Game Plan, Or a Lack Thereof

For the first time in a while, I sleep hard all night. No matter how much junk is filling my head about the dilemma with Sabrina, or what Mr. Ramirez may have told me about Sophie, assuming his Sophie is the same as mine, there's an upper limit to how many nights I can keep myself awake thinking in circles. I wake up with a sleep hangover and get ready for school in a daze.

I decide to take the bus, and find that Sabrina must have boarded just ahead of me. I sit in the free seat next to her.

"So," I start off, not wanting Sabrina to get blindsided by bad news once we get to school. "I think we may have a prob-"

"Oh, I know all that already," Sabrina says calmly. She doesn't even lower the book she's paging through.

I cross my arms. "Oh? What was I about to say, then?" Not for nothing, but I wish she'd stop taking the wind out of my sails like that.

Sabrina looks over at me. "You were about to tell me all about that photograph of us outside your apartment. Well," she amends, one finger on her chin, "the photo of me and a mystery boy no one knows, anyway." I catch the hint of a grin on her lips.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny. It's like you're an extra in a movie," she says, finally closing her book. "Is Sophie already asleep? I really do want to give her this CD." She's already rooting around in her book bag for it.

I frown. "How'd you already know about this? Aren't you even a little bit bothered?"

With a small noise of triumph, Sabrina pulls the jewel case from her bag. "Here it is! I wondered if I left it in my stereo for a moment. And there's a little thing called a chatroom, Clark."

"I don't have internet in my apartment yet." Or possibly ever. My parents are already paying rent for me. Maybe if I can find enough of those National On-Line trial CD-ROMs...

Sabrina shrugs. "All the usual suspects are chattering, of course. Last year they claimed I was taking adderall, this year I'm sneaking around with boys. Next year, maybe I'll be running a crime ring."

"What sort of crime ring?" Sophie asks, popping out once her boredom and curiosity won out over her dislike of Sabrina. "And what's a CD?"

Immediately, Sabrina's demeanor turns sunnier. "I was thinking about getting into bootleg DVDs, unless you have a more exciting idea," she chirps. She holds out the jewel case for Sophie to look at. "A CD is like a record. I put some music on it for you that you might like."

Sophie's attempt to look cool and aloof collapses when she reads the label Sabrina wrote on the CD. "Helen Kane! Mother would never let me have one of her records!"

Sabrina basks in the glow of Sophie's excitement. "If Clark doesn't have a stereo, you're welcome to listen to it at my house. And if there's any other music you want, I'm of course happy to get it for you."

"Golly," Sophie murmurs, eyes skimming over the track listing Sabrina neatly wrote on the case. "I haven't heard any of these in..." Shaking herself out of her trance, she narrows her eyes. "Don't think you can buy me off with a record, woman."

"Back to the matter at hand," I cut in, as the bus pulls up to the stop next to the school. "We should do something about this stalker. Maybe Sophie could float above us next time we're out, high enough to see anyone tailing us."

Sophie scoffs. "I don't intend to leave her alone with you, Clark, and that's that."

I shoot Sophie a look that she either misses or chooses to ignore.

“Maybe we could do something to bait this person into revealing themselves?” I’m unsure how we’d do that, though. Trick them into taking another picture? But that might just compound the problem. “Or maybe we could hack their NIM account and find out their identity?” Sabrina seems like the type of person who could do that.

"While I commend the creative thinking, Clar, there's no need to go to that much trouble." Sabrina takes the liberty of putting the CD away in my book bag. I guess I'm listening to some crusty old jazz music after school whether I like it or not.

"Like you have a better idea, smarty pants?" Sophie fires back, even though she just got done trashing the same idea.

Sabrina shrugs. "I'll only look increasingly guilty the more I try to set the record straight. I figured that pattern out back in grade school." We leave the bus and head for class. "Honestly, the best move is to pay no attention to any of it. Let whoever was following me seethe over the futility of their actions, and they'll give up before too long."

I'm not quite convinced. "Or they might escalate."

"At that point, we could reassess the situation," Sabrina says. "But these things generally fizzle out on their own."

"Still," I say, "I don't like the thought of someone following you around. It really doesn't bother you, feeling like you're being watched?"

"I'm used to it," Sabrina says, too matter-of-factly for something so messed up. "Besides, the opinions of some immature kids couldn't be less relevant to me. Once I graduate, I'll go to university and then start my career. My reputation will carry weight then, and not before." She preens a bit. “I’ll be far too busy revolutionizing the private school system to even remember a petty setback like this.”

That's years away. Unacceptable. "Well, I'm not gonna just stand by and let someone harass you all the way up through senior year."

Sabrina sighs. "No, I guess you wouldn't. Right," she says, coming to a decision. "Since it's too easy to get under your skin, Clark, we'll do a little damage control. I'll figure out who took the picture today, if it makes you feel better."

"What can I help with, then?"

"You can do what you do best, and keep a low profile," Sabrina says. "Go to and from school separate from me, and stay out from underfoot."

I have a feeling she's politely telling me to be quiet and stay out of her way, but for lack of any better idea on my part, I nod. If she thinks I don’t fully intend to do whatever I can to prevent this from happening again, though, she’s sorely mistaken. Sabrina might not exactly be the nicest person I’ve ever met, but at the same time she’s the one person at this school who’s gone out of her way to make me feel welcome and included. We’re friends.

Still floating over my shoulder as we walk through the doors, Sophie blows a raspberry. “Well,” she drawls, bored. “Isn’t this a regular tempest in a teapot?”

Sabrina grins up at her. “I completely agree.” Her gaze moves down to me, though it’s obviously an effort for her to tear her eyes away from Sophie. “But it’s nice of you to be concerned on my behalf, Clark. Even if it’s misplaced.”

With an affronted huff, Sophie pretends to be very interested in people-watching as we move through the halls. “Stupid Sabrina,” she mutters, unaware that we can both still see and hear her. “Stop trying to act cute.”