It’s the going-down part that’s actually the problem.
From this perspective, I definitely know now that this is the same course that backs up to our school, and when I was a little kid I used to come here for sledding every time it snowed. That means I’m pretty used to zooming down this hill at top speed. I’ve just never done it riding a giant lawn mower or with two terrified girls shrieking loud enough to summon zombies.
“We’re gonna die!” Hope screams right into my ear.
Dramatic much? I mean, we’re obviously not gonna die. Luckily, being annoyed with them keeps me from getting too scared myself.
But then I see the clubhouse at the bottom, outdoor lights twinkling and directly in our path, and realize Hope . . . might be right.
Help!!
I slam down the cutting-blade thingies to try to slow us, but I guess those don’t work when you’re going, like, a bazillion miles an hour. I can’t believe I was complaining about this mower moving at the speed of grandma before. I am soooo done with this whole being-responsible thing. Just as we’re about to slam into a row of parked golf carts lined up in front of the clubhouse, I pry Hope’s fingers from my waist and bail out of my seat, dive-rolling onto the hard ground.
Oooooouch!!!
You know what’s extra fun? Lying face-planted in dirt.
I lift my head and peek from side to side. “Brats?” I whisper, straining my ears to hear any response over the weird noise the crashed lawn mower is making. It sounds like a chainsaw and an alien spacecraft mating . . . and then everything goes silent as it completely dies. Great. How much allowance would it take to replace a lawn mower? Although I’m sure the Terzettis have lawn mower insurance, so it’s probably not that big of a deal.
Um, or maybe they’ll be too busy suing me for killing their kids to even care about a dumb mower. Why can’t I hear the twins? Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking.
“Brats?” I whisper again, a little louder this time.
Off to my left comes a giggle, then two. GIGGLES!! Oh, thank God! I should be annoyed that they’re finding all this funny, but even though I didn’t sign on for this babysitting gig, I’m not totally heartless. I would have felt superbad if anything serious had happened to them.
I sit up slooooowly and shake out all my limbs. I am so getting a bruise or twenty out of this. At least all my body parts seem to work okay, though. I follow the laughter to a golf cart along the row. It has a lawn mower stuck into its front and two laughing girls sprawled across its backseat.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did you go flying into here?
Matching smiles and nods.
“Are you okay?” I repeat.
“That. Was. Awesome!” Charity says.
I sigh and roll my eyes. Now that we’ve had our lives flash in front of our eyes they’re suddenly on board with adventure?
Whatever. I’m fine. They’re fine. The mower is definitely NOT fine, but at least we’re close enough to walk to school from here, and I can worry about that death trap more after I’ve gotten my dance on. Judging by the cracking noises my neck makes when I tilt it from side to side, I should probably stick with the slow songs, even if it means finding a girl to dance with on account of the solemn oath I’ve taken to never look twice at any boy my age. Too immature. I mean, if you could only hear Kevin try to string together a sentence. Ugh. Or that Leif kid. Even worse.
I reach my arms out to pull the twins from the cart.
“Stay low,” I whisper. “There are probably security cameras. We don’t want them to get us on tape.”
I honestly don’t know which would be worse: getting arrested because the cameras busted us or having someone post the video of this night online for my entire grade to see. Guarantee it would get quadruple the views Heart Grenade’s TV concert will, and that’s not me busting on them at all.
“We have to get where we can press right up against the building so we can’t be seen,” I state. There are also floodlights mounted in the corners of the building, by the roofline, but they point out at the grounds. If we’re directly underneath them, we’ll be in the shadows.
So smart of me. See, I should totally be a heist planner.
I motion for the girls to crouch alongside me, and we duck-waddle our way along the row of carts to the end. From there the clubhouse is only about half a swimming pool’s distance away.
I peek around the corner, take a deep breath, stand, and sprint across the driveway, tucking myself as flat as I can against the brick wall as soon as I reach it.
