My Fair Godmother

by Janette Rallison

  My throat felt tight and I willed myself not to cry. I wanted to point out all of Jane’s faults to him. She was the most unspontaneous person in existence. She had no imagination, no creativity. When we were bored as kids, could she come up with a decent game using a box of macaroni, a tube of toothpaste, and the kitchen table? I think not.

  I didn’t say anything though. I had enough pride not to beg him to reconsider. I just sat and listened to the orchestra in my mind playing loud and clear: your sister is better than you. Finally he pulled up in front of our house. Without a word I opened the car door, stepped outside, and slammed it shut.

  I didn’t walk across the lawn to our house; I walked down the sidewalk. I was not going inside. I didn’t want to talk to Jane right now, or hear the same type of apologies I’d just heard from Hunter.

  Instead of driving off, Hunter pulled up alongside me and rolled down the car window. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t see why that concerns you.”

  “If you don’t go inside, it will look like I never brought you home. Your family will wonder where you are.”

  What he meant was, Jane would worry where I was. Heaven forbid she experience any guilt over this. “Well, you know me,” I told him. “I’m the irresponsible one.”

  He kept following me. The car inched along beside me going about two miles an hour. “Come on, Savannah, don’t be this way.”

  I wasn’t supposed to have a reaction to this? I was just supposed to smile and wish them luck or something? I didn’t answer. I looked straight ahead and kept walking. I had meant to go over to my best friend Emily’s house but I couldn’t go there with this one-car parade following me. When I came to the corner of our street I walked straight instead of turning right.

  Hunter leaned toward me, a mild reprimand in his voice. “It’s dark and you didn’t even look for cars before you crossed.”

  “I didn’t have to. If a car was coming they’d have hit you first.”

  He let out a sigh. “Get back in the car.”

  I kept walking.

  “I mean it, Savannah. I’m not going to let you run off and upset everyone at your house because they don’t know where you are.”

  Which just goes to show you how arrogant he was. He just assumed I’d planned on turning the night into a big production where I disappeared and Jane got to worry that I’d run away from home or something. Well, okay, maybe that did sound like a good idea, but still, it was arrogant of him to assume that sort of thing about me. I didn’t look at him. My purse thumped against my side in an angry rhythm.

  “Savannah, get in the car.”

  The park came into view. I picked up my pace.

  “You’re being melodramatic about this.”

  Well, he could just add that to the list of my other faults he no longer had to put up with.

  “I’m not leaving and I’ve got a full tank of gas.”

  Of course he did. Organized people always kept their tanks full.

  I made it to the park and finally turned to him. “If you want to follow me, fine. Have fun driving through the swing sets.” I left the sidewalk and walked across the grass. The park sat in the middle of our neighborhood, surrounded by houses, and more than a few streets ran up to it.

  I didn’t have to look back to know what Hunter would do. He would sit in his car and watch me walk across the park until I headed toward a street. Then he’d drive around and head me off on that street.

  I strolled toward the first street opening on the right. Before I got out of sight I turned to check and see if his car had left. As soon as it had, I doubled back, walking the same way I’d come. Except that instead of walking home, I turned on Emily’s street. Really, Hunter was almost pathetically easy to lose. Which just goes to show you that college bound doesn’t necessarily mean street smart.

  I stayed at Emily’s for the next three hours. Not really long enough to worry my parents. My curfew on weekdays is 10:00 PM. If Jane knew I wasn’t with Hunter anymore and worried about me—fine. If she thought I was out with her new boyfriend until past 10:00—even better. I sat with Emily on her bedroom floor, cried, and ate Oreos. The whole time Emily told me what a great catch I was and how I didn’t need Hunter. What kind of jerk hits on his girlfriend’s sister? What kind of sister steals boyfriends from family members? They deserved each other.

