Jeremy is next. He talks about his bacon truffles and other things I didn’t even know he was working on: chocolate-covered potato chips, chocolate-covered pickles. He talks about why he decided that dark chocolate was a better match for the pickles, but that the chips needed milk chocolate. Jillian sits at one of the tables. I worry for a moment that she feels left out, but the Food Network guy asks if she can help with some of the demo work, dipping apples, pulling taffy, tempering chocolate. While we get our hair and makeup done, which only Jillian seems to enjoy, someone calls all of our parents, making sure they have permission to put us on television. We each have to sign a lot of forms, which our parents will also have to sign before they can air the show.
“We’re in sort of a rush,” one of the producers tells us. “We were just going to do a short segment for our Tastes of America show, but when we got here, we realized that this place is a gold mine. We’re actually going put together a Valentine’s Day special and then tomorrow, we’re going to film an episode of Sweets here. The host is flying in late tonight from the Aspen Food and Wine Festival.” I keep nodding as all the information washes over me.
“Jan,” I say when we’re all made up and standing around waiting, “I think you might need to go ahead and get that expansion thing going.”
“I’m way ahead of you, Piper,” he says. I don’t have time to ask him what he means before the host is pulling him over to the front counter and the camera starts rolling. One thing I find out right off the bat is that it takes way longer than thirty minutes to film a half-hour-long show. The producer calls a break after they finally finish with Jan.
“We need food,” one of the lighting guys says. “Anyone know where we can get good pizza around here?”
“I do,” I say. We call Artie’s and order twenty large pizzas.
“That’s a lot even for you,” Artie says.
“Ha-ha,” I say. I tell him what’s going on. He tells me he’ll deliver them personally. “I’m sure,” I say, smirking.
My mother brings Claire by once they are finished at the flower shop. She comes in, intending to stay just a moment, but one of the producers corners her when she finds out the flowers are hers. She talks with her for a while. I notice Jan smiling at my mother the whole time. She finally tells the producer she has to go, that she has sick kids to get home to.
She comes over to me and puts her arm around me. “Another surprise,” she says.
“Another good one,” I say. She looks at me for a moment like she wants to ask something, but then she shakes her head.
“Call me when you’re done,” she says. “I’ll come get you.”
“I’ll bring her home,” Jan says. “I don’t want you to have to bring those kids out when they’re sick.”
“Thank you,” she says. They stand smiling at each other for a moment.
“I’ll walk you out,” Jan says to my mother.
The pizzas arrive, delivered by Artie as promised. I notice he makes a point of talking to the host of the show. He gives him a business card before he leaves. He mouths thank you to me on the way out the door.
Everyone falls on the pizzas, which I notice are all heart-shaped. I grab a box and Jeremy, Jillian, Claire, and I retreat to the kitchen. If anyone but me feels the absence of Charlie, they don’t say anything.
“You guys are going to be on television,” Claire says. “You’ll be celebrities.”
“Don’t worry, Claire,” Jeremy says. “We won’t forget the little people.” Claire rolls her eyes at him. We eat in silence, all too hungry and too tired to do much else. Jan comes in after a while and I wonder if he was talking to my mother the whole time. He grabs a slice of pizza, but I notice he only takes a couple of bites before he puts it back down. He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet as he jingles the keys in his pocket.
“You’d better not do that while they’re filming,” Jillian says.
“Good point,” he says. “Now I know why I pay you—”
“You don’t pay me anything,” Jillian says.
“You get free pizza,” Jeremy points out.
“True. But I would do this without the free pizza,” Jillian says. We all nod.
“I know you would,” Jan says. “I am—”
“Very grateful,” we all say.
Jan laughs. “Well, I am.” He walks over to his desk and empties his pockets, dumping his wallet, his keys, a handkerchief, and about seven dollars in change on the mound of things already threatening to overflow onto the floor.
The door to the front opens and one of the producers sticks her head in. “We’re ready,” she says, and lets the door close again.
Jan claps his hands together. “See you out there,” he says, and pushes through the door into the shop. Jeremy folds up the now-empty pizza box and pushes it into the recycling bin next to Jan’s desk. The little bump he gives the desk is all it takes to start the avalanche. A rain of coins and papers falls to the floor.
“Dang it,” Jeremy says, making Jillian laugh.
“What, are you a cowboy now?” Jillian asks, smirking at him. She gestures at the coins and papers all around us. “Leave it. You have a segment to film.” Jeremy thanks her and pushes out into the shop. Claire, Jillian, and I spend the next few minutes crawling around on the floor, picking up coins and restacking papers.
“I think that’s it,” Claire says, standing up and dusting off her hands.
“Do I have any pizza in my teeth?” I ask, baring them at her. She takes a look and shakes her head. She does the same for Jillian and then bares her teeth at us.
