“No,” I said glumly. “Milsom practically gave me detention when I asked for an extension this morning. He said this stupid genetics project is due today, no exceptions, so I have to send it by midnight tonight or get a zero. He’s even going to check the timestamp on the e-mail.”
“Bummer.”
“Total bummer. The good thing is that Gillian doesn’t have plans, so Shani Hanna is coming over and they’re both going to help me with it as soon as I get back.”
“Lucky you, to have a brain for a roomie. I’m on my own in here, but I think Dani wants to move in with me.” She sighed. “The only thing she’s good for is an endless supply of Jelly Bellies.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” I smiled. “I love Jelly Bellies.”
“You’re not watching your weight.”
I wasn’t sure if she was referring to herself or Dani. Both of them were size 4, not Amazons like me. Best not to go any further with that one.
“So,” I said. “You wanted to talk to me about Callum?”
“Yeah.” She ran a critical eye over her toes. “Do you think this red is right with my skin tone? Is it too dark?”
I leaned over to look. “No. I think it’s pretty. What are you wearing with it?”
“My black True Religion jeans and new Manolo slides.”
“It’s perfect, then,” I said. “You want something with authority to counter the black. If you went any lighter no one would notice.”
“You’re right.” She smiled and started on the other foot, her wet hair as glossy and sleek as a wet seal. “You’re good.”
“Many years of experience.”
“Yeah? Does Callum know that?”
O-o-kay. Not talking about nail polish anymore. “We told each other about our pasts.” Well, I did. I’d have to follow up on his.
“And you’re cool with it? That boy has really been around. Some girls would think that was intimidating.” She glanced up. “You know. Competing with so many memories.”
“I figured I wasn’t exactly his first. And if he broke up with them, the memories can’t be that good, right?”
With a laugh, she returned to her careful strokes. “That’s a healthy attitude.”
“Are you one of them?”
She shook her head and the light arced along the curve of her hair. “Nope. I’m practically the girl next door. Known him all my life. We made mud pies in his grandma’s garden when we were three and have the scars to prove it. We had no idea she’d just planted some kind of priceless Asian tree there.”
The image made me smile. “His grandma seems kind of scary.”
“Did you meet her?”
“No. I don’t think she was home. He said everyone was out.”
“That sounds like him. He’s a very private guy. Not exactly the type to bring a girl home to meet the family. Most of them don’t last long enough to do that, anyway.”
“I hope I’m different.”
She glanced at me. “Oh, you are. Not his usual type at all.”
“Oh? What’s his type?”
I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t want to talk about other girls: I wanted to talk about him. And here was someone who’d known him all her life, who could tell me fun little details that a guy would never say out loud.
“I did some asking around,” she said. “About being a Christian and what they believe and stuff.”
Did Vanessa never answer a direct question? Or did she just have massive ADD?
“You could’ve asked me. I’ve only been a believer for three years, but I know the basics.”
“Like what? Leaving out the Jesus stuff.”
It took me a second to get my jaw off the floor. “Um. It’s all about the Jesus stuff.”
She capped the bottle and considered her toes with a critical eye. Which was good, because I was still pretty off balance. Vanessa? Asking about being a Christian? I mean, the Lord works in mysterious ways, but this was right off the map. “Here be dragons,” as Kaz would say.
“But what about the logistics?” she asked. “Like, when you hook up with someone like Callum, how do you handle it when he wants to get physical and your religion says you can’t?”
“That’s kind of personal, Vanessa.” Plus, I hadn’t figured that out myself yet.
“Okay, forget Callum. Just in general.”
“Why do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “Well, if I ever want to go to church, I need to know the drill, don’t I?”
I took a breath and tried to marshal my flapping thoughts into order. “There’s more to it than whether a person has sex with their guy. There’s belief and trust and faith, and showing love to people, and prayer. It’s, like, a whole lifetime of giving back to God, because He came down here and died for us.”
She frowned. “Okay, getting heavy.”
“Sorry.”
“We’re getting off topic anyway. What if I wanted to have sex, but didn’t actually do it?”
“Join the club.”
“No, I mean, there are ways to keep your guy happy and still have limits. Technically, you’d still be . . . what’s that word? Pure. I could do that, couldn’t I?”
Why did she care? This had to be one of the weirdest conversations I’d ever had. “You know, you could just stay away from the situation altogether,” I suggested. “The Bible says that God can deliver us from temptation, but sometimes it’s just smarter not to go there, you know?”
“Yes, but if I was dating Callum, temptation would be walking around in front of me, looking totally doable, all the time.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” I took a moment to appreciate the visual, even though I wasn’t about to “do” anyone, including him. “I’m always going blonde around him. I’m sure I’m going to flunk Math and Biology because of it. Who can concentrate when even the back of his neck turns me on?”
She smiled, and it wasn’t the nasty smile, or the patronizing one, or one I’d even seen before. It was genuine—the kind friends share. At least, it looked that way to me. Well, if God wanted me to talk about this stuff with Vanessa Talbot, who was I to argue?
“He’s just as crazy about you.” At my look of surprise, she leaned back on her pillow. “We do talk, you know. Don’t you have a guy friend you talk to about stuff?”
