The Boyfriend Thief

by Shana Norris

  “We’ll have to think of a name,” Zac said. “Something catchy, but not too cutesy. No offense, but I don’t do cutesy.”

  “Zac,” I said, trying to break into his steady stream.

  “Maybe A to Z Love Matches? For Avery and Zac? Oh! We could offer deals to in-person customers who also list their applications online. A promotion to help draw in-person customers. And we’ll definitely need advertising.”

  I tried again. “Zac.”

  Still, he didn’t seem to hear me. “Do you think we should limit to a certain age group? Like, should we focus on matching up teens? Or should we focus on the adults? Underage customers could pose more problems with safety and internet predators—”

  “Zac!”

  A few people from tables nearby turned to look at us after my outburst. Zac blinked at me.

  “What?” he asked. “You don’t like it? It was your idea.”

  I twisted the paper from my straw between my fingers. “I’m aware of that. But it was a joke. We can’t do a matchmaking business for our class project.”

  “But it’s a good idea. It’ll be something different among all the clothing stores and restaurants the other teams are probably working on. And it’s a service that exists to make people happy. What could be wrong with it?”

  “How about everything?” I asked. “Matchmaking is nothing but a scam. Any idiot can pair two people together based on similar interests or goals. Why would anyone pay for that?”

  Zac shrugged. “People do pay for it, all the time. Not everyone has the alluring personality you do and can attract people from miles around to throw themselves at their feet.”

  I tossed my straw paper across the table at him. “I’m serious. The whole matchmaking industry is a scam preying on lonely fools who think they need someone else to make their lives meaningful.”

  “You can’t be that cynical about love already.” Zac tapped my knuckles with his pen. “You’re not even out of high school yet.”

  “Relationships are a waste of time and energy. I didn’t get to be number one in our class by chasing after every cute guy who looks my way.”

  “Are you calling me cute?” he asked with a wink.

  I hated the flush that crept up my neck when he smiled. I needed to regain control of this conversation before Zac could see how flustered he had made me. I sat up, holding my shoulders back, and aligned my pencil on the tabletop evenly parallel with the edge of my notebook, restoring some small amount of order to the mess Zac had made of our booth. “You wish,” I told him.

  Zac thumped my knuckles with his pen again, smiling as he tapped out the internal beat in his head on my skin. “No one is that disconnected from the rest of society. Everyone needs love and so...” He waved one hand in a big flourish toward our business notebook. “Tada! Everyone needs matchmakers.”

  Tingles reverberated through my hand where he’d tapped. I clasped my other hand on top of it, rubbing hard to make the tingling go away. “Not everyone. I’m not naive enough to confuse scientific fact with these made up ideas of spiritual bonds.”

  “Oh, really?” Zac laughed a bit as he leaned across the table, his face only inches from mine. “And what exactly does science tell you about love?”

  He was so close I could see the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes. A barely visible mole rested under his left eye and light peach fuzz dotted his upper lip. I swallowed and recited the words that years of reading medical books had ingrained into my mind. “Love is a form of pleasure. Pleasure is caused by the release of endorphins. The things we believe make a person attractive are based on pheromones. You respond positively to someone whose pheromones are compatible with your own, making you think you’re falling in love. But it’s all in your head. Literally.”

  Now Zac grinned wide and flicked his pen lightly across my nose. “You’re like a walking medical book. You have it all figured out, don’t you?” His dark eyes stared levelly at me and a small smile curled one corner of his lips, as if he knew what I’d say already and yet still didn’t believe me.

  Not everything. I hadn’t even begun to figure him out.

  “I know enough to keep myself from becoming easily fooled by simple biology.” I stared at him for a long time, silently daring him to argue or try to convince me otherwise. But he didn’t. He stared back, also silent, until the flush creeping up my face made me finally break our gaze.

  I took a sip of my drink to wet my suddenly parched throat, then said, “I still say matchmaking is a scam, but if you think it’s a good idea, then whatever. It’s fine, as long as I get an A.”

  My last hope was that Mr. Freeman would object to it and make us come up with something else.

  Chapter 5

  “Okay, then,” Hannah Cohen said, banging her gavel on the desk. “It’s settled. The profits from the Spring Yard Sale will benefit the local animal shelter. I’m certain the dogs and cats will be very grateful for the food our money can buy.”

  Molly leaned back from her seat on the other side of Hannah to make a face and bob her head around, imitating the way Hannah spoke during junior class council meetings. I coughed to smother my laugh. Hannah took her job as junior class president way too seriously and always got an ever haughtier attitude than usual during the meetings we had once a month.

  But as vice president, laughing wasn’t exactly the best example to set for the rest of our members. Even if Molly’s imitation was dead on and totally hilarious.

  Hannah glanced at me quickly before tossing her hair back and saying, “Any new business?”

  Natalie Spinelli, a.k.a. Hannah’s sidekick, raised her hand. “I’d like to make a motion to discuss this year’s class king and queen.”

