I nodded, but the truth was, I felt pretty shaken. ‘I’ll see you in class,’ I told her. ‘I have to drop off some overdue books.’
As I entered the library, I almost walked right into Jean-Paul.
‘Hey, Pamplemousse.’
‘Hi, Jean-Paul.’ I looked at my feet, feeling generally, all-around mortified.
‘What happened to you?’ he asked, indicating the scabs on my arm.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’d like to hear it sometime. Did you have a good March Break?’
‘Yeah, I did. How about you?’
‘It was good. I spent it in Winnipeg with my dad.’
I kept looking at my feet. It was all very awkward.
‘I didn’t go to the dance,’ he said. ‘I told Ashley to forget it. I didn’t want to go with her after what she did to you. I tried to call you, but you’d already left.’
I just could not make myself look up from my shoes.
‘I was wondering,’ he continued, ‘if maybe this weekend we could do something, like see a movie, or... something. We could ask Phoebe and Andrew to come, too.’
I finally tore my gaze away from my feet, even though I knew he’d see my full-on blush. ‘I’d like that,’ I replied.
•••
We went to a movie that weekend, the four of us. And the next weekend, Jean-Paul and I went to the aquarium, just the two of us. We’ve been sort-of, kind-of dating ever since. Last weekend he came over to our house for the official Gustafson Girls’ Night, which I think we’re going to have to rename because it’s never just girls any more, and we all watched Ocean’s 13, starring you-know-who. Dudley was there too, and he and my mom kept giggling whenever George was on-screen.
‘If George ever did come calling,’ Dudley asked my mom, ‘what would you do?’
‘What do you think?’ my mom replied. ‘I’d let him in!’
Jean-Paul held my hand during the whole movie, right in front of everyone. Rosie took turns leaning against him and leaning against Dudley. She didn’t put her thumb in her mouth once.
Jean-Paul is spending the summer in Winnipeg. We’ve promised we’ll e-mail each other every day. Do I worry that he’ll meet someone else? Yes. Do I worry that my heart will wind up getting crushed? Totally.
But I’m also starting to come around to what Mom said. You have to be open to new experiences. You have to take the bad with the good.
That’s life, after all.
•••
The music started. Cosmo stood at the front, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a tuxedo. His best man, if you could call him a man, stood beside him. I’d met him at the rehearsal dinner the night before. His name was Ambrose, and he couldn’t have been much older than me.
‘Violet,’ he’d said when we were introduced. ‘Olive, evil, live, volt, veil, veto, vole, love.’ Seriously, he said that. ‘They’re anagrams,’ he explained. ‘Using some of the letters from your name.’
What can I say? Weird with a capital W.
The crowd rose to their feet. Rosie and I started down the aisle, tossing petals as we went. Phoebe caught my eye and winked at me. And Dudley – who, I must admit, looked almost handsome in his suit – gave us both two thumbs-up.
We stood at the front and watched as my mom came down the aisle, followed by Karen and another friend of Amanda’s. Mom wore the same dress as Karen, and she looked fantastic. I swear I saw Dudley’s chest puff out with pride as she passed him. I won’t lie, I still thought he was a dork. But as Phoebe likes to point out, there are worse qualities than dorkiness.
And, thanks to him, I’d managed to get a B on my last maths test. I’d finally relented and let him help me study one night. If I’m honest, he was a pretty good teacher, way better than Mr Patil. It was like I’d been struggling to learn a new language, and somehow Dudley helped me crack the code, and the maths started to make sense. He’d been in the middle of explaining something to me when I’d interrupted him. ‘If you hurt my mom, I’ll have to kill you,’ I said, not glancing up from my maths book.
‘Coming from any other kid, I would take this as an idle threat. But from you...’ he said. ‘Seriously, Violet. I’m not going to hurt your mom.’
‘But how do I know?’
He shrugged. ‘You don’t, I guess. You just have to trust me.’
Trust. That’s something I’ve been trying to work on. And looking at Cosmo as he waited anxiously to see his bride, I had to trust that he and Amanda would do just fine. Maybe with some bumps along the way, but still.
The music swelled, and Amanda appeared on her dad’s arm. Her dress was long, off-white, simple but elegant. Her hair was swept up into a bun on top of her head. She looked gorgeous.
When the bride and groom said ‘I do,’ the entire church erupted into cheers. And I cheered, too.
•••
Oh, I almost forgot.
Something else happened, about two weeks after I got home. A brown envelope arrived in the mail, addressed to me, from the office of George Clooney. This is what it said.
Dear Violet,
Thank you for your fan letter to George Clooney. Unfortunately, due to the volume of fan mail he receives, we must respond with a form letter.
However, please be assured that George appreciates the time you took to write to him, and as an expression of his gratitude, we have enclosed a signed eight-by-ten glossy of him for your collection.
Sincerely,
The Office of George Clooney
After I’d read the form letter, I slid the photograph out of the envelope. It was the same one his office had sent the first time, a head shot of George, looking right at me, smiling that amazing smile.
Only this time, something was written in the bottom right-hand corner.
To Violet—
A better daughter than she is a driver.
Best wishes,
George Clooney
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my son, Oskar, and my husband, Goran, for being early readers and for giving excellent (and brutally honest) critiques. To the team at Tundra: Kelly Hill for another wonderful cover; Sue Tate, who expertly helped me get rid of the potholes; and especially Kathy Lowinger, who saw the diamond in the rough and who worked tirelessly to help me tell the story I wanted to tell and tell it well.
Thanks also to my agent, Hilary McMahon, for her passion, kindness, and smarts.
In the years since I wrote this book, George up and got married, something he said he’d never do, and he didn’t even check with me first. But how can I not approve? The woman he married is incredible – and affirms my belief that Mr Clooney is a man of substance and integrity.
Author’s Note
I’ve now managed to write two books in a row that feature single moms with erratic behaviour. I must clarify that they are nothing like my own mom. Mom, you were a single parent, but you were, and are, a rock, and I love you more than I can express.
The hair design school in this book is named after my dear friend Will Berto. Will, you left us far too early, but you live on in the hearts and minds of all of your friends. I love you and miss you.
Finally – with the exception of the underwear-flushing incident – this is entirely a work of my imagination. However, if George Clooney would ever like to meet to discuss any aspects of this novel, I’ll drop everything and be right over.
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My Messed-Up Life Page 15