“I want to try one of those sometime.” She turns to Milo. “Have you ever done one?” I notice she plays with her bracelet as Milo regales us with a tale of his daring escape from a space station under attack by rebel forces at the Herndon Escape Room.
Ugh. I pull Darius aside. “I’ll be right back. There’s someone I need to talk to.”
I search the house—the upstairs, the downstairs, the deck, the garage—and finally locate Aiden sitting alone on top of the dryer in the basement laundry room. “What are you doing here?”
“Good question. I shouldn’t have come.”
“No. I don’t mean the party. I mean the laundry room. You need to be in the kitchen, talking to Maggs.”
“I can’t. It’s no use. She’ll never date a guy like me.”
“What are you talking about? I told you, she thinks you’re cute. And sweet. And she loves that bracelet, though you definitely should have put your name on the package. Secret admirer? What was that about?”
“I know. I’m an idiot. I had everything planned out that night. I was going to go up after your last dance and hand it to her and say something about her being the prettiest flower on the stage, and then … I wimped out. Couldn’t do it.”
I pull myself up onto the dryer beside him. “Listen. You’re going to need to put yourself out there. Maggs likes you. I can tell she does. She just doesn’t quite realize it yet.”
“Yeah, well, there’s one big thing standing between me and her.”
“What?”
He looks at me like I’m dense. “Milo. That dude has way more game than me. And is about twice my size and has no problem at all getting up the nerve to talk to Maggs.”
I give a dismissive wave. “Milo is … well, okay, Milo’s pretty cute. But you have one thing going for you that he does not.”
“What’s that?”
“Libby. She says you and Maggs are a match. And that’s not nothing.”
Aiden cracks a small smile. “That’s true.”
I jump off the dryer and grab his arm. “Come on. Let’s go. I got this.” I pull out my phone and do a quick search as we head toward the kitchen. Please, please let my idea … yes. I grin. This is going to work. As we approach Maggs and Milo, I say in a loud voice, “Wow, that’s cool. Maggs is going to be so excited.”
Aiden shoots me a look that’s half curiosity, half terror.
“About what?” Maggs turns to us.
“Tell her, Aiden.”
Aiden’s eyes widen.
“Oh, fine. I’ll tell her.” I pull at Maggs’s arm, mostly in the hopes of creating some separation between her and Milo. “Did you know Phish is touring this summer? Aiden has an in. He’s getting front-row seats.”
Now Aiden’s expression is half admiration, half terror. Whatever. He’s got six months to figure out how to get the tickets.
“Are you serious?” Maggs claps her hands together. “I am so jealous. I am dying to see them.”
“Who’s Fish?” Milo looks lost.
“Only my favorite band ever. They were big in, like, the nineties and two thousands, but they’re still together. They’re kind of rock, kind of folk, kind of psychedelic … it’s hard to explain.”
I nudge Aiden, and he finally finds his voice. “Have you ever seen the video of them on Letterman?”
“The one where they played on top of the marquee? Oh my gosh, that was crazy.”
Aiden nods. “They sounded so good. And then when they played ‘Heavy Things’ … ”
“Yes! That’s my favorite. I also love ‘Billy Breathes,’ though that one’s kind of obvious.”
“I need to go find Darius.” I say this to no one in particular, because Maggs and Aiden are now uber focused on their Phish conversation, and Milo looks as though he desperately wants to find a way in but isn’t even sure whether he’s at the right address.
I locate Darius on the couch in the living room and cuddle up next to him. “Sorry about that. I had some business to take care of.”
He puts his arm around me. “No worries.”
I give him a kiss. Yes, there are people around and, yes, they can see us. And no, I don’t care. Well, maybe I care a little bit. But not enough to stop me from kissing him. This is the new Alicea Springer, the one who in the space of less than an hour has dissed Lauren Cooke and come up with a sick plan to help Aiden get Maggs’s attention. Nothing can—
Oh. My. Gosh. Am I hearing what I think I’m hearing? For real? I pull away from Darius to sit up and listen. Sure enough, someone is playing his rap. I glance around, and everyone in the room is either staring at us or trying desperately not to stare, and most of them are giggling. Whoever is playing the video turns up the volume, and several people start laughing out loud.
My face burns. I refuse to look at Darius. I scramble up from the couch and take off out of the living room, through the kitchen, down the basement steps, and into the laundry room.
I shouldn’t have run. I should have summoned up the same courage I had earlier and laughed along with them. Heck, I should have jumped up and imitated my own dance moves and made fun of myself. After all, they can’t laugh at me when they’re laughing with me. It’s just that everything about that night and that whole week was so awful. Seeing it played out over and over, with everyone making fun of me, brings it all back.
A knock sounds on the laundry room door, and Darius peeks in. “You okay?”
“Not really.” I scoot over and make room for him on the dryer. “So I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that that was prom night, and it was just a few days after Ty broke it off with me.” I bury my head in my hands. “I basically lost it. I don’t remember much because I was so out of it. You must think I’m an idiot.”
Darius puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. “Honestly, I think seeing the video helped.”
