The Karma Club, Page 20

  This has to work. There’s no way it can’t work.

  I park my car in front of a very familiar house, walk up to the front door, and ring the bell. I can feel tingles in my fingertip as it comes in contact with the cold metal doorbell and the nervousness runs up and down the length of my spine.

  When the door slowly opens and the person behind it looks at me with those kind eyes, so full of anticipation and trust, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ve made the right choice.

  KISSES FOR KARMA?

  I tell Spencer everything. From the beginning to the end. And just as I did with Rajiv, I don’t leave out any details. Even the really creepy ones, like hacking into Mason’s e-mail account or snooping around Seth Taylor’s computer. I lay it all out on the line. Right up to my revelation only moments ago.

  This is what I do now. I tell the truth.

  No more lies. No more dishonesty. No more angry revenge. Just truthfulness and compassion. That’s it.

  I know Spencer might leave me. I know he might look at me for the first time with disgust in his eyes and disbelief splashed across his face. But it’s a chance I have to take. Because I trust that it will work out for the best. That everything will happen the way it’s supposed to happen. If Spencer kicking me out of his house and telling me he never wants to see me again is part of the grand plan, then I will be crushed and heartbroken, but I will trust that Karma knows exactly what it’s doing. Something I never managed to do before.

  Spencer listens intently as I tell my story. He doesn’t say anything. He barely even reacts. He only nods here and there. When I’m finished, he has this intense look in his eyes, and I try desperately to read the thoughts behind it, but I can’t.

  I can tell, though, that he is completely overwhelmed. His eyebrows are furrowed and the crease on his forehead is larger than usual. I have this sinking feeling that he’s going to break up with me right then and there, so I start to plead with him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I truly am. I was wrong to lie about it. I know that now. I was just so afraid that—”

  Then, before I can say anything else, Spencer totally starts cracking up. Like uncontrollable laughter. The kind capable of being elicited only by a stand-up comedian or a really funny movie.

  It actually annoys me. I mean, here I am, spilling my heart out to him, trying to be a good person and tell the truth, and he’s laughing in my face? I think this is even meaner than telling me he doesn’t forgive what I did and kicking me to the curb. Does he really have to laugh at my terrible misfortune? Is it really that entertaining to him? I take one more look at his face and then rise to my feet. “Well, I’m so glad I could be so amusing to you.”

  Spencer holds up his hand as if he’s trying to tell me to stop, but he can’t even speak through his giggling fit.

  “Look,” I say, really mad now. “I thought I was doing the right thing by telling you but obviously—”

  “You replaced her acne cream with Crisco?” he finally gets out.

  I stop and study him. “Yeah.”

  Then he busts out laughing again. “That is so freaking hilarious! Where did you come up with that?”

  And then I start laughing too. “Actually, it was Angie’s idea.”

  Spencer wipes tears from the corners of his eyes and gathers his composure. “Absolutely classic.”

  I slowly ease back onto the couch, and he scoots over closer to me and puts his arm around me. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And for sticking up for me.”

  “Huh?”

  “In front of your friends,” he says with a dopey grin. “You could have easily sold me out. Taken the easy road to get yourself out of a bind and keep your secret from them, but you didn’t. And that’s a pretty significant good deed right there.”

  I laugh and wave his comment away. “It’s not a good deed if you do it for someone you know.”

  “Why not?” he says seriously. “I think the very definition of a good deed is putting someone else’s feelings in front of your own. And you already did that for me.”

  “Yeah,” I admit thoughtfully. “But if I don’t come up with something before Wednesday, my friends are going to go through with it anyway. I can’t tell you what they’ll do to you, but I promise it’ll be humiliating. Jenna won’t settle for anything less.”

  Spencer smirks like he knows something I don’t and says, “Don’t worry about it. You just keep doing what you’re doing. I’m sure everything will work out.”

  I just hope that he’s right.

  The next stage of my new plan is to come up with a good deed that really means something. This gets me thinking. What can I do for someone else that they can’t do for themselves? What do I have to offer the world that’s unique and can actually make a difference?

  I take inventory of my skills.

  1. I have a fast metabolism. Okay, I don’t think that’s really a skill, because I don’t have to practice at it. Plus, I’m not sure how the speed of my food digestion can really help anyone else. So next . . .

  2. I’m a good kisser. Or so I’ve been told by both Mason and Spencer. But unless I plan to host some kind of kissing booth charity event and risk contracting mono or something worse, this is probably a no-go as well.

  3. I make really good instant mashed potatoes from the box. I know, I know, how hard is it to follow a set of add-butter-and-milk directions? But maybe I could cook mashed potatoes for the homeless or something. They won’t care if it came from a prepackaged powder, right? Okay, I need more options.

  4. I’m smart and I get good grades. This is, after all, why I’m a student tutor for the counseling department, because according to Mr. Wilson, not only do I get good grades but I’m really good at helping people understand things so they can get good grades too.

