I couldn’t stand to add that I’d seen whipped cream on the front of Daniel’s shirt. It seemed like I’d be betraying Daniel, even though the evidence had been right there on his person. I still couldn’t reconcile that in my mind. Daniel was too nice to do something mean like that.
Mason shook his head. “I don’t get Jake Taylor. First, he cheats on Amber. Then, he’s upset because she breaks up with him? Makes no sense. Unfortunately, my car was collateral damage. Amber keeps saying how sorry she is, but it’s not her fault.”
“I’m sorry, too.” I blinked, feeling guilty for not telling Mason I’d seen the whipped cream on Daniel. But, even now, I couldn’t make my mouth form the words to out him.
We changed the subject and chatted about the newspaper instead and soon it felt like old times. When the bell rang at the end of class, I realized we’d spent the entire period talking and not working. Thank goodness Ms. P wasn’t into micro-managing. Yet, another good quality I admired in my mentor. If only my mother could be more like that. I was not looking forward to going home after school today. But first I had to go to the library for tutoring.
****
I really didn’t have the energy to tutor today, especially with the gargantuan white bandage on my forehead. But I’d committed to tutoring so my work ethic required me to go. I’d rather be brainstorming ways to finance my way through college without living under my mom’s rule.
I pushed through the library doorway and physically bumped into Daniel, who appeared to be on his way out. His hands wrapped around my forearms to hold me steady. Once again, his touch caused butterflies to go wild in my belly.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He released my arms, looking surprised to see me. “I didn’t think you’d be in here. But I checked real fast to make sure. . . What happened to your forehead?”
Gazing into his earnest eyes, I had the strong urge to tell him what happened. But the image of him whispering with Trish during first period still burned in my brain.
“The concrete column in front of second hall and I didn’t see eye to eye,” I said. True statement, even if it was the edited version without my nemesis.
“Ouch.” Daniel reached up and brushed his fingers near the bandage on my head, and electric tingles spread across my forehead where he’d touched. “When you didn’t show up at lunch, I wondered if you’d gone home sick. I asked your friend Beth, but she didn’t know where you were. I texted you, too.”
“I turned my phone off in the nurse’s office.” I stared at my shoes, unable to believe he’d texted me and that I’d missed it. He’d even talked to Beth? Huh. Did that mean she hadn’t had lunch with Amber? I lifted my lashes. “Thanks for checking up on me. That’s . . . sweet.”
He nodded. “Would you like a ride home?”
The image of Daniel and Trish whispering was quickly fading from my mind as I contemplated accepting the ride home from him and sneaking back to school later to retrieve my own car. Not only impractical for obvious reasons, but I was also grounded and my head spun so much that the nurse had to be off the mark when she’d said I didn’t have a concussion.
No, I didn’t need a ride home. But after talking with him again, I wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet either. “Thanks for the offer, but I have my car here. Aren’t we tutoring?”
His gaze flicked to my forehead again. “You’re up for that?”
“Sure.” My voice didn’t sound convincing.
He shifted his backpack on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and rest? We can start again next week.”
Disappointment and relief flooded through me. “Okay.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, gesturing toward the parking lot. “Lead the way.”
When he smiled at me, my stomach fluttered. I couldn’t deny my huge crush on him and this roller coaster of feelings was wearing me out, making me long for the old days with The Pact.
Daniel and I walked toward the student parking lot in silence. I tried to work up the nerve to ask if he was into Trish. I knew Aubrey would’ve asked him point blank. But I couldn’t build up the guts to ask. Maybe I didn’t want to know the answer. Either way, I tried to savor the fact that he wanted to walk me to my car. He was clearly a polite guy, but surely he didn’t walk every girl to her car. The gesture had to mean something. Right?
Suddenly, I remembered something he’d said to me after first period. “You were going to tell me about your essay this morning, remember? You ended up writing it after all?”
