by Gina Ciocca
“Come on. How can I take money for this? ‘Hey, I’m sorry your heart is broken, but go ahead and make the check out to Marisa—one s, please—Palmera.’ That’s so tacky!”
“It’s not tacky! Not only are you giving up your free time for free, but you’re also probably giving her gifts like she wasn’t the one who asked for your help in the first place. Tell me you’re not making a pin for this girl too?”
Yup. Pink, yellow, and ocean blue, all the colors I associated with Kendall.
“Sort of.”
Charlie shook her head. “You’re a lost cause, Palmera. But at least it’s interesting fodder for your scholarship essay.”
“Do you think TJ’s cheating?” I asked, steering away from the essay comment. “You know him, right?”
“He was in one or two of my classes last year, but I only knew him as the quiet dude in the back of the room.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she jerked in her seat and pointed. “TJ’s walking out the front door!”
I swiveled and ducked behind my steering wheel, even though we were parked at least thirty yards from TJ’s house.
“Is he getting in his car?” I hissed back, readying my hand to start the engine in case we were about to go on pursuit.
“No, he’s…” Charlie’s nose wrinkled. “He’s walking across the street?”
We watched in silence as TJ’s shadowed form headed away from the softly lit windows of his evergreen-colored house, hands jammed in the pockets of his pants, shoulders hunched against the cold, and trotted in the direction of the aging white barn set about fifty feet into the property on the other side of the road. A moment later, the cloudy windows were illuminated from within.
“Are you kidding me?” Charlie’s head whipped back and forth between her window and me. “Is he really about to hang out in his barn all night?”
I shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“What’s he doing in there?”
“How the hell do I know?”
She squinted, leaning so close to the glass that it fogged with her breath. “We’re too far away. I can’t see inside. How long are we supposed to wait here?”
“Cool your jets. I’m not staying all night.” I reached for my keys. “At least now we can turn on the car and get some heat going—” I stopped short as the glare of headlights approached on the other side of the road.
Charlie ducked behind the dashboard. “Who is that?”
“You know I’m not actually psychic, right?”
She stuck her tongue out at me and we both fell silent as the car parked facing us, in front of the Carusos’ house, and the driver’s door opened. A moment ago, I’d been grateful for the remote location and lack of street lamps lighting the road, but now it made it almost impossible to see the person getting out of the car. But I could see enough in the moonlight to be sure of one thing—the person who emerged from the driver’s seat and headed in the direction of the barn definitely wasn’t a girl.
“Is that a friend of his?” Charlie whispered.
“Actually, it’s his cousin, Aloysius.”
“I hate you.”
We stifled giggles as the tall, hooded frame of the mystery guy disappeared around the corner of the barn. When a few minutes passed and nothing else happened, Charlie squinted out the window.
“Did Kendall say anything about him ditching her to hang out with friends?”
“No, she said he’s been distant. She doesn’t know if he’s cheating, but if he is, I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s with a girl.”
Charlie’s eyebrows collided with the brim of her knit cap. “Oh my God, do you think he’s into dudes?”
“That’s not what I meant! Holy hell, Char, that’s how rumors start. That guy could be anyone.”
“Anyone sneaking into a barn with a cute guy smack in the middle of a Saturday night, when said guy should be with his girlfriend but isn’t. I smell a red flag.”
“Red flags come in scents now?”
“And with a free pair of camouflage earrings.”
We were so busy laughing we almost didn’t notice Hood Boy jogging back through the clearing toward his car. His headlights flashed as he unlocked it, and we crouched in our seats again.
“If he’s gay and they’re already done,” Charlie said, “then that explains a lot right there.”
“Geez, you’re on a roll tonight. I can’t take you anywhere.”
Charlie grinned. “And yet, you take me everywhere.”
Hood Boy jumped into his car, and Charlie and I scrunched even lower as his headlights flooded the street. He didn’t seem to notice us as he threw his car in reverse, made a three-point turn, and sped off in the same direction he’d come from. I knew Charlie had seen what I’d spotted on his back windshield when she grabbed my arm and said, “Whoa, did you see that?”
