Match Me If You Can

by Tiana Smith

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I said, out of breath. “Let’s go.”

  I slid into my chair, barely glancing at Tania, who was fidgeting with the papers on the desk in front of us. The scowling receptionist hit the button on the recorder, and we were live to more than a hundred classrooms in Athens High.

  Tania did a double take when she looked at me, no doubt because I’d run harder in the last few minutes than I had in a whole month of gym. I wasn’t exactly the athletic type. My face was probably red enough to be mistaken for a fire hydrant.

  Tania’s eyes were wide as she looked back at the live camera. She slid the papers over to me, trying to catch my eye, but I couldn’t let her capture my attention when I needed to focus on the announcements. I glanced through the papers as she started talking about the north parking lot and how it was reserved for seniors only. By the time she got to the plea for people to stop putting their gum under the desks, I had placed the papers to the side.

  “So please stop being gross,” she said, and turned to me.

  I plastered on my hundred-kilowatt smile and addressed the camera.

  “The firefighters have determined that the alarm this morning was a prank or accident, and there’s nothing to worry about there.” I managed to keep a straight face and barreled right on to the next announcement without blinking an eye. Go me. “The varsity soccer team is playing the Jordan Knights tomorrow at seven, so bring your school spirit and support your Lions,” I said. “Don’t forget that the concessions stand only takes cash, so come prepared. Other than that, have a great weekend, and don’t do anything stupid.”

  Tania and I smiled at the camera in silence. This was always the awkward part—waiting for the receptionist to turn the camera off. After five beats of silence, Tania turned to me.

  “So do you have a crush on Logan or what?” she asked.

  “What? No!” Robyn. Was. Dead. Meat. She was spreading rumors about us? Sure, he’d been kind of flirty. Maybe? But that was just who he was—a tease. I could tell Tania didn’t believe me, so I scrambled for anything that might get her off my back. “I have a thing for Vince, not Logan. Jeez, what gave you that idea?”

  She pointed to my face.

  “You have Logan’s name and phone number written across your cheek. It’s backward, though, so it took me a second to figure it out.”

  My eyes widened and my hand flew to my face—the same hand that Logan had written on earlier. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that I had rested my head on my hand and the ink had transferred.

  I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me? Give me a mirror.”

  “Because you were late and we started as soon as you ran in here,” she said, handing me a small compact.

  I flipped it open and groaned when I saw my reflection. “It was like this the whole time?” I asked. “That’s so embarrassing.” My chances with Vince were rapidly dwindling. Now Robyn would have to step in. I tried rubbing at the ink, but that did nothing. Who knew gel pens were this stubborn?

  “Ummm … ladies?” The receptionist cleared her throat.

  “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a crisis?” I asked. I pulled at my cheeks and made a hideous face in the mirror. I looked like a circus freak.

  “Ladies … the recorder is still on. You’re live.”

  That got my attention. My eyes flew to the recorder, where the blinking red light seemed to mock my mortification.

  “What?” It came out as a squeak.

  “I’m sorry, the button was stuck…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged in apology.

  “Ummm…” My voice was wobbly, so I tried to sound confident. “It’s okay, we were practicing a skit. Yes, everyone please come to the soccer game, where you can all paint your faces, but remember not to use pens…”

  The receptionist pushed the button hard, and the light turned off.

  “Mia, stop hyperventilating,” Tania said. I whipped around to face her. “Wow, your eyes are really wide. It’s okay, just calm down.”

  “Calm down?” I said. “Calm down?” My voice was too high, too nervous. “I just announced to the entire school that I have a crush on Vince, and, as if that weren’t enough, my face looks like this!” I jabbed a finger at my cheek and held it there for emphasis. Tania reached out and pulled my shaking hand back to my lap.

  “People will forget all about it over the weekend.”

  I didn’t bother correcting her. This was high school. She should know better. No one forgot anything. Ever.

  I put my head on the table and covered it with my arms. Tania patted my back awkwardly, like I was a dog she suspected had fleas. Then she picked up her bag and left me to my misery.

  My thoughts were darker than the pen scrawled across my palm (and, lest I forget, my face). There was no way I’d live this down. I’d be the brunt of every joke, the laughingstock of the junior class. And I could kiss homecoming goodbye, especially with someone like Vince. I banged my head against the table a few times before giving up. It was hopeless. Nothing could save me now.

  I’d just committed social suicide.

  four

  I pulled a Moaning Myrtle and hid out in a bathroom stall for the next half hour, waiting for people to clear the halls. It was the only safe place. On my way from the office, everyone had laughed at me, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. It was like a wave—one that only got louder as people stopped to stare. On the plus side, at least they weren’t talking about me behind my back. On the downside, it was only because they were too busy laughing at my face.

  One girl I didn’t recognize said “I feel so bad for her,” and I almost tackle-hugged her out of gratitude. But that was before she finished her statement with “Vince is obviously way out of her league.”

  Now, safely sequestered in a bathroom, I occasionally heard girls come and go, but after a while, the noise dwindled down.

  To top it all off, I’d gotten my entire shirt wet when I tried to stick the side of my face under the faucet. Go me.