“Good thing they aren’t filming us now,” I say. “That would be weird.” We start toward the door to the front. I stop and look at Jillian. “So, what’s going on with you and Jeremy?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” she replies, her voice letting on she knows exactly what I mean.
“You two just seem very—”
“Chummy,” Claire finishes.
“Chummy?” I ask. Claire smiles and shrugs. “Okay,” I say, turning back to look at Jillian. “What’s with the chummy?” She starts to answer, but the door opens and the same producer who called Jan pokes her head through.
“I’m sorry, girls, but we need to get going if we’re going to wrap by midnight.” We all head toward the door.
The host says my segment went well, even though they had to make me redo it three times. “Don’t worry. My first show was a disaster,” he says. “It took them four days to get twenty minutes of useable footage.” I’m not sure if he’s telling the truth, but it does make me feel better. “Your Consternation Hearts are brilliant,” he says, making me smile. “That spot of hope in the middle of all that cynicism. Pure genius.” He walks away, leaving me wondering what he’s talking about.
I’m half asleep by the time they finish filming. Jan talks to the producer for a few minutes about the next day. We promise to stop by after school in case they need anything more from us.
We all pile into Jan’s hearse. He drops off Jeremy, then Claire, then Jillian. I’m last. I notice Beau’s truck isn’t there when we pull up.
“Thanks again, Piper,” Jan says.
“You’re welcome,” I say. I cover my mouth as a big yawn escapes.
“Get some sleep,” Jan says. “Five A.M. isn’t that far away.” I groan. I’d forgotten about swim practice. “Plus, I don’t want you to go to that fancy shindig with dark circles under your eyes.” I nod and climb out of the car. Knowing Jan’s watching, I don’t slow down when I look over at Charlie’s. All the windows are dark. Of course they would be; it’s almost one in the morning. Jan waits until I’m inside and the door is firmly shut behind me. I bump through the kitchen and the living room in the dark, trying to make as little noise as possible. That works until I get to my room. There’s something big floating right in my doorway. My scream sends my mother flying out of her room. She snaps on the hall lights.
“What in the world?” she asks.
I start laughing as soon as my eyes adjust to the bright light. Bobbing, tied to my desk chair is the one balloon. “Sorry,” I say. “The balloon—”
“No wonder I’m starting to go gray,” she says, shaking her head. “Still no idea who the balloons were from?” she asks.
I shake my head. “There wasn’t a note.”
“Since there doesn’t seem to be an emergency, I’m going back to bed.” Before she pulls her door shut, she turns and gives me her best mom look. “I suggest you go to bed as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, smiling. She shakes her head and shuts the door between us, making the balloon bob around like crazy. I’m half tempted to open the window and release it.
As I climb into bed, I remember that I was supposed to call Ben Donovan. I am now the girl who forgets to call Ben Donovan, I think. But as I fall asleep, it’s Jillian that I can’t get out of my head. All night I couldn’t help but notice that Jillian was quieter than usual after we ate. And she kept looking at Jeremy, a half smile on her face, like she wanted to say something to him but wasn’t sure how.
chapter sixteen
Jan was right. Five A.M. comes way too early. Charlie is waiting in his car in front of my house as I stumble outside. I toss my bag in the backseat and climb in front.
Charlie starts the car and pulls away from the curb. He looks over at me. “You look like—” Charlie says.
“Tired,” I say. “The word you’re looking for is tired.”
“Um-hum,” Charlie says, turning off our street and onto Commerce. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of acting weird for a while now—”
“Yeah, like the last seven years,” I say.
Charlie laughs. “She’s still got a smart mouth even when she’s half dead. No really, I—”
“Charlie, we’re good,” I say.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Mm hmm,” I say, leaning my face against the window. It feels cool against my cheek. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know Charlie is pulling up in front of the Montrose Natatorium.
“Hey, sleeping beauty. We’re here.” I groan and look out the windshield at the building hulking over us.
“Stupid place,” I say, pushing the door open. I pull my bag out of the backseat and sling it over my shoulder. “Stupid swimming,” I say. A group of guys jostle me as they walk past. “Stupid swimmers.”
“You really are grouchy when you haven’t gotten enough sleep,” Charlie says.
“Zip it,” I say. This just makes Charlie laugh. “I hate you right now,” I say.
“No you don’t, Piper. You love me.” He’s quiet, making me look over at him. His whole face is quickly turning red. “Anyway,” he says, turning back to look through the windshield. “Have a good swim.” I push the door shut and heft my bag onto my shoulder
“Weird,” I say under my breath. I watch as Charlie pulls away and heads across town to his own school and his own pool and his own swim practice. Once I’m swimming, I forget all about Charlie and being tired. All I can focus on is making it from one end of the pool to the other. After the workout, Coach yells at us all for about ten minutes, telling us we’re a bunch of weak, unmotivated, lazy teenagers, which in general we are. We just nod, waiting for him to finish. Finally he stops yelling and just stares at us for several moments.