I sure had. A Templeton decal centered at the bottom of his rear window. I sank against my seat. “It must be one of TJ’s old friends from Templeton. Whoop-dee-doo.”
“No, not the sticker, dumbass. The thing hanging from his rearview mirror. It looked like one of your heart pendants.”
“Huh? What would some random Templeton guy be doing with one of my hearts?” I wrinkled my nose. “Are you sure you’re not seeing things? It’s pretty dark out here.”
Charlie’s lips twisted into a sarcastic pout. “Normal vehicle function dictates that the overhead light turns on when one of the doors opens.” She patted the dashboard. “Not flicker like it’s trying to induce a seizure. I definitely saw butt cheeks with a peak, a.k.a. a heart.”
“Point taken. But that doesn’t mean it was one of mine.”
She shook her head. “Jesus, Palmera, if you’re going to be a spy, you need to sharpen your powers of observation.”
I stared at the spot where the car had been parked, attempting to conjure a re-creation in my mind.
Nada.
“I was too busy trying to see his face,” I said dejectedly.
But I hadn’t. The sour feeling of failure curdled in my gut. What other details had I missed? And more important, why would TJ’s friend have one of my heart pins hanging inside his car?
7
By the next day, the enigma of the Hooded Templeton Boy didn’t seem like such a big deal. Just because he had a heart hanging in his car didn’t mean it was one of mine—or that it had actually been a heart, no matter what Charlie said. If it was, those pins were mass-produced, and the stash Jordan had given me had come from his older sister, who probably knew plenty of people at Templeton on account of their mother teaching there. And Charlie had pointed out that Hood Boy could’ve been driving someone else’s car. My heap had been purchased used, and I’d had to scrape a Jesus Loves Me bumper sticker off the rear fender. Not that I didn’t think Jesus loved me, but I much preferred the Swarovski snowflake ornament dangling from my rearview mirror in the way of car deco. Maybe Hood Boy’s car had come with a complimentary heart, and he’d decided not to scrap it.
My point: I’d been right when I’d said Hood Boy could be anyone. Sunday morning had completely rationalized away any need I’d felt to tell Kendall about him. Especially since he hadn’t been there long enough to do anything. My official report: an uneventful Saturday night.
Not good enough for Kendall.
“She basically wants me to befriend him,” I told my brother through a mouthful of cereal. “I know I’m not exactly in the business of honesty here, but that feels like fraud.”
Nick ran a hand over his head, failing at fluffing his dark, flattened tufts of bedhead before slurping his own spoonful of cornflakes. “Aren’t you friends already?”
“Not really. He’s on my editorial team for yearbook, but it’s not like we eat lunch together or hang out after school.”
“Do you not like him?”
“I m
ight like him if I got to know him, but the problem is, I feel like getting to know him while spying for Kendall makes me a big phony. I don’t want to be a fake friend.”
The corner of Nick’s mouth quirked up, bringing out the dimple in his cheek. “Like Kendall?”
I couldn’t help but smile back. Nick remembered the days of my and Kendall’s frenemyship well. When we were on the outs, he called her Kendall’s-Not-Your-Friendall or Kendall’s-a-Shitty-Friendall. When we got along, she was Kendall-Your-Best-Friendall. He thought he was hilarious. Most of the time, I had to agree.
My father flicked his newspaper and cleared his throat. “No teenage drama at the breakfast table, please. No one is to be anyone’s fake friend.”
“Think of it this way,” Nick said through copious crunching, ignoring Dad. “It’s a good way to get back at that asshole, Pace.” My spoon stilled in my bowl. Nick’s mouth widened into a grin. “Oh, snap, I think I’m onto something.” He elbowed Dad’s arm and my father rolled his eyes.
I stabbed through a clump of cereal and tried to appear unaffected. “Jordan wouldn’t even notice if I started hanging out with TJ. He’d have to care in order to be jealous.”
