Don't Even Think About It

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Sadie asked, glancing at the clock on the DVR. “It’s getting late.” Keith is going to be here in fifteen minutes.

  “Do we really need to have so many of these top-secret meetings?” Jordana asked. “My friends think I’m ditching them.”

  I’m surprised more people haven’t been suspicious.

  What are they going to suspect?

  That we’re up to something.

  We are up to something.

  “We don’t have to meet this weekend,” Pi said.

  Daniel stretched his arms above his head until they popped. “Good. What’s everyone up to?”

  “Olivia has a date,” BJ said.

  Olivia blushed. How does he know?

  Seriously? You’ve been thinking about it all day.

  “I can’t believe he’s taking you to Boys of Paris,” Courtney said. “Snore.”

  “It’s Men of Paris and it got a rave in the Times,” Sadie said.

  Tess stood up and glanced at Olivia. I’m not a play person.

  Me neither, Olivia admitted. But I’m excited for the night.

  Good luck, Tess thought. Can’t wait to hear how it goes.

  Thanks. Good luck with Teddy. I hope he realizes how awesome you are.

  The intercom near the elevator door buzzed.

  Sadie pressed a button. “Hello?” she said.

  “Keith is here,” said the doorman. “Should I send him up?”

  Shoot! He’s early! “Oh! Tell him I’ll come down in a minute?”

  “He says he needs to use your bathroom.”

  Classy.

  Sadie pressed the intercom button. “I guess … send him up?”

  We felt the vibration on the elevator moving back up the floors.

  “Won’t he wonder why we’re all here?” Jordana asked.

  Sadie pulled on a split end. “I told him I was taking a nap. He’s gonna wonder why I lied.”

  “Is there another way out?” Tess asked.

  Her eyes darted around the room. “There’s a fire exit out the back of the apartment. Do you guys mind taking the stairs?”

  “Of course not!” Olivia said.

  I mind! We’re nine floors up!

  Come on, let’s move.

  Sadie opened the door to the stairwell for us and we silently followed Pi and filed out.

  The staircase was grungy. Since there was only one tenant per floor, every landing seemed to be used for recyclables and storing oversized suitcases. We snaked down and around the staircase.

  “I’m getting dizzy,” Courtney complained.

  “It’s too dark in here,” Jordana said.

  “Shhh!” Pi ordered.

  This is so creepy.

  Do you think we’re the first people to ever use this staircase?

  Hopefully. It’s in case of fire.

  Or sneaking your homeroom out to hide your secret ESP meeting.

  Tess tripped over a tricycle and into Olivia, who fell against Mars.

  “Sorry!” Tess whispered.

  This could turn into a really unfortunate game of dominoes.

  Don’t even joke.

  Couldn’t Sadie have just told him we have a homeroom project?

  That would have been easier.

  They’re so hooking up right now.

  Then I hope he brought breath mints.

  A few of us giggled. Pi pushed the stairwell door open and led us into the light.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE BIG NIGHT OUT

  Lazar picked Olivia up at six. They were going to get pizza first and then take the subway to the theater district.

  Olivia was a nervous mess. She had never been on a real date before. She had never even been on a pretend date.

  She’d spent the day trying to distract herself with television. She’d started with repeats of House, Grey’s Anatomy, and Mystery Diagnosis, but then somehow ended up watching hours of the OWN network. She admired Oprah but found the woman a mystery. How did anyone have so much confidence that they could tell other people how to live their best life? How did she not doubt herself? How could she stand the entire world watching and gossiping about her every move? How did she know what to wear on TV?

  Wait a sec. Did Oprah have ESP?

  Olivia turned off the TV and went through her closet, eventually settling on a light green dress and black heels. She definitely looked like she was going on a date. She hoped she wouldn’t trip walking down the subway stairs.

  She doubted Oprah worried about tripping down subway stairs.

  We doubt Oprah ever takes the subway.

  “He goes to school with you, right?” Olivia’s mom asked.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  I don’t understand who this Lazar character is. She’s never mentioned him before. What if he tries something? Should I call his parents?

  A half hour later there was a buzz from downstairs. “I’m coming down!” she called into the intercom.

  Her mom popped up beside her. “No way. Tell him to come up.”

  Olivia pressed the intercom again. “Actually, can you come up?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re not wearing those heels, are you?” her mom asked.

  Olivia twirled her foot. “I am. What’s wrong with them?”

  “Aren’t you taking the subway? That’s a lot of walking. And a lot of stairs. I don’t want you to trip.”

  “I won’t trip, Mom. I know how to walk.” It was one thing when Olivia worried about it, another thing when her mom did.

  As she waited, her heart beat hard, too hard, in her chest. Was she having a heart attack? Could teenagers have heart attacks? She wasn’t sure. She wished she had time to Google it. Maybe she should make an appointment with a cardiologist.

  She quickly opened the door when Lazar knocked.

  “Hi,” he said. Oh, so pretty.

  She blushed. “Hi.”

  “This is my mom,” Olivia said, motioning behind her.

  He nodded. “Hello, Mrs. Byrne. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” Olivia’s mother said. At least he’s polite. Short, though.

