I wanted to smash the TV, grab her throat, and personally eliminate her.
But I heard the musical ring and answered my cell phone.
When I read the caller ID, I felt hot, cold, and angry all at once.
“Amber, listen to me!” Eli said in a rushed whisper. “I don’t have much time but I have to tell you something important before you see it on TV.”
“What?” I glanced at the TV, where Mila was smiling like she owned the world. Grabbing the remote, I shut the TV off. I pressed my lips tightly together as I waited for Eli’s news, bracing myself for the breakup words. I couldn’t blame him, really, not after the weirdness I’d put him through. And now that he had a big chance for stardom, he could have any girl he wanted, so why put up with one who couldn’t stay in her own body?
“You’re going to hear some stuff about me and another competitor named Mila.”
“I saw Mila on TV.” I steeled my heart. “She’s really pretty.”
“Um … some people think so, I guess.”
“You don’t think she’s pretty?”
“What does that matter? She’s totally fake and …
well … she’s not you. So, if you hear anyone saying that Mila and I are having a showmance, it’s crap.”
“Why would they say that?” I asked cautiously.
“For ratings and publicity—not that I even care. When the show’s publicist asked me to say I was going out with Mila, I refused. But Mila thought it was a great idea and acted like we were together when I was being interviewed.”
I sucked in a raw breath, my insides twisting with a complicated mix of joy and jealousy. It was great to hear Eli say he preferred me but hard to get over the image of the girl hanging on him like cheap jewelry.
“I saw the interview,” I admitted.
“Oh, crap.” He groaned. “I’d hoped you weren’t watching. It’s not what you think.”
“What do you think I think?”
“That I’m a lying, cheating jerk.”
“Not even close.” I shifted the phone to my other ear as I curled up on the couch. “I think Mila is trying to use you to improve her career.”
“So you believe me?”
“You’ve believed some pretty outrageous things that I told you. Besides, that look of horror on your face when Mila wrapped around you was priceless.”
“I couldn’t get her off—she was pinching my arm.” He let out a heavy breath. “Did I ever tell you that you’re amazingly cool?”
“No, but feel free to say it often.”
“How about I ditch this freaking contest and say it to you in person? Singing is fun but not worth all the other stuff—photographers, interviews, gossip. I’d rather be there with you.”
“And I’d rather have you here.” I sent my soft words across invisible lines from my heart to his. I imagined Eli, not as I just saw him on TV with makeup and gelled hair, but the way he looked last time we were together—in casual jeans, with his unruly hair falling across his eyes as he leaned close to me.
“If I catch a flight tonight, I can be there before tomorrow. I’m not cut out for this lifestyle—hotels and interviews and wearing clothes picked out by strangers.”
“You’re not cut out to be a quitter, either. If you leave now, you’ll regret it.”
“Yeah,” he said after a long pause. “I would.”
“So do your singing thing and don’t worry about anyone else.”
“I really needed to hear that—thanks, Amber. It’s cool how you don’t freak out over dumb stuff like what happened on TV. The girl my brother was dating last year dumped him just because he gave a golf lesson to another girl.”
From what I knew about Chad, I suspected he deserved to be dumped. He had a history of cheating on his girlfriends—which I’d found out personally when I’d been in the body of one of them. But I liked Eli saying I was cool, so I pushed all negativity aside.
“Trust is really important,” I told him. “Relationships can’t survive without it.”
“Yeah. Trust is, like, huge. It’s cool we’ve got so much between us.”
I started to reply, then heard a beep. “Oh, I’ve got an incoming call … it’s Dustin! I was afraid he wouldn’t call in time.”
“In time for what?” Eli asked curiously.
“Dustin set up a date for Alyce.”
“But you’re Alyce.”
“Exactly. I’m so glad you’re not the jealous type or this could get really awkward.”
“I’m not … um … who are you going out with? You won’t actually do any—”
“I’ll tell you all about it later. I really miss you, Eli. Bye!”
I clicked off and switched over to Dustin.
Then I sucked in a nervous breath.
And asked about my date.
“I would have called sooner but I couldn’t get a signal inside the dumpster,” Dustin said in a distracted tone, electronic noises buzzing in the background as if he was doing at least three other things simultaneously.
“So the protest didn’t go well?” I teased.
“Au contraire, it went brilliantly! I just opted to skip the whole arrest-and-bail scene with a quick maneuver into a dumpster. Once the cops were gone, I zipped back to Headquarters and found a message from Zachary.”
“Did he back out of our date?” A girl could hope, right?
“No. It’s on for tonight.”
“Oh.” Hopes dashed.
“Zachary will meet you at 7:30 at the Neon Green Gallery.”
“Isn’t that the green cone-shaped building downtown?”
“Great spot, huh? Turns out Zachary likes surrealist art—and that’s not all he likes. I think he has a secret crush on Alyce. When I suggested a date, he not only knew who she was, but said he’d been in an art class with her. He raved about her acrylic gothic paintings.”
“Really? She never mentioned him to me.”
“Do you expect her to tell you everything?”
