Getting Even

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  Getting Even

  Perfect Image, Book Two

  Susan Beth Pfeffer

  FOR GERI, PAUL, ALEX, AND DAVID BLOCH

  Chapter 1

  Annie stood facing the set and cameras of the Boston Morning television show, waiting for her moment to be one of the guests, and wished with all her heart that she was anywhere else. Even school sounded better than going on television to be interviewed by strangers about her summertime experiences. And the first week of school had been an agony of boredom for her, which was half the reason she’d agreed to be interviewed in the first place. She had spent the week trying to pretend that the summer hadn’t happened, didn’t matter, was just another perfectly ordinary summer, and not the astonishing miracle it had been.

  “Your first time on TV?” someone asked Annie Powell in an obvious effort to relax her.

  “My second,” Annie said, managing a smile at the thought. Her second. Had the first been only a month before? It felt as if it had happened years ago, in a previous lifetime, probably to somebody who had simply borrowed Annie’s body to have a good time.

  “Your second time,” the woman said, giving Annie an encouraging smile. “You’re a pro then.”

  “Right,” Annie said. “This is all old hat to me.”

  The woman, satisfied with Annie’s calm demeanor, walked off. Annie wasn’t surprised. Half her life she’d spent fooling people into thinking she could handle things there was no way she actually could handle. Of course, 95 percent of the time, she did handle them, but that was only out of desperation. When you’re expected to do something, you do it. The alternative was to make a fool of yourself, and that was something Annie was loath to do.

  Take her other time on television. It had been a national cable television show, and all of them—Annie, her cousin Robin, Ashley Boone, and Torey Jones—had been invited to discuss their summer as interns for Image magazine. They’d all been scared before going on, Annie supposed, although at the time she was sure she was the only one suffering from nerves. But when the camera lights turned on, and they were there discussing Image, Annie had held her own. Half of what she’d said had been critical of Image’s editorial policies, but that just added some juice to the conversation. She hadn’t cursed or anything, so what she’d said was fine.

  And then they had sprung a big surprise on the girls. All summer long the interns had been reminded that one of them was going to be on the cover of the February Image. It was the summer intern issue, complete with the girls’ makeovers.

  Annie had suffered for her makeover. She’d spent her first five weeks in New York losing fifteen pounds, on what she regarded as practically a starvation diet. She’d turned down dinner invitations, and half the time when the other girls had gone out for a bite to eat, she’d declined, claiming to be tired, just so she wouldn’t be tempted. Fifteen pounds lighter, she did indeed look terrific. Worthy of being on the cover of Image.

  And then, on national television, out came one of the Image editors to tell them, and everybody who was watching the television show, that Torey had been selected for the cover. Torey. Even a month later, it was still ironic. Out of the four of them, Torey was the only one who really didn’t care if she made the cover. In fact, Annie suspected Torey regarded it as kind of a nuisance, although she was much too polite to say so.

  “Excited?”

  Annie turned around and saw yet another of the Boston Morning people smiling at her. They smiled so much their faces must hurt by the end of the day.

  “Sure,” Annie said, assuming that was the response they were looking for. No point admitting her mind was on one of the truly major disappointments of her life.

  “There’s nothing to be worried about,” this particular reassurer reassured her. “Dan’s a great interviewer. Just listen to his questions and answer them honestly, and the interview will be a success.”

  “I know,” Annie said. “I’ve been on TV before.”

  “Then you’re an old pro at this sort of thing,” the man said, and walked off to handle some other nerve-stricken guest.

  Annie’s knees were wobbly enough that she figured she’d better sit down until they called her. She sat carefully, trying not to wrinkle her being-interviewed-on-television outfit. She’d worn this very dress the one other time she’d been on television. She’d already put on seven of the fifteen pounds she’d lost, but the dress still fit. The fabulous hairstyle they’d given her for her makeover had long since disappeared as well. It never took Annie long to return to her natural Annie state.

  Still, it had been a kick when Boston Morning had contacted her about being on the show. Annie had called her cousin Robin to tell her that her career as an Image intern still had a little left to it.

  It was funny about her and Robin, Annie thought, as she half watched Dan Patterson interview a local sex therapist. Robin’s mother and hers were twins, and she and Robin were always expected to be close to each other as a result. When they were little kids, they had been, too, or as close as they could be, with Robin’s family living in Ohio and Annie’s outside of Boston. Whenever the families got together, though, she and Robin had always played and confided in each other. There was even a period, when they were both twelve, when they’d actually written letters to each other with a certain amount of regularity. Both Robin and Annie knew just how delighted their mothers were, but the girls maintained their friendship anyway.

  And then the nightmare happened. Robin’s older sister Caro, who had been an idol of Annie’s, was in a car accident, and after two endless weeks, had died. Caro was the only person Annie knew who was consistently nice to her. Caro never teased. She listened to you, and you knew she actually cared, she was interested in you. The world belonged to Caro too. Everybody loved her, and she was bright and beautiful and full of promise. And then, without any reason at all, she was gone.