  My phone dinged with a text message from Robyn.

  —How’re you holding up? Wanna get ice cream?

  Yes, I did, but eating my feelings wouldn’t solve my problems. Maybe I’d feel better if Vince asked me to homecoming. At least then people would stop gossiping about me.

  There in the Athens High girls’ bathroom, time seemed to slow down. This actually could be the answer to my problems. The thought lodged in my brain and strangled out all common sense. If Vince asked me out, it wouldn’t matter that I had announced my crush to the school. It wouldn’t matter that I’d had Logan’s name scrawled across my cheek. It wouldn’t matter, because I’d be dating the most popular guy in the junior class.

  Once I’d thought of it, I couldn’t ignore it. The thought of facing everyone made me want to shrivel up and die, but if I could change things, well, that was another story. I texted Robyn back.

  —No ice cream. But now you have to match me with Vince. It’s the only way to save face. Please, please, please.

  Her response was immediate.

  —Save face? I didn’t think you’d be ready to make puns about this yet.;)

  I scowled at my phone, even though she couldn’t see it, and responded.

  —Not. Helping.

  I tried to wait patiently for her to text me back but couldn’t stop myself from nervously tapping on the sink.

  —You know I love you, but no can do. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Plus that would give me loads of bad business karma. Don’t worry, I’ll get things worked out with your homecoming date soon.

  Yeah. That was what I was worried about. And if Robyn was going to keep pushing Logan on me, I needed to act fast.

  A janitor came into the bathroom and gave me a sympathetic smile that made me want to curl up in the fetal position. If a grown-up felt sorry for me, I really was officially at the bottom of the social ladder. I put my phone away and tried to act normal, but there was no normal for this situation.

  “H
ave you tried using hand sanitizer?” the janitor asked. “That’s what I used on my three-year-old when she got into the markers.”

  I wanted to laugh, but the comparison also made me want to cry. Instead I just mumbled “Thanks” and pretended to be invisible. The janitor took the hint, checked off the paper that said the bathrooms were clean enough, and left without another word. I eyed the hand-sanitizer dispenser that was mounted on the wall and squared my shoulders. I was going to get this pen off my face and then I was going to take charge of my life by matching myself with Vince. I knew how Robyn’s matchmaking business worked, and I knew how she emailed results back to her clients. All I needed to do was log on to her email and seal the deal.

  My stomach squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of going behind my best friend’s back, but I chose to ignore it. I also chose to ignore what Robyn had said about Logan, because right now, I needed concrete solutions, not crazy theories.

  Robyn was forcing my hand. Friendship should come before work. Besides, it was one measly date—what could possibly go wrong?

  “All right, let’s see what you can do,” I said to the hand sanitizer. Then I started pumping.

  It did the trick. My cheek was red from all the rubbing, but it was better than the alternative. I could show my face in public again. Now I just needed a game plan. If I logged in from my phone, Robyn might get an alert of suspicious behavior on her account. I needed to log in from a device she typically used. I could go to her house, but she’d ask too many questions. No, I needed somewhere close.

  Somewhere like the computer lab.

  I picked up my bag and made my way there, all the while trying to look inconspicuous but failing miserably. Being bad was a whole lot more stressful than it looked. I practically sweated guilt as I walked down the hall.

  Luckily, there weren’t many people around to see. The few students who were still there gave silent smirks, but I ignored them.

  I peeked around the corner of the computer lab and watched the teacher, Ms. Lackey, through the door. She checked her watch and closed the lid of her laptop, sliding it into her bag before standing up. I’d hidden out in the bathroom for so long that even the teachers were leaving. She turned off the light, closed the door, and locked it before heading down the hall, away from my hiding place.

  Now was my chance.

  As soon as she was out of sight, I rounded the corner and studied the lock. It was the cheap, run-of-the-mill kind, which meant Robyn’s old trick would work.

  When we were eight, Robyn went through a detective phase, reading every Nancy Drew book she could get from the library. From there, it blossomed into a full-blown obsession, with fingerprinting kits, invisible ink, secret codes, and, yes, lock picking. I’d been relieved when she moved on to other interests, but now I was glad for the knowledge I’d gleaned from her.

  I dropped my bag on the floor and rooted through it until I found my student ID. Then I wiggled the card in between the lock and doorframe, smiling when the door swung open. It was almost too easy. Of course, getting caught would put a damper on things, so I stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind me, leaving the lights off.

  I went to the corner Robyn liked and powered the computer on, nervously tapping my fingers on the desk. I couldn’t help but glance at the door every other minute to make sure no one saw me. At this rate, I’d have a crick in my neck before I even got to the main screen.

  After what seemed like a decade and a half, the lock screen came up and prompted me for a password. I used Robyn’s and waited while the computer logged me—I mean her—on.

  I was chewing my lips so much, I’d need a pound of lip balm to undo all the damage. Picturing Robyn’s face made me physically nauseous. But this was the only option. Gossip grows the longer it goes unchecked, and I didn’t need people talking about me several years from now at our high school reunion.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened her email and found Vince’s matchmaking application. I clicked REPLY and copied over the template she used whenever she responded to clients. Then I wrote my name on the blank line. The cursor blinked again and again, silently accusing me with every heartbeat.