He raked his hand through his hair as he walked. I stared at his sandy-brown hair, wondering what it would feel like under my fingertips. Not like I could touch his hair to find out. He was so lucky that he could touch his own hair anytime he wanted.
Oh, yes. I had it bad for him.
“I did finish the essay, thanks to you.” He glanced at me and then grew quiet for a minute and way too soon we arrived at my car.
“This is me.” I gestured to the small silver sedan, which had been my mom’s until I’d turned sixteen and she’d added “running errands” to my “to do” list. My gaze flicked to a couple of kids from the It table walking by and I saw them give us a second glance. Daniel didn’t appear to notice. Feeling out of my element, I reached for the door handle. “I guess I should go—”
“Wait.” He reached into his backpack, pulled out a piece of paper, folded it, then held it out toward me. “Read this when you get home. I-I want you to see what I wrote.”
“Okay, thanks.” I felt honored that he wanted me to read his essay. Or maybe he just wanted me to read it because I was his tutor? Was I supposed to critique it? So confusing. I accepted the piece of paper and our fingers brushed, sending tingles up my arm. I sucked in a breath. “Sorry I missed lunch today. I should’ve texted you to let you know.”
“You had bigger things on your mind than me.” He stood beside my car, his backpack over his shoulder, looking like he was debating saying something further. But he didn’t. Finally, he backed away and kicked at a small rock on the ground. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
I smiled at him, feeling so confused about how he felt about me. Amazing how I could get straight As—with the exception of my current progress report in P.E.—in all of my classes, but I was downright terrible with this boy-girl thing. “Well, bye.”
He shifted from foot to foot. “How about I call you later to see how you’re doing?”
My insides hummed and I felt my cheeks go hot. “Sure.”
His mouth crept into an adorable smile. “See you, Poppy.”
“See you,” I said, hoping he’d really call me. I also hoped this meant he liked me as more than just his tutor. Maybe I’d find out tonight.
****
“Poppy’s grounded tonight.” My mother announced at dinner as if my state of going nowhere were world news. “This is what happens when you’re disrespectful, so let’s all be on our best behavior from now on. Yes?”
Stephen’s brows furrowed as he chewed the vegetable stir-fry I’d made for dinner. Then he turned to me. “What’s grounded? Is that like gardening? Can we play in the mud?”
“No.” I had the distinct feeling he already knew but was trying to torture me anyway.
Mom leaned forward. “It’s when you must stay home and think about all of the ways you can improve your behavior. Hopefully it also means apologizing when you know you’re wrong.”
I guffawed. “But I didn’t—”
“You said terrible things about me in that email.”
I ground my teeth together, wanting to point out that calling her a “dictator” was accurate. But I knew that would not help my current situation. I mentally told myself this several times, before my fork clanked to my plate and I blurted, “What gives you the right to read my emails?”
“It was entirely innocent, Poppy.”
Doubtful. “How do you innocently read someone else’s private email?”
Mom threw me a hurt look. “H
ow can you talk to me like this after all I do for you?”
“Don’t pick on Mom, Butt Face,” Stephen said, pointing at me.
Great, the entire family was against me when I’d done absolutely nothing wrong. “May I be excused? I have a serious headache from my injury.”
“Should I take you to the doctor?” Mom transitioned from hurt mode to protective mode in a matter of seconds, giving me mental whiplash.
“No, I’m fine.” I stood up, knowing I just needed to get away from her. “I’ll be in my room.”
I put my dishes in the sink, went upstairs to my room, and lay down on the bed. Even though I hadn’t heard it ring, I checked my cell to make sure I hadn’t missed a call from Beth or Daniel.
Nothing.
Rather than obsess over whether or not Beth was mad at me, or if Daniel would really call me, I clicked on the Internet to check my Dear Aubrey column. I hadn’t checked it since the nurse’s office when I answered the post on Trish’s party.
Oh, no.
