Tina frowned. “But she said she would. I got my e-vite last week.”
I could tell she really was upset for me, like a good friend since pre-school would be. I guess I’d find something else to do that night. Mope perhaps. Moping sounded good.
“Don’t feel bad, Heather,” Xavier said, moving closer to me like someone was crowding him from behind—most likely Amy. “If she’s not going to invite you to her party, you don’t want her for a friend.”
But that was the problem, I did. If Suzanne deemed me as cool enough to invite, then my life could start changing. Maybe. If I could convince Amy to fly heavenward. If my pain-in-the-butt sister and her friends would stop making fun of me. If Xavier Monroe would find someone else to crush out on.
Tina mouthed, “Why are you here with” then slanted her eyes toward Xavier.
“Long story,” I mouthed back, then made the mistake of glancing over at Audrey whose beady eyes gleamed with feral anger.
“Do you two think I can’t read lips?” Xavier asked and placed his hand on my shoulder.
I shrugged it off.
Glancing down at the time on her cellphone, Tina yelped. “I gotta go. Call me when you’re off restriction, ‘kay? I’ll check with Suzanne about that invite.”
We eventually got our sandwiches, and, stupid me, I thought things would go smoothly once I’d maneuvered my body sideways to beat a family of four dressed in baseball gear and nabbed the open back-corner booth.
The booth, you see, has some advantages—it’s furthest from the door, it has a huge a/c vent blowing right on top of it, and best of all, my sister and her friends couldn’t easily see me and therefore Xavier.
Everything, however, started to go off plan when Dad didn’t notice me patting the vinyl seat next to me, which would indicate to most mortals that I wanted him there. Even nonmortal Amy had it figured out and shook her head sadly when Dad slid across the bench on the opposite side of the table, leaving Xavier with the option of sitting next to Dad or me. Guess which seat Supergeek chose?
At least most of his cologne had worn off and he wasn’t one of those guys with putrid sweat. I mean, I wouldn’t stick my nose in his armpit or anything, but his sweat didn’t smell rank.
Xavier pulled the epitaph rubbings from my backpack and started reading through them while Dad arranged his drink cup, chips and sandwich on the table. “These graves for this family, why are they so important to you?”
Tempted as I was to tell him I was trying to help a ghost of my acquaintance—to freak him out enough to get him to scoot further away from me—I didn’t. How could I when Dad would then wonder if Aunt Geneva was right? “I ran across the information in the special collections room, then researched it online. I suppose I found it . . . intellectually stimulating.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. Amy, who’d settled onto the bench seat beside Dad, hooted, ruffling my stack of napkins.
“Interesting,” Xavier said, his voice conveying skepticism. “Your answer is almost as convincing as the one you gave when you forgot to check out that influenza book.” Xavier laid Amy’s epitaph on top, not that she’d glance down at it.
I still felt a wee bit guilty that I’d brought the book back to the library without reading it, especially now that I knew some relative of hers died in 1918. I hadn’t started Little Women yet, either. My middle name should be Procrastination.
Wanting to tear into something, I bit off a huge hunk of my “Italian” sub. Who really cared if the bite was larger than lady-like? Maybe that would gross out Xavier and he’d stop liking me.
Dad scooted over an indignant Amy, then stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”
I didn’t excuse him. I couldn’t speak with a mouthful of sub, so I pounded the table to let him know I wasn’t happy.
Now it was just me and Supergeek looking cozy without Dad.
Xavier sported a self-satisfied smile. I chewed and swallowed as much as I could without choking so that I could remind Dad not to take his usual amount of time, which bordered on forever.
Oblivious to the potential damage to my already fragile reputation, Dad headed off whistling and picked up a complimentary USA Today. Great. I’d be here for another hour easy. And in that hour, even more people would see me with Xavier thereby sabotaging any hope I had to ever be seen as normal. The longer I sat here with Xavier, the greater the potential for Audrey’s boot out. Plus, and this was big, Amy might get bored. The urge to scratch nearly overwhelmed me. But if I did, I’d look like even more of a freak. I fought it.
“So,” Xavier said, toying with his straw. “I guess you’re pretty upset that I mentioned the library suspension to your dad?”
