"How about what you won't get -a step on your foot or a kick to the shin?"
"You say the cutest things, Monster Girl. Sorry, I can't help you."
I tugged on his backpack. "I'm asking you as your English partner-be a humanitarian. I can still skip class on our assignment date and watch you fail from outside the window."
He weighed his options heavily. Then he reluctantly agreed.
"My mom is in charge of the auction. I suppose I can drive you there after school."
"I'll take my bike and meet you there."
"You think you can get into the country club looking like that? You'll need me to escort you."
Trevor had a point. I'd only frequented the upscale club when I was accompanied by my sports-obsessed father and forced to wear tennis whites. They didn't welcome the pins and studs that I was sporting now. "I'll meet you in the parking lot," I agreed.
He was surprised at my positive response and left for class with an extra spring in his step.
After school, I found Trevor sitting on the hood of his Camaro - the whole soccer team was waiting around him as if he'd just won the World Cup.
Trevor opened the door to the Camaro . "Step inside."
His jock mates yelled, " Whoo hoo!"
I wasn't worried about my safety, but I was worried about my reputation. I didn't run with the in crowd-and at this point, I wanted to keep it that way.
Besides, I had something better than mace if Trevor decided to become friendly.
"Becky and Matt are coming, too," I said, as Dullsville's cutest couple caught up to me.
I felt victorious, but Trevor was unfettered.
"Of course," he said coyly. "We'll double."
I thought the alarm bells would sound when I entered the club and I'd be arrested by the fashion police. Though Becky and Matt were close behind, a staff member approached me.
"Can I help you?" a tall man in a green country club suit asked.
"I'm here with Trevor. Trevor Mitchell. He's parking the car."
"You are?" he asked, checking me out.
"There is a dress code, I know. But we are just passing through."
Just then my savior in khakis came through the door. "Hi, Dave," Trevor said. "I'm here to see my mom.""Hi, Trevor. How are you? Your mother's in the banquet hall." It was the first time in my life I was happy to be by Trevor's side.
We made our way down the orange-and-brown-patterned carpeted corridor. Unoriginal, hotel-inspiredan lined the green painted walls.
Mrs. Mitchell was opening a cardboard box when she noticed Trevor walk in. She beamed as she stood up,then frowned when she saw me enter the room behind her son.
"Are you in trouble?" It was her first reaction.
"Raven wants to place something in the auction."
"Hello, Matt, Becky Raven."
"Hello, Mrs. Mitchell," we responded. Mrs. Mitchell was like the teacher students dreaded having-chummy with those who excelled and short with those who didn't.
"That's very nice of you to help outyour " She hesitated,then glared at me. " friends ."
She, like Trevor, was skeptical that I was capable of participating in a high-society Dullsville auction. She tried hard to hide her contempt for me. But it was clear she didn't think I had anything of value to sell.
"This isn't for a school project, is it?" she asked. "This is an adult auction for collectors. We aren't auctioning off papier-mache penguins made in art class."
"No," I said in my politest voice. Normally, I would say something snotty, but Alexander and the Mansion^fate were on the line. So I kissed up to her like she had never been kissed up to before.
"We are studying careers in English class and I thought what better way to see a successful woman than to watch her up close? Not only will I see how you organize this event, but I'll be able to see how an auction really works."
"Well.,.I had no idea" Mrs . Mitchell said, suddenly bright and charming. "What would you like to auction?""Paintings.""From your father's collection? Is it an artist we know?"
I was afraid to tell her they were from a teen vampire.
"No.A young European talent."
"European?"Mrs. Mitchell asked, her eyes almost popping out of her head. "It would be nice to showcase someone on the rise. Of course, I'd need to see it first."
"Someone will bring it by," I chimed in.
"Good. Then fill out this form. And bring the artwork to me by the middle of the week-no later than five o'clock."
"That's it?" Trevor asked on my behalf.
"That's it. Ill set aside an area just for you."
"Thanks," I said.
"Why don't you stay and I can show you the real behind-the-scenes goings-on in event planning. It might help you with your report. Then I can run you home afterward."
"That's okay, Mom," Trevor interjected before I could. "I have to take her back before soccer practice tonight."
"Well then. Remember, all pieces need to be checked in before five."
Alexander wouldn't be able to drop the paintings off before sunset. And how was I going to lug all his artwork there on my bike? We'd have to find someone strong and not bound by the curfew of daylight.
I just hoped Jameson had developed some muscles from vacuuming.
"I'll drop you two off first. Then I'll take Raven home," Trevor told us when we raced out of the club parking lot. At this point I wished I had stayed with his mother and rode home with her.
"Oh, that's okay. I'm going to Raven's house," Becky said.
Trevor's expression turned from triumph to torment. He dropped Matt off in silence and didn't speak the rest of theway, He barely let us out before he sped away.
"I owe you big-time, Becky," I said when we were safely on the sidewalk.
Unlike Becky, I didn't have my own truck. "Want to ride on the handlebars or the seat?
"How about I wait for Matt to come back and pick me up?" she suggested. "Then you can avoid leg cramps."
We sat down on the front steps. "I can tell you whose paintings are going to be put up on the auction block," I began.
Becky's face sparkled. "Whose?"
"It's a total colossal secret."
"Are there any other kind?"
"Not even Matt can know."
She paused."Forever?"
"No, just until the auction is over."
"I can totally do that."
She leaned in close.
And I said in my softest voice, "The paintings I'm auctioning off are Alexander's."
"That's awesome!" she declared. "But why is it a secret?"
"Because we don't want anyone to know he's the artist. We're afraid that no one will buy them if they know they're from a teenager. And one that lives in the Mansion."
"I see your point. But what will you do with the money?"
"This is an even bigger secret. We plan to buy the Mansion."
It wasn't long before Matt pulled into the driveway.
"What's up?"
"Nothing," Becky said as she got into his car. "Nothing is up. And I don't have any more to say about it, either. And for that matter, I never will."
A confused Matt drove off as Becky looked out the window and smiled.
28
The following morning we sat through several painfully boring English presentations. Students had revelations of being Web designers, pharmacists, and restaurateurs. I prayed we wouldn't get to Trevor and me, but the clock had ten minutes remaining. My prayers weren't answered.
"So what did you learn about yourselves?" Mrs. Naper asked.
Trevor, always the star, had no inhibitions about being the center of attention. He sprang up next to Mrs. Naper's desk while I walked past my classmates as if I were headed for the guillotine.
"When I was in kindergarten," Trevor began, "like most boys, I wanted to be a superhero." A few girls in the front row giggled. Trevor stopped and shot them a cold stare until the girls glanced away. "Of course, I'm not that kidanymore," he continued, "but I do like action, speed, and competition. What I've learned from this assignment and the interview is that when you are a kid, you don't worry about what others think of your ideas. And your dreams have no boundaries. It might be easy, predictable, and even safe to follow in my parents' professions. But my essay is about how a superhero has courage, and it takes courage to follow your dream. And my goal ," he began, and then turned to me, "is to be a professional soccer player."
"Tell us something we don't know," a Pradabee said, flipping through her notebook.
I was really surprised at Trevor's speech. I had challenged my nemesis with my earlier assessment of him and he felt he had to prove to me that he wasn't the coward I thought he was. I wondered if I hadn't said anything, if Trevor would have stood here proclaiming he wanted to be a real estate developer like his dad.
The class applauded and Mrs. Naper grinned at her student pet. "Very interesting and well spoken, Trevor," she complimented. "Now we have just enough time for Raven's presentation before the bell rings."
I gazed out at my fellow students. They glared back like I was the lead act at a freak show.