“Huh.”
“Aren’t you going?”
“No.”
“I thought you’d ask Ella.”
Oliver felt like he was falling again. “I don’t know.”
“’Cause you’re terrified if you ask, she’ll serve up a steaming hot plate of rejection?”
“Pretty much.” Oliver spotted Ella outside, at her old table—the one she used to sit at before they were friends. Her earbuds were in, and he could guess what she was reading. “She’s already going by herself, anyway. She said her sister is making her, and she’s just going to sneak into the computer lab and work on any last-minute edits to the documentary.”
“Ella is going to wear a dress?”
“I know. It doesn’t make sense.”
He snapped a finger and pointed at Oliver. “You should just show up. Be like, ‘Oh—what are you doing here?’ Like a sneak attack date. And then just hang with her the rest of the time in the lab.”
“Isn’t that a little . . . stalkerish?”
“There’s a fine line between stalkerish and romantic,” Kevin said, “but I think you’re within the law here.”
“It’s the actual dancing part too. Not exactly my thing.”
“These dances are like gym class with dresses and ties. Nobody dances with people they like. They just find their friends and play on their phones.”
Oliver’s pocket vibrated and he reached for his phone. The number was from an area code he didn’t recognize, and he almost let it go to voicemail when—
Amanda DeFrancesca?
Could she be calling him with H. Weller answers?
“Hello?” he said loudly into the phone. It was almost cleanup time and the cafeteria was turning into a zoo.
“Oliver—this—Bolton—Adams County—”
His heart sank. Then he remembered he hadn’t given Amanda his cell phone number.
Duh.
“Hold on,” he yelled into the phone.
Weaving through tables, Oliver headed for the outdoor patio to flag down Ella.
“It’s Mrs. Bolton—from the historical society,” he said, pointing to the phone.
Ella ripped out her earbuds. “What?”
“Margaret—Bolton—from the—”
“Oliver? Can you hear me now?” Mrs. Bolton asked.
“Yes, yes—sorry, Mrs. Bolton. It’s lunchtime here and it’s really loud.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Would you like me to call back—?”
“No no, it’s fine. Now is good.” He mouthed “Archive” to Ella, and her eyes suddenly sparkled. She herded him over to the wrought iron fence near the parking lot where it was quieter and took the phone from him to put it on speaker.
“Hi, Mrs. Bolton, Ella here,” she said.
“Oh, hello dear. Good good. I wanted to let you know I did some digging about the Gettysburg resident you asked about—Susanna Wentworth. Took me a little longer than I thought, but I think I’ve uncovered some papers that will be very helpful to your project.”
“That’s awesome,” Ella said. She beamed at Oliver. “What did you find?”
“Boxes,” she said. “Three boxes, to be exact, of letters, diaries, business and estate papers—all donated to us by the Wentworth family.”
Ella grabbed Oliver’s shoulder and shook it violently. It felt like the tendons were doused in lighter fluid and set on fire, but he didn’t care. Seeing her this happy was amazing—even if he had no idea why she was so invested in this.
“Mrs. Bolton, this is exactly what we’ve been looking for,” Ella said. “Is there a username or password we need to get on your website and access it?”
“Oh, I’m afraid none of these have been digitized. You’d have to come here in person to examine them.”
Ella’s smile went slack. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry. But you are more than welcome to visit the archive and go through everything for as long as you want.”
Oliver could see the cafeteria had almost emptied completely. Time to wrap this up.
“Okay,” he said because Ella wasn’t saying anything. “Thanks again for all your help.”
“Certainly, dear,” she said, and hung up.
“Sorry,” Oliver said, and he was. Not that the love note thing didn’t work out, but because she was so sad.
Ella gave him a serious look. “What’s the absentee policy for the 104th Pennsylvania Volunteers?”
“Uh, why?”
“Because we’re going on a road trip this weekend.” She dialed a number on her phone. “My mom probably has a house showing on Saturday, but I’ll ask my dad to drive us.” Her dad picked up. “Dad, it’s me. Yeah, no—everything’s fine. Listen: I need a ride to Gettysburg this weekend, for my social studies project. We found—”
She stopped, clearly cut off. Her face grew harder by the second.
“Fine. Uh-huh. Whatever. Okay. Bye.” She stabbed the screen with her thumb to end the call.
“He’s busy?”
“Shocker.”
“Sorry.”
“Wait.” Her fingers flew over the phone as she constructed a text. “My sister’s been saying she wants to hang out more this summer, and I did let her take me dress shopping. Maybe—”
Ella stopped short. She showed him the reply.
Going to the beach with Kara. Ask Dad.
“That sucks,” Oliver said.
Ella shoved her phone into her pocket and stared at the parking lot.
And then she said something incredibly strange.
“I am the Private Stone of my own life.”
Oliver had no idea what that meant. But he knew exactly what to say.
“I’ll ask my parents if they can drive.”
“Really?”
“Friends don’t let friends not go to Gettysburg to find historical documents,” he said.
Ella threw her arms around his neck. “Ollie: You’re amazing.”
—CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX—
THE ROAD TRIP
“That’s a tough one,” Kevin said. He dragged a box of Capri Suns across Oliver’s kitchen counter and started shoving them into his backpack. “How did she say it? Was it like ‘You’re aMAZing!’ or ‘YOU’RE AMAZING!’”
Oliver watched his soggy cereal floating around the bowl. “The first one. I think.”
“Did she hug you before or after she said it?”
Oliver replayed the moment in his head, a thousand butterflies slamming around in his gut. He’d told Kevin about the hug—and the Scorecard of Emotions—to get some clarity. “During. Or maybe a little before.”
“Okay. On one hand, a friend might say that, because what you did was pretty amazing. The hugging is tricky, but some people just hug when they get excited. Take Cindy for example: She hugs me every time I see her between classes. Between you and me, that girl is getting pretty clingy.”
“That’s very helpful.”
“Tell you what: I’ll be your wingman in Gettysburg today—be on the lookout for stuff in the ‘More than Friends’ category. That’s a mouthful—let’s call it MTF. Deal?”
“Thanks.
“Friends don’t let friends miss obvious signals to clarify if their special someone also has a crush on them. You can have that life phrase, if you want.” Kevin counted the Capri Suns in his bag and then added one more for good measure. “Your romantic issues aside, you gotta admit that finding something about this Susanna person in Gettysburg would make our documentary beyond epic. The only thing better than a tragedy is a tragic romance, and we might have fallen into one.”
Oliver’s mom whisked into the kitchen. “Ella’s mom just pulled up. Ready?”
“Ready, Mrs. P,” Kevin said. “And thanks again for nixing my mom’s neon-orange shirt plan. I’d rather get lost than be found
wearing that thing.”
“What are you gonna do while we’re at the historical society?” Oliver asked his mom.
“Your dad wants to see a couple of the museums. Maybe part of the battlefield if we have time.”
“Can’t you wait until we’re done?”
“Hmm, probably not. Ella’s mom said she has to be back home for the dance.”
The injustice of it almost shoved him off the stool. He should be reliving the greatest Civil War moments on the battlefield, not his parents.
Oliver’s dad came in from the garage with Addie trailing behind. “The USS Prichard is prepared for departure.”
“Mr. P, I would like to volunteer as assistant navigator,” Kevin said as they filed into the garage. “I was in the Boy Scouts for half a year. Why I left isn’t important. Okay fine, there was an incident during a camping trip with a raccoon I’d rather not get into right now, but the point is that I’ve got really good spatial awareness.”
“How about an iPhone?” Oliver’s dad asked. Kevin held his up. “Great. Plug in the address and let me know if I make a wrong turn.”
Oliver watched Ella bouncing on her heels by the van. Today’s tank top was aqua. Kind of like her eyes.
“Ella!” Addie screamed. She ran up and gave her a high five.
“Got something for you.” Ella pulled out her phone and one of those car connector cables. “I found this band on YouTube who turns classical music into hard rock ballads. I was listening to it last night and heard a very familiar song . . .” She hummed the opening to Andante.
“That’s awesome,” Addie squealed.
“I should really be near the cockpit,” Kevin said, plopping into a captain’s chair.
Addie claimed the other. “I get carsick back there.”
Which put Ella next to Oliver in the back row. She smelled like strawberry shortcake.
“Ollie, this was really awesome of you,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to miss drill.”
“It’s okay. This way I can’t almost stab myself with my own bayonet.”
She fist-pounded him, but this time her hand opened after their knuckles hit. She made an explosion sound.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Blowing it up. It’s only for super-amazing special occasions. Like this.”
He gulped. “Cool.”
MTF bro, Kevin texted. MTF.
The hard rock version of Andante got old before they’d even pulled onto the freeway.
“Again,” Addie demanded.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Oliver’s mom said. She unplugged Ella’s phone to pass it back to her, but Ella handed it back to Addie. She dug through her pocket and pulled out some earbuds for Addie. Her worn pack of cards fell out too.
Addie shoved the earbuds in and started head banging. Ella took the cards out and fanned them toward Oliver. “Working on a new trick. Pick one.”
He did. Ace of hearts. “Okay.”
She arranged the cards back into a smooth pile. “Now put it on top.” He set it on top of the stack, and she placed her palm over it. “Hit it.”
“What?”
“Slap the deck.”
“Uh. Okay.” He slapped the deck.
“Harder. Hard enough to knock the top card to another spot.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Ollie, just slap it.”
So he did.
Ella ran her index finger along the top card and then flipped it over.
Eight of spades.
“What—”
“You slapped it pretty hard.”
“Where’s my card?” Oliver asked.
Ella grinned. She flipped it back over, but must have fumbled something, because it looked like two cards this time. She held up his ace of hearts. “You flip two at a time. If you do it right, it’s impossible to tell.”
“That’s pretty awesome.”
“Still working on it.”
“According to Google Maps we should arrive at ten fifty-eight,” Kevin announced. “Now, if we go five over the speed limit—which my dad says cops don’t care about—we can shave off ten minutes.”
