by Libba Bray
“Relax. It’s good news.” I paused for effect. “Guess who’s going on a double date Saturday night?”
Dee looked excited but clueless. “Who?”
“We are, dorkus. You, me, Jared. And Connor.”
Dee did a silent squeal and squeezed my arm. “No way.”
“Way. Very way.” I took out the compact Dee kept hidden in the back of the locker and put a swipe of powder on my oily chin. I waited for my reflection to change to suit my happiness. Lank, split-end-infested hair stared back. “We need a Cinderella moment. I can’t go out with Connor looking like this.”
Dee mustered her best can-do voice. “I could bring over my curling iron and Cosmo’s makeup tips for May.”
I shook my head. “Let’s be real. I’m thinking the splurge route: head-to-toe makeovers at Splendor.” Splendor was only the most chichi salon in town.
“Oh, that is too Roswell. I was just thinking the same thing.” Dee gave a little jump. I had to love her spirit.
Two seconds later her face went deer in headlights. “He’s coming.”
I didn’t want to turn around and make a big deal out of it. “Which he?”
Jared’s voice answered the question. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Nothing!” Dee and I yelped in unison. Very suave. Jared gave us the eyebrow.
“Wow. That much nothing, huh?”
“You look nice today, Jared. I really like your earring,” Dee blurted out. She dropped her books in front of her pants in what I assumed was an effort to conceal the nonexistent pad problem.
Jared grinned. “Well, thanks, Malloy. See, Karnage. Some people recognize that I am a god among men.”
Bull’s-eye. With my deft planning I’d be directing a sappy love scene between Jared and Dee by the end of Saturday night.
During the eternity known as last period I passed a rough draft of my party invitation to Dee. It started: Attention, sophomore class: Be a movie star, or just look like one. Attend this Sweet Sixteen party, and you could be part of a documentary about life, liberty, and being sixteen.
Dee stuffed it under a chapter on the colonies just as Mr. White, our history teacher, made one of his long swoops through the desk aisles, looking for contraband.
Dee lifted up the chapter and read the note. She scribbled something and, after a quick glance at White, passed it back. She’d added the word awesome before documentary. So Dee.
Mr. White was preoccupied with writing taxation without representation on the board, as if we hadn’t absorbed it after three mentions. I threw a paper wad at Dee, and she turned my way.
“Awesome?” I mouthed sarcastically.
“Keeps documentary from sounding too dire,” she whispered.
“Yeah, but…”
Mr. White’s chalk had stopped.
“Miss Dobbins? Do you have something you’d like to share with the class?” I tried to shove the paper under my book but missed, and it went sailing onto the floor just as Mr. White bent to pick it up.
Here it came. The sadistic reading aloud thing that adults never seemed to tire of. To my surprise, White registered the info, then handed it back to me with a too easy put-down. “Kari, if you’re interested in parties, may I suggest that you read your chapter on the Boston Tea Party this evening. That goes for everyone.”
A chorus of groans nearly drowned out the bell. Mr. White stopped me on my way out. “Kari, keep your social life confined to after school.”
Still, I had to be grateful to White. His finger waving made me just late enough to bump into Connor coming into the commons. I saw him first and wondered if he’d be all cool the way guys get in public after you’ve had a private moment together.
Connor looked up, and for a minute I wasn’t sure he recognized me. But then the killer smile popped into place, and he gave me a small wave. “Hey. Didn’t see you after fourth period today.”
Did he know I ran into him accidentally on purpose most days? “That’s me. Unpredictable.”
“You? Unpredictable? No way. You’re steady as a rock.”
I winced a little. A girl likes to be thought of as magical. Fresh. Even tragic but unforgettable in a Wuthering Heights way. Like Nan. It was all I could do to keep from asking what had happened last night when he sailed off in her convertible to check on the unfortunate Mr. Snuggles. “Well, I could surprise you,” I said with all the coyness I could muster.
“Speaking of surprises…how’s Operation Lovebird going?”
“Good,” I said, trying to shake the predictable quote. “They don’t suspect a thing.” At least, Jared didn’t.
“Where are we going Saturday?”
