by Meg Haston
“Who donated her birthday money to the Environmental Club?” Zander continued.
“Okay. How did you even know that?” I interrupted, impressed.
“For your information, donations are public record,” Paige sniped.
“Hey! Whoa!” I lifted my palms and took a few steps back. “I come in peace. Before seven A.M. Give me a little credit.”
Paige’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—it’s just that you’ve been kind of MIA these past few days.” She stared at the ground, her chocolate fringe obscuring her eyes.
Zander looked at me and shrugged, as if to say Girl’s got a point.
“You’d be MIA, too, if your mom was dating Stevie’s dad!” I blurted.
“What?” Zander’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his blue streak, and Paige’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
“My mom interviewed him the other day, and I think they really like each other,” I said, the words coming out in a rush.
“Oh. Wow.” Zander moved toward me, then rocked back on his Chucks.
“Stevie’s dad?” Paige sounded skeptical. “Like, Stevie’s father?”
“Paige! How many times are you gonna make me say it? My mom is dating the father of the girl I absolutely, positively cannot—” My gaze fell on Zander, his face all scrunched up like I was about to hit him. “—uh, Stevie’s dad.”
“Whoa. That’s bad,” Paige said sympathetically.
Zander caught my eye. “You doing okay?”
I shook my head. “Yeah. No. I dunno. I just… that’s why I’ve been a little preoccupied lately, I guess.”
I plopped down on the stone bench in the center of the courtyard and buried my face in my hands. I had stayed up past two last night, staring at my mini legal pad, and I still had no idea how to make our parents break up. I didn’t even have a spark of an idea. “The other night, they took us on this family date. And apparently, we’re going on another one tonight! I can’t even—”
“Hey. I know. It’s gotta be super weird.” Zander sat next to me and slipped his hand in mine. “Your mom hasn’t really dated much since your parents split, right?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“So it would be hard for her to start dating no matter what, right? But dating Stevie’s father, that makes things like a million times harder.”
“Yeah.” I stared at our hands intertwined in my lap. Zander didn’t seem to be wondering what Paige thought about our holding hands. He wasn’t defending Stevie or telling me what a seriously great guy Gabe was. He just wanted to make sure I was okay. “Exactly,” I whispered.
“Is your mom happy?” Paige asked, triple-blinking at Zander’s hand in mine. Then she wiped her hands on her dress, leaving two green palm prints on her thighs.
“What?” I sniffed.
“Is she happy? Like, does she seem happy when she’s with him? Is she singing in the shower and stuff?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So then that’s all that matters, right? I mean, yeah, it’s awkward for you and Stevie. And that sucks. But you do want your mom to be happy, right?”
I squeezed Zander’s hand so hard that he winced. “Obviously, I want my mom to be happy, Paige. I just want her to be happy without Stevie’s dad.”
Paige was my oldest friend. The one I’d cried with when my dad left. Why wasn’t she getting this? It wasn’t that complicated. My Mom + Stevie’s Dad = No, Thank You.
“But maybe Stevie’s dad is exactly what will make her happy. And wouldn’t that be amazing, if—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” My voice cracked, and I turned away from Paige and toward Zander. “Can we just finish up, please?”
“Totally.” Zander helped me to my feet. “But if you need to talk about it, I’m, like, here. You know?”
“I know.” At least I could count on one of my friends.
THE ICE IS GETTING THINNER
Wednesday, 6:35 P.M.
“Simon, we’ve got a problem.” That night after rehearsal at the loft, Stevie and I stood side by side on a crowded southbound Red Line train. We stared into the inky Chicago night as the El stopped at Lakeview, then Lincoln Park, then River North. Further south was Chicago’s Loop, the commercial district downtown where Stevie and I were meeting Mom, Ella, and Gabe for a skating date at the Millennium Park rink.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” I glowered past my own reflection in the window, the city racing by just out of my reach. “I’ve got lots of problems right now.”
After the prank at Shedd, I’d thought the administration would ban Stevie from the dance, or (preferably) school property, or (even more preferably) the Midwest. When that didn’t happen, I assumed her dad would ground her. But apparently, Gabe didn’t believe in punishment. I should have known. The man wore hemp.