“Hit the showers,” he says. Then he storms off the deck. I wave feebly at Peter and Ben Donovan. I spend the rest of practice curled up on one of the tables in the training room.
It isn’t until the bell ending zero period rings that I wake up. I sit up and push my hair out of my face. I reach into my backpack and get one of the two bananas I grabbed from our kitchen counter before I left. Maybe if I eat something, I’ll feel better.
I stumble down the hall toward homeroom, nibbling on the banana.
“Piper?” I turn and see Ben Donovan walking toward me. I am painfully aware that I’ve definitely looked better. “You okay?” he asks. I nod, my mouth full of a bite of banana. I reach into my backpack and pull out the other banana. I hold it toward him, swallowing.
“Want one?” I ask, thinking about the banana someone left in my locker.
“Sure,” he says, taking it from me. I watch him to see if there is any reaction, but there’s nothing. The bell for homeroom rings, saving me from saying anything weird. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says. He leans toward me and for a brief moment, I imagine he’s going to kiss me right there in the hall, but all he does is brush my hair back from my cheek. He smiles and turns to walk toward his own homeroom. I wait for the jolt, but there’s nothing. Maybe I’m just tired. I hurry down the hall, sure I’ll be the last person to make it to class, but as I approach the end of the junior wing, I see Claire standing close to someone, talking. She giggles at something he just said. For a wild moment, I think it’s Stuart, but then she shifts to one side and I see it’s Alex Muñoz. Interesting.
I try to sleep during homeroom, but Claire keeps going on and on about Alex.
“He asked me if I’d come watch him play rugby sometime.”
“Yeah, ’cause that wouldn’t be weird,” I say. “Seeing as how he and Stuart are on the same team.”
“I guess,” Claire says. I raise my eyebrows at her. She shrugs. “I’m sort of making peace with the whole Stuart thing.”
“How Zen of you,” I say.
She laughs. “I just figure if Stuart didn’t want to be with me anymore, at least I know.”
“It’s just too bad he didn’t have the guts to just tell you instead of sneaking around with Christi behind your back.”
Claire shrugs. “In a way, that makes everything even easier. I mean, if he were this great guy, it’d be harder to get over him.”
“So you’re glad he broke up with you?” I ask
“No,” she says. “But I think I will be.”
“Like I said. Very Zen.”
“Om,” she says, closing her eyes and holding her hands out with her thumb and forefinger shaped into little O’s.
“Paisley. Jenkins. If you want to do yoga, please do so on your own time,” Mr. Reyes says from the front of the room. The whole class looks over at us and laughs. Claire and I start laughing too, earning a dirty look from Mr. Reyes. Luckily the bell rings just then and we scoot out the door as fast as we can. We start toward my locker. Since I was sound asleep until about four minutes before homeroom, I didn’t have a chance to go to my locker before.
“Hey, princess!”
Claire nudges me. “I think he means you.” I look over and see Barry (I mean Booger) standing with a group of Pitters.
“You must be an awesome kisser,” he says. Every bone in my body tells me to keep walking, but my brain disagrees. I stop and look at him.
“What are you talking about, Barry?”
“Just saying you must be good to get that many flowers.” All the Pitters laugh. I look over at Claire, who shrugs. I shake my head at him and turn away. We walk down the hall, but as soon as we round the corner, a crowd of people forces us to stop.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Claire shrugs again. We try to push through the group of people huddled near my locker. Jillian spots us and pushes toward us.
“Okay, now, this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of.”
“What are you—” She pulls me through the rest of the crowd and up to my locker. At least I think it’s my locker. It’s so covered in flowers that they’ve even spilled over onto the lockers on either side of mine. Someone from student council is still threading flowers into the vents in my locker.
“You’ll have to tell your boyfriend I did the best I could,” he says, handing me a bunch of orange carnations. “It’s supposed to be a heart.”
“I can tell,” I say, looking at the clusters of flowers poking out here and there. Although to be honest I wouldn’t have been sure if he hadn’t told me.
“How many?” Jillian asks.
“Thirty,” he says.
“
Wow,” I say.
“Who are they from?” Jillian asks, smirking at me. I know she’s still sure it’s Ben Donovan, but after our latest encounter, I feel just as sure it’s not him.
The student council guy looks surprised. “Her boyfriend,” he says.
“But I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say.
“Well some guy then.”
“Describe him,” Jillian demands.
“Can’t,” he says. “All we got was an envelope with thirty bucks in it and a locker number and instructions to put the flowers in a heart shape. Mrs. Craig in the front office gave it to us. Said someone dropped it off yesterday afternoon.”
Love? Maybe. Page 16