  “Mom!” Olivia yelled.

  Startled, Olivia’s mom asked, “What?”

  Oops. “Nothing. Um, we’re going.”

  “Okay, have fun. Be careful on the subway. Especially in those heels.”

  They all looked down at her shoes.

  I wish she was wearing flats, Lazar thought. I don’t want her to be taller than me.

  Oh. Olivia hadn’t thought of that. “You know what?” she said. “Mom, you’re probably right. Be right back.” She ran to her room, changed into her boots, and ran back, praying that her mom hadn’t said anything too embarrassing.

  Better, Lazar thought, and opened her front door.

  Hey! The date was going to be easier than she’d thought. All she had to do was listen.

  He better not try anything too advanced for her, thought her mom. He looks like a nice boy. But it’s always the ones who look clean cut who end up being the sociopaths. Hmm. She’s not wearing a sweater? Does she want to get pneumonia? “Olivia, don’t forget to take a—”

  “Goodbye, Mom,” Olivia sang. She blew her mom a kiss and closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  IT ALL SUCKS

  Cooper was depressed.

  It was Saturday night and he was lying on his bed, watching the baseball game on the TV above his desk.

  The Yankees were losing 3–0. It was the bottom of the ninth. Jeter was at bat. They had two outs. He needed a home run.

  If they lost this game, the Yankees were out of the series.

  Strike one!

  Damn.

  “Come on!” he yelled. “Do it!”

  Cooper’s iPhone rang. It was Mackenzie. Again.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t know what he wanted.

  No, that wasn’t true. He wanted his world to
go back to normal.

  He wished Mackenzie had never cheated on him. He wished she had never lied to him. He wished he had never gotten a stupid flu shot. He wished the Yankees were winning.

  But it wasn’t just Mackenzie who was a liar.

  Everyone was full of shit.

  The day before, he had arrived home after the meeting feeling numb. When he’d unlocked the door, he’d felt a flood of relief at the sight of his mom and sister.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said.

  But Ashley didn’t even look up from the TV. She was watching Cinderella II. She was thinking, Funny mousies funny mousies.

  “I’m home,” he said. “Do I get a hug?”

  Ashley motioned to him to be quiet. “Shhh!”

  His mother looked up briefly from her laptop. “Hi, honey,” she said, and then returned to the screen. I can’t believe how high this bill is. How am I going to pay for it?

  When he strolled over to the kitchen to get a snack, his mom slammed her laptop shut. Not for his eyes.

  Huh? What bill couldn’t he see? Was his mother keeping secrets from him, too?

  She looked up and smiled. “How was your day?” What should I make for dinner? Can we order in Japanese again or does that make me a bad mom?

  “Fine,” Cooper said. “Do you want to order Japanese?” Might as well make life easy for her. He grabbed a cheese stick from the fridge. “Is Dad back tonight?”

  “He has to stay over the weekend,” his mom said.

  “Again? How come?”

  His mom traced her fingers along the table. “His project,” she said, but then she thought, His floozy.

  Cooper almost choked on his cheese stick. “His what?”

  “Project,” his mom repeated. “Some big deal he’s working on in Chicago.”

  Cooper hadn’t known what to do with himself. He kept standing up and sitting down, standing up and sitting down. His mother had definitely thought floozy. Was his father having an affair? No. It couldn’t be. There was no way he was finding out that both his girlfriend and his father were having affairs. That was too insane.

  He couldn’t think about it. If he didn’t think about it, it wasn’t happening.

  Except he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  He told his mother he wasn’t feeling well, and had spent most of the past twenty-four hours in bed.

  His life was falling apart. His girlfriend had cheated on him. His father seemed to be cheating on his mother. And his mother … well, she was hiding something.

  Everyone was a liar. Except Ashley. And Gerald. But turtles couldn’t talk. All Cooper could hear from him was a low squeaking sound.

  At least Ashley had told it like it was. She didn’t want to be interrupted during her movie, so she’d told him to be quiet.

  But she was only three.

  Strike two!

  One day he’d woken up happy and the next day everything was fake. Everything was a lie. He was surrounded by liars.

  And he was no better. He was pretending he couldn’t hear his mom. He was a fake, just like them.

  Cooper watched Jeter gear up for the ball. His phone buzzed.

  Please forgive me. I love you.

  Strike three!

  The Yankees were out of the season.

  Most of us were bummed by the news, but Cooper was the only one to throw his phone at the TV.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  BRAVO

  The date went perfectly. How could it not? Olivia didn’t have to worry about screwing up. Every concern Lazar had, Olivia heard.

  If she doesn’t walk faster, we’re going to be late.

  Olivia walked faster.

  She has a pretty smile.

  Olivia smiled more.

  What did she just say? She speaks so softly.

  Olivia spoke up.

  I wonder what her favorite band is. I hope she likes Delivery.

  “I just love Delivery! They’re the best.”

  “Did you like the new Thomas Allen movie?” It was so amateur. I hope she didn’t like it.

  “No way,” Olivia said. “It was so amateur.”