“Hello? I’m talking about our parents.” Stevie yanked the ends of her salmon-colored scarf. “My dad has this thing he does when he’s in a really good mood.”
“Lemme guess. He does a little dance around the rain forest. No. Wait. He plays the bongo drums in a loincloth.”
The train lurched to a stop and Stevie slammed into me, pinning me to the cold silver pole closest to the doors.
“Ow! Get off!”
“Oops. Sorry.” She blinked innocently, showing off a set of turquoise-and-navy faux lashes that looked like peacock feathers. I hated how awesome they looked. “No, whenever he’s in a really good mood, he hums in the shower.”
“So what? A lot of people hum in the shower. I do, and trust me when I say I am not happy right now.” The doors slid open and I hopped onto the platform, which was packed with tourists doing headcounts on their kids and comparing the maps on their iPhones with the ones on the station wall.
Stevie’s hand fell heavily on my shoulder. I fought the urge to shrug it off. “Yeah, but this morning he was singing a Marvin Gaye song. In a really low key.”
“Ewwwww!” A blast of cold air whipped my cheeks as we stepped onto State Street. “Please don’t tell me which song.”
“You know the one.”
“Craaaaaaap.” I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and stormed south. “Can we not talk about this anymore?” I’d always loved hitting downtown at night, and I wasn’t about to let Stevie or Gabe or Marvin Gaye and his sexy songs ruin the experience. The bite to the evening air, the golden storefronts glowing around us, the hustle of people on the sidewalks and the distant honking of horns: Chicago had a rhythm, a kind of music to it that made me feel alive.
“Just one more thing.” Stevie fell into step beside me. “This morning at breakfast, he told me he was planning a big date for her. Something about a hot-air balloon ride.”
I sucked in a breath, and the cold air pricked my lungs. “Could your dad get any cheesier? And by the way, my mom hates—” I stopped in my tracks. “That’s it. I’m a freaking genius!”
“Hey! Watch it.” Stevie smacked into me, almost tripping over my over-the-knee shearling-trimmed boots.
I whirled around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Shut up and listen. We’ll point out all the terrible things about our parents, in front of them. Like… your dad sings gross songs in the shower. And my mom always forgets to check for deodorant stains before she leaves the house. That kind of thing. Then—” I flung my arms out ta-da style, almost backhanding a little old lady. “Oops. Sorry. Relationship over.”
“So, like, make them look bad in front of each other?” Stevie pulled her white mohair cloche low over her ears, looking deep in thought. “That’d be pretty easy, as far as your mom’s concerned.”
I snorted, thinking of her dad’s bare feet at the restaurant. “We might not even have to do this. Your dad seems like kind of a flake, anyway. Maybe he’ll forget to fill out his application for U of C or something. Then you won’t be able to move.”
“Or maybe he’ll get the job and decide he’s not interested in a lady with PIT STAINS.”
<
br /> “DEODORANT STAINS! At least my mom wears it. Your dad probably goes au naturel.” I wrinkled my nose.
“What, like, naked?” Stevie looked confused.
“No, like…” I shook my head, exasperated. “Never mind.”
We entered the Millennium Park rink, where bundled-up skaters wobbled across the ice. Mom, Gabe, and Ella were waiting outside the rental hut. Gabe was kneeling in front of Ella and tying the hot-pink glitter skates Mom and I had given her for her last birthday.
“Kacey! Stevie!” Ella lit up when she saw us. “Look!” She wiggled her feet, sending the laces on her skates flying. “I’m like Cinderella!”
Gabe laughed and steadied her skates. “Easy, princess.”
“Gimme a break,” Stevie mumbled under her breath.
I elbowed her in the side. Hard. “Back off. She’s six.”
“Hey, girls. We got you some skates.” Mom lifted two dingy pairs of skates by the laces and smiled. Her cheeks were flushed peach from the cold, and her hair fell in fiery waves from underneath her celery-green wool cap. She looked beautiful.
Is she happy? Paige’s voice from this morning floated into my brain.
“So how was school?” Gabe straightened up, then took Ella’s hands and pulled her to standing. She promptly face-planted into his chest.