  I nodded at everything she said but couldn’t agree with any of it. It felt like the people who knew me best didn’t care about me. In my mind, Hunter’s list of my faults kept growing. All of my popularity was a sham. I didn’t really have anything going for me. I was disorganized, irresponsible, and didn’t take my classes seriously. Which probably showed a lack of ambition, talent, and dependability. Obviously there was something permanently wrong with me, something too huge to fix.

  And on top of all that I had a cream silk and chiffon prom dress hanging in my closet that cost me three hundred and fifteen dollars. I didn’t want to return it to the dress shop. How humiliating would that be?

  Emily must have sensed that her pep talk wasn’t working— probably because I kept making Oreo skyscrapers and shoving them in my mouth. She finally took the package away from me. “Savannah, someone else will ask you to prom. Someone better, someone who appreciates you, and then you’ll see Hunter was wrong.”

  I nodded. I still didn’t believe her.

  When I walked into my house at 10:15, my parents and Jane sat in the family room talking in harsh, subdued voices. I knew they were talking about me because they stopped as soon as I walked in. Three faces turned toward mine. My parents’ expressions were concerned. Jane’s showed a mixture of worry and defiance. She didn’t speak. I knew she was waiting for my accusations; I could already see her lips poised in defense.

  “You owe me three hundred and fifteen dollars for a prom dress,” I told her, then walked upstairs to my room.

  • • •

  I ate oatmeal without sugar the next morning as a sort of dietary penance for my Nabisco sins. I imagined the little oat flakes “tsk-tsking” as they floated by blobs of fat that were headed straight to my thighs. It was the only reason I could think of to be happy that I now had to walk to school. I wasn’t sure if Hunter would still drop by the house to offer me and Jane a ride, but there was no possible way I was going to get in the backseat and watch Jane sit beside Hunter. So it was just best to be long gone before he came.

  While I ate, Mom tried to talk to me about the whole situation. She’d also tried last night, but I’d told her I was tired and just wanted to go to bed. Jane came into my room last night too and gave me her side of the story, which was pretty much like Hunter’s side of the story, except that her eyes didn’t look away from me as she told it. When I didn’t comment she added, as though it should explain everything, “Hunter and I will both be going to George Mason in the fall. You didn’t think that a freshman in college was going to keep dating a junior in high school, did you?”

  Yes. But I didn’t say that. I just added “immature” to my mental list and said, “Would you mind turning off the light on your way out? I’ve got to get up early in the morning.”

  She sighed and left.

  So Mom gave me a concerned-parent pep talk as I ate my oatmeal about how she was disappointed in Jane’s choices, but if it hadn’t been Jane, it would have been someone else. Dating had its ups and downs. After all, at this point in my life I wasn’t looking for a future husband. I should be dating for fun, to learn about relationships, to see what kind of qualities I liked in a guy. I would go through many more boyfriends before I found the right one.

  Which, I can tell you, is not what you want to say to your daughter when you are trying to cheer her up. I wanted to say, “Really? You mean I get to feel like the bottom of my stomach has been manually ripped out with each relationship I go through? I can hardly wait to get back to the dating market.”

  But of course I didn’t say that because none of this was my mother’s fault, unless you coun
t the fact that she gave birth to Jane.

  Besides, I’d finished crying about it when I’d finished my last Oreo skyscraper. As Dad would say, I’d taken my losses, now I needed to regroup, rethink, and plan the next offensive. Which in this case involved getting someone even cooler to ask me to prom in order to show Hunter and Jane that I didn’t need or care about them.

  I nodded at Mom. “I’m fine. Really.”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “I know you will be. Just remember, boys come and go. Sisters are forever.”

  Jane swept into the room, walking by the kitchen table and scanning the counters. “Has anyone seen my chemistry folder? I left it on the coffee table and now it’s gone.”

  I picked up my glass of milk and took a slow sip. “Nope.”

  She hurried out of the room, mumbling.

