by J. Minter
“Hey kiddo,” a familiar voice said when I opened the door. It was Patch, looking almost as sleep-deprived and tousled as me. “Sorry to wake you—I forgot my keys.”
Before I could formulate a coherent sentence, I had burst into tears and flung myself into his arms.
“My life is over,” I wailed. “All my friends and my boyfriend hate me.”
“Oh boy,” Patch said. “Sounds like we need air hockey and a large pizza from John’s.”
“Patch, it’s seven-thirty in the morning,” I said.
“Never too early for a pity party,” he said, grabbing my coat from the closet and helping me into it. “A pajama pity party is even better,” he said, taking in my attire as he sent a quick text.
I couldn’t believe I was going out like this, but at this point, it wasn’t like I had anything to lose. I followed my big brother across town to Ace Bar, his longtime favorite hangout in the East Village. The place was dingy and empty, and they didn’t care if you had a pizza delivered while you played. And if you were Patch Flood, they didn’t care if you texted two hours after they’d closed and said you were dropping by. Patch ordered a large pepper-and-mushroom pie and gave me a wad of singles to get quarters from the machine.
By the time we’d finished two games of air hockey (Patch and I were one and one), I’d spilled the whole story of the dance disaster. He hadn’t said much yet, but he was being a really good listener. We paused in quiet contemplation and dug into the giant floppy slices. It was sort of amazing that pizza could still work its wonders so early in the morning.
“So how do I get my friends back? And what do I do about Alex? And BTW, how am I related to someone who eats the crusts first?” I said, handing Patch my crust so I could move on to another cheesy slice.
“The chick-fight thing isn’t exactly my turf, little sis. Don’t girls usually just make up with retail therapy?” He polished off the slice and slipped another couple of quarters into the pinball machine. “As for the romance trouble, I probably shouldn’t be giving out advice there, either.”
“Oh no,” I said, feeling stunned. “You and Agnes broke up?”
“She didn’t like that I needed a little bit of space every now and then. I guess I didn’t do a good enough job convincing her that just because sometimes I had to eat and sleep and have conversations with other people, that didn’t mean I wasn’t crazy about her.” He looked out the dirty window. “Does that sound crazy?”
I couldn’t believe my big brother was asking me for relationship advice. Patch looked more pensive than I’d ever seen him. Part of me wanted to be compassionate, but another part of me just had to take advantage of his mood and score on him to win the game. This was definitely a morning of firsts for us.
“One thing is clear,” I said, after Patch had recovered from his loss. “Both of us are going to have to do some serious groveling if we want to get them back.”
“Doesn’t quite seem like a Flood thing to do, does it?” Patch said, slurping up the last of his Coke.
“Maybe not, but we’re bingeing on pizza and bad arcade games before nine a.m.,” I said. “We’re pretty pathetic without them.”
“Speak for yourself,” Patch teased. “This is totally normal behavior for me.”
“You know what?” I said.
“I think we should get out of here and start the long groveling process,” Patch finished for me.
I nodded.
“This might be the first time we’ve agreed on something.” I laughed.
“Good luck,” Patch said, messing up my hair again.
“You too. Keep me posted,” I said.
I was eager to get to work fixing things with Alex. But first I was going to have to put on something other than these pajamas.
Back on the street, Patch gave me a fist bump before I hailed a cab back toward our house and he turned south toward Agnes’s.
“Don’t forget that Floods always get what they want,” he called, zigzagging through traffic.
Fingers crossed that his brotherly advice was right.
When I got to my stoop, I spotted SBB sitting at the top of my steps. I had to do a double take before I realized that the girl sitting before me wasn’t Sally, and it wasn’t Simone. It was just my SBB.
She held up a doggie bag from EJ’s, our favorite spot for brunch.
“Truce?” she asked.
I sighed. I was too tired to argue, too tired to explain that I’d already eaten, too tired to do anything but nod.
“Can we crawl into bed?” I asked.
“I thought you’d never ask,” SBB said, racing me up the stairs.
Once we were tucked under the covers and tucking into our omelets, SBB looked at me with a devilish grin.
“What happened to you last night?” she asked. “You managed to miss all the drama.”
I just about choked on a sautéed mushroom.
“Are you kidding? I thought I was the drama last night. What could I possibly have missed?”
“Oh, only that Willa’s secret boyfriend secretly fell for Willa’s little protégé—that would be me—I mean, past-tense me. He basically accosted me in the coatroom. And when Willa came in to get her phone, she saw everything and flipped. Over a high school boy—can you imagine? No offense. Anyway, after that, Willa tried to engage me in a catfight, and it amounted to her yanking off my wig and exposing me in front of the whole class.”
My head was spinning with all the details of her story. At least it sounded like my drama would not be the gossip everyone was talking about back at school.
Now I was just trying to figure out in what order all of these things had happened. If SBB had been unveiled early enough in the night—then maybe that would explain why Harper and Amory’s dates had both been all over her.