“Well … yeah. I tell her everything.”
“I doubt there was anything for her to tell,” Dustin said. “It didn’t sound like Zachary ever admitted his feelings to Alyce. He was surprised, then excited when I hinted that Alyce might want to go out with him.”
“I’ve got to hand it to you. This matchmaking stuff could actually work out.”
“Did you ever doubt the accuracy of my computer?”
I nearly reminded him that his computer also tried matching Alyce up with a girl, but I appreciated all he’d done for me, so I thanked him. I was relieved that my date wasn’t going to happen at some cozy romantic restaurant or theater. Going to a gallery would be more relaxed. I’d heard that the Neon Green Gallery showed avant-garde works by local artists. Not my taste, but so very “Alyce.” Maybe there was more to Zachary than good grades and an uptight attitude. The art show could turn out to be very interesting.
It also turned out to be near the downtown arena, where a mega concert had jammed the streets with pedestrians and traffic. I couldn’t find a parking place near the gallery, so I ended up parking about a mile away. And walking in Alyce’s three-inch boot heels was agony—how she managed not to fall in these shoes was a mystery to me. But they did look great under my swirling gypsy skirt, and I could tell by the way Zachary’s black eyes lit up when he saw me that he liked how I looked.
He was waiting outside the gallery on a wrought iron bench, looking stiff and clean-cut in a navy blue jacket, a blue button-up shirt, and dark, pressed slacks. When he stood up, I realized Alyce was two inches taller than he was.
“Hi, Zachary,” I said, a bit shyly.
“Hey, Alyce. Here.” He offered me a small wrapped present.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I wanted to.”
“Well … thanks.”
“I didn’t think you were the flower or candy type so I gave you—”
“Breath mints,” I finished, as the wrapping paper crinkled. “That’
s really … um … thoughtful.”
“You can never have too many breath mints. I always give them to my teachers, too. I hope you like spearmint with lemon.”
“Sure.” I almost made a joke about it being a “sucky” gift—but Alyce always groaned when I made puns. So I asked him if he’d been ever been to this galley.
“No, although I’ve always wanted to check it out.” He shook his head, his black hair so short and slicked with gel that not a strand moved. “It has a great reputation with displays of surrealistic, 3-D, and neon art. But of course you know that.”
“I do?” I gave him a startled look as he opened the Neon Green Gallery door for me.
“I heard you talking to Tobey.”
Tobey, otherwise known as Mr. Toben, was Alyce’s art teacher sophomore year. He had this open-door policy with students, so when she couldn’t deal with crowds at lunch, she’d hang out in his classroom.
I knew next to nothing about art, so I wisely didn’t say much as Zachary pointed out sculptures and paintings, most of it too strange for my taste. The paintings ranged from depressing images of despair and horror to colorful splashes of color that could easily have been splatter-painted by my little sisters. When I looked at a random price tag, I nearly gasped at the five figures. I mean, who in their right mind would pay that much? I could frame my little sisters’ finger-paint art and make a fortune.
I struggled not to yawn as Zachary explained his theories on conceptual and visionary paintings—things like inner conflicts depicted in physical form represent suppressed longings. Blah, blah, whatever. Who cared about a bunch of globs that was supposed to represent an ailing planet?
My interest returned when Zachary led me to a room titled “About Face.” Across the walls a world of photographs smiled, frowned, cried, rejoiced, and raged in full color, black and white, or sepia. I remembered that when Alyce experimented with black and white, an ordinary chair would turn into something fascinating. When I’d complimented her work, she’d frowned and said it was crap. I found out later that she’d burned the chair photograph.
I was studying a portrait of an old man, his eyes wide open yet lifeless, like he was dead, when Zachary called me into the next room.
The room reminded me of a cave with its low ceiling and dim lighting. The only illumination came from spotlights flowing across individual paintings. Zachary led me over to a painting titled “Bones.” At first glance I only saw a never-ending void of nightmare black, until I looked closer and saw curves of white and silver, brush-strokes that blended together to form a single image—of a skull.
“I knew you’d like it.” He mistook my gasp as appreciation. “Dark art isn’t usually my thing but when I saw this I thought of you. It’s like the style you used in class for the self-portrait assignment.”
Well, it should, since Alyce probably painted it, I thought. I stared hard until I found a signature—not the name I expected, just initials that meant nothing to me.
“Who’s SAM?” I pointed to the initials in the bottom corner.
Zachary shrugged. “No idea, but I could ask if you want to buy it.”
I laughed. “At $1,700? Noooo. It just interests me.”
“You know what interests me?”
“I hope it’s not that picture,” I joked, pointing to a painting of a giant glazed donut swallowing a man.
He didn’t even look at the cannibal donut, shrugging like he had zero sense of humor. But then Alyce could take serious to the extreme, too.
“That’s not what I meant,” he told me. He reached out and grasped my hand, pulling me close to him. His face was so close to mine so that the smell of peppermint nearly made me gag.
OMG! He was going to kiss me!
But my push was quicker than his pucker. “Zachary! No!”