“Classes were good, for me.” I smiled at Stevie as I kicked off my boots. “How was your community service? Feel rehabilitated?”
“Kacey Elisabeth Simon,” Mom warned.
Stevie narrowed her eyes at me. “Thanks for asking, Kacey. Some moron papered the entire Square with green crepe paper. I spent, like, two hours pulling it down.”
“Bummer.” I shoved my feet into my skates and yanked the laces tight. “Whoever spent their precious time decorating The Square is probably really pissed at you right now.”
“Oooooohhhhhhhhh.” Ella slapped her palm over her mouth.
“Okay, girls.” Mom sighed. “Shall we hit the ice?”
Ella screeched something that sounded vaguely like a yes, but mostly like an overexcited hyena.
“Stevie and I have never been skating, so your mom insisted. I hear the three of you are pros.” Gabe winked at me. The salt-and-pepper scruff prickling his cheeks and chin made it beyond obvious that he hadn’t shaved all day. And if he couldn’t even manage proper personal hygiene, how could he hope to hold down a legit job or contribute to society? If there was one thing Mom hated more than anything, it was a slacker.
“So, Mom.” I glided effortlessly on the ice, skating backward as Stevie and her dad hunched over like linebackers and clomped toward the center of the rink. “How was your day?”
“Great, thanks.” Mom smiled nervously, looking confused at the sudden cheer in my voice. “I subbed for the morning anchor, and had a really fascinating interview with the alderman for ward—”
“So you got up super early and were, like, really productive,” I summarized, sending your turn vibes Stevie’s way. “Awesome.”
“So, Dad,” Stevie jumped in, right on cue. “Didn’t you get up at like, ten, or something?”
I kept my eyes trained on Mom.
“Ten?” She wrinkled her nose like Gabe had just told her he was wearing dirty underwear.
Gabe’s left skate shot out to one side, and he grabbed Mom’s arm to steady himself. “Ooof! I got up at eight, but spent two hours meditating. I was feeling uncentered—a little like I am now, actually.” He laughed and pulled Mom close. “So I took some time to quiet my mind.”
Oh, please. Meditating? That was just a fancy word for sleeping with wind chimes in the background. This was too easy.
“I just love that,” Mom said.
Wait. What? I nearly tripped over my own skates and had to grab the hood of Ella’s puffy purple coat to keep from biting it.
“Kacey! Ow!” Ella swatted my hand away, then dropped to the ice and started making ice angels. “Look at me!”
“I think it’s so refreshing to find a man who takes the time to tend to his spirit.” Mom blinked up at Gabe.
“Ohmygod,” I muttered under my breath. I skated in tight circles around Stevie. “Tend to his spirit? That was totally something your dad would say! He’s rubbing off on her!”
Her eyes were wide. “This is worse than I thought.”
I whipped around, skating directly toward Mom and Gabe.
“Kacey! Whoa!” Mom had to let go of Gabe’s hand to let me through. He wobbled like a giant bobblehead, but didn’t hit the ice. “Careful!”
“Sorry,” I said lightly. Then I forced a laugh. “Hey. Mom. Remember that time you went on the air with lipstick on your teeth? And it basically looked like you had no front teeth for a whole broadcast?”
Stevie sucked in a breath. “That’s pretty unattractive.” She caught my eye, looking super serious. I rolled my eyes at her. Did she have to be so dramatic? If Mom hadn’t figured out my endgame before, Stevie had just given us away.
But instead of threatening to ground me, or even using my middle name again, Mom just joined hands with Gabe and laughed. The kind of easy, openmouthed laugh that told me she was completely relaxed around Gabe. “I do remember that! I was mortified!”
Oh, no. I recognized that smile. It was the way I looked when I caught a glimpse of myself mid-Zander–thought.
Gabe leaned down and kissed her hat. “I love that you were so invested in your work, you didn’t even have the mental energy to worry about your appearance.”
Disgusted, I speedskated away from Mom and Gabe, while Ella screamed at Mom to watch her skate backward. What was wrong with my mother? She used to be so levelheaded. So practical. Ever since she’d met Gabe, it was like she’d been brainwashed.