I look up at him. “Helped? How?”
“Until I saw it, I didn’t really get the whole thing with Wonder Boy. I mean, I knew you two had dated and I could tell you were still pretty hung up on him, but I guess … ” He stops, and the scar on his chin throbs. He looks away.
“What?”
“This is going to make me sound like a jerk, but … I didn’t realize how much he meant to you. I thought it was about you wanting to be ‘Ty’s Girlfriend.’” He makes air quotes. “I didn’t stop to think that maybe you actually cared about him.”
I take his hand in mine. “If I’m being honest, it was a little bit of both. I liked Ty. I liked him a lot. But I also liked the whole Look-at-Me-I’m-Ty’s-Girlfriend thing.”
We sit for a few minutes without saying a word. I wish we could stay here all night, tucked away, holding hands. When I finally dare to speak, I choose my words carefully. “I’ve thought about what you asked me that day in the park, about why I would give up my dreams of dating Ty to be with you.”
“Oh, yeah?” He pulls away and faces me. “And did you figure it out?”
I tuck one leg up under me and turn to face him. “With Ty, I was the girl he picked to date out of all the other girls in the school, which made me feel special. But with you … ” I entwine my fingers in his. “With you, it’s like there are no other girls. Or at least, the other girls don’t matter.” I pause and shake my head. “I’m not saying this right, but … it’s like no one else matters. It’s just you and me, and all that … ” I point to the ceiling “… stuff up there is white noise. I can ignore it and enjoy being me.”
Darius grins. “My Angel Bright.”
I feel myself blush. “I love it when you call me that.”
“You didn’t always.”
“No. That’s true. That’s because at first, I have to admit, I … I refused to believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“That Libby was right about our match.”
Darius cocks his head. “What?”
I feel my cheeks grow warm. This is the first time I’ve acknowledged our Boyfriend Whisperer match. “I’m sorry, b
ut when I first saw your name come up on my phone, I thought there was no way. I mean, Libby’s never wrong, but … it seemed crazy to me.”
Darius hops off the dryer and faces me. “What are you talking about? Who’s Libby?”
“You know. My program. When you log on, it says, ‘Hello, my name is Libby, and I’m here to help you find your perfect match.’”
“So the Boyfriend Whisperer thing? But what does that have to do with us?”
“What do you mean? It has everything to do with us. You’re my match, and I’m yours. Libby says so.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry if I’m being dense, but I don’t get it. How does she know we’re a match?”
I stare at him. Is he kidding? It’s not that complicated. “Because of the survey. Our answers. She calculates them and … what’s not to get?”
Darius says nothing, but I can tell he’s as confused as ever.
I grip the edge of the dryer. Something’s off. “What did you think all the questions were for? And why did you answer them if you weren’t expecting to find a match?”
Darius opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Oh, no.” I get a cold, hard feeling in the pit of my stomach as the realization creeps in. “You didn’t take the survey, did you? You’ve never used the Boyfriend Whisperer.”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
Darius shifts uncomfortably. “I mean, I know what the Boyfriend Whisperer is.”
“But you’ve never even logged on.”
“No. But I can if you want me to. What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”
I’m shaking, and I feel as though I can’t breathe. I can’t believe this. Who would … ? “Brie. Of course.”
“What about Brie?”
“She created a fake account under your name and answered all the questions the way I would so we’d be matched.”
Darius stares at me for a moment. “She did?”
“I’m sure of it.”
He whistles. “Wow. That’s some next-level matchmaking.”
“This whole thing makes so much sense now. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.” I jump off the dryer and stand beside him. “You’re not my match after all. You never were.”
“Well, but—”
“So what was with the winking and the pencil and the volunteering to be my Romeo and the … ” My voice cracks. “The pinkie kiss?”
Darius shakes his head. “What do you mean, what was it? I did all that because I like you. Obviously.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know. Because I do. And I thought you liked me too.” He looks away. “Who knew it was all a stupid computer program?”
I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to assure him it was more than that, but part of me isn’t so sure. Because the fact is, if it hadn’t been for Libby, I never would have given a guy like Darius Groves a chance.
“Libby’s not stupid,” I say finally, my voice barely a whisper. “In fact, she’s never wrong.” And with that, I turn and walk back upstairs, through the crowd and out the door.
I trace my fingers along the outline of one of the haloes. They don’t shine as brightly here in my room, without the gallery lighting. For the past two weeks, ever since Darius gave these to me and we got back together, I’ve been trying to decide which “Angel Bright” piece is my favorite. It changes every day.
This morning, though, I have no favorite, because it turns out that none of the angels are real. They’re all figments of my imagination, foolish wisps and dreams.
The doorbell rings, and I hear my mom answer. It’s Brie. I’ve been expecting her. I texted her to come over this morning, though I didn’t say why.
“Hey, there.” She appears, smiling, in my doorway. “Wow, those really are gorgeous.” She walks over to admire the canvases. “The pictures from your phone don’t do them justice.”
I sit down on my bed.
She turns to face me, and her smile disappears. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”
“How could you?”
