“Hey.” Lexi comes around the table to stand next to me. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
I point to the poster. “Sure, Libby has found a lot of perfect matches. But what about all the people who aren’t matches but who might still belong together?”
“What do you mean?”
I look away. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
I cross my arms. “Darius and I are over.”
“Oh, Alicea, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“He wasn’t my match. It was a set up. He never even took the stupid survey.” I turn to her. “It’s just as well, because I was super upset about being matched with him, and he’s totally wrong for me, and I never should have gone out with him, and there’s no way it was ever going to work with us, and … oh, Lexi, I like him so much.”
Lexi wraps me into a hug as I break down in tears. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.” She waves a couple of judges past my table as I try to pull it together. Finally, she steps back and lifts my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Listen to me. I told you last year that you are beautiful and brilliant and that you have a voice that matters. You said it took you a long time to believe that, but I’m not sure you do believe it, even now.”
I wipe at my eyes. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes, not so much. But what does that have to do with whether or not I should date Darius?”
“It has everything to do with it. Because having a voice that matters means actually listening to yourself—to your heart.” She points to my poster. “Libby is great, and you should be proud of her. She’s made a lot of people really happy, which, let’s face it, is the whole point of whispering. But you need to ask yourself: Whose voice matters more? Hers? Or yours?”
I stretch my leg along the barre and flex my toes.
“Want some help?” Maggs appears beside me.
“Sure. Thanks.”
She gently lifts my leg higher. “How are you doing?”
“Good.” I’m not good, but I don’t want to bring her down. “So, how did last night go?”
“Oh, it was okay.” She looks away.
“Come on, Maggs. Tell me about your date. I’m fine, I swear. And even if I weren’t fine, you could tell me. I’m happy for you.” I am. She deserves someone like Aiden, someone who adores her and makes her smile the way she has been for the past week. As Lexi said, making people happy is the whole point of whispering.
She shrugs. “Well, there was ice cream—chocolate for me and cookie dough for him. And after that, we stopped in at a bookstore. He likes poetry. Can you believe that? And … ” Her voice trails off as she lifts my leg another two inches.
“And what?”
“And there may have been some kissing behind one of the shelves.”
“Yay! Finally. It only took him three dates.”
“I know, but it was … worth the wait.”
“That’s awesome. Can I ask you something?”
She nods.
“Your secret admirer. Did you want it to be him?”
Maggs’s smile widens. “Maybe.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Aiden is … different from most of the guys I’ve dated. I feel like he’s … I don’t know. Right for me somehow.”
“Hmm. Imagine that.” I haven’t told Maggs that Aiden is her match. She’d hate knowing that. I might tell her someday, but not yet.
Ms. DuBois opens the door to her office and calls out to me. “Alicea, may I see you for a moment?”
I give Maggs a quick hug and head over.
Ms. DuBois closes the door behind me and collapses into the chair behind her desk. “I’m exhausted,” she says. “We’ve had more children sign up for our beginner classes than ever before. All four age groups are sold out for the next month.”
I smile. “Wow. That’s awesome.”
“It is. And I have you to thank. And the other dancers, of course. Your First Night performances were very popular with the children and the parents alike. Now everyone wants to be a fairy and a dancer.” She leans forward. “And that is what I want to talk to you about.”
“Okay.”
“The ‘Waltz of the Flowers.’ Your first performance.” She clasps her hands together and beams at me. “I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“It! The passion. The rawness. It was wonderful. Your best dancing ever. It’s what I need to see every time.”
“Oh. I see.” I shake my head. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t remember it. The whole dance was a blur to me. My mind was … somewhere else.”
“Ah. Then that’s the key.”
I screw up my lips. Seriously? So all I have to do is have my heart broken before every performance? Come to think of it, at the rate I’m going, maybe that’s not so far-fetched.
Ms. DuBois nods at me. “You need to get out of your head. Once you’ve learned the dance, you need to trust yourself and let go. Let your heart lead the way.”
I offer a small smile. She’s the second person in two days who’s told me to trust my heart. If only it were so simple.
“Ms. DuBois.” Monique opens the door and peeks in. “I’m really sorry, but … there’s a problem. It’s one of the new girls. You’d better come.”
Ms. DuBois bolts out toward one of the classrooms, and I follow her.
A crowd of girls has gathered on the far side. “Stand back. Give her some room.” One of the instructors is motioning them away. A few of the littlest girls have started to cry.
What’s going on?
A woman rushes in, probably the girl’s mother, and kneels down beside her. “Jaycee, can you hear me?”