  I ate my oatmeal. Mom watched me in silence. Finally she said, “Maybe after school the two of us can go out and do something. Would you like that?”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  Jane came back into the room, this time with her hands on her hips. “My brown shoes are gone too. They were in my closet last night and now they’re not. What happened to them?”

  I took the last bite of my oatmeal and shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  She pulled her gaze from me and turned to Mom. “If I can’t find my brown shoes, I’m going to have to change my entire outfit. They’re the only shoes that match these pants.”

  I stood up to take my bowl to the sink. “Don’t be too long. You know how Hunter hates to wait.” Then I left the room.

  Okay, so it was slightly evil to hide her stuff, but considering all of the things I could have done, I figured she got off easy.

  Chapter 2

  For the next week, I ignored Jane and Hunter the best I could and flirted with everyone on my possible-prom-dates-who-are-way-cooler-than-Hunter list. I had thought attention from any of these guys would fill the hole that had been blasted in me when Hunter dumped me, but it only made things worse. One by one, they all asked other people to the dance.

  On Saturday morning, Hunter came over to pick up Jane for some sort of date. I wasn’t sure of the details since I wasn’t on speaking terms with either of them anymore. The two of them discussed something in low voices in the living room, darting glances in my direction. I lay on the couch flipping through a magazine and trying to ignore them. This went on for a couple of minutes until finally Jane walked up to me. Hunter reluctantly trailed her. She nudged him and he spoke, “So, um, you know Tristan Hawkins from track?”

  I did know him, if you counted the three or four times we’d spoken over the last two years as knowing someone. He was the quiet type that just sort of faded into the background most of the time. True, he wasn’t bad looking, in a choir-boy sort of way. He had nice features and pretty blue eyes. But he looked more like a freshman than a senior.

  He probably would have been completely overlooked in high school if he wasn’t an extremely fast runner. This skill may have been acquired by running away from bullies during junior high. But at any rate, the track coach loved him.

  I nodded, pretending it didn’t feel like swallowing splinters to look at Hunter.

  “Well, I was talking to him the other day and he mentioned he wasn’t going to prom, but you know, he’d like to. And I told him you weren’t going with anyone—”

  I propped myself into sitting position. “Wait a minute, are you telling me you’re trying to set me up with Tristan?”

  Jane and Hunter exchanged a glance. She said, “Well, you already have a dress and it would be a shame not to wear it.”

  I glared at her.

  “You’d have a fun time,” she went on. “And he’s smart so he could help you study for your finals.”

  This was how she was going to make up for stealing my boyfriend? She wanted to set me up with another guy—and not even a guy like Hunter, but a guy like Tristan? I stood up and tossed my magazine on the couch. “I don’t believe the two of you. Now you’re throwing boys at me like they’re some sort of consolation prize.” I stalked up the stairs to my bedroom, but still heard traces of their conversation behind me.

  “I knew she wouldn’t go for it,” Hunter said.

  Jane let out a sigh. “She’ll probably go hide some more of my stuff.”

  Hunter said, “Well, I guess it’s in Tristan’s hands now.”

  Oh, I was so going to avoid Tristan from now on. I mean, the only thing worse than not going to prom was going to prom with the pity date your ex-boyfriend set up for you.

  • • •

  That afternoon Emily and I drove to a swim party together. Alix Lorie, one of the senior track girls, was having an end-of-the-season party. Her parents had rented out her country club’s pool, so the invitation was for the track team and whatever friends they wanted to bring along. Half the school would be there. As Emily drove I fingered my track bag. It held the new turquoise bikini I’d bought specifically for the party. Since we were twenty-two days away from P-day, I knew this might be one of my last chances to remind the guys on my possible-prom-dates list that I existed. And apparently I needed all the help I could get.

  The problem was that I’d never worn a bikini before. My dad doesn’t allow them. He thinks even one-pieces show too much skin and constantly suggests that Jane and I wear wet suits. The bikini had seemed like a good idea when I’d been out trying to shop away my feelings of rejection. Jane may have told me I was too immature for Hunter, but the mirror begged to differ. Now driving to the club, I had second thoughts. Maybe I just wasn’t a bikini type of girl. Besides, Jane might be there with Hunter. What if she told my parents what I’d done? How upset would my father be?