Um, yeah. I raised my index finger to signal that he needed to give me a minute, then chewed and chewed. Amy floated through the table and pushed against Xavier who moved even closer to me and didn’t seem to notice it wasn’t by his own efforts.
What, I’d like to know, had happened to her keeping him away from me?
“Here’s how I’d like to make it up to you,” he said, a tease of a smile spread to a full-fledged grin with a hint of dimple. For a fraction of a second, I actually thought he was kind of cute, even with that stupid wannabe mustache. “I’ve got tickets for the Black Orchids concert June twenty-first. Thumb’s up for yes. Thumbs down for no.”
I swallowed, took a sip of water, and signaled a thumb’s down. “Sorry, we’ll be on vacation.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you when you get back.”
“You don’t have to. Really.”
I would have said more, something more about how he was nice to want to make it up to me, but that’s when Audrey must have decided her and her friends’ angry glares weren’t enough. She stomped over to our booth. “What are you doing with him and here of all places?”
“We’re eating,” Xavier said, spreading his hand before the feast of subs like she was an imbecile. I almost smiled.
“He helped us clean the cemetery,” I added.
“It figures. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“No,” I said. And that was the honest truth.
Audrey curled her lip at Xavier, then directed her beady little eyes back at me. “You’re trying to make the whole family laughingstocks, especially me. When I told you I was coming here for lunch, that meant you and your goofy friend weren’t welcome.”
I felt bad for Xavier. I felt worse that I’d been thinking something close to what she’d actually had the lack of tact to say aloud. I didn’t want to be like Audrey. I didn’t want to treat someone else the way I’d been treated just because I was different.
“What is this?” she said, lifting the newsprint rubbed with Amy’s epitaph. “With heavy hearts, we commend to heaven sister and much beloved daughter Amy Malcolm. Don’t think we’ll be writing anything like that for you. It’ll be more like: With happy hearts, we commend to heaven weirdo and much ostracized . . . ”
Drew walked through the door, and all I could do was stare. He pulled off his aviator sunglasses and placed them in the pocket of his white t-shirt, which was just the right amount of tight to hint at the bronzed buffness beneath. I hadn’t seen him since he gave me a ride and dropped me off at the house.
Xavier was saying something. I couldn’t quite hear him because my heart was thudding so loudly. My skin even tingled like Drew was standing next to me, but he was at the other end of a whole restaurant full of people. Talk about chemistry.
His black Reebok pool slides squealed against the waxed linoleum as he took his place at the end of the line. Two cute girls in front of him with super straight flat-ironed hair turned to look and giggled, revealing mouths full of metal. That had to drive him crazy. People giggled at me for a different reason, and it drove me crazy. Hey, Drew and I had something in common.
He moved up to where I couldn’t see him, but luckily my heart had slowed to a normal beat so I could hear him order a foot long turkey and veget
able on whole wheat, with Swiss cheese, yes to banana peppers, no to jalapeños, which meant that he wouldn’t have hot pepper breath if he were to kiss me.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how he’d kiss me if we were dating and had come here to eat. While we were waiting to order, he’d place his hand on my back, showing everyone he was proud to be with me, that we belonged together. We’d split a sandwich and would negotiate the toppings. We’d both say no onions, no jalapeños at the same time and smile, knowing the other was thinking about kisses. He’d put his arm across the back of the booth, and when no one was looking, he’d lean close and softly brush my mouth with—
Xavier snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Planet Tildy. Do you copy?”
I pushed closer to the wall and strained to hear what Drew was saying next. “A chocolate chip cookie, super-sized sweet tea, no lemon and these.”
“What’s he getting?”
Xavier rolled his eyes, then looked for me. “An apple and a banana. Should I call the AJC, so they can put it in Peach Buzz?”
“Very funny,” I said, noticing for the first time since Drew walked in that Audrey had fled the booth. So had Amy. That didn’t bode well.
“A hundred and fifteen dollars for a combo? You’d better redo your math!” A man with a gruff voice yelled.
“I’m sorry,” the girl working the register said. “It must be a computer malfunction.”
More like a ghost malfunction. I pushed against Xavier. “Let me out.”
Xavier slid out of the booth, stood up, and stepped out of my way. “And where are you going? No wait, I don’t really need to ask.”