After I catch my breath I wave on the Brats.
“But what about the Munchinator?” Hope whines, once she’s pressed into place next to me.
“The what?”
“That’s what Daddy named the lawn mower,” Charity says, joining us.
I shrug. No time for that. I’m on a mission now. On the other side of this clubhouse is the course’s back nine. Last summer Mom decided I should try to be sporty and learn golf from her, so I happen to know at least two of those holes line up with our soccer fields . . . and I’m gonna find them.
We just have to get around this building without making it onto any security videos. I crane my neck to peer up at the roofline of the clubhouse, searching out any blinking red lights that might signal a camera. I’m guessing they’ll be right next to the floodlights, and I edge farther along the wall, keeping my eyes trained on the overhang. I’m seriously so supergood at this spy stuff.
“WOOF! WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, ARF!”
I jump twenty-seven feet into the air.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—a guard dog!” I yell, turning so fast I crash into both girls and send us all toppling into a pile on the ground.
I detach my limbs from the tangle and scramble to my feet. When I immediately trip on a tree root and fall again, I start speed-crawling on my knees, trying to get as far as I can from the clubhouse as fast as possible. Who cares about getting captured by security cameras when getting captured by a ginormous dog with matted fur and a spiked collar and saliva dripping from his pointy teeth would be a thousand times worse? I hate to admit it, but I would pay about a zillion dollars right now to be on the Terzettis’ couch, landing my tiny metal wheelbarrow piece on Boardwalk.
After about ten seconds I steal a glance over my shoulder, because those girls had better be on my heels. No way, no how am I going back to rescue them from Killer or Brutus or Fang or whatever that mess of madness is named.
Ummm. They’re not behind me.
They’re still at the corner of the clubhouse, bent over something. What the . . .
I get up slowly and tiptoe back to them, totally prepared to run in the opposite direction at the least little movement by whatever horrid monster their huddled bodies are hiding from sight. I do not deserve this night!
“Aren’t you just the sweetest, cutest, most precious little thing? Yes, you are,” Charity is saying in an icky baby voice.
“Girls! Step away from that . . . that thing! He’s not a pet; he’s a menace. I bet he’s been trained to snap your necks in half!” Are they really this clueless?
Hope smirks at me, which makes my blood boil. “Pretty sure that couldn’t happen,” she says.
She moves to the side so I have a clear view of the beast.
My shoulders slump. The “beast” at the end of a long rope that must be tied somewhere around the corner of the building is a fluffball of fur small enough to fit inside my favorite boho slouch bag. Some guard dog. He’s wearing a knit sweater with a snowflake on it, and attached to the fur next to his ear is a tiny blue bow barrette. I’m positive I own the exact same one.
I’m also positive the Brats are never, ever going to let me live down the time I ran in terror from the world’s cutest Pomeranian. Sure enough, they’re bent over again, but this time it’s not to admire the puppy; it’s because they’re laughing too hard to stand up straight.
Unacceptable.
So unacceptable.
I
cross my arms and tap my foot as I wait for them to wind down. But instead we’re all shocked silent when a man’s voice calls out in the darkness, one thousand percent too close for comfort.
“Snuffles? Are you barking at squirrels again, my yittle wittle princess? Didn’t Daddy tell you to stay nice and quiet out here while I finish locking up the clubhouse for the night? Now where are you, my mini-puffykins?”
“Run!” I screech, turning and bolting for the tree line.
They had just better be following this time.
RYAN { 8:48 P.M. }
I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I was hanging out in the hallways avoiding Mariah but it’s obviously been long enough for things to get seriously weird in the gym. “Weird” as in my math teacher, Ms. Huff, Hula-Hooping in the middle of the dance floor. “Weird” as in my mom bouncing to the music with a big smile on her face. “Weird” as in Mariah and Tess locked in a full-on stare-down while wearing identical dresses.