  Of course, a regular date with Vince might not make everyone forget about my little performance from earlier. It’d have to be something big. I hadn’t considered it before, but most students probably wouldn’t even know if we went out one time, and Robyn’s contract only required one date. I added a line at the end of Robyn’s template. I think homecoming would be a great place to start, I wrote. Then I took a deep breath, the cursor hovering over the SEND button.

  I could feel my heartbeat slow down with the knowledge that soon everything would go back to normal. Plus, I’d have a hot date to homecoming.

  I jumped when someone behind me cleared their throat. Instinctively, my hands clenched, my finger pressed down on the button, and the email was sent.

  What had I done?

  “Well, well, what do we have here? Mia Taylor breaking the rules?”

  I whipped around in the chair so fast, I almost fell on the floor.

  “Logan! What are you doing here?” I was mortified that he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t, but more importantly, he was seeing me with my face scrubbed raw, free of makeup, one side redder than the other, and with a wet shirt thrown in for good measure. It wasn’t fair that he could stand there looking so casually cool while I looked like something the cat had thrown up. If he’d been less good-looking, maybe my ego wouldn’t be as bruised, but all I could do now was pretend like it didn’t bother me.

  “I asked you first,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. He leaned on the doorframe, the open doorframe, his shoulders taking up nearly the entire space.

  “Research,” I said.

  He crossed the room to me and looked over my shoulder at the computer screen. I hastily archived Vince’s email, but it was too late.

  “Uh-huh. And what type of research involves stalking poor, unsuspecting guys?” His face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my neck.

  “He’s hardly unsuspecting, thanks to you,” I muttered, closing the program. I logged out and pushed back from the desk. “If you absolutely must know, I needed to learn his full name and birthday … for the sports article I’m writing.” Any minute now, Logan was going to call me out on my horrible lying skills, I knew it. But he nodded like my answer made perfect sense.

  “And you couldn’t just ask him? I mean, the guy’s a tool, but he wouldn’t give you the cold shoulder.” His tone was tense, like he was holding back something else.

  I raised my eyebrows. “You obviously don’t like him,” I said. “What’s that all about?”

  Logan looked away. “It’s not that. He’s decent enough. It’s just … it’s like we’re always competing with each other, and he always gets what I want.”

  I waited, sensing there was more to it.

  He sighed. “Back in third grade, he won a community art competition, and I came in second by one point. In eighth, he got to have a free period as a teacher’s aide while I had to endure another year of PE, even though I did extracurricular sports, too. Freshman year, he won that sports essay contest and got to pick the winning mascot design for our school.”

  “Poor baby,” I said, puckering my lips to show I was kidding. “You’re still mad about him winning an art competition in third grade?”

  “No,” Logan said. “It’s just that he keeps on doing it.”

  “Oh?” I smiled. “What does he have now that you want?”

  Logan didn’t answer. He just looked at me. I changed the subject.

  “So,” I said, picking up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “Do you have a crush on the computer-lab teacher, or is there some other reason why you’re here?”

  “You have quite the interest in my love life lately, don’t you?” he said, and I felt my cheeks go hot. “First you think I’m asking you out, and now you think I’m into cougars?” He tsked
. “You couldn’t just stop at publicly embarrassing me over the announcements?”

  “I didn’t mean to. Honestly.” Was that too apologetic? I didn’t want to encourage him. What if Robyn had said something to him? About me? I cleared my throat and opted for a more formal apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or reject you over the announcements or anything.”

  He smiled, and I fiddled with the computer mouse. Well, this was officially awkward. I stood up and tried to brush past him, but he was focusing on something else and didn’t notice my attempt to leave. Because he didn’t step back like I was expecting, I clumsily tried to scoot between him and the desk and had to put a hand on his chest to keep from falling over. I hastily snatched it back, but not before noticing that Logan’s muscles were more defined than Webster’s Dictionary.

  “Ummm, excuse me,” I said.

  “I guess I’ll see you at the game tomorrow?” he asked as he slid into the seat and logged on to the computer.

  I hovered uncertainly by the desk, torn between wanting to get out of here as fast as I could and seeing what Logan was up to. What was he doing here after computer-lab hours? Would he rat me out to the lab teacher? Probably not, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure. Besides, I couldn’t leave without knowing why he was here. It was the reporter in my blood that demanded answers.

  “How’d you unlock the computer-lab door?” I asked, placing a hand on my hip. I knew for a fact it had closed behind me.

  “I have a key.”

  “What?” I leaned in without thinking about it.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Unlike you, I’m actually supposed to be here,” he said. Then he smiled, which took the sting out of the words. I realized how close I was standing to him and took a step back. He didn’t comment on it, but he was still smiling as he turned back to the computer and clicked on a file. “I’m uploading some pictures to the server so the yearbook staff can access them. There are too many to send via email, so once a week or so I upload some photos I took, and they’ll sort and categorize them throughout the year.”