Bad Reputation. Melinda Lorenzo Di

the seniors at her school. They have to make something, sell it and donate ten percent of the money to charity.”

      “But you’re selling it,” I pointed out.

      Amber didn’t even have the grace to blush.

      “It’s not cheating,” she assured me with a dismissive wave. “Mom and Dad took her to the Caribbean for her birthday. The money’s due Monday and they’re not back until late Sunday. Anyway our parents said they would buy it all, but…you know how teachers are.”

      “Right.” I barely managed to keep my sarcasm in check.

      “Well, what do you sell?”

      I did blush. “I’m not really selling a product, either.”

      “So what are you doing here?”

      “I’m a gardener,” I started to explain, then stopped.

      I felt silly, confessing my need to protect the community center. It was exactly the kind of thing that got me teased in high school. My home life made me hyperaware of the need around me, but when you’re the only girl out of four hundred who cares about something other brand name jeans, people notice.

      Amber was looking at me expectantly.

      “Altruism,” Joey finally said. “She’s fundraising, too.”

      Amber frowned. “By selling gardening services?”

      “Why don’t you show me some of your sister’s stuff?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from me.

      Joey met my eyes again, and when he winked knowingly, I blushed.

      Amber grabbed my hand and pulled me over to her table, where she pointed out delicate earring sets and long, beaded necklaces. They were a far cry from the usual hemp and stone jewelry available at the market. The prices were high—between fifty and a hundred dollars for each item—but I suspected the materials were worth even more. I didn’t know what a Swarovski crystal was, but I was sure it was something fancy.

      “You want that one?” Amber asked.

      I was running my fingers over a long string of polished rocks. I dropped it on the table abruptly.

      “I can’t afford it,” I blurted.

      Amber tilted her head to one side as if trying to figure out if I was kidding. “It’s only seventy bucks.”

      “I know.”

      I was really starting to wonder if she didn’t remember anything about me but the awful nickname. My dad and his degenerate ways had been no secret where we came from, nor had the apartment where I had lived. The fire and the resulting deaths had catapulted the family name to something not too far from infamy. But Amber was smiling brightly, apparently oblivious to my previous life circumstances.

      “Maybe you’ll make enough in profits today to pay me back,” she said.

      “I’m okay, really. Besides, I don’t take any profits from what I do.”

      “None?”

      I shook my head.

      “Give it to her as a gift, Amber,” Joey suggested.

      “A gift?” Amber and I said together.

      Joey nodded. “I insist. And things get ugly when I don’t get my way.”

      I started to laugh, then realized he was serious. He wanted her to give me a seventy-dollar necklace like it was cereal-box prize. And Amber was already tucking the jewelry into a bag.

      “I’m not taking that,” I hissed at Joey.

      “Either she gives it to you, or I buy it for you,” Joey replied, then leaned in close enough that I could smell his understated cologne. “Go ahead and decide which is going to make you feel less comfortable.”

      My face heated up.

      “Thank you, Amber,” I said stiffly.

      She handed it over with an equally stiff smile. I shoved the whole thing into my backpack with a beet-red face, and sighed thankfully as a group of customers approached my table.

      * * *

      Although working alongside Amber and Joey was uncomfortable, it had a surprising benefit. She’d invited plenty of her friends down to support her sister’s cause, and they were all buying. Every one of them was happy to take my business card and flyer, and most said their parents would be dying to try someone new. I didn’t even care that they all assumed I was piggybacking on Amber’s fundraising efforts.

      But I was still relieved when one o’clock rolled around and the market was packing in for the day. Being nice to the privileged was wearing on me. And so were Joey’s teasing jibes and intense stares.

      “How’d you do, Chipper?” he asked as I shoved my materials back into my bag.

      “Not that it’s your business, but really well, actually. If even half of these people hire me, I’ll make a huge dent in what I need to finish my project.”

      Joey frowned. It was the first time I’d seen him look anything but overly pleased all day.

      “What?” I said.

      He shook his head. “Nothing. That’s good news. You want to come with us for a late lunch?”

      “Even if that idea appealed to me, I can’t,” I told him. “I have work.”

      “You work?” Amber’s voice was not quite horrified, but close.

      “I have to pay for school somehow,” I replied.

      “Didn’t you get some big scholarship, though?” Amber asked.

      “No,” I snapped.

      At my tone, both Joey and Amber balked.

      Amber was right about the scholarship, but the reason I’d chosen not to accept it was far too personal to share. After everything that happened, the bottom line was that the college with the “big” scholarship was just too close to home, too close to accusing eyes and resentful memories. And that was just somewhere that I couldn’t stand to be. So I’d taken a smaller, less comprehensive scholarship at Trans U, and even though it meant I had to work to earn a living, I never regretted it.