Jaycee? My blood runs cold. It must be. And she must have had a seizure. I sweep through the crowd until I’m close enough to see. It’s her. Oh my gosh.
The instructor is speaking to her mom in a low voice. “Her eyes sort of rolled back in her head, and she reached for the barre, but she slipped. I think she hit her head when she went down.”
“Oh, no. That could be worse than the seizure itself. We need to call an ambulance.”
“Already did.” Maggs appears beside me, concern etched on her face. “That’s Darius’s sister, isn’t it?” she whispers to me.
I nod. I don’t trust my voice. Poor Jaycee. I feel so helpless. I wish there were something I … Darius. I should call him. He’d want to be here.
As I hit his number, I hear the sound of a siren in the distance. Thank goodness.
He doesn’t pick up, which I don’t have time to get upset about right now but which is rather upsetting for a few reasons, the most important of which is the fact that there is no way I can leave him a message telling him his sweet little sister had a seizure and will be taken to the hospital. I text him.
Alicea: Please call me. It’s important.
I stare at my phone as a pair of EMT workers rush in with a stretcher. I catch snatches of their conversation: “Unconscious—breathing fine—high heart rate.”
Come on, Darius. I know you don’t want to hear from me, but this is—
My phone rings.
“Hey.” I don’t wait for his reply. “I’m sorry to call you like this, but … it’s Jaycee. They’re taking her to the emergency room.”
“What? Is she okay?”
“I think so. I don’t know. Your mom is—”
“I’m on my way.” He hangs up.
I stare at my phone as Maggs and Brie smother me in a three-way hug.
“Go on,” Brie says. “You should be there.”
“I don’t know. I’ll feel weird if—”
“Stop.” Maggs points to my head and then to my heart. “Less this. More this.”
I play game after game of Candy Crush Saga as I sit in the children’s unit waiting area. By the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Jaycee apparently was conscious and talking, so after some quick tests in the emergency room, they moved her her
e. Darius has been in her room all evening. I’m not sure when he’ll come out, and I’m even less sure I should be here when he does. Still, I’m trying to stick with the whole listen-to-your-heart advice.
I’m figuring out the cannon combination in Valentine Valley when the door to Jaycee’s room swings open. My heart pounds, and I close my game.
Darius emerges, his face paler than usual, his eyes dark with worry.
This was a mistake. I turn to leave, but it’s too late. He sees me. At first he freezes, but then he comes over. “Hey. Thanks for calling me. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. How is she?”
He takes a deep breath. “Fine. They were afraid she might have a concussion, but the tests came back negative. She’s more embarrassed than anything. It was her first class, and she’s afraid if she goes back, the other kids will—”
“No, no, no.” I shake my head. “I mean, I guess have no idea what the other kids will do, but I’ll beat them up for her if they’re not nice.”
Darius gives me a side-eye.
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, I tried that once.” He points to his scar. “It didn’t end well.”
“You beat up a bunch of ten-year-olds in tutus? And lost?”
That earns a smile. “Not quite,” he says. “It was this dude on my basketball team. A real idiot. Jaycee had a seizure at one of our games, and he started making fun of her. I’m not proud of it, but … I snapped.”
“It’s understandable.”
“Well, tell that to my old principal. He didn’t understand at all.”
“Oh, wow.” I feel tears forming, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m worried about Jaycee, or because I feel bad that people can be so horrible, or because I assumed that Darius was a degenerate when in fact he’s actually an awesome brother, or because I’ve screwed things up every step of the way with him. Probably all of the above.
“You’re the reason she signed up for dance class, you know.”
I blink. “Me? What?”
“Yep. She’s talked nonstop about your dancing ever since New Year’s. I think you may have surpassed Lexi as her biggest idol.”
I laugh. “Doubtful. That’s sweet, though. I bet she’ll be good at it. She seems like the kind of wonder kid who could be good at both basketball and dance.”
Darius smiles. “She’s a wonder kid, all right.”
We stand for a moment in silence, and then, because I don’t know what else to say, I give him a hug. “I guess I should go. I’m glad she’s okay.” I turn to leave, but when I reach the door, I stop and turn back. “Darius, can we talk?”
“Of course.”
“I mean, I don’t want to interfere with … ” I wave toward Jaycee’s room.
“It’s fine. My mom’s in there with her. They’re processing the paperwork for her discharge.” He glances around the waiting room and nods toward the door. “Come on. I need to get some air.”
