A Field Guide for Heartbreakers

by Kristen Tracy

  “You’re being very unreasonable.”

  “Veronica started this. And she knows what she needs to do to stop it,” Corky said.

  “She’s not capable of that. She basically has no peace-making skills. That’s why I’m offering the olive branch.”

  “Well, I’m declining it. So continue to fear for your life. This dynamic works fine for me. I’m used to it. I have a cold heart and quick hands.” I watched her karate chop the air.

  “It doesn’t need to be this way,” I said.

  “Whatever. Have fun on your date with the Aussies.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “Thin walls.”

  Which, as far as I was concerned, was the most ominous thing your next-door sociopath could say.

  Corky turned on the chunky heel of her clog and walked out of the suite.

  I went back to my room and sat on my bed.

  “Give up on the Corkster,” Veronica said.

  “I thought you were napping.”

  Veronica sat up. “It was a beauty slumber. Now I need to do seventy-five crunches before our date.” She climbed onto the floor and commenced crunching.

  “Have you forgiven me yet?” I asked.

  “You look like hell,” Veronica said. “Take a nap. We’ll deal with our trust dilemma after you wake up.”

  She lifted herself off the floor and puffed out breaths in a staccato rhythm. I lay down. Closed my eyes. And around crunch fifty, fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  I woke up to the sound of the swiveling fan, feeling disoriented and groggy. Like maybe I should keep napping for another thirty minutes. Then I turned onto my side and spotted Veronica sitting on the edge of her bed, watching me. Her face was blank. No. I focused my gaze. It was a glare. And it seemed powered by an angry bewilderment.

  “Well, it’s almost time for Scotty Dee,” I said, stretching my arms above my head, trying to sound enthusiastic and chipper.

  Veronica didn’t say anything.

  “What time is it? Did I oversleep?” I asked.

  Again, silence.

  “Did something happen with Corky?”

  My questions only seemed to intensify her anger.

  “You are a liar,” she finally said.

  I reacted to this by offering up my standard blinking.

  “Haven’t we been through this already?” I asked. “I thought we mostly made up.”

  It looked like Veronica wasn’t going to let me off the hook for my bone deception as easily as I’d hoped. “You lie to me all the time, don’t you?” she asked.

  Her voice was spiteful. It made me sit up.

  “No,” I said.

  She shook her head. “You know, after my dad left, you were like a pillar to me. I thought I could count on you. You were a solid beam I could lean on.”

  “I’m still solid.”

  She lifted her right hand and casually flipped me the bird. “No. You’re not.”

  She stood up, and I noticed that she was wearing that ridiculously short skirt.

  “Hey, I thought we both agreed that wardrobe selection sent the wrong message.”

  “Apparently, we can disregard anything we’ve told each other for the last month,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “I’m not playing.”

  “While you were asleep, I read Waller’s story,” she said.

  I couldn’t believe it. How had she found it? I’d disposed of her copy, and mine was folded and tucked deep in my orientation folder. I decided to act both clueless and innocent.

  “And how does that involve me?” I asked.

  “I read about the foxes, Dessy. How could you do that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “Right. That’s why you took the other copy of his story off my desk,” she said.

  “Maybe Corky took it.”

  “You are such a liar!”

  Veronica turned her back to me and began fluffing her hair.

  “You’re not even going to give me the benefit of the doubt?” I asked.

  Veronica slowly turned back around and glared at me. “Don’t you have a conscience? Not even a small one?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then why don’t you just admit that to score points with Waller, you gave him my fox idea.”

  I kept with my original clueless-and-innocent plan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Veronica pointed at me. “When you lie like this to my face, it makes me question every single thing you’ve ever told me.”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “Oh my god!”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” I lied.

  She folded her arms across her chest and walked toward me. “So is Waller the big liar-face in this picture?”

  “Veronica, you’re going to have to explain what you’re talking about. Did he write something in his story that upset you? I haven’t even read his story.”

  “You haven’t read his story? Wow. That’s surprising,” she said. “Why don’t I give you a little taste?”

  She walked back to her bed and picked up the story. Then she started reading.

  “I saw the foxes before Margot did. Had I realized what they were up to, maybe I wouldn’t have turned her attention to them. ‘There!’ I said, pointing away from our picnic lunch. The foxes were nearly hidden behind a bush. ‘My god!’ Margot screamed. ‘They’re screwing.’ And they were. Busily. Happily. Urgently. Rhythmically. We watched the two foxes unite, furballing themselves into one.

  “And then the story goes on to distastefully describe the encounter further,” Veronica said. “I mean, he really uses a lot of unnecessary adverbs.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “You told him about my foxes.”

  “I did not tell him about your foxes.” I was happy that I had come across a way to phrase this truthfully. Because I hadn’t supplied the word “fox” to Waller at all. I’d only suggested that something in his story other than the two main characters might be having sex.

  Veronica didn’t say anything. I felt panicked. But I didn’t want to have to explain all this. I didn’t feel good about the minor role I had played.

  “You’re such a snake,” she said.

  “Me?” I asked, pointing to myself.