“Yeah, back in Santa Barbara.” Maybe Kaz would have some insight into how guys thought. That he’d be willing to break ranks and pass on, anyway.
“Callum and I don’t have any secrets. Besides the fact that I’m really good at finding them out”—she grinned—“I’ve known him too long. And the truth is, he loses interest fast. If you want to hang onto him, you need to know that.”
Could that warm, intimate gaze that I’d drowned in last night cool to indifference? Could he be driving some other girl crazy next week instead of me?
Not if I could help it. “He’s interested,” I said firmly.
“He is now. What are you going to do to make sure he stays that way?”
“Fascinate him with my sparkling conversation?”
Her mouth widened in a smile. “You’re really pretty, Lissa. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble keeping him right where you want him.”
“That means a lot to me,” I said with complete honesty. “Coming from you. Being one of his oldest friends, I mean.”
“I know I haven’t always been as nice to you as I could. But when I needed help with the Benefactors’ Day ball, there you were. I don’t think I thanked you for that.”
Wow. Did Vanessa Talbot just apologize to me?
“Don’t thank me until Angelina actually walks in the door. We haven’t got her commitment yet.”
“We will. If Callum can’t resist you, how can a Hollywood star?”
Laughing, I got up to go. “I really have to go do something about this genetics mess. Have fun tonight.”
“We will. Thanks for coming by.”
I took a breath, then the plunge. “If you ever want to talk about God
or—or anything else—you know—I’m available.”
Not so graceful, but the best I could do, considering that just a day or two ago, she was the dragon at the edge of the map.
But she only nodded and gave a little wave, and I headed back up to my room, where Shani, genetics, and Gillian waited.
Mysterious ways, for sure.
VTalbotGaaaahhh.
DLavigneWassup?
VTalbotShe PREACHED at me. I feel gicky, like someone poured syrup on me.
DLavigneTold you.
VTalbotShe’s thinking about it.
DLavigneLosing the Big V?
VTalbotI’m gonna win the bet.
DLavigneYou’re so not. That Prada suede is MINE.
VTalbotYou watch. She totally believed I was thinking about being a Christian. And I gave her all kinds of good advice. Heh.
VTalbotSo. TouTou’s? 8:00?
DLavigneI’m there! Emily’s on her way.
Chapter 20
I DIDN’T WAKE UP until midmorning Saturday, which was pretty early considering the grueling hours of work last night. But thanks to Gillian, I got the wretched project in to Mr. Milson at eleven fifty-eight p.m. by the school’s e-mail clock.
I fumbled for my glasses on the desk and scanned the room. No Gillian, but a banana and a muffin wrapped in plastic sat next to my mouse, holding down a piece of paper.
Carly and I went to Starbucks on Fillmore.
There ’til eleven, then taking train to Union Square for retail therapy.
Coming?
I so did not deserve her.
The Starbucks was just around the corner, so if I showered fast, there’d be time for what I needed to do before I left.
Kaz answered his cell on the first ring.
“Liss! I was just thinking about you.”
“GMTA. How are ya? What’s the news from the editor?”
“They turned it down.” Just like that, all the life leached out of his voice, and I could picture exactly what was happening as we talked. “I don’t even think they read it. They just tied it to a boomerang and it came back.”
“Have you been lying there moping?”
“I never mope.”
With the same tone, I said, “Have you been lying there thinking misanthropic thoughts and contemplating the end of your career?”
“Yes, actually, now that you mention it.”
I laughed. “Kaz Griffin, there are a zillion graphic novel pub-lishers out there. Cross those guys off the list and send it to the next one.”
“But I wanted them to publish it. Their production values are the best.”
“God knows where He wants it. Keep trying and praying until you find out where that is.”
“Yeah, yeah. Are you done being all perky?”
“We personal cheerleaders have to be perky. Expensive, too. You will be billed.”
“I knew there had to be something in it for you.”
“Well, now that you mention it . . .”
His tone changed again. “Uh-huh. What’s up? It’s that guy, isn’t it?”
“Am I that transparent? I really did want to know what hap-pened with the publisher.”
“I know. Thanks. My dad thinks it’s a waste of time. I was begin-ning to think so, too.”
“Open the blinds. Let the sun in. That’ll help.”
“You got some kind of webcam, or what?”
“Yeah. In the A/C vent, behind the grille.”
I heard him get up and open the blinds. “Okay, Psychic Girl, what’s on your mind?”
Where to start? “I need to know how guys think,” I blurted.
“Big topic. Need parameters.”
“How they think about girls.”
“In general? If you knew, you’d never like any of us again.”
“In particular. Like, the girl they’re dating.”
“Depends on the girl, I guess.”
“Not helping.”
“Sorry. Well, if I liked your friend Gillian, say—”
“What?”
“Just as an example. She’s smart, she uses words like precipitate, and she’s beautiful.”
“How do you know she’s beautiful?” They’d only spoken on the phone once that I knew of. Where’d he get off making assumptions like that?
“Her pic’s posted on her MySpace, dummy.”
“Oh.” Gillian had a site? “OT warning.”
