Leah sighed. “I wish I had her guts.”
“Me too,” I agreed. Victoria set down her cup of punch and took us both by the arm.
“Stop wishing and just come on,” she said, pulling us into the dancing crowd.
The DJ played one fast song after another, and for the next hour I had so much fun, I couldn’t remember why I hadn’t wanted to come. We danced in a big group, forming a circle at one point and taking turns in the middle. Gabby and Victoria made everyone fall over laughing with a routine they’d obviously practiced. I danced with Mike for one song, then Rafael from my history class whose last name I didn’t know, and then with Liam. At one point, I bumped into Julia, who looked like she was having a blast with Seth. (I couldn’t resist teasing him a little bit about her foot. He blushed, but he was laughing, too.)
Natasha and Aaron were with a group on the other side of the dance floor; I recognized a few of the guys from the football team that Aaron usually ate lunch with, including Rick the Giant, who was, like, a full head taller than pretty much everyone around him. Natasha seemed to be having fun—but it was hard to tell from that distance, and I wasn’t about to get any closer.
When the first slow song started, I told Liam I was getting a drink and left him to dance with Victoria. Hanging back next to the food table, I sipped punch and looked around to see who else was taking a break.
I spotted Owen with a few other kids near the bleachers. He saw me and sort of half-waved. I half-waved back, and he went back to talking. Chewing my lip, I wondered if maybe I should go ask him to dance. Would that be weird? Or would it help to break the tension between us?
Maybe it was Gabby’s influence, but suddenly I felt like taking the chance. I set down my drink and started making my way through the crowd toward Owen. But by the time I got to the spot near the bleachers, he was nowhere to be seen. The kids he’d been talking to were still standing there, though. I recognized one from my PE class.
“Hey, Kyle, do you know where Owen went?” I asked, grateful that the slow song made it possible to hear.
Kyle shrugged and pointed. “That way, but he didn’t say where he was going.”
“Thanks.”
I wandered around for a few minutes, looking for Owen. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that he’d seen me coming and taken off just to avoid me.
Sighing, I peered at the bodies crowded on the dance floor, wondering if he was in there. That’s when I saw Aaron and Natasha, dancing close. Really close.
Slowly, I turned away and headed back to the other side of the gym near the food table. A fast, thumping song started up, but I didn’t feel like getting back on the dance floor just yet. I watched Gabby and the others for a few minutes, picking at a mini sandwich but not eating a bite.
“These are pretty good.”
Next to me, Trevor was piling several of the little sandwiches on his plate. Great. Just who I wanted to see. I set my plate down and turned to go without saying anything.
“So where’s your date?”
Stunned, I turned around and stared at Trevor. He smirked at me.
“I’m sorry, since when did you become such a jerk?” I snapped. “Obviously I didn’t come with a date. Did you?”
Unperturbed, he stuffed a whole sandwich into his mouth. “No,” he said, chewing. “But that’s not my point.”
“Oh, you have a point? I thought maybe you just liked making me feel bad.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “Everything really is all about you, isn’t it?”
“Whatever.” I turned to go, trying not to show how much he’d hurt my feelings. Trevor and I had always kind of picked on each other, but I never thought he disliked me this much.
“I told him so.”
He mumbled it under his breath, but clearly I was supposed to hear it. Crossing my arms, I faced Trevor again.
“Told who what? You mean Owen?”
“Duh.” Trevor poured more punch into his cup. “I told him you were lying.”
“Lying?” I blinked in confusion. “I don’t—what are you talking about?”
“He asked you to this, right?” Trevor waved his cup around, and I figured this meant the dance. “And you said no, because . . .”
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. I said I already had a date.
Trevor nodded like I’d said it out loud. “And do you have a date? Nope. What a shocker.”
Oh my God.
“I told him, asking you was stupid in the first place,” Trevor went on. “And it was. And now you’re here without a date, and it’s obvious you lied and you don’t even care that he knows it.” He tossed his cup in the trash can next to the table. “And you think I’m the jerk,” he added before walking away.
I felt sick. It wasn’t like I’d forgotten the reason I’d said no to Owen, but when I found out that Aaron was going to the dance with Natasha, all I could think about was myself. From Owen’s point of view, I’d told him I had a date, and never mentioned it again. And here I was, alone. He must have thought I’d just lied on the spot so I wouldn’t have to go with him.
“Hey!”
I jumped when Julia appeared at my side, Seth not far behind her. They both looked flushed and happy. “Man, I need a drink,” said Julia, grabbing a cup. Then she looked more closely at me. “Holly, are you feeling okay?”
“Yes . . . no,” I said. “I need to talk to you about something for a minute. Come to the bathroom with me?”
“Sure,” she said immediately. After telling Seth she’d be right back, Julia followed me out of the gym and into the restroom. I waited until the two girls at the sink had left before telling her the whole story.
“Yikes.” Julia leaned against the wall, watching me pace back and forth in front of the stalls. “That’s rough. Trevor didn’t have to be so mean about it, though.”
“I don’t blame him,” I said, and I meant it. “Owen’s his best friend. I’d be pretty mad at any guy who lied and hurt your feelings like that.”