Nurse Pratt had interrupted me and I totally forgot to go back and delete that obnoxious post where I’d used Trish’s full name. Cringe. Well, maybe nobody had checked the column since then. At least, I crossed my fingers that would be the case.
http://www.dearaubrey.com
Dear Aubrey,
Thanks for the tip on Crush. I was going to go to Trish’s party, but I’m changing my plans now that I know you’ll be at this club. Hope to see you.
Love,
Party Girl
http://www.dearaubrey.com
Dear Aubrey,
Trish Benson is a spoiled BRAT. I wouldn’t touch her party with a rubber glove. Crush it is.
Cool Dude
http://www.dearaubrey.com
Dear Aubrey,
I’m excited you’re going to be at Crush. That sounds like more fun than a party. I’ve arranged for my entire group of friends to be there, too. Will you finally reveal yourself? Or, more likely, do I already know you?
Anyway, I’ve started a Dear Aubrey fan page online . . . hope all of your fans stop by!
Stay real,
Aubrey Fan
I dropped my face into my hands. There was no way to delete my previous post now that people had responded to it. This was not good. I wondered what Trish would do in retaliation to my post? Er, Aubrey’s post. Knowing Trish’s personality all too well, it was highly likely that Aubrey would be on the receiving end of her vicious wrath.
At the same time, I couldn’t believe how many posts I’d received. Plus, I’d received some similar emails as well. And I had an online fan page?! People loved me and they thought Trish was a spoiled brat—which was an accurate assessment. But people didn’t tend to take it well when one pointed out their flaws. Ahem, my mom.
I lifted my head and checked my reflection in the mirror behind my door. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes were dancing. It seemed that everyone was going to Crush tonight because of my suggestion. A thrill shot through me. This meant that I actually mattered at my high school. Well, Aubrey mattered. But, still. I was stoked, I was elated. . . .
Oh, wait. I was grounded.
Chapter Ten
http://www.dearaubrey.com
Dear Party Girl, Cool Dude, & Aubrey Fan,
Can’t wait to see everyone at Crush. Sadly, I won’t reveal myself due to the entire column being anonymous and all. But, I’ll definitely be seeing you there.
Stay real,
Aubrey
HYPOTHESIS: Aubrey is popular.
PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: Aubrey must keep her word to fans.
CONCLUSION: If Aubrey is going to Crush tonight, then where does that leave me?
I hit post, realizing I had a huge problem. I’d urged my fans to go to Crush and assured them I’d be there. I couldn’t let them down. Well, Aubrey couldn’t let her fans down. It just figured this would be during the only time in my life I’d ever been grounded. How could my mom do this to me? All because she snooped into my private life, too. Not fair. Not at all.
A classical ring tone sounded and my cell screen lit up: DANIEL BAKER.
Chills flowed up my neck and my hand was shaky as I cleared my throat, then answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Daniel.”
I leaned back against my pillow, unable to believe he was actually phoning me. Daniel Baker was phoning, me, Poppy Pinkleton. I pinched myself, hard. “Ouch! I mean, hi. How are you?”
“Good, everything okay?”
I rubbed the growing pink splotch on my arm, knowing I was awake and had just shouted at one more of the most popular boys in school. Nice one. “Yes, all’s good here. Or, it’s well. Great, actually.” Oh, man I was blowing this. “Um, what’s up?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and smacked myself in the forehead, which felt extra painful because of my previous injury from today. But, hello? What’s up? Did I just use that phrase? Really? Oh, the mortification.
“Not much.” He didn’t sound taken aback by my lack of original dialogue. “Just checking to see how you’re feeling after your run-in with the concrete post.”
“Better,” I said, wanting to talk about anything else but that, since it involved Trish. Suddenly I remembered what my mom had told me about his family. “How are things with you? At home?” I froze, unable to believe that I’d asked such a personal question. “Not that it’s any of my business,” I added.