“Right. Well, as I was hypothetically saying, if she were my girlfriend, I’d want to be with her all the time. We’d do fun things together. We’d hang out and talk and listen to music. You know. Maybe I’d even teach her to surf, too.”
“And Gillian, being the brilliant person she is, probably wouldn’t ride over you with her board the first time she got up on a wave.”
“Are you still embarrassed about that? It could have happened to anybody. And the swelling went down in a couple days. No biggie.”
“What about sex?” I blurted.
“Ask your mother, not me.”
“Kaz!”
“Oh, you mean with my hypothetical girlfriend? Nuh-uh. You know I don’t believe in that.”
“What if you did? What if you weren’t a Christian?”
“Liss, what are you getting at? Just spit it out.”
I sighed and tried to calm down. Next thing I knew I’d be getting all weepy. “I’ve been going out with Callum almost two weeks.” Eight days, but we were definitely into the second week. “It’s wonderful and I’m crazy about him, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to hang onto him.”
“You? Doubt it.”
Kaz was so sweet. “Thanks, but he has this rep of going through girls fast.”
“You’ll be different.”
“That’s what I’m hoping, but it’s getting pretty intense pretty quick here.”
“How intense?” His voice got quiet and very serious.
Uh-oh.
This was a dumb idea. I should never have called him. Our chemistry was private between me and Callum. That was what made it intense—duh.
“Liss, is he giving you pressure about going farther than you want to?”
“No-o-o,” I said slowly, feeling my way around the fib. “But I’m hearing stuff. That he might expect me to.”
“He’s got the wrong girl, then, right? He knows about your commitment?”
“Yeah, I told him.”
“Then that should be that. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Well, apparently there are ways you can keep a guy happy and interested without breaking your commitment.”
Silence.
“Kaz?” Nothing. “Can you hear me now?”
“I heard you.” He sounded kind of winded. “Stand by for reboot.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t go all wussy on me. We’ve talked about this stuff before.”
“Not with you as the subject. It was always what-if.”
“It’s what-if now.”
“Sounds more if-then to me.”
“But have you ever done anything like that? Gone all the way without technically going all the way?”
“Uh, no.”
“Have you thought about it? I mean, if you did it, would that make you love her more? Or less?”
Another silence. “You know, I can honestly say my imagination has failed me. And that takes some doing, as you know.”
“Ka-a-z!” I wailed. “This is important.”
“Liss, I don’t know.” I could just see him raking a hand through his shaggy brown hair and having it fall back into his eyes again the way it always did. “If you’re thinking of doing stuff with this guy, I’m the wrong person to ask. You’re not going to get permission from me.”
“I don’t want permission, I want your opinion! Who else am I going to ask?”
“Just a suggestion—Callum?”
“Thanks a lot.”
“He’s the one you’re supposed to be talking with about your relationship, not me.”
“I ca
n’t just ask him flat-out how far he wants to go.”
“Why not?”
“Good grief,” I said in exasperation. “How romantic is that?”
“How romantic is this whole situation? You’re supposed to be thinking about dances and corsages, not how you can hang onto your purity and have sex at the same time.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. Surprise and indignation and hurt rushed in.
I snapped my phone shut so hard I was sure I’d dislodged the processor. But I didn’t care. I threw it at my tote and stormed into the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as I could stand it.
So much for my best friend. He could take his advice and shove it right up his oh-so-virtuous . . . exhaust pipe.
GILLIAN AND CARLY were standing outside Starbucks when I got there.
“Hey!” I realized that this was the first time I’d ever seen Carly Aragon smile, except for the time in the dining room when Brett Loyola asked her to get him a Coke if she was getting up to get a refill herself. That smile showed a pair of amazing cheekbones and a big, deep dimple. She should do it more often.
“Do I have time to grab a caramel macchiato?” I asked. “I don’t want to hold up the show.”
“Sure, no hurry,” Gillian said. “We’ll wait here.”
The drink went a long way toward sweetening my temper. I should never talk to people before I get my caffeine fix. Poor Kaz. I’d send him an e-mail tonight and apologize for hanging up on him.
What he’d said still rankled, though. I was so not trying to have sex. How crude. What I was trying to do was understand the male brain. Figure out what it might take to make Callum happy without compromising my own beliefs. Why was that so bad? Why did Kaz have to make it sound so awful?
By the time I got out on the street again, I was ready for major retail therapy. “I’m so glad you guys thought of this,” I said as we walked to the BART station. “The search for the Benefactors’ Day ball gown starts now.”
Gillian nodded. “May as well start at the top. Saks and Neiman-Marcus are both at Union Square.”
“So is Macy’s,” Carly put in.
“The stuff I like isn’t at Macy’s,” I said.
“The stuff I can afford is,” she replied quietly.
Oh. Okay. I’m not spoiled—really, I’m not—but it had been a long time since I’d had to worry about what it said on a price tag. The bills went to my mom and she paid them and that was that. And the other students at Spencer Academy weren’t the type to worry about price tags, either. We were talking trust fund babies, the offspring of corporate giants, and families with old money. But there was really no nice way to ask if she was a scholarship student, so I kept my mouth shut.
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