“To…” I stopped. It was time to add an air of mystery. “Someplace…surprising.”
“Color me intrigued.” We had reached Connor’s car. “I’d give you a lift, but I’ve got to pick up my dad.”
“No issue,” I said. “Got wheels, will travel.” The petri dish of high school culture moved all around us.
“Well, see ya.” Connor ducked his head into his car and started the ignition.
It was probably too early for a kiss, anyway, I told myself on the way to the Jesus mobile. I’d parked my usual four blocks from school to avoid the gawks that came with our car. If Connor wanted surprises, he’d get one. The makeover was the best idea I’d had yet.
Mom was puttering around when I got home. “You got some more in the mail today,” she said, wafting past me with a pot of very dead begonias. She handed me brochures from various party outfitters—everything from basic chip and dip to full-scale day trips and boat cruises on a lake. What I needed was a sound system, a white tent, great food, and lots of people showing up ready to bare their souls on camera to ensure my place in film school. Mom watered the dead begonias and placed the overflowing brown carcass back on our magazine-encrusted windowsill. Oh yeah. I needed to do something about my family, too.
“So, what can we do to help out with the party?” Mom asked. It caught me off guard.
“Do?” I repeated. “How about nothing? That would be really helpful.”
Mom pulled a copy of Tarot Now from the magazine stack and tore out an article. “You know, sweetie, maybe if you got everybody involved, they’d feel like it was their party, too.”
“Well, it’s not.” I hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. I just wanted this to be mine. A smooth show.
“What I mean is, if everybody has something to take care of, they’ll be able to help you make sure the party goes off without a hitch. So delegate a little.”
Delegate. Directors had to delegate all the time. That’s why they had crews. But could I really trust Theo and Isis and Lila and even Mom to do anything right?
Mom reached over and fluffed the crackly leaves on the plant, giving me the old Fm-not-looking-at-you-but…
The fact is, I was a little overwhelmed. And if I gave them explicit instructions, they couldn’t mess it up. It would be step one in my revamp of the Dobbins family aura.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll delegate. God help me.” Mom smiled absently and kissed me on the head on her way to the kitchen to start dinner.
My camera was waiting for me like an old friend when I got upstairs. I turned it on and got a great shot of all the brochures splayed out on my bed. “This is just a small assortment of the vast choices today’s teenager has when it comes to arranging the perfect Sweet Sixteen.”
Yuck. Too CNN. This film stuff was harder than it looked. While I thought of something clever to say, I took a long pan of my room. Sort of an establishing shot. The camera swooped over my carefully stacked CDs, the desk where my blue ballpoints rested in a mason jar, the neatly made bed. It came to rest on my father’s picture. I got a far-off look at him through the long lens.
I’m going after it, Daddy. And I’m pulling them all back from their shadow selves while I do.
“Ohmigod! It’s official—you’re in print!” Dee screamed at me.
It was Friday morning, and I had gone two
whole days without running into Connor. I was so consumed with the does-he-or-doesn’the question that I didn’t even notice that my party invite had made the Buccaneer Weekly. I was opening our locker when Dee came running up with a copy.
I looked at the school paper, but all I saw was an ad for wart cream. Then, just above the wart cream, in one of fate’s delicious little moments, I saw my invitation: Attention, sophomore class: Be a movie star, or just look like one. Attend this Sweet Sixteen party, and you could be part of an awesome documentary about life, liberty, and being sixteen. I had to admit, the awesome did help. Everyone is welcome—preppies, jocks, bandies, drama queens, brains, neopunks, ravers, and anyone else. Saturday, May 12th. 8:00 P.M. till??? Food. Bevies. Music. Maybe even film immortality. RSVP @ [email protected] for directions.
By lunch the news had hit Greenway High like a monsoon. Swarms of kids I’d never even laid eyes on were tracking me from class to class to ask about the party. Some guy in a striped shirt crashed my gym class to audition with his ukulele version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
It approached stalkersville at times, but the attention felt amazing. People were looking at me like a serious person rather than a sideshow refugee. I was looking forward to showing them and myself what I could do with a camera and an idea.