  “Do you want me to read what Waller wrote on the bottom of your copy?”

  “No. Not right now.”

  Veronica cleared her throat. “‘Dessy, without your guidance and fox idea, this story would have been a much lesser version of itself. Thanks for being there. You’re the best. Waller.’”

  “This isn’t the way it looks!”

  “Save it,” Veronica said. “It’s like you’ve suddenly become pathological. Or maybe you’ve always been pathological, but I’m just now catching on.”

  “No. I didn’t know he was going to use foxes. He came up with the foxes.”

  “Then why does he thank you for the foxes? You can’t even keep your own lies straight!”

  “Veronica, you’re not giving me a chance to explain. You’re just blowing up at me.”

  “Have you forgotten about earlier?” Veronica asked. “About how you misled me all the way to Kutná Hora? I mean, I puked in that place. I got vomit on me. And then I find this, and you think I’m overreacting? It’s like I don’t even recognize you, Dessy Gherkin. It’s like you’re a walking lie-bomb!”

  I watched Veronica put on a scandalously low-cut blouse.

  “You can’t wear that top with that skirt,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it screams prostitute.”

  “Well, that’s your opinion. And by the way, your opinion doesn’t count for crap anymore. And also, you’re not coming with me.”

  I stared at her as she bent down and fluffed her hair. When I caught a glimpse of her panties, I gasped.

 
“This is dangerous!” I said. “You can’t go on a date with Scotty Dee without me. You don’t know him.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes you can know somebody for a long time and it turns out that you don’t know them all that well anyway.”

  She slammed the door, and I sat there. Stunned. Ashamed. I had to follow her. I couldn’t let her risk her safety. My god! I threw on a pair of jeans and my shirt from yesterday. I might not have been able to stop Veronica from meeting the Australians alone, but I could definitely hover over their date and come to her rescue if she needed me.

  By the time I got to the metro platform, Veronica was already gone, but I didn’t panic, because I knew where they were meeting: the statue at Wenceslas Square. I sat on a bench and waited for the next train. Staring at the tile wall across the station, I slowed my breathing down.

  This wasn’t how I imagined my trip to Prague. I wanted to get a taste of Europe. Eat cheap fresh bread. See ancient churches and walk on cobblestones that were older than America. How my vacation had turned into a solo reconnaissance mission involving Veronica and two random Australians who may or may not have been in their thirties, I wasn’t quite sure. I closed my eyes.

  In many ways, though I probably never would admit this to her, Veronica was like a cheetah. Fierce. Curious. Strong. And probably capable of fetching.

  Wind blew in from the metro tunnel, signaling that the next train was fast approaching. I stood up and walked toward the protective yellow line.

  “You’re not planning to jump, are you?” a voice asked.

  I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t heard the comment. But because it sounded like Corky, and because it struck me as incredibly menacing, and because I was positioned right next to the tracks, I backed away from the yellow line and turned around.

  “It’s not cool to joke about suicide,” I said.

  Corky smiled at me and moved closer, until her stomach pressed softly against me.

  “Too bad about your big fight with Veronica,” she said.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” I said.

  “Is that why you’re sweating?”

  I reached up and swept my hand across my damp hairline.

  “I always sweat,” I said. “It’s genetic. Everybody in my family perspires uncontrollably in humid climates.”

  The metro screeched to a halt beside us, and the doors opened.

  “Yeah,” Corky said. “Veronica mentioned your father. She said you two don’t connect.”

  I stepped onto the train and slid into a vacant seat. I was disappointed to see Corky come stand right in front of me. She held the overhead bar in one hand and frowned down on me.

  “Don’t look so glum. Lots of people don’t get along with their fathers,” she said. “I barely even talk to mine.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said.

  “Oh?”

  “You’re trying to trick me. You’re lying. You heard Veronica and me talking through the walls. I know she didn’t talk about my personal life with you.”

  The metro doors closed, and the train sped off in the direction of the city center.

  “You and Veronica have a very dysfunctional relationship.”

  “Maybe. But you’re completely insane and I don’t value your opinion.”

  Corky shook her head. “I have something to tell you,” she said.

  “I don’t want to hear it. And by the way, I plan on telling Brenda and Annie Earl all about this situation. You’re a total emotional bully. And I don’t have to live with that.”

  The man seated next to me closed his newspaper and stood up. Corky didn’t waste any time folding herself into the open seat.

  “Brenda doesn’t live with us anymore,” she said.

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  “Very early this morning. I guess we neglected the kitchen and bathroom duties beyond her breaking point.”

  “Well, then I’ll talk to Annie Earl about it.”

  “She moved out too,” Corky said. “She’s been wanting a fresh start in a new room with a private shower.”

  “I’m sure she’s willing to keep an open mind and listen to how dangerous you are,” I said.

  Corky leaned forward in her seat and practically hissed at me. “If you try to explain this to anybody, you’re the one who’s going to look crazy. You don’t have any proof about anything. It’s my word against yours. Besides, I haven’t done anything yet.”

  I certainly didn’t like the emphasis she put on the word “yet.”