We head outside and wander over to my car. We climb in, and I pump up the heat. “So.” I take a deep breath. “I owe you an apology. I’ve been a complete and total idiot.”
He says nothing as he fiddles with the latch on my glove compartment. I take his silence as permission to continue.
“The thing is, I’m a paint-by-numbers kind of person. I like it when one equals red, and two equals blue, and three equals yellow, but you … ” I shake my head. “You don’t have a number. You’re like this huge part of the picture with no number attached, and I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Why do you have to do anything?” He turns and meets my gaze. “I don’t want to have a number, Alicea. I don’t want to fit some formula, because that’s not real. You like order and algorithms? That’s cool. I love that about you. But it doesn’t work with people. Because people are messy.”
I consider this. What was it my mom said that night in her class? Sometimes art is about appreciating the imperfect. I reach out and touch his scar, an imperfection he earned protecting his sister. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so hung up on finding my perfect match that I’ve refused to appreciate the amazingly imperfect one right in front of me.”
He laughs. “Thanks. I think?”
I lean back against my door. “I wish we could start over. No formulas. Just you and me and all our messy imperfections.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You? Have imperfections?”
“Ha, ha. I’m pretty sure those have been on full display lately.” I close my eyes. “I am so stupid.”
“No, you’re not. You’re like the near-perfect flower you made. Reaching. And I am rooting for you.”
“Thanks. That’s still a terrible pun, you know.”
“Come on. You sure it isn’t growing on you?”
I groan. “Please stop.”
“Or what? You’ll … leave?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe. Now that you’ve planted the seed.”
“Woah.” He smiles appreciatively and makes an explosion with his fist, his fingers pointed upward. “BLOOM!”
I can’t help but laugh. “You are such a goof.”
“That’s me. A numberless goof.”
I’m dying to reach up and touch his curls, but I resist. Instead, I clasp my hands in my lap. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe numbers are overrated.”
He leans toward me, his eyes studying mine. “Are you serious about wanting to start over?”
I nod. “Can we?”
He takes my hand in his. “You’re sure? Even though we’re an imperfect match?”
“I’m sure.”
He hesitates. “You say that now, but what if—”
“Darius.” I wrap my pinkie around his. “I promise. I’m serious. I want to start over. You and me—imperfect together.”
“In that case … ” He leans forward and kisses me—a long, soft, sweet kiss that is as close to perfect as a kiss can get.
As we pull away, his eyes focus on something outside the window. “Hey. Would you look at that?”
I turn, but I don’t see anything. “Look at what?”
He smiles. “The way the parking lot light was glowing behind your head. It looked a little bit like a halo.”
THE END
Acknowledgements
As always, while this book may have my name on the cover, it represents the efforts and support of so many. I am thankful to each of you, with special thanks to:
Georgia McBride, Laura Whitaker, and everyone at Swoon Romance for seeing the possibilities in this book and helping me to get it there; Andrea Somberg for her awesome agenting; and Danielle Doolittle for once again wielding her cover magic.
My writing friends, both IRL and virtual, and especially to Ellen Braaf, Kathy Chappell, and the many folks of SCBWI Mid-Atlantic.
My church family, and especially the SUMC LifeSigns youth.
My family-family—Joe, Eris, and Sarah; Bea and Ted Acorn; Deb, Karen, and Ted; and my extended family, who all have been so super supportive of my books.
My readers—I owe you all so many heart emojis!
And God, in whom all things are possible.
Linda Acorn Budzinski
Linda Budzinski is the author of four young adult novels: The Boyfriend Whisperer 2.0, The Boyfriend Whisperer, Em & Em, and The Funeral Singer. She lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, Joe, and their crazy pup JoJo. She’s a sucker for romance and reality TV, and of course, matchmaking, so she’s known to turn off her phone’s ringer when watching The Bachelor. Her favorite flower is the daisy, her favorite food is chocolate, and her favorite song is “Amazing Grace.” When she’s not writing, she works in non-profit communications and outreach.
OTHER SWOON ROMANCE TITLES YOU MIGHT LIKE
THE BOYFRIEND WHISPERER
EM & EM
THE FUNERAL SINGER
Find more books like this at http://www.myswoonromance.com
Connect with Swoon Romance online:
Fac
ebook: https://www.Facebook.com/swoonromance
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/swoonromance
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SwoonRomance
Tumblr: http://swoonromance.tumblr.com/
Georgia McBride Media Group: www.georgiamcbride.com
The Boyfriend Whisperer 2.0 Page 17