A group of preppies cornered me in study hall to ask questions. “Where’s the party going to be?” a perky pep squader asked.
“My house,” I answered.
“Oh.” She seemed disappointed and started to walk away.
“We’re having a sound system put in,” I added. “And we’re setting up several rooms as interview areas.” She was practically drooling, and I wasn’t even totally lying, either. It was Theo’s job to find the sound system. All part of my delegate-and-conquer routine. I made a mental note to ride him about it later.
In study hall a few of the drama-ramas sneaked over to get the goods. Dave Kimball, the school’s best (hammiest) actor, stretched out next to me. “I hear this tape could be seen by some very influential people.” Dave Kimball had once referred to my family as “those weirdos,” so I couldn’t resist having a little fun with him.
“Yeah,” I said in my best offhand tone. “There might be some heavy hitters there.” Me. Jared. Dee. Fric and Frac. “But I don’t want it to get around. You know how it is.”
Dave wasn’t about to let on that he didn’t know. He gave me a thumbs-up, then reached into his backpack and pulled out a head shot from his theater camp in Atlanta. A big, goofy picture of Dave holding a skull in a serious pose stared back at me.
I tried to keep a straight face. “Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep this on file.”
Sixth period was a free one for me. That’s when I caught up with Dee and Jared in the library. Jared was always in the library, drawing. Dee had cut gym to follow him. Yowza.
She was pretending to read The Scarlet Letter, but I could see she was really mooning over Jared. Jared closed his notebook the minute I came by the table. More secrets.
“Hi,” I whispered, much to the annoyance of our school librarian, Mrs. Wolf.
“Well, if it isn’t the director herself. Or is that directress? I never know.”
“I guess this party is getting some pretty outrageous press around school,” I admitted.
“You would not believe how much people are talking about it,” Dee said. She gave me an imploring look and mouthed, “Say something.”
The date. Time to play matchmaker. “Yo, Jar.”
“Yes, O Hitchcock of Greenway High.”
“I kinda need a favor.”
Jared’s head popped up from his notebook.
“It’s for the party. I want you to go with me and Dee to Magnolia on tomorrow. I’m checking out their menu for the party.” Something told me not to mention Connor. Either Jared would be scared off at the date possibility, or he’d make fun of me for asking Connor out.
Jared made a whistling noise. Mrs. Wolf threw us a threatening glance. Jared lowered his voice. “Kinda pricey there, isn’t it?”
I had exactly five hundred dollars to spend on everything from food to my dress. I’d have to make it stretch. “That’s my problem. Are you coming or not?”
“Free meal? Count me in.”
I stole a glance at Dee, who was beaming.
“Don’t look now,” Jared said quietly, “but here comes another curious bunch.”
A guy and two girls were heading our way. I’d seen them at Café Vortex with Connor. They were bandies and heavily into the swing scene. The guy nodded at me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said back.
“I’m Scott. This is Charlotte and Cheryl.” The girls smiled and said hi. “Who’s doing the music for this shindig? You got a band lined up?”
I had to admit I didn’t. I was leaning toward a DJ. But if I told Scott that, he’d probably talk me into hiring his band, if he had a band, which I had a sneaking feeling he did.
“A band,” I repeated. “Well, I…”
“She’s having Robin’s Hoods!” Dee blurted out.
“Shhhhhh!” Mrs. Wolf hissed.
Dee lowered her voice. “Have you ever heard them? They’re awesome!”
My jaw nearly hit the table.
“Chicklet, I’m the biggest Robin’s Hoods fan around,” Scott said, looking pretty overjoyed. “Dig it. We’ll be there. And we’ll spread the word.”
“No! Don’t do that….” I trailed off as the three swingers bopped off to parts unknown.
I punched Dee on the arm. “How could you say that?”
“I couldn’t help it. I just wanted them to think your party was gonna be the best. I’m sorry.”
“Great. Well, maybe they won’t tell anybody else.” My heart stopped as I saw Connor striding up to our table. He pulled a chair over to me.
“Hey! I hear you’re having Robin’s Hoods play your party. That is the coolest. Way to go!” He bumped me with his chair in a completely adorable way, and I knew instantly I’d commit high crimes to secure Robin’s Hoods for my party.