Guilt flickers in her eyes ever so briefly, but she recovers. “How could I what?”
“Don’t play dumb. Just tell me. Was the whole thing a plot to keep me away from Ty? And if so, couldn’t you think of a better plan than to set me up with someone you knew I had no business dating?”
“What? Alicea, that’s—”
“I can’t believe I’ve been so dumb. There were about eight million signs that Darius and I did not belong together, but I chose to ignore all of them. I kept telling myself … ” I point an accusatory finger. “No, you kept telling me, ‘Libby is never wrong,’ and so I looked past all the red flags and let myself get caught up in something I knew from the beginning was stupid and ridiculous and would no doubt end badly. Which it did. Last night.”
Brie’s eyes widen. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“What happened? I figured out that you screwed me over and that the last two and a half months with him have been based on a great big lie, that’s what happened.”
She sits down at my desk chair. “Screwed you over? Alicea, that’s not what I was doing. I was trying to help. And I kind of feel like it—”
“Want to hear the worst part? I came home last night and deleted your fake Darius account, and guess who my next closest match is? Yep. Ty. Seventy-four percent. Not perfect, but still. At least it’s real.”
“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t do it to hurt you. I hated seeing you so crazy after Ty. I thought it might help if you found someone else.”
“I’m sure you did. You never thought I was good enough for him.”
“Not good enough?” She moves onto the bed next to me. “Alicea, that’s not true at all. I think you’re too good for him. You deserve way better.”
“Ha. Right. And so you set me up with some random new kid who was a known troublemaker with no friends. Because that’s so much better.”
“Yes, it is. Because Darius really likes you. I could tell he had a crush on you. And I think he’s cute, and also funny, in a walls-up sort of way.”
I glare. I don’t want to think about how cute or funny Darius is right now. I’ve been trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to put him out of my mind all night.
“Come on, Alicea. He’s into you, and you’re into him, too. I know you are. What does it matter what Libby says?”
My jaw hardens. “Of course it matters.”
“But why?”
“Because it does.” Doesn’t it? I hug my knees to my chest, and the tears start. Brie pulls me close into a hug, and even though I’m still mad at her, I let her.
After a long while, she pulls away and walks over to my desk to grab my box of tissues. “What did Maggs say about all this?”
“She doesn’t know yet.” I blow my nose. “I didn’t want to mess things up with her last night. She was caught up in a conversation with Aiden—who is her match. For real.” I can’t help but throw that in. “So I didn’t tell her. I called Andrew to come pick me up from the party and got the heck out of there.” A thought occurs to me. “Did Maggs know anything about … ?”
“No. She never would have gone for it. This was all my idea. Here.” Brie holds out her hand and takes my snot-filled tissues and tosses them in my trashcan. “Think you’ll ever forgive me?”
“Maybe when we’re old and gray.”
“But I’m planning to color my hair until I die.”
“Then no.”
“That’s what I thought.” Brie gives me another hug. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but honestly, I’m not sorry for setting you up. I one hundred percent believe you and Darius belong together, because first of all, every time you talk about him your whole face gets happy, and second … ” She turns and points to the “Angel Bright” canvases. “He made those. I’d think the world was about to end if Blake ever did anything half that romantic for me.”
I feel the tears start again and grab the t
issue box. “I think you should go.”
Brie sighs. “I’m going. But think about it. Because third of all, those tears are telling you something.”
“Tell me about Libby.” Mrs. Barkley scans my poster, a smile playing at her lips. I’m used to the bemused expression. It’s the same one all the Tech Fair judges have had, because mine is the only board in the cafeteria with graphs in the shape of hearts.
“Libby is a program I developed last summer,” I explain. “A matchmaker. And she’s never wrong.”
“Never?”
“Well, her error rate is 2.9 percent. So almost never.”
Mrs. Barkley leans in and studies my narrative, my calculations, and my code. “Impressive. Though I must say, I’m glad we didn’t have one of these when I was your age.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, I never would have ended up with my husband. He and I are polar opposites.” She laughs. “I probably would have gotten stuck with someone like Martin Winsaker. He’s the guy my mom wanted me to marry. We actually did go out on a date once, but he was … ” She glances around and leans toward me, her voice low. “Handsy. If you know what I mean.” She makes a face, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.
“Ugh. Who needs handsy boys?”
She shakes her head. “No one.” She jots a few notes into her tablet and points her stylus at my poster. “Nice work. Good luck.”
I consider her words as she moves on to the next table. Polar opposites. They say opposites attract, but Libby doesn’t account for that. Nor does she account for the fact that someone who might seem to be a perfect match on paper could turn out to be … handsy. Perhaps there are flaws in the program after all.
“Hey, there!” Lexi saunters down the aisle toward me, interrupting my thoughts. “I love the poster. Way to represent.”
I force a smile. “Thanks. Though I’m not sure what exactly I’m representing at this point.”
“What?” Lexi points at the highest bar on my graph. “Look at that success rate. You’ve taken the Boyfriend Whisperer to a new level. You’ve cracked the code!”
“I guess.”
The Boyfriend Whisperer 2.0 Page 16