  We know—we can’t believe she used the word amateur either.

  But Lazar nodded, his eyes wide. It’s like she’s taking the words right out of my mouth!

  Which she was.

  He thought she was amazing—which she knew because, well, she could hear what he was thinking.

  His thoughts weren’t the only ones she could hear.

  The man sitting in the row in front of her at the show: Did I gain weight or are these seats getting smaller?

  The tourist beside her: Sleeping with my psychiatrist may have been a bad idea.

  One of the actors onstage: Maybe I should try out for American Idol.

  The twelve-year-old sitting diagonally from her: This is so boring. Is it almost intermission?

  Olivia agreed. Five stars or not, Men of Paris was excruciatingly boring. She couldn’t help wondering if the five had been out of ten.

  Listening to the people around her was much more entertaining.

  Lazar especially. That guy is too tall to play Pierre. He’s a giant. Couldn’t they have found someone shorter? He can barely stand up straight. He’s like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

  And then even more interesting: I want to kiss her.

  Oh! Yay!

  But did he mean now? Or did he mean he wanted to kiss her later? Like when he was walking her home?

  He wasn’t going to kiss her right now, was he? When they were still at the show? That seemed like a strange thing to do.

  Olivia peered at the other members of the audience. No one else was kissing. It was an off-Broadway theater, after all. That seemed disrespectful. Worse than chewing gum, and she knew she wasn’t supposed to do that. She had thrown hers in the garbage bin outside.

  By the way, we agree: making out at an off-Broadway show is unacceptable. Even if you’re in the back row.

  But Olivia wanted Lazar to kiss her. She was pretty sure. He was nice. Or nice-ish. At the very least, he was the first guy to show interest in her.

  Maybe I’ll take her hand first, Lazar thought.

  That sounded like a decent idea. She realized her hands were in her lap, so she tried to subtly lift the one next to him and rest it on the arm of her seat.

  He took the bait and grabbed her hand. His fingers were colder than she had expected. And long. They were nice fingers. She liked the way they held hers.

  His hand intertwined with hers—the way he moved his thumb in circles on her palm every now and then—made the boring second half of the play go by much faster.

  * * *

  They were walking back from the subway stop. They were holding hands again. Hers aligned perfectly with his, since she was wearing flats.

  I’m going to do it, he thought.

  Olivia cheered silently.

  I should wait until we’re outside her building.

  Good idea, she thought.

  Or maybe I should do it now.

  She swallowed. Hard. Now?

  Right now. Olivia’s heart raced in a way that could not have been healthy.

  They were on the corner of Church and Murray waiting for the light. Now! I’m going to do it now!

  Seriously? she wondered. There was no one else waiting at the light with them, but there were definitely people on the streets. She wasn’t really a make-out-in-the-streets kind of girl. She wondered if she should stop him. Did she want him to kiss her? Did that mean they were a couple? Did she even like him? Did she want her first kiss to take place while waiting for the light?

  He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward him. Here I go! He closed his eyes and his lips pressed against hers.

  She closed her eyes too.

  Suddenly they were kissing. His lips were soft and sweet.

  They stayed there for a few minutes until he pulled away and she opened her eyes.

  She did it! She had her first k
iss! And it was nice!

  He was smiling. That was good, he thought. Although I wish she’d use more tongue. Two stars.

  Olivia felt herself turn red. Two stars? She was a bad kisser! She finally had her first kiss at the age of fifteen and she wasn’t even good at it! She’d failed! Was she going to get another chance? Or was that it? She tried to hear his thoughts, but all he was thinking about was the best way to get to her house. Around the block or cut through the park?

  Oblivious to her panic, Lazar took her hand and led her across the street. They didn’t say anything until they got to her door.

  “I had a really great time,” he said.

  “Me too,” Olivia responded.

  I guess I should kiss her again, he thought.

  Yes! Olivia thought. You should! But she wondered, what did that mean to use more tongue? She knew what it meant, technically, but how was she going to do it? Just stick it in there?

  He leaned in toward her and then closed his eyes as his lips pressed against hers. She opened her mouth and gently let her tongue trail into his mouth and meet his. His tongue was sandpapery, but she swirled it back and forth. Was that right? She opened her eyes in case his eyes were open and then she’d be able to hear, get a progress report maybe, but no, his eyes were closed.

  But then they opened.

  Why are her eyes open?

  Oops. She closed them.

  A few minutes later, when her tongue started to get tired, she pulled away and opened her eyes.

  That was awesome, he thought. Five stars.

  Now, that’s a rave review.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  NEW PLAN

  Pi called an Espies meeting for Monday before school. She texted us all the night before, instructing us to meet her in the chess room at seven-thirty. It was early. Very early.

  But we all showed up—all except Cooper.

  We weren’t surprised. He was never on time, and anyway, he kind of hated us right then.

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Mackenzie said, sipping on a Starbucks pumpkin spice latte. “He hates me.”

  We nodded.

  “He just needs some alone time,” Nick explained.

  Pi paced the room. “Okay, people, I want to chat about our booth at the carnival on Saturday. We have a bit of a problem.”