Suddenly, I felt emotionally exhausted.
“It’s late.” I retreated a step. “I’d better get home.”
“But we haven’t finished our lesson.”
I continued backing away. “I forgot, my mom is having a new work colleague over for dinner tonight. I really do have to go.”
He gave me an unreadable look, making me wonder if he’d bought my lame excuse, even though the excuse also happened to be true. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Totally.” I waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I’ll see you in the library after school tomorrow so we can go over chapter eight. Thanks again for your help.”
All I wanted was to escape to the quiet safety of my car, away from the roller coaster of emotions rolling through me right now. Did Daniel like Trish? It seemed obvious she liked him, but the thought of them dating made me nauseated. He deserved a nicer girl than Trish Benson.
As I walked away, I decided I wasn’t cut out for the emotional turmoil of flirting. Maybe I’d have Beth finish tutoring Daniel. She would act more professionally than this.
“Poppy!” Daniel shouted from behind me, and I turned toward him. “One last shot.”
He threw the ball to me.
I caught the ball, cleared my mind, and looked up at the basketball hoop with absolute focus. Maybe if I could make one basket, just one, it would prove I could fit in at this school. Prove that Mr. Santiago should bump my grade up to an A. Maybe even prove me worthy of a boy like Daniel thinking of me as more than a tutor.
So I threw the ball harder than even before, and even grunted as it left my hands. The orange ball sailed through the early evening sky, carrying all of my hopes and dreams with it. I watched the ball fly up and over the basket without so much as hitting the backboard.
I knew it, Mr. Santiago knew it, and Trish made it very clear that she knew it.
Poppy Pinkleton was hopeless.
****
Dear Aubrey,
You haven’t responded to my email, but I’ve seen you answer other posts on your column. I can only assume you’re upset with me because I wanted you to violate your column’s secret status by meeting with you in person. Okay, I can see you’re doing a serious job, and I didn’t mean anything bad by wanting to meet face-to-face with you.
It’s just, well, my friends don’t seem to get how I’m feeling. My best friend is practically giddy that I broke up with Jake and any time I bring up his name, she rolls her eyes and changes the subject.
You’re the only one who understands how hard this is on me. I know I shouldn’t have asked you to meet in person. Maybe we can just email back and forth?
Your friend,
Amber
When I got home from school, I double-braided my hair and changed into my comfort clothes—my favorite Minnie Mouse shirt, the matching pink and white polka dot shorts, and my pink fuzzy slippers. But that didn’t alleviate the lingering ick I felt from Trish and Karen’s snub this afternoon at the basketball courts. Aubrey would’ve so put them in their place for being mean. I, on the other hand, couldn’t even muster up a word in my own defense.
Even worse, they had looked down on me in front of Daniel. I totally needed to stop pretending there could be anything between us besides a professional tutor-er and tutor-ee relationship. Plus, my crush was Jake, not Daniel. Those fickle butterflies in my belly seemed to be affecting my rational mind.
Sitting in my den, I fiddled with one of my braids while contemplating Amber’s email. I felt bad that her best friends weren’t there for her during her obviously traumatic break-up. Although, truth be told, I had a hard time believing Trish Benson could ever be a support to anyone. She was just so . . . harsh. Quite the opposite of Beth, who would totally hold my hand during a break-up. Well, if I ever ended up with a boyfriend, anyway.
Thinking about Beth brought up my insecurities over her hanging out with Amber this Friday night at Trish’s party. What if Amber realized how awesome Beth was and decided to make Beth her new best friend? I knew Beth cared about me, but I also knew how badly she wanted to be part of the It crowd. What if she ditched me for good?
I heard the doorbell ring, which must’ve meant my mom’s new friend from work had arrived for dinner. I knew she’d want me to greet her guest, but my worries swirled through my brain, keeping me glued to my chair. Staring at Amber’s letter on the computer screen, I pictured the look of pain on her pretty face, while she’d been arguing with Jake in the cafeteria today.
