexi. “The first thing we need to talk about is the club’s name. I thought you guys were going to change it back in November. What happened?”

  Warren glanced at Lexi, and they focused on me.

  I rolled my eyes. Because this was so not my fault.

  “We’ve been trying to come up with a different name, but our Madam Veep has been less than cooperative,” Warren stated.

  “How is it my fault the names you guys came up with sucked? The Let’s Stick Together Club? Are you kidding me?”

  Meg winced. “Yeah, I have to agree with Natalie. That does pretty much suck.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Then you come up with a suggestion,” Warren snapped. “I can’t do it all by myself.”

  Kassidy picked up her baggie of green grapes and waved it between Warren and me. Which made us smile. But we were never snarky with each other.

  I said as a peace offering, “I think the new name needs to come from what the club is really about. Because it’s not about anti-love and broken hearts. That’s the surface stuff. What brings kids into the club.”

  They became silent and stared at me.

  My face warmed, an unusual reaction for me, and I added, “It’s just a suggestion.”

  “It’s perfect,” Meg said, and not hiding the surprise in her voice.

  “And a fantastic place to start. Warren? Lexi?” Kassidy’s eyes bounced between them.

  They replied by each giving me a tight, sideways hug. Something that warmed me all over, too. My friends, namely Ella, weren’t huggers.

  Warren gasped. “I have an idea on how we can get the new name. And show Mr. Yates what the club has to offer kids in this school. But we’ll need to come up with some questions.”

  I frowned. “Why? What for?”

  “We’re going to conduct,” he dramatically stated, “a poll.”

  Okay. I didn’t hate his idea. At the same time, I didn’t feel overly confident we’d get the answers we deserved and needed, and all because of Mr. Yates’s warning.

  Chapter 5

  I lifted my eyes from my poetry homework and glanced at the framed photo on my desk.

  I smiled and picked up the frame, which held a picture of what my Camaro would eventually look like, painted a color I called San Francisco Bay blue. My car would also have white pin striping that started just before where the two doors opened and would run up to the front end. Both stripes would then merge into a thick white border to frame the don’t-screw-with-me headlights of the 68 Camaro. And the leather interior, with bucket seats up front, would match the car’s color.

  I looked up at the black fabric bulletin board above my desk. The board held polaroids of me with my friends, my dog, Chloe, and a few more pictures of perfect-condition 68 Camaros.

  My smile grew at the thought of tearing down the freeway in my dream car. Especially on a day like today when I wanted to get away from everything.

  I really didn’t have the time or…interest…in helping Ella run for president. And did she even need my help? She’d probably get elected for wanting to be the first female president of student council. And because of her dad. Not because she truly cared about “walking P.A. in the right direction.” But maybe she’d surprise me once she started running against kids who did care? And I did like Warren’s poll idea, but resentment with Mr. Yates and the complainers stirred inside me at the fact they’d put us—the club—in such a defensive position.

  I closed my eyes and pictured myself in my car, with the windows rolled down, my hair blowing around my head, and driving south. North wasn’t far enough from this city. But as I headed south in my imagination, Easton West Classic Car Restoration, located in South San Francisco, reminded me of how far away I was from freedom. That made the strong image fizzle and die. Then Drama Boy’s smile and wink drifted into my mind.

  I opened my eyes and frowned.

  Where had that come from? Thinking about my car at his family’s shop?

  But as I was about to squash the image it hit me—I hadn’t resea
rched him yet.

  I set the frame back in its place, stood and went straight for my yearbooks on my bookcase headboard. My bedroom in my grandparents’ warm, spacious house was cozy. But between my bulletin board, other favorite photos hanging on the walls, including a poster-sized sketch of a 68 Camaro Gramps bought me that I hung over my bed, I’d take this room over my legal bedroom. In a cold penthouse in Nob Hill I hated.

  I pulled out my most recent yearbook and sat on my bed’s edge. When I opened the book, I saw the Romeo and Juliet program. I went to the page with the cast list and smiled at my accurate memory. Drama Boy had played Romeo’s cousin, Benvolio.