  Annie knew she would never forget the funeral or that awful sense of futility she’d felt there. There was nothing she could say to Robin, who sat absolutely still, in a state of shock. All the other family members were weeping or cursing or both, and Robin was as still as though she’d been the one to die. And there had been no words that Annie knew to say in comfort or love to her.

  After that, she and Robin had stayed in touch, and seen each other on occasion, but it was only because they were cousins. There was no closeness anymore. Annie was sure Robin must hate her, and she felt self-conscious every time they had to spend time together.

  And then out of thousands of applicants Robin and Annie had both been selected as Image interns. Robin was their photography intern, and Annie was editorial. Image didn’t know they were cousins, and both Robin and Annie were eager that nobody find out. When they’d discovered that Image had assigned them to be roommates, they’d swapped immediately, and Robin had roomed with Ashley, and Annie with Torey.

  But as the summer weeks went by, Annie had realized just how much she liked Robin. They would have been friends if they hadn’t been cousins, and after a while it made no sense not to be friends just because they were cousins. Finally they really talked about Caro and the funeral, and Annie had been able to say the things she hadn’t known how to say three years earlier. Of all the things she was grateful to Image for that glorious summer, the thing that meant the most to Annie was getting close to Robin again.

  Robin had been the perfect person to tell about the Boston Morning appearance. They’d discussed what Annie should wear, and what Annie should say, and how nice it was going to be to be on a television show and not find out
you hadn’t been picked for the cover.

  “I really envy you,” Robin had said. “Do you feel a sense of void these days?”

  “Do I ever,” Annie said. “Things are so boring.”

  “I feel like I want to die,” Robin confided. “It’s like being in Oz and then going back to Kansas, and everything is black and white all over again.”

  “I sit in my classes and try to remember that I used to like school,” Annie said. “I used to think school was important, and now it just seems like baby stuff.”

  “I miss the freedom,” Robin said. “I know they watched over our every move, but even so just being in New York gave you so much freedom. And I miss Tim like crazy.”

  Tim had been Robin’s summertime boyfriend. “I miss Harvey too,” Annie said, although if she had to be honest, she thought about him less and less. He seemed almost like a fantasy. But then again, the whole summer was seeming less and less real to her.

  “My first week home was all right,” Robin said. “Everybody fussed over me, and I got to tell all my best stories, and that was fun. But nobody cares anymore, except me, and there’s nobody who asks anymore what things were like, and all I have are my memories, and all this wonderful knowledge about how to take photographs of cupcakes and models, and instead of opening up a studio, and working at what I love, I have to go to school and pretend to be interested in physics and Chaucer. I feel like I’m being tied down.”

  “That’s it,” Annie said. “That’s it exactly. I feel like I’m in bondage.”

  “I keep telling myself things will get better,” Robin said. “After all, I can keep taking pictures, and I’m bound to adjust eventually. And I got my parents to say that I could see Tim over Columbus Day weekend. They only agreed because they’re sure by then I’ll be over him, but I won’t be and I’ll hold them to it, and at least I’ll get out of here, even if it’s only for a weekend. I used to like Ohio too, at least most of the time.”

  “Why don’t you see Tim at his mother’s?” Annie suggested. “Then you and I could both stay at my grandmother’s and we’ll have a chance to visit.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Robin said. “Do you think we could convince Torey to come down too? Long Island can’t be that far from the Catskills. I guess Ashley couldn’t make it, but at least we’d have a little reunion.”

  “I’ll write to Torey and ask her,” Annie promised. “Boy, just the thought of seeing the two of you again makes things seem a little more bearable.”

  “I’m going to do a lot of the photography for our yearbook too,” Robin said. “They won’t let me do all of it, because they said that just wouldn’t be fair, but at least I’ll get a chance to take some pictures again. They’re going to be the best photographs any yearbook ever saw, let me tell you.”

  “I decided against going out for the yearbook,” Annie replied. “They promised me I’d be feature editor of the paper this year, and I figure that should keep me busy enough. I plan to show them a thing or two about editing too. I feel like I know so much, and nobody even cares.”

  “My mother says things’ll get better,” Robin said. “What does your mother say?”

  “She doesn’t say anything,” Annie declared. “I try not to let them see how I feel.”

  “Why not?” Robin asked.

  Annie wasn’t sure she knew how to answer that. “I don’t know,” she finally replied. “I guess it would just bother them and there’s no reason for them to worry.”

  “Whatever works for you,” Robin said. “Anyway, we should probably get off the phone before you end up spending your entire summer’s salary on this phone bill.”

  “You’re right,” Annie said. “I miss you.”

  “You’re not alone,” Robin said. “Let me know how your TV appearance goes. I wish I could be there.”

  “I wish you could too,” Annie said, and forced herself to hang up. Was it possible that their summer in New York was the best time they’d ever have? That didn’t seem fair somehow. Annie didn’t want her life to peak at sixteen.

  “Not much longer,” someone said to Annie, forcing her back to the reality of being in the television studio. “This week’s sex therapist should be over in another ten minutes or so.”

