“You’re welcome,” Claire says. “But it’s no big deal. It’s not like I had any other plans.” She sounds a little wistful when she says it and I know she’s thinking of how she used to spend every Friday night with Stuart. She looks over at me for a moment and I can see the sadness in her eyes.
“I didn’t have anything else to do either,” Jeremy says before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Duh,” Jillian says. I cringe a little, but Jeremy starts laughing.
I look at my watch. Almost eleven. “I’ve got to get home,” I say. I called my mom earlier, telling her where I was. “I have to get some sleep or I’m going to be a mess at the meet tomorrow.”
“Meet schmeet,” Jillian says. “You should be much more worried about your date with Ben Donovan.”
“You’re going out with Ben Donovan?” Jeremy asks. His voice is incredulous.
“Is it so out of the realm of possibility?” I ask.
“Well yeah,” Jeremy says, earning him three dirty looks, but he seems oblivious. “Why in the world would you want to go out with him?” Claire and Jillian both roll their eyes and look at me. I don’t know what to say. I guess I’d never thought about it all that hard. I mean, Ben Donovan asks you out and you say yes, like Pavlov’s dog and the ringing bell. It’s just the automatic response.
“Because he’s Ben Donovan,” Claire says, voicing my thoughts.
Jeremy looks at me for a long moment. I can tell that reason doesn’t float with him. “It’s your heart,” he says, lifting a tray of truffles and sliding them into the open refrigerator. I don’t know what to say. It’s as if the whole world just flipped. Here I am actually giving a second thought to what Jeremy Gardner thinks about me going out with Ben Donovan. I shake my head, forgetting that I’m still wearing the blinking hearts headband. They start clacking together like mad, making everyone laugh.
“Okay,” Jan says, clapping his hands together. “This can all wait until tomorrow. Let’s get you kiddos home before your parents wonder if I’ve spirited you all away.”
“But what about …” I gesture to the empty boxes meant to hold truffles and the ones for the Consternation Hearts. They still need to be filled.
“Tomorrow,” Jan says, attempting to herd us toward the door and his car that’s parked out back.
“But I have the meet and then …” I trail off, not wanting to talk about Ben Donovan again. At least not in front of Jeremy. Jillian and Claire are also busy, Jillian with some family thing that she won’t elaborate on and Claire at my mom’s shop.
“I’ll be here,” Jeremy says. “I don’t have anything to do.”
“Again. Duh,” Jillian says. This time we all laugh.
“I can’t believe your car is a hearse,” Jillian says as we all pile into Jan’s car. I notice that Jeremy works it so he’s right next to Jillian. Jan just laughs. He told me once that he bought it from a funeral home that was closing down, and that it’s perfect for hauling big candy orders. He’s right; you can just slide the boxes into the back along the rails mounted there. Creepy, but true.
Jan drops me off first. As I climb out, Claire and Jillian extract a promise that I will call them immediately after my date. Jeremy rolls his eyes. I wave as they pull away from the curb. I turn and start toward my house, where my mother has left the front porch light on. I look up at Charlie’s window. I can’t shake the feeling that there is something Charlie isn’t telling me, something that he’s hiding. I sigh and look away from his darkened window and walk inside. I peek in my mom’s room and whisper good night. The light from the hall falls across her face. She smiles at me, but doesn’t open her eyes.
I don’t bother showering, reasoning that in less than eight hours I’ll be in the pool. I lie awake staring at my ceiling, trying to force myself to sleep. But even when I finally start to drift off, I’m still listening for the loud thump above me that never comes.
It feels like I’ve only been asleep for five minutes when my alarm rings. I’m still half asleep as I pull on my suit, then my warm-ups, and heft my bag from where I left it by the door. Charlie is just backing his car out when I walk outside. I climb into the passenger side, resisting the urge to lie down in the backseat and get some more sleep. I don’t tell Charlie what I’m doing after the meet, just that I don’t need a ride home. He nods, not taking his eyes off the road. He doesn’t say anything on the whole ride over to the pool. He’s still silent as we walk into the Natatorium. We enter the building and he turns toward the guys’ locker room.
I grab the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Charlie,” I say. He looks at my hand on his arm, like he’s not sure how it got there, then at my face. “I want—” I pause, seeing the look in his eyes. He’s standing right there only a couple of feet from me, but the look in his eyes is far away.
“What is it, Piper?” he asks. His voice is flat.
“I just wanted—” Charlie keeps looking at me and as he does I can kind of see him in there. Kind of see the Charlie I know.
“Hey, Wishman!” A guy yells from the other end of the hallway. “Get your butt in the pool.”
Charlie doesn’t turn, just keeps looking at me. “I just wanted to say good luck,” I say finally.
“You too,” he says. He smiles slightly and then turns to walk away, but not before I see the look in his eyes. He’s pulled back again. I start to call out to him, to ask him something, anything. To ask him where he is and how can I get there? But he’s walking into the locker room and before I can say anything the door whooshes closed behind him and he’s gone.
