“Easy, he’s just getting familiar with you.”
Tracey shudders, bearing it for a minute before Jason pulls the dog back. She feels violated. What right does this dog have to stick his face in between her legs?
“I’d better get to the kitchen before something burns. Have a seat. Let me open this wine.”
She sits on a bar stool. Out of the corner of her eye, she’s surveying Buddy’s movements. She notices a tear in one of her nylons from his initial attack.
Jason, of course, is focused on cooking. He opens the wine and pours them each a glass, and comments that it’s fantastic wine, and she says it’s Napa Valley.
The wine and the delicious aromas of the meal have a calming effect on Tracey. She glances over at Buddy, feeling sorry for the poor thing. It can’t be easy being such a big dog in a small one-bedroom. Perhaps she shouldn’t be angry that he tore her nylons. He surely didn’t mean to.
An explosive farting sound tears through the apartment. Jason laughs. “Holy shit! Buddy’s never done that in front of company before. Sorry!”
“It’s okay,” says Tracey, all compassion. Poor Buddy suffers from gastrointestinal issues on top of everything else.
And then the smell hits her.
She waves a hand in front of her face. “Can I open a window?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, they sit down to a lovely, candlelit dinner. The only flaw? Buddy’s flatulence kicks into high gear.
Jason can’t stop laughing. “I took him for a walk earlier and caught him nibbling on some roadkill. Must’ve made him sick.”
“I see.” Tracey’s food suddenly becomes less appetizing. The evening is going downhill fast. She hopes dinner will be done quickly so they can get out of this place and away from this dog.
But the worst is yet to come.
As Jason is clearing the dinner plates, Buddy jumps up to get some scraps.
The next event occurs as if in slow motion.
With a huge paw, Buddy slaps a plate out of Jason’s hand. The plate does a backward flip and lands in Tracey’s lap.
Tracey lifts the plate and looks down in horror. Tomato sauce all over her white dress!
“Shit, sorry.” Jason comes at her with a napkin as Buddy jumps around the room gleefully. “I’ll get some club soda.”
“It won’t work. I need to get this to a dry cleaner right away. There’s an all-night one near my place. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“All right.”
She hesitates before leaving. He’s not going to offer to pay?
She closes the door as Jason begins to play with his dog.
Tracey never goes back.
And Jason never calls.
“WOW, KAYLA.” Ryan’s eyes widen when he sees me in the subway station. “Somebody actually made an effort!”
“Yeah, so?”
“So I love it! You’re definitely picking up tonight.”
The truth? I hope he’s right. But I haven’t told him or any of the others about my crush on Jared. I just told them we should go to see this band and lots of people from school will be there. Hopefully, by the end of the night, they’ll see me getting cozy with the hot guitarist…
We meet up with Amy, Chad, Sharese, Viv and Max at the Astor Place station around nine-thirty. They all comment on how good I look, making me wonder how bad I look the rest of the time. But it’s true, I put a lot of effort in tonight, not the least of which is overcoming my fear of a red-hot flatiron in order to straighten my hair. I also put on makeup, my cutest jeans and a silver top. I know the silver is a bit of a fashion risk, but I also know that it brings out the sparkle in my eyes. It’s all about confidence, anyway.
When we get to the Vox on Avenue B, there’s already a lineup. A bouncer is standing beside the door checking IDs.
“I thought you said they didn’t check here.” Sharese frowns. “They’re checking almost everyone.”
“New management, maybe.” But I’m not feeling good about this.
“Chad should go first,” Amy says. “He’s got his brother’s ID.”
I can tell Amy’s hyped to get in. I must have sold her on the event. That, or she saw a few seniors go in and she doesn’t want them to get ahead of her.
We’re out there about twenty minutes before Chad’s up to bat. The bouncer pauses for a second with his ID, then lets him in. My heart is pounding. I absolutely have to get in.
Amy’s turn. The bouncer hardly looks at her ID. She’s in.