“Holly, don’t beat yourself up,” Julia said firmly. “You thought you had a date, and it was easier to say so than explain the whole thing to Owen. And it wasn’t like you were freaking out about the idea of going with him. I mean, if Owen had asked you after Aaron asked Natasha, you’d have said yes, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re missing the point.” I stopped in front of her, arms still crossed. “Owen has no idea I thought Aaron was going to ask me. He probably thinks I completely made it up.”
“So just tell him what really happened!”
“I can’t!” I yelled. “I mean . . . I could, but, oh my God, Julia, the whole thing about Aaron is so embarrassing. I don’t want to tell anyone. Especially Owen.”
Julia gave me a sympathetic look. “But I think it’s the only way to fix things with him.”
Groaning, I gently bumped my forehead against the wall a few times, and Julia laughed. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. I had to tell Owen the truth. No matter how humiliating it was.
Chapter
Fifteen
I had a week and a half until winter break. That meant ten days to figure out how to explain everything to Owen. Unless I wanted to put it off until school started again in January . . . but I couldn’t stand the thought of obsessing over the whole thing during vacation.
So maybe it was because I was stressing out about seeing him in science, but during lunch on Monday, Natasha really started to irritate me.
“It was fun.” That’s all she’d say about the dance. No details, no hint of whether she’d be going on another date with Aaron. It was really unlike Natasha to be so tight-lipped, and while I knew she was just trying not to hurt my feelings, I was tired of the pity.
Julia, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking about Seth.
“And he called me Sunday! We talked for almost
an hour. It’s weird—he’s a lot more talkative on the phone. Anyway, there’s this Christmas-lights festival thing his family goes to every year, and he invited me to come with them! It’s the day after the orchestra concert—oh, do you guys want to go to that with me? Seth’s coming to the band concert, so I figure I should go to his, too . . .”
It was really cute, the way she kept rambling. And, okay, maybe a tiny bit annoying. But it looked like Julia officially had a boyfriend—I totally understood why she was so excited. So I just I smiled and nodded and ate my sandwich, wondering if this was how Natasha talked about Aaron when I wasn’t around.
The next time Julia paused for breath, I turned to Natasha. “So are you and Aaron going to hang out over the break, too?”
I thought I sounded friendly, but Natasha flinched like I’d tried to hit her or something. Then she smiled quickly, although it looked forced. And she kept her eyes on her sandwich.
“Um, maybe!” she said, her voice kind of high. “We talked about doing something, but nothing definite yet. Besides, I’m going back to Georgetown for a week to see my grandparents. Are you guys going anywhere?”
Subject: changed. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, although neither of them noticed. Natasha was still focused on her sandwich, and Julia kept sneaking little glances over at Seth’s table.
Well, at least I’d tried.
To make a blah day even more blah, science was horrible. Owen was the same—polite but distant—but now I was acutely aware of Trevor sitting a few lab stations away and shooting me dirty looks.
Okay, I didn’t really see him giving me dirty looks. But he might as well have been. I stared at my lab packet, reading the same question over and over and not understanding a word.
“Hey, Owen?” I said finally. He glanced up.
“Yeah?”
I squeezed my pencil so hard I nearly broke it in half. “Um . . . what’d you get for number three?”
You have to tell him, I berated myself silently, pretending to scribble down the answer he gave me. But I couldn’t do it here in the middle of science.
“Are you doing anything after school tomorrow?” Owen asked when I’d finished writing.
“No!” I said eagerly. “Why?”
“Well, the last volleyball game is Wednesday, and it’s the third group’s turn to bake,” he told me. “But Gabe said we’re so behind, we’d have to have a lot more stuff than we did at the first two games to have any chance of catching up. So my mom said she’d help us again, if you want to come. Victoria and Trevor will be there, and maybe a few others,” he added quickly, like he was afraid I would think he meant just the two of us.
“Oh,” I replied, a little deflated. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll be there.”
We went back to work. Well, Owen went back to work, and I went back to pretending to work but really just doodling stuff all over a question about mitosis. The tip of my pencil snapped off, and I set it down with a sigh.
When I shoved my hand into the front pocket of my backpack in search of another pencil, my fingers grazed a slip of paper. I pulled it out and unfolded it.
BE A GOOD FRIEND AND A FAIR ENEMY
Rolling my eyes, I shoved the fortune back in my bag. Stupid fortune. That was the one I’d opened in Chad’s car on our way to the brass section fund-raiser meeting weeks ago. I froze, my hand still inside the pocket.
Maybe there was a way to fix things with Owen and help the brass section win the fund-raiser.
When Chad dropped me off at Owen’s Tuesday afternoon on his way to work, I was even more nervous than usual.
“My shirt feels weird,” he said, making a face and pulling at his collar. “Are you sure you showed me how to do this right?”
“Of course I did.” I opened the door and reached into the backseat for the duffel bag I’d brought. “But I bet you forgot the dryer sheets.”
“Did not,” Chad said, but I could tell from his expression that I was right.
I rang the doorbell, gripping the duffel bag strap tightly. Mrs. Grady opened the door and smiled.