  Instantly I know that’s where my answer lies. In my tutoring. It’s something that I’m good at and something that helps people. Lots of people need tutoring in all sorts of subjects. Heck, Mason Brooks’s parents paid that Kaplan company loads of money to help him improve his SAT scores, and we know how that turned out. But what if some people can’t afford to pay a company to help them study for the SATs or raise their geometry grade or teach them the difference between the passé composé and the imparfait of French verbs? It doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t get the help, does it?

  The first thing I do on Monday morning is head for the counseling center and sit down in Mr. Wilson’s office to tell him about my idea: a volunteer tutoring program for high schools in underprivileged areas. Free tutoring sessions, either one-on-one or in groups, for students who need extra help with their assignments but can’t afford to hire a tutor.

  He is absolutely blown away by the idea, which of course only inspires me more. Then he tells me that I should feel free to utilize the resources of the counseling department to help turn this idea into a reality.

  So I get to work creating flyers to inform the other student tutors about the program and ask them to write down their names if they’re interested in participating. Mr. Wilson even offers to mention the idea at the next staff meeting to see if the administration would be willing to offer the volunteers extra credit in the subjects that they tutor as an added incentive.

  On Tuesday afternoon, Spencer helps me call some schools in impoverished neighborhoods to ask if they would be interested in having a program like this. Every single one of the guidance counselors we speak to is completely thrilled with the idea.

  We tell them all that we’ll be in touch when we’ve secured some volunteers and we can talk about scheduling and everything.

  “Oh my God,” I say to Spencer after I hang up the phone. “I can’t believe this response.”

  “That’s because it’s a good idea,” he tells me.

  “I just hope that people sign up. It’s pretty much a dead end if no one wants to tutor for free.”

  “They will,” Spencer assures me. “
I think most people want to do the right thing, they’re just not presented with enough opportunities to do so. You’re making it easy on them. You’re putting it right in front of their faces.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Spencer pulls me closer to him. “Of course I’m right.”

  Then he kisses me really deeply, and I’m not sure if it’s the feeling of his lips on mine (which has always been earth moving) or if it’s the exhilaration that’s coursing through my veins at the thought of doing something that might actually help people, but either way, it’s one of the best kisses I’ve ever had.

  When it’s over, Spencer looks into my eyes and tells me that he’s proud of me, and I can’t help thinking that I’m actually kind of proud of me too.

  A TEST OF FAITH

  Okay, so of course I’m worried about Wednesday. After all, it’s tomorrow, and although I’ve been totally absorbed in my new free tutoring program, I haven’t forgotten the deadline Jenna gave us. We have to give in to her outrageous demands or she releases the Karma Club notebook to the public and we go down in flames.

  I’m pretty sure no amount of free tutoring is going to help me with that one.

  I’ve been trying to have faith, though. You know, believe in the power of good. Believe that my recent shift in paradigms will result in a shift in fortune, and somehow, some way, the whole Jenna thing will disappear. My friends will forgive me and everything will be okay.

  However, when Wednesday morning finally arrives, I still have nothing. I mean, I don’t have nothing nothing. I have Spencer, who has been amazing. And I have my tutoring program. And I already have six tutors who have signed up to volunteer. I mean I have nothing in terms of fighting off the evil ways of Jenna LeRoux and her vicious notebook scheme.

  So you can see why I’m nervous.

  The four of us—Jenna, Jade, Angie, and I—all agreed to meet in a far corner of the student parking lot after school on Wednesday afternoon. Jenna thinks that we’re meeting to go over the details of Spencer’s demise, and my friends think that we’re meeting so I can present my alternative solution. Because to them, failure is not an option. Letting that notebook slip through our fingertips is not a viable solution. No matter how much I try to convince them that Spencer doesn’t deserve to be the target of revenge.

  As I make my way to the far end of the parking lot and see Jade and Angie standing there waiting for me, dread washes over me. This is it. Something has to happen in the next five minutes or I’m totally toast. Actually, Spencer’s the one who’s gonna be toast.

  I stop about three feet away and stand there staring at them. They look like a smaller, duet version of the threesome that used to be our little group. And suddenly I realize what it feels like to be on the outside of that, looking in. Because right now, as I stand a good arm’s length away from them, observing their closeness, not only in proximity but in friendship, I nearly want to burst into tears. I miss them so much it hurts. And standing here on the outside, wanting so badly to be let back in, only makes it that much more poignant.

  It’s impossible to tell if they miss me too, because their faces are like stone walls. They give away nothing. But judging by the fact that neither of them has returned any of my calls, I’m willing to guess they’re still pissed off.

  “So, what have you got?” Jade asks me, her voice totally cold and detached and devoid of any sort of feeling.

  “Um,” I say, suddenly feeling tongue-tied. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

  I guess we’ll all have to find out, I think. Because, unfortunately, I’ve still got nothing.

  I can see a car in the distance. It’s heading down the last row of parking spaces and turning toward us. I squint to get a better look. It must be Jenna, coming to collect her blackmail check.