Even though he didn’t seem to want to before, I figured Leif would have handled all of this by now. Apparently not. I head back out to the front hallway and track him down. He’s standing next to the entrance to the school like he’s planning to run for it.
“Dude!” he calls out when he sees me approaching. “It was getting way intense in there. I had to step out.”
“What’s the deal?” I ask.
“They found out,” Leif says. “All of it. That I said yes to both of them. That I have two dates for the dance. Mariah’s been glaring at Tess for the last half hour, but now it’s getting real. Tess just walked over there, so I’m going to hide until it blows over.”
“So they told you off,” I say. Because of course that’s what would happen if two girls found out one guy double-booked them.
“No, man,” Leif says, making a face like that’s the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “There were glares and sighs, and I swear, I thought they were going to have a dance-off at some point!”
Weird. Just last week, two guys in homeroom liked the same girl, and it was no big deal. They yelled for a second, then got over it. But Mariah and Tess decide to have a stare-off over it?
“I should just go wait it out somewhere,” Leif says. “Can you deal with this? You’re Mariah’s best friend; she’ll listen to you. Honestly, dude, I didn’t want to go to the dance with either of them. See what being nice gets me?”
“So you’re just going to bail?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Why now?”
“I stuck it out as long as I could,” he said with a shrug.
If I keep him here, maybe he’ll start to like Tess. Mariah will see it and decide to hang out with me. Maybe she’ll even realize she likes me after all.
Not the best plan in the world, but the best I can come up with on short notice.
“I have an idea.” I lean over to say it in a superlow voice, as if people will actually overhear or something. “You ask Tess to dance. I’ll go talk to Mariah and see if I can calm her down.”
Instead of answering, he walks over to the gym door and peeks inside. After a quick glance to confirm that, yes, drama is still happening in there, he shakes his head. His eyes are all huge, like he’s terrified Mariah and Tess are going to come after him at any second. How this guy is an honors student when he can’t even keep his dates straight is beyond me.
“Come on,” I urge him. “We’ll go in there together.”
After a brief hesitation, Leif follows me toward Mariah and Tess. I can’t believe I’m actually nervous about getting in the middle of this. It’s no big deal, I tell myself. Just two girls fighting over a guy. This isn’t like me at all. Normally I avoid drama at all costs. I’d rather just hang out or play basketball or something. But I don’t want to see Mariah get hurt.
By the time we get to the dance floor, Mariah and Tess are staring in opposite directions. They both look at Leif at the same time.
“Hey, Mariah,” I say.
I walk around Tess just as Leif is asking her to dance. She gives him a big smile, and the two of them take off. Before walking away, Tess flashes a look of victory at Mariah.
“Where are they going?” Mariah asks.
Her attention is totally focused on the area just behind me. I might as well not even be standing here. I turn around and watch as Leif and Tess move to the opposite side of the gym and begin slow-dancing.
“I. Can’t. Believe. This,” Mariah says. She looks hurt. Superhurt. More hurt than I’ve ever seen her look. I want to give her a big hug, but would she even hug me back?
Okay, this is my big chance. I have her to myself. There has to be something I can do that will make her see that I’m better than Leif.
“I can’t believe he said yes to both of you!” I say. “Who does that?”
“I know, right?” Mariah says. “It’s the worst thing ever.”
Okay, so there are probably worse things, but who am I to argue?
“I’m surprised you let him get away with it,” I say, shrugging. I’m trying to sound as innocent as possible. Directly in our line of sight, Tess and Leif are still slow-dancing.
“Get away with what?” Mariah says, turning toward me. Not good. I want her to focus on me, but I also want her to see Tess and Leif getting cozy on the dance floor.
“You know, the whole two-date thing,” I say. “He totally played you guys.”
I feel a little guilty about saying that. Even though Leif did the wrong thing, he’s more of a wimp than a bad guy.
“I mean, hasn’t he heard about you and Tess—you know, your history?” I continue. “He should’ve known she was the worst possible person he could have gone with.”
