Free Impostor by Jill Hathaway Page A

whatever he wanted if Rollins hadn’t burst into the locker room.
    Samantha pulls back and looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry about that night.” She doesn’t need to say which one. We’re both thinking back to Homecoming last year. I confronted her after the dance, accusing her of watching Scotch drag me down to the locker room. She never knew how I knew. The truth was I slid into her and saw the whole scene through her eyes. She never denied knowing about what happened to me, though. And she never apologized. Until now.
    “I was so angry with you,” she says. “You knew how much I liked him. I—I kind of felt like you deserved what happened. And now I know I was wrong. No one deserves that. No one. I’m so, so sorry.”
    Looking into her eyes, I know that Samantha’s being genuine. She feels terrible about what happened to me. Just like I’m sick over what happened to her.
    “He’s an asshole,” I say simply.
    She backs away from me and takes a deep breath. “That’s an understatement. I just wish there were some way to get back at him.”
    The wheels in my brain start turning. I remember a novel I read once in which a girl pretended to make out with a guy in his car. She waited until he was completely naked, and then she stole his car, leaving him to walk home in the buff.
    Lightbulb.
    “Hey, Sam. I have an idea.”
    She sniffs. “What?”
    My scheme is still not fully formed in my head. Of course Scotch wouldn’t believe Samantha or I would want to get together with him—not after what he did to us. We need someone else. Someone Scotch would like. A cheerleader.
    Regina.
    I clap my hands together. “Come over after cheerleading practice. Bring Regina. I have the best plan ever!”
    “Does your plan involve supergluing his privates to the wall?”
    I laugh. “No. It’s even better.”
    She smiles, but I can sense there’s something more she wants to say. She shuffles her feet, looking as though she’s searching for the right words. “Hey, Vee?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I never did thank you for what you did for me during the fire. I know that you risked your own life, trying to pull me out. I don’t know if I’d have been able to do the same thing.”
    I study her face. It feels good to look at her and recognize the girl I see looking back at me. “You would have. I know it.”
    She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” She crosses the bathroom and puts her hand on the door, getting ready to leave.
    “Wait a sec,” I say. “I’ll make sure those guys are gone.”
    I duck my head outside, and sure enough, the two boys have disappeared. I motion for Samantha to follow me, and we return to our lockers. I grab my backpack and hoodie and then turn to find Samantha standing in front of her open locker door, staring at herself in the mirror.
    “I can’t go to practice. All the girls will be talking about what I supposedly did with Scotch.”
    I grab the tube of fuchsia lipstick from the shelf in her locker and hand it to her. “Of course you can, silly. You’re Samantha Phillips.” She takes the tube from me and holds it for a moment, feeling the weight of it. She uncaps it, swipes it across her lips, and returns it to its place on the shelf. As she presses her lips together, I think that only Samantha Phillips would have the balls to wear lipstick in such a bright shade of pink. She slams the locker door.
    “You’re right. I am.” She gives me a shaky smile and then turns to head to the gym. I watch her walking away, her head held high.
     
    Samantha, Mattie, and Regina show up a little after five.
    Mattie does a belly flop onto my bed, and Samantha perches shyly on the rocking chair in the corner of my room. It feels so strange to have her in my bedroom after more than a year. Mattie keeps giving us curious looks, no doubt wondering why I invited Samantha and Regina over.
    Regina wanders over to my desk and sits down. She picks up a framed picture of me