“He’ll care. Guys always care when girls get over them. It’s the best way to make us notice you.”
“Because you’re pigs.”
“Hey,” my father warned.
Nick pressed his pointer finger to the tip of his nose and pushed it up until I had a way better view of his nostrils than I ever wanted or needed. “Oink, oink, baby.”
“You’re gross.”
“And you’re so gonna do it.”
“Like you’re so gonna go to the Templeton football game with me on Friday night?”
Nick might’ve known me better than I cared to admit, but I knew his Achilles’ heel too.
His eyes dropped to his bowl and he stirred his cereal instead of chomping on it like a dog at a bone. “Why would I do that?”
An evil smirk spread across my face. “Because Charlie is single now and she’ll be there. In a cheerleading uniform.”
A grin stretched across Dad’s face. “What’s that saying, Nick? Oh, snap?”
I turned to my father. “Should I give him the chance to use it again by bringing up the fact that I should be a Templeton student anyway?”
Note to self: attempts at humor about a sensitive topic will come out far more bitter than they sound in your head.
“Marisa Ann,” Dad said sternly. “Keep that up and Lehigh is going from your short list to your bucket list.”
My lips pressed together and it took all my willpower to turn back to Nick without responding. “Anyway, you’re coming, right?”
Nick made figure eights with his spoon for another moment before resuming his crunchfest. “Maybe if I have nothing better to do,” he mumbled.
• • •
Miraculously, Nick’s schedule was clear by Friday night. He and I bundled up in our knit caps and mittens, and headed up the hill to the Templeton football field to watch the game. Charlie’s squad had been working on a new halftime routine for weeks, and she had asked a thousand times if we’d watch them perform that night. Kendall had let me off my leash for the evening, since she and TJ were actually hanging out, and it felt good to do something for me for a change.
“Where’s your unsuspecting new bestie?” Nick asked as we approached the field where the game was already in progress.
“With his girlfriend, where he should be,” I replied.
“Are you guys passing notes and complimenting each other’s shoes yet?”
“I didn’t even see him this week. He skipped yearbook for work, so I haven’t had a chance to do any digging.”
“Ooh, maybe we should search the eight million cars in this lot with Templeton decals and see if we can find the one you saw at the farm,” Nick said with mock fascination.
I gave him a playful shove. “I’m off duty tonight.”
I spotted Mindy sitting on the track in a Templeton warm-up suit and waved when she looked over. She promptly got to her feet and motioned for a couple of the other cheerleaders to boost her over the chain-link fence. As she started toward us, the sound of cheers erupted and the scoreboard flashed a new point for the home team.
“Hey,” I said. “Not cheering tonight?”
“Getting over a stomach bug. Apparently yakking at the top of a human pyramid is frowned upon.”
We watched as a sea of black-and-silver pom-poms shook like mad on the sidelines, and then Charlie was hoisted into the air, tossed, and expertly caught by her squad members. When they set her down, she faced the crowd and did a high kick, then shook her pom-poms and clapped. Nick’s face immediately took on that dazed expression—the Charlie Face, as I liked to call it—wherein he looked like he was trying to smile through massive amounts of Novocain. When Charlie spotted us, she flashed a huge grin, then waved a pom-pom in our direction.
Mindy’s head turned from the field to my paralyzed brother. “In my country, it’s customary to wave back when someone says hello,” she said.
“You’re Indian. Don’t you guys bow or something?”
“My country is America, ass.”
“You guys suck,” Nick grumbled as Mindy and I doubled over laughing.
Mindy fished some money out of her coat pocket. “Here, stud, go fetch us some hot chocolate. Charlie loves a gentleman.” She smiled as he trudged toward the concession stand, griping under his breath. “I love that he’s a foot taller than me and still does whatever I say.”
“I don’t know why he doesn’t make a move. If he crushes any harder, he’s going to start bursting capillaries.”