  And that’s when I realize that I’ve made a huge mistake. Enormous. How could I not plan something? How could I show up here empty-handed and leave everything up to fate? What kind of idiot even does that? That’s like the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Even stupider than that joke about the guy who gets caught in the flood, so convinced that God will save him that he turns down the help of two rescue boats and a helicopter. Well, you know what happens, don’t you? He drowns. Yep, the flood swallows him up. Then when he gets up to heaven, he asks God why he didn’t save him and God says, “I sent you two boats and a helicopter. What else do you want from me?”

  Now that’s me. Drowning in my own stupidity. About to be eaten alive by the floods and tidal waves of Hurricane Jenna, all the while saying, “Karma will save me, I believe.”

  How could I be so blind?

  As its daytime running lights glow in the distance and the car inches closer, I know I’m doomed. And Spencer is going to suffer because of my lack of judgment. It’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

  Where is Karma now? Why is it always forsaking me in my time of need? Why? I was honest. And I’m trying to be good. I swear I am.

  I turn my back to the car and shut my eyes. I can’t watch. I know some people get kicks out of watching car crashes on TV, but I can’t just stand there and watch my life run straight into a brick wall.

  I hear the car door open, and I wait. Wait for her voice. Wait for it to be over.

  But I don’t hear it.

  Instead I hear a loud gasp. Then I hear Angie say, “Oh my God.” And I can’t take it anymore. I open my eyes and turn around.

  And when I do, I see that it’s not, in fact, Jenna who is waiting there. It’s Spencer. He’s standing next to his car, a clever smile plastered on his face.

  It’s not his flashy German sports car or his slick designer button-down shirt that’s inspiring the looks of absolute astonishment on the faces of my friends. But rather, what he’s proudly holding in his outstretched hand.

  A small pink notebook.

  OPERATION PAY FORWARD

  I’ve definitely heard of knights in shining armor showing up to rescue you. That’s old news. But knights in shiny new BMW convertibles showing up to rescue you? Now, that’s original.

  “How did you get this?” I shriek to Spencer as I throw my arms around his neck.

  He laughs tenderly at my excitement. “Easy. I just asked Jenna very nicely to give it to me, and she did.”

  I look at him skeptically. “Seriously? All you did was ask nicely and she handed it over?”

  “Yeah,” Spencer says, his voice implying that he has no idea why I would suspect otherwise.

  He glances back at Jade and Angie, and neither of them appears entirely convinced either.

  “Okay,” Spencer finally admits. “So I kind of had to give her something in return.”

  “I knew it,” I replied. “What did you have to give her?”

  “My word.”

  “Your word on what?”

  “My word not to tell anyone that she defaced her own locker.”

  This makes me laugh. And pretty soon Jade and Angie are joining in. And it feels incredible. My two best friends laughing with my new boyfriend.

  Then Spencer does this totally strange thing. I mean, it’s cute and sweet, but totally not something I would ever expect him to do. He steps toward Jade and Angie and actually offers his hand for both of them to shake. Then he says, “Hi, I’m Spencer Cooper. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  At first, it seems condescending to me, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize that he’s being sincere. My friends haven’t met him before. At least not the real Spencer Cooper.

  Spencer is so far from the person that we once thought he was. And the remarkable thing is that we made those judgments about him without ever speaking to him once. How crazy is that? But that’s just high school. Your reputation precedes you, no matter how accurate or inaccurate it is.

  Maybe Spencer used to be the person that is represented in the school’s gossip archives. Maybe he used to be this really rich, stuck-up kid who hosted kick-ass, invitation-only parties at his parents’ loft and w
ho barely took notice of the little people, but that’s not who he is today. And if we judged everyone by who they were and not who they’ve learned to become, well then, I guess none of us would have any friends. Including me.

  I’d like to say that things are finally back to normal, but I’m not sure I know what normal is anymore. I mean if normal is having everything exactly the same as it used to be, before all of this went down, then no, things are not back to normal. And trust me, that’s a good thing. But if normal is having my friends back in my life, then I guess maybe things are pretty normal these days.

  The first thing we did after we got back the Karma Club notebook was to rip out all of the pages that had anything to do with our previous endeavor and start fresh. I explained the rules of the new (and improved) Karma Club. A club that’s not a secret. That’s not exclusive. And that’s not reserved for members only. Anyone can join.

  And most important, it’s not about seeking revenge and Karmic payback. It’s about spreading good Karma throughout the lives of the people around you. I can be the first to testify that it works.

  If I hadn’t come clean to Spencer about everything, then he wouldn’t have even known about Jenna and the stolen notebook. And he wouldn’t have been able to get it back for us. So you see, it all worked out in the end.

  I so knew that it would.

  Okay, I had some small doubts when it came down to the wire, but the story sounds much better when I say that I was an unwavering believer the entire time.

  Jade and Angie have recently followed suit and started a few good Karma initiatives of their own. Jade joined this children’s theater program in the city that provides an opportunity for kids to be involved in plays and musicals. And Angie started volunteering at a teen drug abuse hotline center where she gets to talk to troubled kids about illegal drugs and misused prescriptions.