Couldn’t her friends see how much she needed them? Apparently not. She’d said Aubrey was the only one she could count on, which made me feel bad for not responding to her email already. At the same time, it wasn’t like she’d really want to meet me in person. So where did that leave Amber and Aubrey’s friendship?
I needed to respond to her, so I hit reply and started typing.
Dear Amber,
I’m not upset with you at all. I’ve just been . . . contemplating your email. Unfortunately, meeting in person is just not an option given the circumstances. I’m sorry to hear your friends have let you down and am definitely here for you via email. I know this is a hard time for you.
Glad to hear you’ve jumped back into the dating game with a new boy—even a different type of boy. Let me know how the concert goes and, of course, Trish’s party. Stay real.
Your friend,
Aubrey
“Poppy!” The door to the den burst open and Stephen was immediately in my face. “Mom’s friend is here and you are so busted for not answering the front door.”
I quickly logged off the computer, hoping Stephen hadn’t glanced at the screen and read any of my email to Amber. “Are your hands broken or something? Why couldn’t you just get the door yourself?”
“I did.” He laughed in my face and his breath reeked of pickles. “Mom told me you were being rude because they’re sitting down for dinner. You’d better get out there fast.”
“Now?” I asked, gazing down at my Minnie Mouse outfit in horror. Once I’d gotten on the computer I’d totally spaced about the dinner plans. Comfort clothes were so not appropriate attire for meeting Mom’s new friend from work. The sane part of me wanted to run upstairs to put together something properly respectable for her work colleague, but I was already busted for not greeting at the door.
Which would get me into more trouble? Coming to dinner even later? Or, wearing something that looked like I was a cartoon character come to life? Finding it unlikely I’d be in her good graces either way, I decided I’d keep wearing my outfit. After all, I’d had an exhausting day, I was comfortable, and if she didn’t like what I was wearing—she could just deal with it.
Holding my head high, I left the den and found everyone already seated at the dining room table. My mom was serving up the lasagna she had defrosted earlier when I hadn’t come home in time to make something fresh. She’d pointed this out several times as if it were my sworn duty to make dinner for the family every night.
“Poppy, this is my friend, Suzanne.” Mom wore a frozen smile, her narrowed gaze chastising me with that one glance.
I smiled politely at the woman from her office. She was seated next to my mom and wore what was clearly a business suit from work. “Hello, Suzanne. Nice to meet you.”
She smiled back at me. “Nice to meet you as well, Poppy. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from your mom.”
I nodded, even though I found her statement highly unlikely.
Suzanne gestured to the person occupying the chair next to her. “This is my son, Daniel, he goes to San Felipe High as well.”
“Nice to meet—” I stopped mid-way through my automatic polite response. There, sitting between Suzanne and my mom, was Daniel Baker—the It boy, my basketball tutor, and Trish-says-hands-off guy.
“Hi, Poppy.” Daniel’s eyes danced, seeming amused by my reaction—almost as if he’d been waiting to see it and hadn’t been disappointed.
“Do you tw
o know each other?” Mom asked.
I opened my mouth to answer her, but no words came out. Horrified, I immediately remembered the outfit I was wearing: Minnie Mouse shirt (Minnie was standing with her hands together in a happy, but bashful way), matching shorts, and fluffy slippers. How could this happen? Daniel Baker was in my house, looking breathtaking as usual, whereas I looked like a fifth grader on her way to Disneyland! Oh, the mortification.
Why, oh why, hadn’t I taken the two minutes to run upstairs and change? Trish and her friends would have a field day laughing about my outfit if they found out.
There was a long silence and from the back of my mind I remembered my mom had asked a question. It was impossible for me to answer, however, as my mouth seemed to be frozen shut and my eyes widened in a seemingly permanent bulge.
Silence. Awkward, miserable, silence.
After exchanging glances between Daniel and me, Suzanne finally said, “You didn’t tell me you knew Poppy. How did you two meet?”