  “Great,” Annie said, and automatically smoothed her dress. She wondered what sorts of questions she was likely to be asked. It had been a thrill when Boston Morning had called to ask her to appear. They were always looking for local young people who had had special experiences, and being an Image intern certainly counted for that. Thousands of girls applied every year, and only four were selected. When one of those four was a hometown girl, then they wanted to hear all about her experiences.

  Annie promised herself that they’d get the interview of a lifetime. Her story, she realized suddenly, was an interesting one. At first she didn’t know if she wanted to say that they’d put her on a diet the minute they saw what she really looked like, so she’d look the way Image thought the average American girl should look. But then she decided she didn’t care. After all, she’d made it. Then she could talk about her and Robin being cousins and interns together. And about Torey, who came from a small town in the Catskills, yet radiated the natural aristocracy of a princess. And she could even offer a censored version of Ashley. It had been a perfect summer, and Annie had been the luckiest of creatures to be allowed to share in it.

  “Annie? Anne Powell?”

  Annie looked up, and saw yet another of the Boston Morning people. This woman carried a clipboard, and somehow looked more important than all the other people who had spoken to her.

  “Yes?” Annie said, wondering if she could stand another reassuring speech.

  “This is terribly embarrassing but it’s show biz,” the woman said. “We just found out the head of the nurses’ union is willing to come on the show and talk with the head of the hospital administrators, and you know what a big story that is.”

  “The nurses’ strike,” Annie said.

  “Exactly,” the woman said. “My name is Stacy Livingston, and I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to say hello up until now, and that the reason I’m saying it to you now is to beg your forgiveness and ask if you could possibly come one day next week to be on our show.”

  “You’re bumping me,” Annie said, just to make sure she understood.

  “That’s it all right,” Stacy said, and offered Annie an apologetic smile. “It has nothing to do with you, you realize. We want our viewers to get to know you. But if you did appear on today’s show, well, frankly, I couldn’t promise you much time. The head of the nurses’ union is a real hothead, we’ve been told, and we’re really hoping for an exciting confrontation on an issue of grave importance to our viewers.”

  “I certainly hope it won’t be a grave issue,” Annie replied. “That sounds so final.”

  Stacy looked at her, and then she laughed. “You will forgive us, won’t you,” she said. “I was looking forward to hearing about your summer. I applied for an Image internship years ago, and didn’t get it. I want to hear just what I missed.”

  “You missed a lot,” Annie said. “I can’t say for sure how easy it will be to arrange to come back. I had to cut a half day of school as it is, and my parents might not agree to let me do that again.”

  “I’ll call them myself if I have to,” Stacy said.

  “Fine,” Annie said, and managed a smile. “Well, with luck, I’ll see you next week.”

  “You will, I’m sure,” Stacy replied. “Thank you for being so understanding, Annie.”

  “Any time,” Annie declared. No reason not to be understanding. The one thing she certainly understood these days was being let down.

  Chapter 2

  “Oh, hi, Annie,” Lisa Brannigan said, carrying her tray over to Annie’s table at lunch. “I’m glad we’ll have a chance to talk.”

  “About what?” Annie asked, and realized how rude she sounded. Sure she was disappointed about that morning’s fiasco, but that was
no reason to be snappish. She smiled at Lisa, and cleared a spot next to her for Lisa to put her food.

  “Things,” Lisa replied, and Annie caught a glint of some unpleasant emotion on Lisa’s face. Nothing nasty, but Annie wouldn’t have expected anything nasty from Lisa, who was a very nice girl, and if not one of Annie’s closer friends, certainly somebody Annie had liked for years.

  “Good,” Annie said. “I love talking about things.”

  “How was your TV appearance?” Lisa asked. “Everybody was talking about it this morning, how lucky you were to get to miss school to be on TV.”

  “My TV appearance was nonexistent,” Annie admitted. “I got bumped for a confrontation between the head of the nurses’ union and the hospital administrators. It was all a waste of time.”

  “Well, at least you missed some school,” Lisa said. “Physics was less than thrilling this morning.”

  “It’s never thrilling,” Annie replied. “Can I borrow your notes later?”

  “Sure,” Lisa said, and Annie noticed that look again. Discomfort maybe, or embarrassment. Annie worried momentarily that something awful was wrong with her appearance, but there was no way of checking.

  “So what’s been going on?” Annie asked, trying to keep the question sounding casual.

  Lisa licked her lips. “I just wanted to say how much I’m looking forward to us working together on the Bulletin this year.”

  “Sure, Lisa,” Annie said, waiting for the bombshell. The Bulletin was the school paper, and she supposed Lisa had been appointed assistant features editor. It was a job that usually went to a junior, but Lisa had been with the paper since she started high school, and she was awfully good. Maybe there just weren’t any juniors good enough for the job.

  “I want you to know that I didn’t have anything to say about it,” Lisa continued, sounding worse and worse. “The appointments, I mean. I mean, I’m thrilled of course, but it isn’t the way I would have done it. And I’ll be really counting on your help all year long.”