I’m up next. I hand over my ID, trying to look casual. Meanwhile my head resounds with the thuds of my pulse. Bam. Bam.
The bouncer stares at me, squinting. I look up at him, trying not to be intimidated by his stare.
“I’m supposed to believe you’re twenty-one?” He looks me up and down. “Yeah, right. Show me some other ID to prove it.”
“Um…” I do some fumbling in my handbag. It’s too small to hold a wallet, so all my ID cards and money are loose. Then he reaches in and snatches my real student ID.
“Michaela Cruickshank, Midwood high school. Twenty-one and still in high school, huh?”
My face burns. A bunch of people are laughing and snickering, including some seniors from our school. I want to walk away, but the bouncer holds my eyes, his face contorting. “You’re a junior? I’d have pegged you for a freshman. I’m sick of you kiddies always trying to get in here. Why shouldn’t I call the police?”
I feel my lips tremble. Stay calm. Everyone is staring at you. If I weren’t so freaked out by a man twice my size shouting at me, I might mention that half of the people in line are underage. As it is, I’m trying not to cower under the menace in his eyes.
“Well? I asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought…”
“You didn’t think, that was the problem. Don’t you know we could get fined and shut down if the cops find kiddies like you in there? You wanna run this place out of business?”
I shake my head.
“Then you and your little friends better take off.”
I nod. Ryan and Sharese grab my hands and we run up the block, Viv and Max right behind us.
Once the bar is out of sight, we stop running. “I can’t believe that guy!” Ryan gasps for breath. “What an asshole!”
Sharese looks traumatized. “I thought he was really going to call the police on us.”
“I wouldn’t have said I was with you guys,” I tell them.
“It doesn’t matter—he saw we were all together,” Ryan says.
“What about Chad and Amy?” Viv asks. “They’re already inside.”
“I’ll text her.” Ryan takes out his phone.
“Let’s find a café or something.” Viv puts an arm around me. “It’s okay, Kayla. You can see the band play another time.”
But it wasn’t okay. What’s Jared going to think—that I didn’t bother to show up? That I don’t live up to my word? If I had his number, I’d call him and explain what happened. But it looks like I’ll have to wait until Monday.
No, it wasn’t okay at all.
We hop a train back to Park Slope and head to Ozzie’s café on Seventh Avenue, one of our favorite hangouts. It’s quiet tonight, so there are plenty of seats. The five of us get drinks, then squeeze around a table.
I tell myself that this isn’t bad, it’s even kind of cozy. My soy latte, sprinkled with cinnamon, is tasty and not overly foamy. But the thought that I could be seeing Jared on stage right now is a bitter pill to swallow. How will I ever have the chance to find out if I’m Girl #13? I have this queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, this feeling that tells me I’ve lost my chance.
Ryan is dominating the conversation with tales of his annoying little sister, but only Sharese seems to be paying attention. Viv and Max are obviously holding hands under the table, or playing footsie, or both. I catch sight of their eye contact, and it’s hot, so hot it’s a little uncomfortable. Sharese and Ryan don’t seem to notice.
Viv lets out a little yelp, as if Max did something to her under the table. “Sorry, guys—it’s nothing!” She manages to hide her smile, but Max is less successful. I don’t try to hide mine. It’s great to see Viv and Max together at last. Happy endings do happen… with a little help from the Oracle.
nine
OR MAYBE NOT.
The next morning Amy’s call wakes me up.
“You missed a mind-blowing show last night, Kayla. Sorry you didn’t get in. I heard it was pretty embarrassing.”
“Freaking humiliating.”
“I hope you don’t mind that Chad and I stayed to see the band.”
“I don’t blame you. Was there a big crowd?”
“Oh, yeah. Half the school was there. And Jared Stewart was looking good, honey. You should’ve seen it—Brooke was all over him after the show. They even left together.”
