by Day, Susie
He scrunches up one eye. “Could you say that again, because only dogs can hear you right now, and I’m sort of invested in the answer?”
I drop my hand away, and I wrap my other around it to stop it shaking. Rest them both on the counter. Let one creep forward, and take hold of one of his.
“Yes,” I say, still all breathy and mouselike. “But…good surprise?”
That smile comes along again. That Teddy smile that I’ve watched from afar: that I never, ever imagined could be for me.
“But…but…how? And when did you…? And…why did you…?”
“I’ve always thought you were pretty awesome, you know, on account of you actually being pretty awesome. Then suddenly you were inventing this boyfriend for yourself, and I thought, hey, wait up, I’m feeling kind of jealous of this guy. Well, I think Safak was the one who figured that out, actually. She thought it was kind of interesting you’d called him Ed. You know: Eddie…Teddy?”
I decide not to explain about E. D. Hartley: It can probably be saved for later.
“We didn’t really break up because of Tron, either,” he adds, looking faintly embarrassed.
“What? But—I didn’t mean you to do that! I mean, she was really lovely!”
“Yeah. But, so are you. She noticed I thought so anyway. Mostly from me renting a movie I knew you’d love. Maybe we did break up because of Tron after all…”
“But why didn’t you say anything?”
“Says the girl with the gingerbread boyfriend? I don’t know, I thought the whole ‘E’ thing would be cute. Mom kept watching those DVDs of that show you like, and…well, guess I was trying to cover my ass a little, too. That Ed guy was kind of intimidating to live up to, you know?’
His hand tightens around mine, just slightly. Teddy’s hand. Teddy’s hand, holding my hand, as if it doesn’t want to let go.
“And I figured I was being pretty obvious—till you thought E was basically any unavailable, inappropriate guy in a forty-mile radius who wasn’t me.”
I bite my lip, feeling guilty again, though he’s smiling.
There’s a burst of static from the speakers. I glance over at the TV screen, and catch Etienne Gracey in his leotard, thwacking Brendan around the head with his deflating guitar. I decide not to mention him, either. Though I don’t think anything could ruin this moment: me, and him, my E, my perfect, not-imaginary, better-than-imaginary boy.
“Oh! But…you’re going away!”
He sighs, dropping his head.
“Not for another week. And we’ll be back to visit? But yeah, I know. I figured we’d work this out a little quicker. But you’re kind of a master at e-mail relationships already, right? If you think about it, we’ve been going out for weeks already, without even meeting. You think an ocean’s going to get in our way?”
I shake my head, biting my lip to keep the squeakiness inside.
“Now, dearest Heidi, I have but one question to ask,” he says, adopting a slightly wonky accent and attempting to look very serious, despite the on-screen vision of Honey Prentiss skipping across the stage dressed as a giant pink shoe. “And quit laughing, I worked pretty hard at learning how to talk like some stiff-assed Brit guy. So, dearest Heidi, my question?”
“Yes, Rupert?”
He gives me a stern look, then leans closer, a wicked twinkle in his eye.
“Still want me to kiss Ludo?” he whispers.
The speakers blare out “Take on Me,” improbably on cue.
I shake my head.
I lean closer.
He doesn’t taste like gingerbread.
Although I should probably kiss him again, just to make sure.
Recipe for Love
INGREDIENTS:
Heidi
Teddy
METHOD:
• Just leave them to it.
A dimly lit penthouse. Mycroft Christie, heroic detective, peers out of the wardrobe, looking slightly peeved to see every available surface in the apartment now covered with small, delicious-smelling gingerbread men. Glamorous Miss Heidi Ryder is a bit busy reading her e-mails to notice.
to: [email protected]
from: [email protected]
Dearest T,
Have you added more cinnamon? Extra yummy this week anyway. Though the postman is starting to think I’m involved in a thrilling international import/export crime syndicate.
l & a,
H
to: [email protected]
from: [email protected]
Dearest Heidi,
Same here. Mom says, “Thanks for the teabags, now send another five million or so.”
They weren’t yummy before? I’m sulking here.
l & a,
T
to: [email protected]
from: [email protected]
Dearest T,
I’m sure the postman will just love me for that. Tell her she’ll just have to visit?
Yumminess never in doubt, I promise. :)
l & a,
H
to: [email protected]
from: [email protected]
Dearest Heidi,
I don’t know that they’d let her through customs, with that weird guy-shaped lump in her suitcase. Anyway, I hear the girl she might really want to visit spends all her time on the internet, talking to some boy.
At least that’s what she says. He sounds improbable to me.
l & a,
T
to: [email protected]
from: [email protected]
Dearest T,
Improbable boys are nice. But I like real ones best of all.
l & a,
H
Also by Susie Day:
serafina67 *urgently requires life*
Copyright
Copyright © 2009 by Susie Day
Cover Photography © 2010 Michael Frost
Cover Design By Becky Terhune
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Day, Susie (Susanna Mary), 1975–
My invisible boyfriend / by Susie Day.
p. cm.
Summary: In a British alternative high school, fifteen-year-old Heidi stands out in many ways, but when she invents a boyfriend—complete with online profile—her friends turn to him for advice and she must decide how far she is willing to go to find acceptance.
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 3. Boarding schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Theater—Fiction. 6. Email—Fiction. 7. England—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D3327 My 2010
[Fic]—dc22
2009004377
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eISBN: 978-0-545-28318-2
rchive.