That part is true. I mean, if Leif actually paid attention, like I do, he would see that Mariah and Tess have some competition going. If he didn’t know it before tonight, it should be obvious now. Yet there he is, dancing with Tess like I suggested. Not just dancing; slow-dancing . . . and smiling and talking and laughing like he actually likes her. I have to hold in a smile. I feel bad that this makes me so happy.
“Well, he knows now,” Mariah says, echoing what I’d just been thinking. “So I guess he realizes he has to pick.”
But maybe he already has. . . .
The words stick in my brain. I would never say them out loud. That would hurt her, and I can’t do that, even if it might give me a better shot at winning her over. So I decide to take a different approach.
“You should stand up to him,” I say. Suddenly, I feel this weird surge of adrenaline, like I’m about to run a mile or something. I realize that I’m hoping she’ll go tell Leif off. It’s probably wrong, but I can’t help myself. “Don’t let him get away with it. It will make you seem weak.”
I wait a second. It’s a long second, and I’m sure I’ve gone too far. Next to me, Mariah is once again staring at Tess and Leif, who are probably still dancing and smiling or whatever they were doing last time I glanced at them. I can’t seem to make myself look away from Mariah to see for myself, though.
“Maybe he just said yes to her because he didn’t know I was going to ask,” she says, her face all scrunched like she’s lost in thought. “He didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her someone better had come along.”
It’s hard to argue with that, mostly because I agree. Someone better had come along. Tess is awesome, but I can’t see why Leif would like her more than Mariah. There’s no girl in the world as great as Mariah.
While I’m thinking about the next thing I should say, Mariah’s face goes from angry to thoughtful. Her eyes are wide and full of life. She’s softening. That means she isn’t angry anymore, which isn’t great for me.
“You aren’t going to let him get away with this, are you?” I repeat.
“You’re right,” she says finally, biting her lip nervously like she always does when she’s in the middle of thinking something through. “Maybe I should do something.”
The way she’s looking at me now makes my heart all melty. She needs help in the way only a real
friend can give it. I’ve already shared advice; I have to say something else. Something only a true best friend could.
So say something!
But before I can, she turns back to watch Tess and Leif.
“I’m going to dance with him,” she says. “He’s my date.”
“Wait!” I yell as she heads in their direction.
She stops and turns around. “What?” she asks. She’s looking at me hopefully, like I may have some brilliant piece of advice that will turn all of this around.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” is what I end up saying. “It seems a little . . . desperate.”
Yeah, real brilliant there. Way to be a genius and save the day. I watch her closely, hoping I haven’t just made her feel bad for what she was about to do.
Now she looks confused. “You said I should go over there and stand up for myself. That’s what I’m doing.”
“I meant that you should tell him off for saying yes to two dates, not beg him to dance with you,” I say.
She laughs. “Beg? Beg? Really?”
“Tell him he messed up,” I say. “I mean, who makes two dates to the same dance? That’s way wrong!”
She says nothing for a minute, and I worry I’ve crossed a line.
“Okay, yeah,” she says. “He was out of line. But maybe it isn’t Leif I need to speak to about this. Maybe there’s another way . . .”
For some reason she stops talking. She looks over at the two of them, nods, and walks in their direction.
I don’t even try to stop her this time.
“Smile!”
All of a sudden, someone steps in front of me and a bright light goes off. Are you kidding me? This stupid guy with the camera . . . again?
The yearbook photographer grins like he’s proud of himself, then runs off. Dude is going to have a wall full of photos of me staring at Mariah with sad looks on my face if he keeps following me around like this.
In addition to annoying me, the flash momentarily blinds me. I can’t see what’s going on with Mariah and Tess and Leif. It also makes me aware that I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, alone, staring at the three of them like some weirdo. And my mom is out there somewhere, probably in one of the dark corners of the room. I don’t want her to see me alone and decide to come over and talk to me.
Best. Night. Ever. Page 9