I feel like I’ve been socked in the gut.
“Funny, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have pictured them hooking up. She’s so priss and he’s so…alternative. But it’s true, he was sexy up there. Can you believe we thought he was gay because he didn’t check her off on his speed dating card?”
I find my voice. “I never thought that.”
“Okay, fine, I did. But here’s my question. Why would Brooke go after the one guy who didn’t check her off at speed dating? I would’ve thought she’d be pissed off at him.”
You don’t need to be the Oracle of Dating to figure it out. “You want who you can’t have. Brooke was probably more attracted to him after he didn’t check her off.”
“So he was playing the old hard-to-get strategy.”
“I doubt it was a strategy.” Or was it? Had Jared invited Brooke to the show, too?
We talk a little while longer, but the more I hear about the show, the more depressed I get. By the time I hang up, I feel downright ill. The thought of Jared and Brooke together makes me want to throw up. Why would he go for her when he wrote on his speed dating card that she was a fake?
Maybe it’s only physical. Maybe she’ll sleep with him. Everyone knows that she and Declan were doing it like…like rabid rabbits.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t block the mental image of Jared and Brooke getting hot and heavy. Ick. Ew. No, thank you. I’m not going to think about it.
What’s wrong with me? What do I care if Jared’s sleeping with Brooke, or anyone else, for that matter?
Because I want Jared for myself, that’s why. And not just in a physical way—in the boyfriendly way. I was going to break my no-dating-until-college rule for him, and thought last night would be the turning point for us. Instead I didn’t get in, and Brooke did.
I lost my chance.
I have no business feeling sorry for myself. If I’d wanted to be with Jared, I should’ve made a move weeks ago. Instead I’d stupidly clung to my rule, and focused on everything about him that didn’t make him my ideal boyfriend.
Maybe I’m better off. Maybe there’s no way we would’ve lasted. But how can I know that for sure? What if he was the guy who would’ve lasted, the high school crush who turns out to be a soul mate?
I’d thought my rule would save me from heartbreak, but I was wrong.
I SPEND THE WEEKEND feeling sorry for my sorry-ass self. I can’t help it. It’s so unfair that I didn’t get into the club when most of the underaged people did. It’s so unfair that Jared left with Brooke. Things can’t get any worse.
When I wake up Monday morning, I tell myself to stop being ridiculous and get it together. After showering and brushing my teeth, I stare into the bathroom mirror, preparing myself to encounter Jared by schooling my face in expressions of lightness and indifference. I decide an aloof smile is the way to go.
When I walk up to my locker, I see that Sharese has her arm around Viv.
“What’s going on?”
Sharese’s eyes are grave. “Her parents found out about Max.”
Viv raises her head. “My mom found a note he wrote me. They’re furious that I lied to them. I’m grounded for…forever.”
“I’m so sorry, Viv.” She has no idea how sorry. This is my fault. I’m the one who gave her the advice.
“I broke up with Max over the phone last night. It can never work with my parents in the way. I made a stupid mistake. I should never have tried to date him.”
Sharese squeezes Viv to her side. “Don’t blame yourself. You were being true to your feelings. You can’t regret that.”
“I’ve hurt Max and my parents. How can I not regret that? I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it. But I didn’t want to see it. I was in a dreamworld.”
She had reason to be in a dreamworld because she was in love. That’s why she came to me, the Oracle of Dating, for rational advice. And I failed her.
I can’t believe I failed her.
The bell rings, forcing us to separate. As I sit in class, the weight of the truth is pressing down on me. I need to tell Viv that I’m the Oracle of Dating and that I’m responsible for screwing up her life. At least if I tell her, she’ll know it’s my fault and she can stop blaming herself.
She might hate me. I could lose one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And if I do, I deserve it.