  I put the program aside and found the two pages dedicated to last year’s musical, The Wizard of Oz. My smile doubled in size when I spotted him, as the Tin Man, in a picture on stage while arm-in-arm with the three other main characters. The Tin Man seemed like a big part for a sophomore. And he’d gotten Kenickie this year. Which meant he must be good.

  My curiosity led me to find his class picture and I couldn’t help but notice his eyes reminded me of my Camaro’s future color. He was pretty hot. In a sandy-blond, wholesome, teen heartthrob…drama boy kind of way. But I knew, from how he and his brother tore up to the shop in the Chevelle, he had some bad boy in him. Easton Junior did say his brother dared him to get the car up to eighty before they reached the shop.

  The two very different sides of Drama Boy weren’t making sense.

  I heard a soft knock from my doorway and looked left.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to startle you. Dinner’s almost ready.” Grams pointed at my yearbook. “That doesn’t look like homework.”

  I closed the thick book with a pop! I then stood and dropped it on my bed.

  I heard the approaching tap, tap, tap of Chloe’s paws on the hardwood stairs and floors before she trotted into my bedroom. She launched herself onto my bed, and I scooped her into my arms. She was a feisty black, white and tan Basenji my grandparents gave me when I turned thirteen. I’d taken one look at her sweet, puppy face and fallen in love.

  “Just got sidetracked for a few minutes,” I said around Chloe licking my chin. I’d really lost my mind for a few minutes. Drama Boy had taken up too much of my time. I smiled at her. “Your hair looks nice.”

  Every eight weeks she had her short, silver hair trimmed. The style never changed, but Gramps and I always noticed.

  “Thanks.” Her smile slowly changed to a frown. “Your mom called. The trip to L.A. for the groundbreaking has been postponed.”

  After Gramps retired a few years ago, he handed over his real-estate development company to my dad. The company being the reason my parents traveled so much.

  “They’ll be back tomorrow,” Grams added.

  I groaned.

  “I talked her into letting you stay the rest of the week, but you’ll be back with them Friday afternoon.”

  “This is my home.” It came out bitchier than I intended, and I instantly felt bad when her mouth tightened.

  “Natalie, please don’t start.”

  I nodded and said, “I’m sorry.” I meant my apology, too, but I hated leaving them, this house, and especially my Chloe.

  My mother didn’t like animals, particularly ones with fur. I had almost nothing in common with the beauty queen. At least my dad loved old cars, too.

  “Thank you.” Grams’s smile returned. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

  I hugged Chloe tighter to me, which made her squirm, but I refused to release her. Though I had through Thursday with her, I never knew when I’d see her again after I left here.

  I stood in the school office, tapping my foot as I waited for Mrs. Oliveri to come back, and heard from behind me, “Hey there, Sunshine.”

  I rolled my eyes as Drama Boy stopped beside me at the counter that separated the waiting area from the actual office portion.

  I eyed him. “Would you stop calling me that?”

  Humor filled his ridiculously pretty blue eyes. “Sure. When I see you smile. But then I might not recognize you.”

  I tore my eyes from his.

  Where the hell was Mrs. Oliveri? I needed to get to my club meeting. My mother told me I could only have until 3:30 because I’m still grounded.

  “What are you in for this time?” he asked. “Scaring freshmen with your super awesome personality?”

  I whipped my head in his direction.

  Okay. He was definitely hot. And always smelled really good. But none of that made up for the fact he was an annoying, nosy, smartass.

  “Not today. I’m here for my community service log. Are you always super nosy?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. It’s a gift. And I’m here for mine, too. Isn’t it funny how community service keeps bringing us together.”

  “Try irritating,” I muttered. “And, unlike you, I never asked why you’re in here.”

  “Okay.” He faced me. “So do you have certain days and times you play nice? Like maybe I should try you on Tuesdays and Wednesdays at, I don’t know, three o’clock?”

  “I’m always nice.” I leaned forward. “To people I like.”

  Unbelievably, his humor disappeared and…hurt flashed across his face. But up until this second he’d taken as much as he dished out.

  I looked away.