“Uh . . .” Daniel caught my frozen gaze, his smiled dropped, and his eyes seemed to plead something that had me guessing his mom didn’t know about his C in U.S. History. Finally, Daniel shrugged, reached for his water, and promptly began guzzling.
Oh, my. Awkward had just transitioned into total disaster.
I suddenly remembered babbling to Daniel that my mom’s new colleague was coming over for dinner and the weird look he’d shot me. Had he come with her tonight, knowing this was my house? Why would he want to do that after I’d blown it so bad on the basketball court? Not to mention how I’d been put down by his It girl friends.
“Poppy and I have a class together,” Daniel said, setting his glass down.
“Yep.” I nodded, impressed. True statement, and he’d been smart to stick to the short, reliable, facts. Instead of, you know, informing the parentals of denigrating C progress reports. I willed Daniel not to say a single word about my own progress report. My mom expected perfection out of me and I had to deliver, or I could kiss Stanford good-bye.
“Well, that’s wonderful that you’re making friends already.” Suzanne smiled brilliantly and then leaned toward Daniel and elbowed him softly. “And you were so worried about it.”
“Thanks for that, Mom. Really.” Daniel rolled his eyes and gave his mother a reproachful look.
I covered my mouth, holding in a snicker. It felt refreshing to see I wasn’t the only one who got embarrassed, although my embarrassments seemed to occur on an hourly basis.
“Poppy has a new friend, too.” Stephen flashed a metal smile as if he was thrilled to hold some important information. “Poppy’s new friend is named Amber.”
I choked on a forkful of salad.
Stephen slapped his open palm repeatedly on my back, until I elbowed him away.
Mom gave me a stern look. “He was just trying to help you, Poppy. I mean, really. He’s your brother and he loves you. Don’t elbow him like that.”
Could she not see that I’d been choking and he’d been actively trying to finish me off? Not to mention his violent back slaps had come five seconds after he’d outed me on a private email he’d read without my permission? Once again, my mom was playing favorites.
Coughing a few more times, I reached for my water and willed someone to bring up a non-school related subject. No such luck.
“Poppy was emailing her new friend, Amber, on the computer when she was supposed to be answering the front door.” Stephen waved his fork in the air. “They were talking about some girl named Aubrey.”
Mom gave me a curious stare. “Who’s Aubrey? Is she a new friend of yours?”
Every nerve in my body stood on red alert. “No, I—”
“And Poppy also—”
I kicked Stephen under the table in warning for him to not say another word.
To his credit, he swallowed his yelp and didn’t open his mouth to finish his sentence.
Mom and Suzanne exchanged awkward glances, while Daniel studied a painting on our wall with apparent fascination. Thankfully, the adults turned the conversation away from me, and to the goings on at their office, which was boring.
But I preferred boring work conversation over talk about Amber and Aubrey that could potentially ruin me at school if Daniel put two and two together. He’d only been at San Felipe High a couple days, but he had to get that since Trish and Karen didn’t deem me worthy friend material, then there was no way Amber would’ve been emailing me about Aubrey. And if he tried to confirm any of that with Amber . . . well, I’d definitely have to change schools.
My stomach churned with worry but I managed to finish my meal, just as Mom and Suzanne started talking about an art exhibit in downtown San Felipe tonight. Mom wanted to show Suzanne a fun time “out on the town” so she and Suzanne decided they’d go after dinner.
Mom gave me a forced smile. “I’m sure, Poppy, you wouldn’t mind looking after your brother this evening. Right, dear?”
The look my mom gave me told me I’d better love it, or else.
I imagined all the things she could do to me as I contemplated refusing to watch the traitor tonight: 1) Ground me (not like I had any plans, anyway); 2) Take away my car (nope, then she’d have to drive me around); or 3) Tell me she won’t contribute to my living on campus at Stanford (this was too sacred to mess with).