Oliver’s dad adjusted the rearview mirror. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
“Someone named Charlie texted you,” Addie told Ella. “Is Charlie your boyfriend?”
Air raced out of Oliver’s lungs.
“Who’s Charlie?” he asked.
Ella leaned forward and looked at the text. “My sister.”
“Oh. Right.” Instant relief.
The phone buzzed again. Addie read the next text aloud. “Charlie says, Don’t come home without asking him.”
“Addie—”
“Charlie says, You don’t want to go to your first dance alone, so you better just woman up and—”
Ella almost strangled Addie with the earbuds as she grappled for her phone. Her face was bright red. “Here—I’ll just keep it for now. You can listen more on the way home.”
Addie fake-pouted.
Oliver’s stomach knotted.
Was that text about him?
His phone buzzed.
It was about you, Kevin texted. MTFMTFMTF.
Ella and Oliver both stared straight ahead. Soon the van was twisting around back roads with the windows down, and the tension had loosened just enough for Oliver to text the question bouncing around in his gut.
Ask who what?
Nothing, Ella texted back. My sister is just nosy.
Nosy about what?
Ella took in a giant breath. She wants me to ask you to come to the dance with me tonight.
Oliver thought he was floating. As your date?
Yeah.
But you don’t even want to go to the dance.
I know.
You said you were just going to work on the project.
I am. But I can’t tell her that.
I still don’t get why you’re even going.
It’s complicated.
Oliver stared out the window at a cow. He wondered if the cow ever had a crush on another cow, but was having so much trouble reading her signals that he wasn’t sure when or if to make a move.
The cow lifted its tail and took a dump.
Tell Charlie you asked me and I said yes, Oliver typed. I’ll go with you.
The terrible “. . .” when someone is typing a message appeared. It always felt like it was there forever. Oliver could see her fingers flying, but then deleting the words.
Maybe he’d gotten her side of the scorecard totally wrong.
Maybe she didn’t even have a “More Than Friends” category for him on her Scorecard of Emotions. After all, he’d written hers.
The . . . was making him crazy. He had to walk it back. We can just walk in together and then we’ll go work on the project, he wrote.
. . .
OK, said her message when it finally arrived. Thanks.
Sure.
Oliver had a flash-forward of him and Ella sitting in the lab. Alone. She’d be in her dress, looking like weekend Ella times twenty. He’d probably look like a stuffed sausage in the suit he’d worn for Easter last year.
But it would be just the two of them.
On a date.
Kind of.
Sorry again that you had to miss drill, Ella typed.
Totally worth it.
“My mom says the only time it’s not embarrassing to eat at Wendy’s is when you’re on a road trip,” Kevin said.
Ella peered at the giant drive-through menu. “We never get fast food. My mom says it’s not part of our health plan.”
“Well, yeah,” Kevin said. “That’s the point. It’s horrible for you, but it tastes like heaven.”
Oliver watched the cars zipping by on the
turnpike out his left window as the van inched forward in the line. Going from back roads to the highway had apparently made Addie carsick, so Oliver’s dad decided to stop and get her some ginger ale.
“I read on the Internet that Wendy’s makes a burger they don’t put on the menu,” Kevin said. “It’s like the Holy Grail of burgers.”
Ella leaned forward. “What makes it so special?”
“It’s four patties of meat. It’s called ‘the meat cube.’”
“The meat cube,” she whispered. Ella dug into her pocket and produced two twenty-dollar bills. “Is anyone else hungry?”
“It’s not even ten o’clock,” Oliver said. “I’m pretty sure they don’t make burgers this early.”
“Let’s find out,” Ella said. “Mr. and Mrs. P: My mom gave me some money for the trip, and I’d love to buy breakfast for everyone. Or a meat cube for anyone who wants to try it.”
“I won’t turn down sausage at this hour,” Oliver’s dad said.
“That’s very kind of you, Ella,” said his mom.
“One milkshake, please,” Addie said.
Oliver gave her a look. “I thought your stomach hurt.”
“I’m feeling better.”
Ten minutes later the van was back on the highway smelling like a Wendy’s kitchen.
“Ohhhhhh,” Kevin groaned. He grabbed his stomach and leaned forward. “The meat cube. It’s having its way with me.”
“That,” Ella exclaimed, “was exactly as good as I’d hoped.” She wiped her mouth and crumpled the wrapper. “My parents don’t know what they’re missing.” She gave Oliver’s home fries a you gonna finish those? look.
He gave her the rest. He was too nervous/excited to eat anyway.
Because he was going to the dance.
Kind of.
With Ella.
A girl who could eat four patties of meat in ten minutes.
—CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN—
LITTLE SOLDIER, BIG WAR
Ella checked the picture on her phone. “This is it.”
Oliver squinted at the house set twenty yards off the street: faded white siding, two giant brick chimneys sticking into the sky, probably twelve tiny gabled windows, and a screened-in porch
The Not-So-Boring Letters of Private Nobody Page 13