  “You don’t even know me,” he quietly said. “And, unlike you, I get to know people first before deciding if I like them or not.”

  His statements yanked my conscience. Because, outside of his family’s business and being active in theater, I didn’t know him. At all. But that didn’t stop my snide side from returning and I faced him. “I know more than you think I do, Benvolio.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds, then started laughing.

  I crossed my arms. “What’s so funny?”

  Mrs. Oliveri finally appeared at her desk.

  “You keep surprising me.”

  “Community service logs?” she asked.

  He nodded, his laughter reduced to his wicked smile. Which pissed me off—again—since that smile of his was again at my expense.

  She handed over our logs, and I, as nicely as possible, pulled it from her fingers. “Thank you,” I said before whirling from the counter.

  “See you tomorrow morning, Sunshine,” he sang—and really well—to my back.

  I continued my march from the office without a backward glance. I also cursed myself with every stair step I took for noticing he could sing.

  Chapter 6

  I walked into Ms. Simmons’s classroom and stopped. All thoughts of Shane Easton, and the fact I’d let a high school drama boy get to me, vanished at seeing almost every original Anti-Love Club member staring at me. Their faces were full of excitement.

  I raised my eyebrows. Not just at seeing them, but noticing they, with the exception of me, Warren, Lexi, Alisha and Erin, were the only ones at the meeting. So not normal, either.

  Ms. Simmons smiled at me and lifted her shoulders.

  “Isn’t this awesome?” Lexi practically squealed.

  I approached them. There were nine of us in the classroom; Warren the only boy.

  “Yeah, but what the—” I stopped myself again from blurting out that bad word in front of a teacher. “It’s great to see all of you. Really. But what’s going on? And where’s everyone else?”

  Warren’s smile slipped. “We think Mr. Yates scared them off.”

  Lexi frowned. “That’s the not-so awesome part.”

  My intense dislike for Mr. Yates tripled in strength.

  I dropped my backpack and community service log, then sat at a desk beside Warren.

  Despite my irritation with Mr. Yates, I smiled at seeing Jade and Paige. I knew Kassidy and Meg would be here.

  “Meg and I decided we needed all the help we could get right now,” Kassidy stated.

  Jade squared her shoulders. “Kass is right. There’s definite strength in numbers. And Nate wanted to be here, but he’s really busy with baseball. He did say he’
ll help if he can.”

  Paige smiled. “I’ve missed this club. You guys. So when Meg caught me after school the other day, I totally jumped at the chance to come back and help.”

  “I caught everyone up while we were waiting for you,” Warren said. “What took you so long, Madam Veep?”

  “Dealing with community service.” And an infuriating, too-cute-for-his-own-good drama boy who, for some reason, loved laughing at me. Which made him nothing more than an ass.

  Why the hell was I even still thinking about him?

  I forced him from my mind. “It’s great you guys are here. But nine isn’t exactly a strong number. And what if those cowards who abandoned us refuse to take our poll? Or give rotten answers because they’re cowards?” Yeah, I’d spoken harshly. But I’d also said the truth.

  “That kind of attitude isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Erin said under her breath.

  “I agree.” Meg, sitting to my right, placed her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Nat, we’re all upset about this. But we have to stay focused.”

  “Well, I would so love to know who’s complaining about us.” Alisha crossed her arms. “It’s okay for other students to do it, but not us? That’s screwed up.”

  “I have to admit I’m curious about that, too.” Lexi absently twirled a lock of her hair around her index finger. “I can’t imagine who could be doing such a thing.”

  “Guys, we’ll probably never—not ever—find that out. What matters most is getting the answers to our poll before spring break. And…” Kassidy’s voice trailed off as she looked at Warren, grinning like the Joker from Batman.

  My instincts went into high alert.

  “Warren caught me before the meeting,” she continued. “He has another, very unique idea on how we can prove to Mr. Yates this is a great group. And it could work. But everyone has to commit, or it won’t make a real impact.”

  Warren, still wearing his Joker grin, slapped a flyer on his desk. In bold, blue, all capitalized letters were the words—my eyes widened.