The good thing about going out with Ben Donovan right after the swim meet is, I’m so nervous about not making a fool of myself in the pool that I don’t have time to be nervous about our date. On the downside, the news of our date has gotten around to everyone on the swim team. I feel like in addition to being slightly freaked at the notion of actually being alone with Ben Donovan, there’s extra pressure for me to be smart and funny and beautiful. Otherwise, everyone is going to assume that Ben Donovan was suffering from temporary insanity when he asked me out and therefore cannot be held responsible for his poor judgment. Girls I barely know keep coming up to me in the locker room and telling me good luck. A few of them are excited, like maybe I’m some kind of hero, but mostly they seem sort of scared for me. Those girls freak me out—it’s like they are whispering good luck with my upcoming open-heart surgery.
The pool deck is a madhouse like it always is during meets. The Natatorium has four competition pools. It’s huge—part of the Olympic complex. Since it’s so much better than any of the pools the city schools have, or even the private schools, all the teams within driving distance have all of their meets here. Charlie likes to tease me about how my team’s slumming it when we compete against the public schools.
I step out onto the deck. I’m always surprised at how big everything is. Rows of empty seats climb up toward the ceiling on all sides, making me feel like I’m in the middle of a huge bowl. I drop my bag on one of the benches and slip out of my sweats. Jillian made me promise that I would not under any circumstance wear anything made out of sweatshirt material on my date. Even I could figure that one out. I assured her that I would wear something nice. She wanted specifics. I described my outfit: a pair of my nicer jeans, a long-sleeved thermal with rhinestone buttons, and my purple flats. I pull my swim cap on and shove my hair up into it. I adjust my goggles, pushing them hard into my eye sockets to make sure they won’t leak.
“Hey, Paisley!” I turn and see Peter waving at me from the water a couple of lanes away. He hangs from the diving block and makes monkey noises. Several girls around me laugh. I just shake my head. It hasn’t gotten any funnier after the three hundredth time. Another swimmer pulls up next to him and yanks him down. Peter says something to him and he turns my way. I feel a flutter in my stomach as he smiles at me. Ben Donovan. Well, Jeremy, I think as I prepare to dive in. There’s your answer. But all through my warm-up, I can’t shake the question tha
t floats through my brain. That flutter. Is that enough? Is that all there is?
Artie’s is packed when we get there. The line to order snakes away from the counter and out the door.
“Why don’t you see if you can find us a table and I’ll order,” Ben Donovan tells me. I start over to where I see one of the Artie’s workers wiping down a booth. “Piper!” I turn around. “What do you like on your pizza?” I tell him anything except olives. Olives freak me out. They look like eyeballs and taste like fish. Yuck. Someone snags the booth I was heading toward, but I grab a table near the front window when it’s free.
A boy, not much older than Dom, keeps feeding quarters into the claw machine behind me. He’s on his last quarter and still hasn’t won anything. I decide to tell him the trick that Charlie figured out.
“If you wait until the claw stops swinging, you’ll have a better chance of getting that dog,” I say. The boy looks over at me, trying to figure out if I’m just messing with him. “Seriously,” I say, standing up and walking over behind him. “Better yet, go for that bear.” I point to a brown bear with a propeller hat near the back. “The ones that are lying down are easier to pick up.” The boy nods and feeds his last quarter into the slot and starts the claw moving toward the back. “That’s it,” I say, leaning around to look in the side window. “A little more.” He taps the joystick. “Perfect,” I say. “Now, you wait.” The timer above the claw counts down slowly.
The boy is getting antsy, but he doesn’t push the button to lower the claw. I’m hoping Charlie’s techniques will work. They don’t always, but I have a shelf full of cheap stuffed animals to prove that they do more often than not. The claw drops and slowly lowers around the bear and lifts it.
“Woo!” the boy yells. He reaches into the trap door and pulls out the stuffed bear. “Thanks,” he says to me. I smile as he starts toward the back of Artie’s with the bear held high over his head. I sit back down at our table just as Ben Donovan finishes ordering and starts making his way over to where I’m sitting. The boy with the bear nearly collides with him as he races past.
“Hey,” Ben Donovan says, sitting down across from me. “It’s busy,” he says, stating the obvious. I nod, agreeing to the obvious. “Those things are a scam,” he says, nodding to the claw machine. “I never win.” I think about telling him Charlie’s techniques, but someone calls his name from the order line. I look up and spot Peter and Sarah, standing waiting to order.
Peter presses something into Sarah’s hand and walks over to us. He pulls a chair out, flips it around, and sits so he’s riding it like a horse. “Can we join you?” he asks. It’s not really a question, but I say sure anyway. Secretly I’m grateful. I know Peter will dominate the conversation as he always does. Which in this case is a good thing. Even though Ben Donovan and I have been together less than half an hour, we’ve already run out of things to talk about, having covered the usual: swimming, school, Montrose gossip, and even the Braves’ prospects for this year. I introduced that last topic, showing how desperate I was.
Sarah joins us a few minutes later. She hands Peter some change. I shake my head. I guess she should be glad that in addition to making her wait in line, he didn’t make her pay. Artie delivers our pizzas to our table himself. He barely has time to say hello before someone in the kitchen starts yelling his name. He waves and hurries back to the kitchen, where I can see the orders stacked up two and three deep on the clips.