We reached the fence, where Charlie stood with her pompoms dangling over the top. She barely got out the word “hi” before her smile morphed into a look somewhere between disgust and nausea, and I half wondered if she’d caught Mindy’s virus.
“Are you shitting me?” she mumbled.
I turned my head and followed her stare. “Oh my God. That guy is wearing shorts.” My jaw dropped as a boy with long, sandy hair strutted past us in a bright-blue windbreaker and khaki cargo shorts. He looked like he’d teleported straight from the California surf and hadn’t yet registered that it was freaking freezing here.
My gawking, however, registered just fine. Our eyes met, and I cursed silently as he stopped walking and gave me a “what’s up” nod.
“Not him.” Charlie cupped my face and moved my head a few degrees left. In my periphery, surfer dude retreated.
Now I was looking at a tall, lanky guy in a ski headband, who was heading in our direction. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been on top of some blond. The same blond who was now at his side, holding his hand.
“Ugh!” Mindy’s face contorted. “He brought his little Stanton Prep tramp with him!” She raised her voice as they passed us. “How tacky can you get?”
Only then did I notice the shorter-than-Jason-but-still-tall person behind them, trailing reluctantly with his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched around his ears against the cold. He looked over at Mindy, his eyes the only feature visible between the knit cap pulled down around his forehead and the collar zipped all the way up to his nose.
“Keep walking, Eli. I’m not talking to you!” Mindy barked. Under her breath she added, “For once.”
“Who is that?” I asked as the boy scowled and stormed off in the opposite direction of Jason and Mystery Blond.
Mindy tossed her hair with a vengeance. “A slimy, little vandalizing perv.” She turned her glare back to Jason. “They’re a family reunion of losers.”
Charlie shook her pompom in Mindy’s face. “Aw, my Templeton wifey loves and defends me.” She turned to me and nudged my arm. “Aren’t exes great?” she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.
I looked down at the wool
blanket folded over my arm and rolled a fuzz ball between my thumb and the bulk of my mitten. “Speaking of that. Do you think Jordan will be suspicious if I start talking to TJ? I mean, do you think it’s obvious that something’s up if I’m hanging out with someone I never really talked to before?”
Charlie side-eyed me and raised an eyebrow. “Suspicious or jealous?”
Damn her. Years of friendship had totally given her the same X-ray vision my mom had when it came to my feeble attempts at being sly.
“Either, I guess.”
Charlie shrugged. “Honestly, I think the only time that ass feels anything is when he’s admiring his own reflection. The way he ended things sucked, but if you’re gonna hang out with TJ because you’re hoping Jordan will notice, don’t. Especially not if you want TJ to trust you.”
I sighed. She was right, of course, but I pouted anyway. When Jordan broke it off, he told me it had been fun, but we weren’t working anymore. He’d actually used those words—it’s been fun. Like we’d gone on a ride together at Disney and he’d enjoyed it, but not enough to keep him from trying every other godforsaken ride in the park. It killed me that every time I turned around he’d be flirting with another girl like he couldn’t be happier to be free, and I went to bed every night wondering what I’d done wrong and how I could make him feel even half of my hurt.
“Gotta run,” Charlie said as the cheerleading squad clapped their way into formation. She threw an arm around my neck and gave me a quick squeeze. “My parents have to bounce at halftime. Can I bum a ride home with you?”
“Of course.”
“Let me go check on your brother,” Mindy said. “I think he got lost.”
My mind stayed on our conversation as I scooted into the bleachers and unfolded the blanket across my lap. Nick had said the best way to make someone care about you is to get over them, but Nick talked a big game for someone who practically wet himself every time he got within ten feet of a cute cheerleader.
And then there was the problem of faking being over someone not being the same as actually getting over them. So why waste my energy on another lie?
Before I could answer my own question, a lidded Styrofoam cup appeared under my nose, and I looked up to see Nick smirking and shaking his head. “I think some guy just tried to sell me drugs,” he said.