“After that, it was only a matter of time before the paparazzi showed up. I ducked out before I could do any further damage,” SBB said, wrapping up her story. She sighed. “So thus endeth my career as a high school student. But oh my God, what a thrill. Even though it ended sort of dramatically, overall it was such a good experience to add to the old repertoire. Have I mentioned that I love high school drama?”
“I’m glad you like it,” I sighed. “My own drama was a whole lot less fun last night. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the whole school who’s still speaking to me.”
“And I don’t even go to your school anymore,” she chimed in.
“Yes, thank you for pointing that out,” I said, offering Noodles the rest of my omelet. Either I was still full from the pizza, or I’d lost my appetite along with all my friends. “I’m just upset that my friends think I went behind their backs. They actually blamed me for their dates falling all over you. Like I can control what they do once they’re at the dance.”
“Whoops,” SBB said. “Sorry about that. I was only trying to show them how we danced on the set of Oh My Chocolate Pie so they could try it out on their own dates. Sigh. I guess high school drama isn’t all fun and games. Are you mad at me for drawing too much attention?”
“Of course not,” I said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. My Thoney friends said they trusted me, but it’s plain to see now that they never did.”
SBB got a funny look on her face and was quiet for a moment.
“Hello?” I waved in front of her face. “Anyone in there?”
“Oh,” she said, sounding distracted, “I’m sure it’ll just work itself out. You guys can just all go shopping and make up over retail therapy.”
What? Now she was sounding like Patch. That advice was so unrealistic—and unhelpful. Was she turning back into Sally again or something?
“Well, I should probably get going,” SBB said, quickly packing up the brunch plates and grabbing her bag. “Now that I’m not in high school anymore, I have time to catch up on the rest of my life. Have a great day, Flan! Let’s do lunch soon.”
She disappeared more quickly than she could change costumes and before I knew
it, I was back in my room alone.
I hated to break it to SBB but she was definitely going to have to work on that empathy thing some more. But before I could harp on how even more alone I felt after her visit, I finally fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 24
THE MATCHMAKER GROVELS
By Sunday afternoon, I knew I needed to pull myself together. I’d have to face my friends at school the next morning, and SBB/Simon/Sally wouldn’t even be there for me to fall back on for moral support. Since I knew I’d feel much better equipped to make up with my girlfriends if I could get over the sinking feeling in my stomach related to the recent loss of my boyfriend, I decided to swallow my pride and try calling Alex—for the sixth time.
After the dance on Friday night, I’d texted him a few times but still hadn’t heard back. I wasn’t sure how many more apologetic voice mails I could leave, but I tried to remember what Patch had said. Floods always get what they want.
Okay, I told myself in the mirror, I’m going to give it one more try.
WILL YOU JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE TO EXPLAIN? I texted.
This time, the reply was instantaneous.
STEP OUTSIDE AND GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT.
What? After the hell of the last few days, this seemed too good to be true. Still, when I went out to the hallway and looked out at the street, the Prince’s town car was stalled outside of my house.
I rushed downstairs.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, unable to decide whether my heart was racing because I was nervous or excited.
“Not giving you a chance to explain,” he said.
“But—”
“Why waste time?” he shrugged. “I’ve already forgiven you. I think I might have overreacted on Friday night. What do you say we forget about it and go grab some hot dogs?”
“Umm, I say—” Thank god! “I say, let me just grab one more thing before we go.”
I didn’t know where the afternoon would take us, but I did know that I wasn’t going to miss another opportunity to give Alex his gift. I grabbed my bag and slipped the little box inside.
“You might want to bring your heavy scarf,” Alex said, pointing at the sky. “It feels like snow outside.”
When the town car dropped us off at the world’s best hot dog stand, I could tell Alex was right. There was that electricity in the air that usually meant a rare Manhattan snowfall. I gripped his hand with excitement. It felt so good to have him back—almost too good to be true.
“I know it’s freezing,” he said, rubbing my hands as we waited for our two hot dogs with extra relish. “Should we get these to go and eat them in the car?”
I shook my head. “We can’t go inside now. There’s nothing better than being in Central Park to catch the first few flakes of snow.”
Alex gave me that you’re-kinda-insane-but-I-like-it smile and we grabbed a seat on the bench to dig into our hot dogs. It was pretty amazing how much better food tasted now that the giant lump in my throat had dissolved and I could actually swallow it.
“So can I ask what made you forgive me?” I said. “I was sort of looking forward to this whole groveling act I’d worked up.”
“You should file that act away in case you need it next time,” he said, then nudged me. “I’m kidding.” Alex looked down at his shoes and started swinging his feet. “Well, partially it was that I kept replaying that scene with you and that guy Bennett in my mind. I knew something about it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Then, last night, I was playing pool with Phil and Saxton, and Phil sort of came clean about the note he sent to you last week.”
Oh, crap.
“I was pissed at first,” Alex continued. “But when Phil told me how you reacted, how it was never even a question in your mind, I knew that my instinct about Friday night was right. I had to come make it up to you.”
I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. “Well, you just about covered all of my groveling points anyway.” I laughed.
“I’m sorry, Flan,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss.
“I’m sorry too,” I said.