Classes go by in a blur. I keep running over the advice I gave her. I got it so wrong. The Oracle told her what she wanted to hear—follow your heart and all will be well. But the Oracle is supposed to be smarter than that. She’s supposed to give a sensible assessment of the situation. She’s supposed to explore the problem intellectually before giving an answer. Instead I got swept up in the excitement of Viv and Max getting together and gave her stupid advice.
What was I thinking? Culturally sensitive questions should never be answered so flippantly. I know that. And yet somehow, because I was dealing with a friend, I acted more like opinionated Kayla than impartial Oracle. Damn myself!
In earth science, I see Jared, and I remember that I’m upset he got together with Brooke. Suddenly I feel even worse than I did a few minutes ago, if that’s humanly possible.
I say, “Hey.”
Jared gives me a nod, but his eyes are guarded. For a minute I think he’s going to ask me where I was Friday night, but he doesn’t. It hits me that he didn’t even notice my absence. He probably only asked me to go so I’d bring people. And now that he’s cozy with Brooke, he doesn’t have to bother with me. He’s got a VIP pass to popularity.
But I really don’t care about that right now. I have bigger problems than Jared. I’ve hurt Viv, and it’s killing me.
A horrible thought hits me. How many people’s lives have I screwed up by giving bad advice?
I used to think I was doing something good for this world by being the Oracle of Dating, but I’m not sure anymore. I’m not a licensed therapist. I have no credentials except a belief in my own good judgment. What was I doing giving advice?
I realize that I have no choice but to take down the Web site.
Snap! My pen goes flying, hitting the wall near Jared’s head. He hands it to me, eyes narrowed. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
He frowns, but lowers his head to focus on his doodling.
My eyes linger on him. Did my crush on Jared cause me to lose my edge?
Or did I ever have an edge at all?
LUNCHTIME IN THE CAF is excruciating. Viv is in a stupor of sadness and we’re falling all over ourselves to comfort her, but it’s not having any effect. Max is across the caf sitting with his friends, glancing at Viv with the most exquisite longing.
I’m tempted to spill the beans all over the lunch table and tell e
veryone that I’m the Oracle and it’s my fault. But I manage to resist. Facing Viv will be hard enough without my other friends questioning me, too. If Viv wants to reveal my secret to them, that’s up to her.
I’d like to get Viv alone to get this off my chest, but I doubt it will happen with everyone coddling her. Since she’s grounded and has to report home right after school, my only chance is to call her—if she’s allowed to take calls. She hasn’t been grounded in recent memory, so I don’t know how strict her parents will be.
After lunch is English class, which is too hideously boring to give me an escape from my thoughts. Then it’s art class, and I’m tempted to work at another desk so I won’t have to deal with Jared; but then, he might clue in that I’m upset about him leaving with Brooke on Friday night. I don’t have time for Jared heartsickness right now. He could’ve left with ten groupies, for all I care.
He comes up to the desk, putting down his books. “How’s it going, Kayla?”
I wish he wouldn’t use my name. It’s well-known that everyone likes to hear their name. I know my damned name.
I shrug. “Okay. You?”
“Good.”
Is he gloating or something?
Ms. Gerstad starts the lesson, and I pretend to pay attention. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jared writing on a piece of paper. He slides it in front of me.
I didn’t see you there Friday night.
So he did notice. Not that it matters now.
I wonder if there’s any point in telling him what happened. Since he obviously wasn’t broken up over my absence, I won’t bother to recount my humiliation.
I write back, Sorry. I wanted to but it didn’t work out. How’d it go?
Great.
I bet it went great. A successful show and the school’s most popular girl for a groupie.
Yeah, I’m a sore loser. But I’m having a very bad day.
We’re working with charcoal today. After Ms. Gerstad gives the instructions, we grab our materials and get started. Jared and I chat a little as we work, but it’s small talk, nothing real.
I’ve got a knot in my stomach the size of Texas whenever I think of what I’ve done to Viv. I’m the cause of my friend’s broken heart and damaged relationship with her parents. It’s downright nauseating.
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