  Emily pulled into the club’s parking lot and I got out of the car. It was too late to turn back. We walked into the women’s dressing room and changed. I took out my contacts so I wouldn’t lose them while I swam and put them with the rest of the things in my track bag. Then I reminded Emily she’d have to point out the cute upperclassmen to me. Without my contacts, I can’t recognize faces more than a couple of feet away.

  I hesitated before leaving the dressing room. The smell of chlorine and sunscreen wafted toward me. It was the smell of possibility—both good and bad.

  Emily had to take my arm and pull me out. “Come on,” she said. “You’re here to get noticed.” As we walked to the pool chairs she gave me a rundown as to who the blurry figures around the pool were, emphasizing the eligible blurs. “James Dashner is by the diving board, Bill Gardner is next to him in the red swim trunks—oh, and Hunter and Jane are directly across the pool. Jane is staring at you and shaking her head.”

  I lifted my chin and refused to care.

  “Let’s swim for a while,” I told Emily.

  Emily took a running jump off the diving board and created a huge splash. I climbed onto the diving board after her. I would do a perfect, elegant dive. A dive that said, “Look at this girl’s grace and beauty. Those of you who have just dumped her—you are obviously stupid.”

  I felt the breeze pick up strands of my hair and blow them around my shoulders. I sauntered to the end of the board, looking out at the blurs that surrounded me. I couldn’t tell if any of them watched but I imagined they all did. I took a one-step bounce then made a smooth, effortless arc into the pool.

  Actually, there would be some advantages to wearing a wet suit. Primarily, it wouldn’t fall off your body after you dove into the pool. As soon as I hit the water I felt the straps of my top give way. I tried to grab hold of it, but the momentum of my dive pushed me farther away into the pool.

  I needed air, but I needed the top of my bikini more. I also needed to shriek, but I couldn’t do that underwater. Instead of surfacing, I turned around and tried to go after my top. I could make out a turquoise shape sinking in the water across from me. I swam toward it until my lungs ached, but it drifted off, just out of reach.

  Finally I swam up for air, but only because I had vision
s of passing out and forevermore being known as the girl who drowned while wearing half a swimsuit.

  I broke through the surface, letting my face pop out of the pool while I tried to tread water only using my legs. I wrapped my arms tightly around my upper body.

  “There you are,” Emily said. She waved at me to come over to the side of the pool. I shook my head.

  “Help me,” I mouthed to her. I didn’t want to say it loud for fear the lifeguard—a tanned blurry guy sitting in a tower not far away—would think I was drowning and jump in to drag me to safety. I gazed around at the blurs in the pool. I still couldn’t tell if any of them were looking at me, which at this point was a good thing.

  Emily swam over. “What’s wrong? Why are you . . . hey, where’s your top?”

  I looked toward the bottom of the pool. “Down there. I’m going to go get it. Don’t let anyone else dive in until I do.”

  “How am I supposed to—,” but I didn’t stick around to let her finish. The faster I retrieved my top, the better. I took a deep breath and dove back in, pushing through the water with all my strength. I could make out the turquoise blob, swaying softly below me. Stupid bikini. Man, I hate it when my father is right.

  I grabbed my top, then turned around and looked up. I could see a pair of legs kicking in the water above me. I swam toward them. I’d need Emily’s help to tie the straps on once I reached the surface.

  As I got close, I held the suit to my body, trying to reposition it as best I could. I was concentrating on this and not on Emily’s legs, which is why I didn’t notice that they weren’t Emily’s legs until I surfaced.

  And then I was face-to-face with Tristan. I let out a short, startled scream.

  Tristan spun around as though I must have seen something frightening behind him. He checked to see what, you know, just in case a giant squid was about to attack.