“It’s been pretty hard, actually.” His voice deepened and he cleared his throat. “My mom’s having a rough time. The walls in our apartment are thin so I can hear her right through them and she’s up most of the night . . . upset.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing how inadequate those two words were. I remembered what it was like when my parents divorced. Lots of arguments and tears, although my dad hadn’t cheated on my mom. Maybe that made it worse. He’d also moved across the country from us which hadn’t been a picnic. Still wasn’t.
Daniel let out an audible sigh. “I just need to get out of the house, you know?” He paused a moment. “Trish is having a party tonight. You interested in getting out, too?”
“With you?” My heart seriously melted. Daniel had just invited me to go Trish’s party with him. Was this as a date? Or as his tutor? Although a Friday night wasn’t a usual time for a tutor-er to get together with a tutor-ee and a teen party wasn’t the usual venue of choice. But seconds later my heart sank to my stomach. Not only was I grounded, but I had other plans. Oh, the irony. “I’m actually going to Crush tonight. It’s that new club everyone’s talking about?”
Nobody was talking about it to me, only to Aubrey, but he didn’t have to know that little detail.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of Crush.”
Of course Daniel had heard of the club. He’d probably received numerous invitations as well. “But you said you’re going to Trish’s party so—”
“I can skip the party and check out Crush. Want to go together? I can pick you up . . .”
He wanted to take me to the club? Teen geek Poppy Pinkleton out at a club with the new It boy Daniel Baker? If I believed in the validity of astrological signs then I would’ve checked to see if there was a full moon tonight. Wowzers. The question still remained as to whether or not this was a date or a tutor-friend thing, but I was so totally going to say yes.
Or . . . not, since I was so totally grounded.
Irritation surged through me. I’d done everything my mom had asked of me since birth, but one email mention of my mom being a tyrant—which, hello?, grounding me without a fair trial where I can defend myself—and now I had to miss out on the most important semi-date of my life? This was so not fair.
“I mean, if you don’t want to . . .” Daniel’s voice trailed off.
“I do!” Oops, shouting. Not exactly showing impressive composure. “It’s just . . . can I meet you at Crush? Is that all right?”
“Sure, if you prefer,” he said, sounding a bit confused. “So, I’ll see you there tonight?”
“Yes, see you tonight.” I hung up the phone, floating briefly through a dreamy state of boy-asked-me-out-bliss—even though it was plausible this invite was only as his tutor-friend—and then a jolting wave of panic hit me.
For the first time in my life, I was going to sneak out.
****
I’d always found myself fortunate that I could park my car in our garage, protecting my car from the outer elements of hot California weather—until tonight, anyway. I needed to sneak out of the house without getting caught and our loud garage door opener would so wake up my suspicious mom and probably Stephen, too. I needed an alternate ride.
Beth was out as a ride option due to the fact that she’d let one party invite from Amber Glass go to her head. Mason was on a date with said It girl, so I couldn’t exactly ask him for a ride. Beth, Mason and I had been best friends since we were twelve and usually spent Friday nights at my house studying. Obviously dropping The Sacred Pact had been a huge mistake, but no time to dwell on that right now. I needed to focus on wheels.
William Hall from my journalism class only lived several blocks from me so I figured he was my best bet for a ride to Crush without requiring too much walking on my part. Unfortunately, when I called William he said he preferred to stay home and binge-watch the nightly news and it took me the better part of an hour to convince him we should check out this new teen club in order to write an article on Crush for the San Felipe Scoop. This enticement worked.
William finally agreed the Crush piece sounded like a valid public interest topic and offered to pick me up. Without mentioning the whole “being grounded” thing, I opted to meet him at his house instead around nine o’clock this evening.
After spending a couple of hours faux-sulking about being grounded downstairs, while simultaneously icing my forehead, I claimed that I was going to bed. My heart pounded, sure that I had L-I-A-R written all over my face and that my mom could tell I was secretly planning to sneak out. But she’d already put my brother to bed and she’d merely muttered “goodnight” without moving her gaze from the TV show she was watching.
The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1) Page 12