“Why not? I thought we were getting along … that you’d like to … but I guess I was wrong.” He drew back sharply as if insulted.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t like … ” God, I was so bad at this. “I mean … we’re in public.”
“We haven’t passed anyone since that old couple in the neon room.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who asked me out.”
“I did? Oh, yeah. I did.”
“If you don’t like me, why even ask?”
“I never said I didn’t … ”
“You pushed me away like I have some contagious disease.”
“I like to take things slow. I barely know you.”
“You sat next to me in art for a whole year.”
“But we were never really alone.”
He looked at the nightmare skull then back at me. “Alyce, what does it take to crack that shell you put up? You go around school like a hater, but I’ve seen your passion for art, and it’s not about hate. When you work, you focus so intently that you shut out everything. Everyone. I wanted to tell you how I feel … but you always blew me off.”
What would Alyce say to this? Would she care enough to explain herself or would she shut him out? Now that I thought about it, Alyce did keep people away. I was the only one she allowed to get close—but she’d even kept secrets from me. What if one of these secrets was a crush on Zachary? If so, I didn’t want to blow this for her.
So I reached out for his hand, cringing as his warm fingers curled in my own because it felt like I was cheating on Eli. “Can’t we just see what happens?” I asked him.
He stiffened a moment before his fingers relaxed in mine. Then he murmured “okay” and suggested we finish looking at the gallery.
I faked an interest in bronze monkey sculptures, all the while thinking about Alyce. We’d been friends for so long, sharing everything—or so I thought. Apparently she’d kept more than a few secrets from me. I thought back but couldn’t remember her ever mentioning Zachary. She’d talked about her teacher, Tobey, but nothing about a guy who admired more than her art talent.
So maybe she was clueless about Zachary’s interest. But she should have told me about the “Bones” portrait—her painting. She had a similar skull sketched on the back of her purple notebook. Why had she made up the name “SAM” for her signature instead of using her own name? Why hide her identity when she should be proud? She had her work displayed in an important gallery and had never told me. What did I really know about my best friend?
Not much, obviously.
What else hadn’t she told me?
As we came to the last exhibit in the gallery, I sensed a change in Zachary. He kept sneaking glances at me, as if I was on exhibit and he was searching for hidden meanings. Was he deciding whether to ask me out on a second date? Was he wondering if I’d let him kiss me good-bye? Or was he considering switching schools to avoid any future contact with me?
I might have found the nerve to ask him if my cell phone hadn’t picked that moment to burst with music. Expecting Dustin, I looked at caller ID with puzzlement. Who was Edna Charles? I didn’t know anyone named Edna, but when I answered, it was clear that Edna knew Alyce.
“Alyce!” said a woman with a slight Indian accent.
“Uh … yeah?”
“You must come … now!”
“N-Now?” I sputtered. “What’s going on?”
“You asked me to call if it happened again—and it’s worse than last time!” The woman’s voice rose with agitation. “I can’t stay much longer, so you better get your ass over here before your mother gets hurt.”
“My mother!” I cried, glancing over at Zachary, who came to stand beside me with a concerned look. I was visualizing my real mother sick or injured until I realized that Edna meant Alyce’s mother.
“She was lucky I’m the only one working late,” the woman continued. “If the boss saw her like this … well, you know.”
The problem was I didn’t know, but it had something to do with Alyce’s mother. She must still be at her job. I knew she worked at First Trust Insurance, but I didn’t know the exact location. Alyce wouldn’t need to ask directions to her mot
her’s office. How could I ask without raising suspicions?
“I’m not sure I can get there … uh … to the insurance company?” I added uncertainly. “I’m not at home.”
“Where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“That’s only a ten minutes drive. You do have a car, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Ten minutes,” she cut in. “I won’t wait any longer.” The line went dead.
“Damn!” I stared at the phone, snapping it closed. It would take me more than ten minutes just to hike back to Alyce’s car.
“Did something happen to your mother?” Zachary asked with concern in his dark brown eyes.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Is she at a hospital?”
“No, at her job. She works at First Trust Insurance.”
“An insurance office is open this late?”
“She stays late sometimes, after it closes. She should have gone home by now.” I bit my lower lip. “I don’t understand what’s going on—just that I need to go to her and I don’t know the way.”
“You don’t know where your own mother works?”
“Uh, she helps out at different branches.” That sounded so lame, no wonder Zachary was giving me such a weird look. “All I know is that she’s at a branch ten minutes from downtown.”
“I’ll find it with GPS,” Zachary said, pulling out his BlackBerry. “My car is right over there, so I can get you there quick. It’s not far. Come on.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice, and followed Zachary to his car.
When we reached the insurance company, it was dark except for a light in the lobby where a petite woman with black hair piled on her head peered through a crack in the door. As soon as she saw me, she waved frantically for me to come in.
Before Zachary could offer to come with me, I thanked him for the ride and said I needed to do this alone. But suddenly, he switched to this macho attitude and insisted on coming in. I didn’t have the energy or time to argue, so I took off through the door and hoped he wouldn’t follow.
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