“Yes, I’ll watch Stephen.” I smiled sweetly as if I wouldn’t have it any other way. “He and I can play a game. Or watch a movie. Or all kinds of fun things. Right, Creep? Er, I mean Stephen?”
“Yeah!” My brother’s little face lit up and I felt guilty for my secret thoughts of pelting him with marshmallows after my mom left. If he genuinely wanted me to hang with him so badly, why did he insist on torturing me?
“Daniel, why don’t you stay and keep Poppy and Stephen company while we’re out?” Suzanne put a hand on his arm, which I’m pretty sure meant he didn’t have a choice either. Parents could speak volumes with a look or a touch. It was both scary and impressive at the same time. “I’ll pick you up after the exhibit, honey.”
“Sure, Mom.” Daniel nodded, then looked over at me. When our eyes met, his mouth crept into that half-smile I’d first seen in English class.
A zing zipped through me, but I didn’t want to kid myself. It’s not like Daniel had chosen to stay and hang out with me, but then again he hadn’t exactly protested, either. I bit my lip, wondering what that smile meant, and hoping it had nothing to do with tutoring.
Chapter Seven
http://www.dearaubrey.com
Dear Aubrey,
There’s an awesome party Friday night and I’m not sure what to wear. Does everyone dress up for a party? Should I break out heels and a skirt? Or, do you think it’s a jeans occasion? Do I need a brand new outfit? Or, can I just pull something from my closet? Help!
Undecided
Dear Undecided,
Wear whatever makes you feel the most comfortable. A party is supposed to be fun, so stop stressing.
Stay real,
Aubrey
HYPOTHESIS: Fashion competition plays a major role in teenage social gatherings.
PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: See if individuals can choose an outfit based on what they feel like wearing as opposed to what their peers will think about what they’re wearing.
CONCLUSION: When you’re in high school, anything would be better than a Minnie Mouse outfit.
While Daniel was out front shooting hoops with my brother, I checked my column, wrote a reply post, and then logged off my computer. I turned out the lights in the den, and caught my reflection in the window. Two braids, Minnie Mouse outfit, and fuzzy slippers. I started for my room to change clothes, but then remembered my Dear Aubrey post and stopped in my tracks. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I went upstairs and switched outfits just because I didn’t want Daniel to think I was a dork?
Was I comfortable? Yes. Did I like my outfit? Obviously, or I wouldn’t have put it on. So, the only reason I had the uncontrollable urge
to change was to impress Daniel by not looking like I was auditioning for a Minnie Mouse club. What would Aubrey say to my very strong desire to change into more age-appropriate attire? Hmm, I mentally wrote Aubrey an email. . . .
Dear Aubrey,
Slight crisis here. Would it be wrong to make myself dress more like a teen girl and less like a first grader right now? I mean, really. It’s just clothing. What’s it hurt if I change and wear something that doesn’t have an animated character on it? I’m in the presence of an It boy at my house, which I can safely say has never happened before, so I’m sailing into unchartered territory here. Please advise.
Minnie Mouse Girl
Dear Minnie Mouse Girl,
I think you know good and well why you shouldn’t change your outfit, but you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Isn’t that true? I mean, you’re comfortable in your outfit and face the facts, you know it’s cute and that’s why you bought it when it wasn’t even on sale.
What you really want to do is change your outfit because you’re hoping it will make Daniel like you. Only if you change outfits and that does make him like you, then he wouldn’t like you for you, he’d like you for what you thought he’d like to see. So, really, it wouldn’t even be you that he’d like if you changed clothes. Right?
You’re great at dishing out the advice, so now it’s your turn to take it and like it.
Stay real,
Aubrey
Dear Aubrey,
You sound sanctimonious but you make a strong point. But, if he doesn’t end up liking me, you’ll only have yourself to blame.
Minnie Mouse Girl
Dear Minnie Mouse Girl,
If he doesn’t like you for who you are—
The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1) Page 8