  “It’s not your word against mine. Because I’ve got Veronica. It’s two people against one. And we’re in high school. We look innocent.”

  Corky laughed in my face. “First of all, you two certainly don’t look innocent. Veronica dresses like a whore.”

  I pointed my finger at Corky and almost stabbed her with it. “You are so rude. She’s a little uninhibited, that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, in some circles those people are called streetwalkers. Moving on. My second point is that you don’t have Veronica anymore. She doesn’t trust you. I’m not even sure that she likes you.”

  “It’s just a rough patch, Corky. God. You’re really blowing this out of proportion.”

  The metro rolled into the next station, and I contemplated getting off even though it wasn’t my stop.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Corky asked.

  “I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

  “Why would Veronica call Hamilton? Not once. Not twice. But three times? Why would Veronica call your ex-boyfriend?”

  Corky was manipulative in ways that went beyond unethical. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I was.

  “You’re lying,” I said.

  “Well, if I’m lying, which I’m not, why do you think Hamilton calls her back?”

  I stared at Corky’s cold, pale face. It was evil. “You are such a witch,” I said. “Hamilton hasn’t called Veronica.”

  Corky smiled.

  “I don’t want you to follow me off the metro,” I said. “I think you’re disgusting.”

  “Yeah, I’m not too concerned about what you think.”

  As the metro approached my stop, I stood up and moved toward the door. Corky stayed seated. This relieved me, but I still felt sick. Why would Corky say something that was so outrageously untrue? And how did she know Hamilton’s name? The train jerked to a halt, and I grabbed the pole near the door for balance. When the doors opened, I raced out onto the platform, feeling anxious and disoriented.

  Still, I knew what I had to do. I was a good friend. And so I continued to stalk Veronica. Also, I made an impulsive purchase at a newsstand. I spent the equivalent of two American dollars on an umbrella, figuring I could use it as a weapon. Because the way my luck was breaking, I’d probably need one before the day was through.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Veronica never showed up at the statue. I watched Scotty Dee and Kirk pace at the top of the square for over ten minutes. They each checked their watches several times. Finally, they drifted off into a nearby bar.

  I tried to think like Veronica. If I got pissed off at my best friend in Prague, where would I go?

  Then it hit me. I was approaching this all wrong. I needed to think like a cheetah. If I were a cheetah, what would derail me from meeting Scotty Dee and Kirk, two top hot-dudes, at our prearranged meeting place and time? Of course! I’d only abandon them for a hotter hot-dude. Alexej! I hightailed it to the quarter of Prague that made Veronica crave hot-dudes more than any other area. I ran for blocks in the dark. When I finally reached the bank, it was sealed up and absent any armed hot-dudes. People strolled down the street: couples holding hands, tourists taking pictures, vendors selling soda and water. I was so lonely. And thirsty. I bought a can of Sprite and sat down on a bench to drink it.

  But I didn’t have the chance to do this, because at that moment I saw Veronica Knox leaning against a streetlamp, wearing bright red pants.

  My attention soon
turned from her mysterious new pants to the hot-dude, Alexej. A dude I knew virtually nothing about other than that he spent his days attached to a firearm. I jumped up and ran behind a tree. I held my breath. Veronica and Alexej were holding hands. And then he let go of her hand, and I saw him touch her butt. And then they started holding hands again. I was disgusted. I couldn’t believe she’d allow a hot-dude she barely knew to grab at her in public. I had no choice but to follow my horny, impulsive, ridiculous friend through the streets of Prague.

  They covered a lot of ground. Golden Lane. Strahov Monastery. The obelisk. Karlova Street. Not once did I see an expression flash across Veronica’s face that I could have interpreted as concern for me. As far as she knew, I was back at the dorm crying myself into a puddle. And here she was, enjoying life, seemingly unharmed by the fox theft that had so easily torpedoed our friendship.

  Block after block, I trudged behind her with my umbrella, ready to interject at the first sign of seedy behavior. I found myself hoping that things would turn disastrous just so that I could feel needed. But I wasn’t needed. Not at the Church of Our Lady Before T´yn. Or the Old Town Hall Tower. Or St. Nicholas Church. I decided to go home and let Veronica fend for herself.

  I left her and her pseudo-Boz as they entered a café. This made me think that maybe I should find my own café and e-mail Hamilton. What was I running away from? If he wanted to talk to me, maybe it was time that I talked to him too. Because didn’t I want that? Yeah. I did!

  The café I found was hot and dimly lit. Computer screens provided most of the room’s light.

  “I need ten minutes,” I said to the clerk. “Badly.”

  The clerk was a young Czech guy with a thin nose and a beautiful complexion.

  “How much?” I pulled out all the crumpled money I had in my pockets and handed it to him. He took one bill and pushed the rest back toward me. I smiled at him for being honest and having a good heart. Because wasn’t it about time that I connected with somebody who had one of those? “Rough day,” I told him.

  He nodded and turned back to his magazine.

  Okay. Maybe it was too much to expect that an honest clerk at an Internet café would also be a good confidant. I took my password and sat down at a computer to shoot off a quick e-mail.