  The feet of Molly’s chair hit the tile floor with a loud thump as she straightened in her seat. “What’s to discuss? The class king and queen is an archaic ritual that should have been abolished twenty years ago. Are we seriously still stuck on popularity contests in this school? Am I mistaken or is this not the twenty-first century?”

  A few murmurs arose from the rest of the group, some in agreement with Molly, others defiantly not, until Hannah banged her gavel again.

  “Your comments are noted, Madam Secretary,” Hannah told Molly, “but ultimately, discarded. The class king and queen are long-standing traditions at Willowbrook High and by continuing the process each year we honor everyone who came before us. I second Member Spinelli’s motion that we discuss the vote.”

  Of course she did. Hannah had been voted class queen both our freshman and sophomore years. She already knew she had junior queen in the bag too.

  After another torturous twenty minutes of discussing class king and queen—by “discussing” I meant everyone saying why they thought Hannah should be junior queen—the meeting finally adjourned.

  “Thank you,” I breathed as I gathered my backpack and purse. “Another five seconds and I would have knocked myself out with Hannah’s gavel.”

  Molly, who had sulked throughout the entire discussion of junior king and queen and refused to take any notes for the meeting minutes, glared at Hannah’s back as she left the room. “What I wouldn’t give to see her lose junior queen. Can you imagine the stroke she’d have?”

  I could imagine. She had cried for days when she lost the fourth grade spelling bee—to me. It was amazing we ever managed to be friends before the big fall out, considering how we had always competed for the same awards and titles.

  “Hannah won’t lose,” I said. “She’s got too many people fooled by her innocent act.”

  We left the classroom where the junior class council usually met and started down the hall.

  “So what kind of business are you doing for your economics project?” Molly asked.

  “Zac says I can’t tell anyone until next week,” I said.

  Molly made a noise of indignation. “You can’t even tell me, your bestest friend in the entire universe?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. It’s a matchmaking service.
”

  “Awesome! I’m totally stealing that idea.”

  “You can’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “Then Zac will know I told you and he’ll kill me.”

  Molly patted my shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Nathan and I have already decided on our business. We’re running a bakery.”

  I stumbled a bit at her words. “What do you know about baking?”

  “Zero,” Molly said. “But it was the only thing we could agree on. He likes to bake, I like to eat. It’s a win-win. Plus, in my mind, we’re really undercover CIA operatives and the bakery is a front so people don’t suspect anything.”

  Elliott materialized through the crowd a few feet ahead of us. Ugh, so not in the mood to deal with him after dealing with Hannah for the last hour. I pulled Molly into the girls’ bathroom before she could see him.

  Molly shot me an irritated look as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Uh-huh.” Molly crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a sink. “And the fact that Elliott was headed in our direction had nothing to do with it?”

  If Molly ever did become a secret agent, her targets would never get away from her extra keen awareness of her surroundings.

  “Of course not. I didn’t even see him.”

  Molly gave me a look that said she totally didn’t believe me.

  I turned away and started fixing my hair in the mirror. Not that my hair needed fixing, but at least it gave me something else to focus on.

  “Hey,” I said, “do you think your mom would pay me to cut your grass again?”

  “No, I don’t,” Molly said matter-of-factly. “You cut the grass too short last time. It’s taken a month for it to grow back to a normal height.”

  “I told you that lawnmower needs to be replaced.”

  Molly dug around in her backpack and came up with a tube of watermelon-flavored lip gloss. “It’s not the lawnmower, it’s the person doing the lawnmowering.”

  I sighed. “I need to find a few odd jobs to earn some extra money or else I won’t be going to Costa Rica this summer.”

  “My sister might consider hiring you to baby-sit sometime,” Molly said. “If you promise not to drop the baby or lose him.”

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought of dirty diapers. Wiping baby butts wasn’t my idea of a good time, no matter how cute Molly’s nephew was.

  “I’m worried that even after everything I’ve done, I won’t earn enough,” I said, frowning at my reflection. “This program is the chance of a lifetime. I’ve waited years to be old enough to go. If I don’t go this summer, will I ever have the opportunity?”

  “You’ll get there,” Molly said. “I have two hundred dollars saved up that I could loan you.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, but I can’t take your money. I know you’re saving it for a new computer.”

  Molly shrugged. “There will be plenty of new computers in my future. The offer stands if you need it. I’m going to go catch up with Elliott. You coming?”

  I shook my head, trying to hide my irritation. Did she have to think about Elliott every five seconds? “No, I’ll talk to you later, when you’ve detached yourself from his hip.”

  “Hey, I can still be a modern, career-driven woman and have a satisfying love life at the same time,” Molly told me as she left the room.

  Once the door had closed behind her, a toilet flushed and one of the stalls opened. Hannah Cohen walked out, carrying her backpack over one shoulder. She silently stepped up to the sinks and took her time washing and drying her hands thoroughly. I pretended to be extremely interested in the contents of my backpack as I dug around inside to avoid acknowledging her.

  Finally, after tossing her paper towel into the trash can, she turned back to me and said, “Hello, Avery.”