“That Wishman is a machine,” Ben Donovan says, taking a slice of pizza. I nod. He’s right. Charlie won every event he swam, even the 800 IM, which he entered at the last minute because one of his teammates cramped up during the thousand and had to drop out.
“With him swimming against us, we don’t stand a chance at state this year,” Peter says, already making short work of his second piece of pizza. “I say we take him out.”
“On a date?” Sarah asks, confused. I make big eyes at Peter, but he just laughs.
“No, you know, as in whack him.” Sarah still seems confused so I help out.
“Apparently, Peter is aware that the only way he has a chance to beat Charlie Wishman is if he puts Charlie out of commission.” I turn to Peter. “Is that right?”
“Exactly,” Peter says. He takes a drink of his soda. “I’ve got it,” he says. “You’re friends with him, right, Paisley?” I nod slowly, wondering where this is going. “What if you put something in some of those truffles you make? You know, something that alters him in some way.” I feel my cheeks flush.
“Piper would never do that,” Ben Donovan says, glancing over at me.
“How would you know?” Peter asks, rolling his eyes. I look over at him too, wondering how exactly he would know what I would or wouldn’t do.
Ben Donovan shrugs. “Just a feeling,” he says. He smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back.
I look over at Sarah, who seems content to nibble on her one piece of pizza and just listen to the guys talk about every minute detail of the meet. When Peter starts analyzing Charlie’s flip turn, I decide to make a break for it. “Listen, my mom’s shop is right next door,” I say, standing up. “Thank you for lunch.” Ben Donovan stands up and pushes his chair in.
“You sure?” he asks. I nod and smile. He takes my arm and walks me out onto the sidewalk. “Listen, Piper. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Peter was going to show up and—”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I had fun.” I feel a fluttery feeling in my stomach, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m not exactly being truthful or because Ben Donovan is holding my hand.
“Really?” he asks. I nod. “Well maybe we could go out again sometime?” he asks.
“Oh!” I say. “I almost forgot.” And Jillian would kill me if I had. I tell him about the Umlaut event. I start to apologize for the lameness of it, but he smiles.
“Sounds fun,” he says. He leans toward me and brushes my cheek with his, like he was going to kiss me, but changed his mind at the last minute. He pulls back when the door opens behind us and Peter and Sarah walk out.
“Whoops. Sorry,” Peter says in an anything but an apologetic tone. I smile and shake my head at him.
“Thanks again,” I say. I turn to walk down the sidewalk to my mom’s shop. Before I reach the door, I hear my name behind me.
“Piper!” Ben Donovan calls from where he’s unlocking his car. “I’ll call you tonight.” I smile and wave. My cheeks start burning. I feel like everyone on the sidewalk is looking at me. I pull the door of my mom’s shop open, pausing a moment before going in, trying to figure out how I feel about that. I’m the girl who Ben Donovan is going to call tonight. I don’t have long to think about it before Claire and Jillian spill out of the back of the shop, demanding details. My mom follows them, drying her hands on a towel.
“Did you have fun?” she asks.
I shrug. “It was good,” I say.
“Just good?” Jillian shrieks. “You just went out with Ben Donovan. How can a date with Ben Donovan be just good?”
“Okay,” I say. “It was great. Stupendous. Awesome.” Jillian seems pleased by this response. But saying it out loud only makes it clearer that it’s not the truth. Being with Ben Donovan was good. Saying anything else is a lie.
“I was going to have you order pizza for dinner tonight,” Mom says. “But I guess you just had pizza.”
“Oh, don’t let that stop you,” I say. “I can always eat pizza.” Mom smiles and goes into the back. She returns with her wallet and hands it to me.
“If you girls are coming over, get enough for everyone,” Mom says to Jillian and Claire. They both call home on the way over to Artie’s. Jillian tells me her mom is just happy to have her out of her hair for the evening.
“She gets majorly stressed about these events,” she says. “Just about anything can set her off. Last night she freaked when she realized we were out of milk.”
Claire has to plead with her mother to let her come over. She sighs when she hangs up the phone. “Sh
e said she misses me.” Claire rolls her eyes.
“Would you rather she didn’t?” I ask.
“No, but I’d rather she tell me the truth. She doesn’t miss me. She misses having free childcare so she can go play tennis.”
I smirk at her. “Now who’s cynical?” Claire swats at my arm, making me smile. It’s so great to see the real Claire. I was starting to wonder if she was permanently gone. Even before Stuart officially broke it off with her, that relationship was stealing something from her. Some of her light, I guess. Seeing her smile and joke with me and Jillian makes me remember how she used to be.
While we wait in line, we try to decide what we want to order. I vote for veggie. Jillian wants Hawaiian.
“How come Hawaii is the only state with an official pizza?” Jillian asks. “Why not Georgia?”
“Because no one wants to eat peanut and peach pizza,” I say, making Claire laugh.
We agree on two large pizzas, one half veggie, half Hawaiian, the other plain cheese. I step up to the counter and accept the ribbing from the owner that I knew was coming.
Love? Maybe. Page 12