“Come in, Holly!” she said, stepping back. “Wow, I feel like I never see you anymore. Been busy?”
“Um . . . yeah.”
Mrs. Grady took the duffel bag from me and peeked inside. “Tell your mom I said thanks again for taking care of all this,” she said. My mom had called Mrs. Grady this morning to fill her in on my plan. “It’s a great idea, Holly. I really think it’s going to do the trick.”
“I hope so,” I said anxiously. “Everyone’s back here,” Mrs. Grady said, and I followed her. When we entered the kitchen, my stomach dropped.
Owen had said “a few people,” but apparently everyone wanted to make sure we didn’t lose the competition. Victoria and Trevor were at the kitchen table with Dawn and Max; Liam, Brooke, and Gabe were leaning against the counter and talking . . . and Aaron and Natasha were getting mixing bowls and trays out of the cupboard. Natasha smiled nervously when she saw me.
“Hey!”
“Hi!” I said. “I didn’t know you were coming.” We hadn’t even talked about it during lunch.
“Yeah, I didn’t know about this until, um . . . after school.” She looked back down at the cookie sheets in her hand. I knew what she meant—she’d been with Aaron after school, and he’d asked her to come. I wished she would just say so.
“Cool!” I smiled at her before walking over to the kitchen table, where I set the duffel bag down with a thunk. Owen glanced at it.
“What’s that?”
I looked at Mrs. Grady in surprise. “You didn’t tell them what we’re doing?”
She grinned. “No way—this is your plan, you tell them!”
The others had gathered around the table by now, including Aaron and Natasha.
“What plan?” Aaron asked.
Everyone was looking at me. For a second, I wanted to squeak Never mind! and hide under the table. But then I saw Brooke smiling encouragingly, and I remembered my little student council president fantasy a few weeks ago. Unzipping the bag, I pulled out the recipe I’d printed out last night, along with a small plastic package.
“I think we should make fortune cookies,” I told them. “My mom and I tried this recipe last night. They’re really easy, and the thing is they only take, like, five minutes in the oven. We could make five hundred in an hour or two—maybe even more.”
I unwrapped one of the cookies Mom and I made to show them. Mom had dipped half of it in melted chocolate, then coated the shell in yellow sprinkles. Brooke stuck her hand out.
“Can I open it?”
“Sure!”
I handed her the cookie, and she broke it open and took out the slip of paper inside. “‘I’m trapped in a Chinese bakery, send help!’” she read with a grin, and everyone laughed.
“That’s the other thing,” I said, feeling more confident. “Some of you could write and print the fortunes, while the rest of us bake. So we can make them funny or stupid or whatever—you know, different from regular fortunes.”
“I bet people would start talking about them at the game—you know, comparing fortunes and stuff,” Brooke added. “We could sell of ton of these, like the percussionists did with that caramel popcorn. This is an awesome idea, Holly!”
“Definitely,” Aaron agreed, and several others nodded.
“Thanks,” I said, ducking my head to open the bag . . . and to hide my red face. “I’ve got all the ingredients here. Who wants to write the fortunes?”
While I unpacked cartons of eggs and bags of flour, sugar, and sprinkles to add to the supplies Mrs. Grady already had set out on the table, Victoria, Gabe, and Trevor raced upstairs to the game room to use Owen’s computer. Mrs. Grady shook her head.
“Don’t let any of Trevor’s fortunes get in there without my approval first,” she told me dryly. “
I can only imagine what he’ll try to get away with writing.” I laughed, and so did Owen.
“This is a really good idea,” he told me.
I shrugged. “You didn’t think I was about to let us lose, did you?”
Owen smiled. “No way.”
The next few hours flew by. We had a good assembly line going, and soon we were mixing batter, dropping dollops on cookie sheets, and popping them in and out of the oven so fast I lost count of how many cookies we’d made. Victoria sprinted downstairs every few minutes with a handful of fortunes they’d printed and cut into slips. Natasha and I were reading them out loud before we placed them on the baked, flat discs, then folded them into cookies.
“‘Got any mints? Your breath could use one.’”
“‘Bad news—you’re allergic to fortune cookies.’”
“‘Someone you met last week is an alien in disguise.’”
“‘When life hands you lemons, make lemon bars.’ Or better yet, buy some from us!”
“‘If you buy another cookie, it’ll have a much better fortune.’”
“Here you go—the first one’s mine.” Victoria grinned, handing me the latest fortunes before hurrying back upstairs. I glanced at the one on top and laughed.
“‘Watch out for rogue volleyballs.’”
Natasha giggled. “I bet Trevor loved that.”
At eight o’clock, Mrs. Grady took out the last tray and turned off the oven. Once those were folded and dipped in sprinkles, it took another hour to wrap and box all of them. Aaron kept count while we worked, tracking the numbers in his notebook. When Max tossed the last wrapped cookie into a box, we all looked at Aaron expectantly.
“Hang on . . .” He typed a few numbers into a calculator, and his eyes widened. “One thousand twenty-seven!”
Friends, Fugues, and Fortune Cookies Page 11