“Um, in case you didn’t notice, your little plan tanked.” Stevie tripped into me and grabbed my arm a few seconds later.
“Yeah. I was there.” I kicked at the ice with the toe of my skate, sending a spray of fluffy white shavings in Stevie’s direction.
“So? What do we do now?”
“I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”
Stevie stopped skated entirely. “What? Why?”
“Because…” I glared at the ice, which was covered in grayish-white tracks from the other skaters’ blades. I imagined a tiny crack at my feet getting wider and wider, until the ice parted and swallowed me whole. If only I were so lucky. “Because I think they’re in love.”
THE MARQUETTIAN CANDIDATE
Thursday, 12:02 P.M.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. My brain and body were wound tighter than my braces. I tried everything to relax: a hot shower. A yoga relaxation DVD I’d bought last summer when Ella was going through her But why? phase. I’d even Skyped with Molly and the girls, spilling everything about Mom and Gabe in hopes that one of them would have an inspired idea about how to wreck their relationship.
The next day, all I had to show for my efforts was frizzy hair (thanks to two washes in one day), a slight limp (thanks to an off-balance downward-facing dog), and a cell full of pity texts (thanks to my sweet, completely unhelpful friends).
By lunchtime, I considered calling Mom and telling her I was sick. Which wouldn’t have been a total lie. But Molly was hosting a Party Planning Committee meeting in The Square. More important, my big date with Zander was that night. So I dragged myself to the overpopulated courtyard as soon as the lunch bell rang, my black silk pants billowing indignantly behind me.
Molly and the girls were already clustered in a circle around our usual stone bench. I wriggled past a herd of eighth graders shooting hoops and broke into the center of The Square. Though the green crepe paper spiderweb Zander and I had made yesterday had vanished, the Quinn Wilder posters were still everywhere. At least Stevie had had the decency to leave a few GO GREENE posters up, but Imran Bhatt’s presence was virtually nonexistent.
“Hey, Kace! Over here!” Mols waved me over, all business in camel wool skinnies and a fitted leather blazer with an asymmetric
al zipper. Her glistening stick-straight hair was styled with a no-nonsense center part. I’d had most of the morning to get used to her new edgy-young-professional look, but it was still more disorienting than seeing a teacher at the grocery store on a Sunday.
“Hey.” I wriggled between Molly and Nessa. A poster crinkled beneath my butt, and I pulled out a neon-blue flyer that had nothing to do with school politics. It was a Levi Stone flyer, advertising his show at the Goodman Theatre. “Did you guys know Levi Stone is playing the Goodman next Tuesday?”
Molly handed me a clear pink folder with my name on it in glitter. Liv and Nessa were already perusing matching folders. “Phoenix says he’s a total hack.”
I shook my head. “I think he’s pretty good.” I made a mental note to ask if Mom could get comp tickets from the arts and entertainment reporter at the station. Maybe for Zander and me. Maybe for our second date.
Molly shrugged and handed me a gigantic latte with my name scrawled across the side of the cup. The bench was crammed with Sugar Daddy to-go cups and vegan sandwiches from the deli down the street. “BTW, I told the girl at Sugar Daddy to give you an extra shot of espresso. You probably didn’t sleep much last night,” she said sympathetically.
“That’s so nice, Mols.” I managed a weary smile and wound my frizzed-out mane into a messy bun. “Thanks.”
She beamed. “Welcome.”
“Hanging in there?” Liv looped her arm through mine and rested her curls on my shoulder.
“Yeah. I guess.” I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling the scent of Liz’s lemongrass shampoo. It felt good to hang with my old friends instead of being forced to spend time with Stevie at rehearsal or one of our terrible Mandatory Blended-Family Dates. And at least Mols and the girls were sympathetic to my situation. Which was more than I could say for Paige. “I just want things to go back to normal. I liked it when it was just Mom and Ella and me.” And Dad. I shoved the last thought from my mind.
“I get it.” Nessa toyed with the dark fringe grazing her brow. “It’s, like, what you were used to. You didn’t ask for Gabe to just swoop in like this.”