Jared rolled his eyes and stood up.
“Are you leaving?” Dee asked, a little desperately. She looked at me, then at Connor, then back at me. “Do you need a ride?”
Jared seemed to think it over. I held my breath. “Yeah. Great. Thanks, Malloy.”
They walked through the library’s swinging double doors, looking like a pair of novelty salt-and-pepper shakers. Odd but somehow well matched.
“Come on. I’ll walk you,” Connor said after the three-thirty bell rang. We strolled into the crowded hallway. Kids rushed past us on both sides. One of the cheerleaders marched up to Connor.
“Hi, Connor. Did Nan leave my new scarf at your house last night?”
Connor looked down at his feet. I felt new fear grip my chest. Nan had been at his house last night? I waited for him to say it wasn’t true. “No, she didn’t.”
“Well, if you find it, I need it back.”
The fear spread out from my chest like rivers from an icy delta. I forced a cool tone into my voice. “So. Nan came by?” I asked, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
Connor stopped and hugged his books in front of him for a minute. “Yeah. She’s still upset about her dog.”
“Oh. Is he okay?” I didn’t care about her stupid dog. I know that’s not a nice thing to say, but I was dissolving inside.
“Look, she came over for, like, twenty minutes. We talked. She left. End of story.”
End of story? I was about to have a massive coronary. I needed every misery-inducing detail.
A short guy with thick glasses grabbed my sleeve. “I heard about the pay-per-view deal. Way to go!” I didn’t register it. All I could do was picture Nan, beautiful, movie-star Nan, sitting with her head on Connor’s shoulder.
“Kari?” Connor pulled me toward him. “Hey. That’s all. I promise.” He leveled his green-gray eyes at me. Down the hall a group of kids was chattering and pointing at me. I vaguely heard the words pa
rty and documentary bandied about.
“Okay. Sure,” I said, but my insides were as jumbled as my mom’s sock drawer. I cocked my head toward the curious throng in the hallway. “I better make a quick getaway.”
“Sure thing, doll. I’ll catch you later.” And he was gone.
I ducked down a side hall and into the girls’ bathroom, hoping to hide out until the crowd had thinned. My eyes felt tight and watery. Some girls were giggling in the stalls when I came in, so I kept it together.
The door to one of the stalls clanged open, and Nan emerged. Jen came out of the other one.
Great. Just what I needed. I immediately preoccupied myself with an all-consuming hand wash.
Jen stood by the door. Nan didn’t budge from her perch by the paper towels. The thump-thumping of my heart told me I was going to have to face her or leave with wet hands. Next thing I knew, Nan was handing me a paper towel.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome, Kari.” She’d finally gotten my name right. “Hey, I was just wondering. What were you and Connor doing together the other night?”
“Talking.” I shrugged, hoping my voice didn’t sound as freaked put as I really was. I unzipped my purse and fiddled around inside it, pretending to look for my keys.
“Really. ’Cause somebody told me that you and Connor went dancing the other night.” Nan put on a fresh coat of lipstick in the mirror, then blotted her lips on a paper towel. Her mouth left a perfect O.
I felt her watching me, but I didn’t answer. A fluorescent light hummed overhead. Nan pulled out a tube of mascara and pumped the wand back and forth in the tube, then continued. “I told them that couldn’t be true. That Connor would never go for somebody like you.”
“Maybe he wants to branch out,” I said, struggling to sound Clint Eastwood cool.
Nan’s gaze met mine in the mirror. For a second her expression betrayed anger. Then a slow, beauty-queen smile spread across her face. “Listen, Kari, I’m not trying to be mean or anything. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Connor and I really talked last night, and I think he wants to get back together. I wouldn’t get too involved with him if I were you.”
A heavy weight sat on my chest. I wondered if she was telling me the truth. If she was, then why was she even talking to me? She was lying. Had to be. She needed the 411 on Connor and me as badly as I wanted it on her. A sunbeam cut through the bathroom windowpane, washing everything in a warm haze. “You’re not me,” I said, feeling bolder. “So don’t worry about it.”