At that very moment, the first snow began to fall.
“Wow, it’s like this is out of a movie,” I said.
Alex held up a finger. “Just wait—” he said.
“Don’t tell me,” I guessed. “There’s more?”
This time, I was ready to insist on being the one to top the perfect moment with my belated Valentine’s gift.
But once again, before I could take it out of my bag, Alex was standing up and holding his hands out to me. “I need to whisk you away to a secret destination and I need you to not ask any questions.”
“But what—”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his finger at me. “That sounds suspiciously like a question.” He held open the door to the town car. “Hop in.”
“More ice cream?” I guessed.
“No questions,” he said, shaking his head.
The car started rolling east, and as I looked excitedly out the window for clues about our destination, Alex thwarted me again by pulling out a blindfold.
He shrugged. “How can it be a secret destination if you know where we’re going?”
I considered protesting, but I could tell from the look on his face that he was enjoying this whole game, and the truth was, I was kind of into the mystique of it too. I leaned my head forward and accepted my blindfolded fate.
When the car finally came to a stop, Alex hopped out and took my hand so I could stumble out too. Even blindfolded, I could tell that we were on the water, because the wind was really biting into our faces. I could also tell that we weren’t alone—there was a buzz in the air that wasn’t just the snow’s electricity.
“When am I allowed to ask questions?” I said to Alex.
“Patience,” Alex said, reaching around the back of my head to untie the blindfold. “Not yet, not yet.”
Standing in front of me on a dock facing the East River were Camille, Morgan, Harper, Amory, and SBB dressed as herself.
Before I could ask questions, a small fleet of helicopters swooped down to land next to us on the dock. Their propellers were loud, but my friends were louder, and they all held out their hands and yelled, “SURPRISE!”
Chapter 25
CONSIDER THIS YOUR LOVEFEST
“Okay,” Alex said. “Now you can ask questions.”
I was perched in the cramped backseat of a helicopter, flying over the East River next to SBB, Camille, and Alex. From the devilish look of excitement on SBB’s face, I had a guess that we were headed toward her palace. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why—or how all of my friends had agreed to come after the debacle on Friday night.
“Will someone just start from the beginning?” I said.
“Well, remember how I said I was playing pool with the guys—” Alex started to explain, but was quickly interrupted.
“Morgan and I were midfume at H&H the next morning and—” Camille said at the same time.
“Excuse me.” SBB’s loud stage chirp silenced the other two. “As the mastermind behind this operation, I believe I’ve earned the right to speak first and freely. Agreed?”
The rest of the helicopter’s occupants giggled and nodded.
“So …” SBB turned to me. “Remember my awkward shuffle out of your house yesterday?”
“I don’t think I could forget it.” I nodded. “That was definitely some Oscar-worthy awkwardness.”
“I know,” she sighed. “It was weird, and I’m sorry for that, but when I get an idea as good as this one, I need to act on it without hesitation. You know that. Carpe diem!” She straightened her sequined head-band and took a deep breath. “I bailed on you yesterday because I realized that I could fix everything!”
She looked at Camille. “What you girls didn’t know was that I’d promised to help Flan keep everyone’s date’s eyes on the right girl on Friday. But after what happened with Willa, and then my unmasking
—er, unwigging, which really hurt by the way. Never glue on a wig. Anyway, things got a little out of control—”
“You’re a movie star, guys have no choice but to fall all over you, say no more,” Camille finished. “I’m just baffled that I didn’t pick up on your true identity earlier.” She shook her head. “Either I’ve been way self-involved this week—or you, my dear, are an excellent actress.”
“Thank you,” SBB said seriously. She turned back to me. “Anyway, I dropped the ball at the V-Day ball, I know, so when I heard the whole rundown from you the next morning, I knew I had to let your friends know that your intentions were always good.”
“So she hijacked us yesterday and took us to Fig & Olive to explain,” Camille filled in.
SBB shrugged. “I just told them over pink pepper-corn soup how hard you’d been working to find everyone’s perfect match. And that you were putting in all that effort while simultaneously trying not to blow my cover—no small feat. And you did it even after my short-lived foray to the axis of evil—whoops!” she rambled on. “Obviously, after it was all out in the open, everyone instantly forgave you.”
“You went to my favorite restaurant without me?” I asked, thinking about how I loved to sit at the antipasto bar at the sleek Meatpacking restaurant. It was weird to imagine SBB and my Thoney friends making dinner plans sort of behind my back. “How did that play out? What did the other girls say?”
“It helped,” Camille continued, “that Bennett called Morgan twenty times to grovel and reassure her that he only had eyes for her.”
Hearing Camille say that, I thought I might have had a different reaction. But all I felt was relief. Finally, things were as they should be—and now I could just put all that weirdness with Bennett behind me.
When Alex put his hand on my knee, I knew he was the one I really wanted.
He leaned in and said, “While we’re on the subject of groveling, you should probably also know that I convinced a very pathetically depressed friend of mine to go grovel in front of Camille,” Alex said.
“Huh? Do you mean Saxton?” I asked, not so sure whether Camille would really be into that.