  “Hi,” I said, still elbow deep inside my bag. My guard immediately went up. Hannah did not talk to me for no reason.

  Hannah smoothed out a wrinkle in the red cardigan she wore, despite the hot day outside. The white roses along the bottom edge matched the white rose on her headband. Her dark brown hair fell in perfect curls around her shoulders and her skirt was the exact knee-length required by the school dress code. Hannah would never try to fudge the length a little like most of the other girls always did. According to our teachers, Hannah was the perfect example of the model student.

  “Nice job on that history quiz last week, Avery,” Hannah said. “You even got the bonus questions. Bravo.”

  “Stop sneaking peeks at the teachers’ grade books,” I told her. “You wouldn’t want to get caught and ruin your perfect reputation.”

  Hannah gave me a fake smile. “At least I have a nice reputation to worry about. I’m not the one known as the Ice Queen.”

  I was in no mood to stand there all day and admire the witchy green tone of Hannah’s skin in the bathroom’s horrible lighting. “It’s been nice chatting with you, but I have to go.” I moved toward the door, zipping my backpack and throwing it over my shoulder.

  “Wait,” Hannah said. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “You’re not my type,” I told her.

  Hannah sneered. “Ha ha. I mean a business proposition, inspired by everything Mr. Freeman has been teaching us this week. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I know how upsetting it would be if you couldn’t help all the poor, sick people and not get a chance to be a hero. You always have liked helping people, haven’t you?”

  I sighed, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling. “Can we forget the games and get to the point? What do you want?”

  “I want you to steal my boyfriend.”

  It took several moments for the meaning of what she had said to sink into my brain.

  “You want to break up with Zac?” I exclaimed.

  Hannah scowled. “Think you could say that any louder? Yes, I want to break up with Zac. But I want him to be the one to dump me. That’s where you come in.”

  My head spun with questions, but I asked the first one I managed to force out. “Why are you breaking up with Zac?”

  Hannah shrugged. “That’s my business.”

  “Okay. So why not break up with him yourself?”

  “Oh, yes, because that would be great for my reputation, wouldn’t it? In case you haven’t noticed, a lot of people around here really like Zac. There’s talk that he may be voted junior king. If I dump him right before the junior queen vote, I’ll be ruined.”

  Junior queen? Hannah didn’t want to risk losing our school’s biggest, stupidest end of the year popularity contest? Class king and queen didn’t even mean anything. There were no special duties, no extra credit, nothing at all that came with it. It was nothing more than a popularity contest our school had made up so two students each year could have something extra to add to their college applications. I doubted Columbia cared whether or not Hannah won class queen for the third time.

  That was exactly why I didn’t believe in real love. Zac had no clue Hannah was talking to me about breaking up with him. You could go through each day thinking everything was perfectly fine with your relationship and you loved each other so much, when in reality your significant other was plotting ways to get rid of you.

  “Can’t you get him to dump you on your own?” I asked. “I’m sure if you show him your true personality, he’ll drop you in a second.”

  Hannah’s laugh echoed off the tiles around us. “Don’t you think I’ve already considered that? I’ve tried for the last two months to get him to break up with me. I’ve been rude, I’ve canceled dates, I’ve ignored him. He doesn’t take the hint. Getting him to fall for you is my last resort.”

  I leaned against the wall, studying her. “And how will helping you break up with Zac help me?”

  “I told you, it’s a business proposition. You do this for me, I’ll make sure you get to Costa Rica. We both get what we want.”

&nb
sp; No way. There had to be catch. Why would Hannah Cohen do anything to help me get something I wanted?

  “Why me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her. “Can’t you find someone heartless enough in this school to do this for you?”

  “Aren’t you heartless, Avery? You certainly acted like you were that day in Elliott’s basement.” She shrugged. “You already have experience in stealing my boyfriends. This will make us even.”

  “I didn’t steal Elliott from you,” I said.

  “No, but you ruined everything,” Hannah said in a low voice. “It wasn’t just your friendship with the two of us you killed that day.”

  My fingernails dug into my palms. I would not cry in front of Hannah. She would not have the satisfaction of seeing she still had this effect on me, even four years later.

  “Go find someone else to do your dirty work,” I grumbled, trying to push past her toward the door.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience now,” Hannah said.

  I started to pull the door open, but her next words stopped me. “If you don’t do it, I’ll tell Molly all about your make out session with Elliott back in seventh grade.”

  I turned around to face her, heart pounding against my ribs.

  Hannah smirked. “She doesn’t know, does she? She has no idea exactly why you hate Elliott so much.”

  I sucked in a few deep breaths. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me. You owe me, Avery. This is your chance to make amends for your mistake.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you in or out?”

  I shook my head, but then Hannah played her final hand, the one she knew I couldn’t refuse.

  “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars.”

  I froze. Did she say five hundred dollars?

  Hannah pulled her checkbook from her purse. “Two hundred now, three hundred when the job is done. Last chance. In or out?” She opened the checkbook and eyed me, her pen poised over the paper.