I believe I left a layer or two of skin on the vinyl seat as I emerged from the booth. Not a good thing for most people, even more of a bad thing for people with hypersensitive skin.
With the backs of my thighs throbbing, I peeked behind the counter.
Amy hummed a little ditty as she left the register and floated on to rising loaves of bread, which she punched down with a giggle. Bags of chips, popped one by one with enough force that the potato chips, pretzels and Doritos went airborne, like gold, brown and orange confetti, which then landed on the counter, the employees behind the counter, and the customers standing in line.
Concerned and shocked voices rose around me. I had to do something. But if I did, I might seal Audrey’s fate with her friends and my own as a bona fide weirdo.
Amy turned toward the self-serve soda fountain where Drew was standing with his large sweet tea in one hand and a plastic lid in the other. I knew what was coming next.
“No!” I shouted, determined to save Drew no matter what. Everyone but Amy looked at me, including Drew whose polar blue gaze stopped long enough on me to freeze the usual progression of the embarrassing flush rising up my neck.
Amy kept her back to me, the part between her wheat-colored braids straight as her spine. She pushed the lever for ice and a fountain of cubes spewed onto the grate, which quickly filled and flowed down onto the floor below. Not satisfied with the lever stuck in the on position and the growing level of her ice mess, Amy depressed the soft drink buttons. The spigots poured in a torrent, overflowing the grate, and cascading down the cabinet base like a class two waterfall.
“Whoa,” Drew said, backing away from the machine.
An employee in a yellow polo shirt grabbed a mop and a rolling bucket, presumably with cleaning solution in it, and rushed forward to do battle, scrabbling and sliding. The bucket’s sudsy contents spilled on the floor with a little gap-toothed ghost’s encouragement.
Okay, so I had a big decision to make here. Should I make myself more of an object of ridicule than I already was and brave the spilt cleaning fluid, soda, and ice to unplug the machine, which would at the very least give me a bad case of dermatitis, especially since I shaved my legs this morning? Or should I stay where I was and allow the destruction to continue?
“Stop!” I yelled a second time, slipping in the expanding lake of carbonated beverage, detergent and ice, and landing hard on my hands and knees. I crawled through the cold, sticky mess to the outlet like I was a freakin’ marine slogging through the mud to get past enemy lines in one of those World War II movies Dad watches.
“What does she think she’s doing?” A snotty voice, most likely belonging to Karen or Vanessa, asked.
The cold kept my skin from itching or maybe it was the hard tile under my bony knees distracting me from the scratch attack to end all scratch attacks that was sure to come.
At last, I reached the outlet. Wiping the concoction on my shirt, I noticed the rash already forming along my hand in the pattern of the poison ivy scar. I tugged the fat plug. A tiny current arced, and I thanked God that I wasn’t electrocuted.
You’d think my father would have emerged from the bathroom during some of this hullabaloo, but no. Maybe the fan prevented him from hearing the screams of horror and the machines going berserk. Maybe it was just my fate to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong ghost. At least I’d managed to shut off the machine.
Expecting applause for my heroics, I rose gingerly to my feet at the edge of the pond. None came.
“Thanks,” the short guy with the mop said, as he swept the super absorbent strings in front of me. At least one person recognized that I saved the day. Of course, I’d been the one who brought my mischievous ghost to the sub shop. But I’d make it up to everyone. . . somehow.
Audrey’s friend Karen shouted, “Ooh, look at Heather. How long do you think it’ll take before she has a scratch attack?”
“Shut up.” Drew sent a pained expression in her direction. Oh, my, God. He defended me . . . sort of. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I smiled at Drew across the icy soda pond. This was the second time in a month that he’d come to my rescue. My insides felt all gooey and melty like nacho cheese sauce.
Xavier was maneuvering to help me to dry tile, but I worried that would make Drew think we were a couple, so I moved in the opposite direction, which almost looked like Xavier and I were dancing as I picked my way around the ice floes.
Despite my best avoidance moves, Xavier managed to get to me and grabbed hold of my elbow as if I needed help walking, as if he were my boyfriend.
“Let go. I’m okay,” I said, with perhaps more irritation than was necessary.
That’s when the front door whooshed open. A man in a white, short sleeve shirt and thick black tie standing just out of the door’s trajectory widened his bloodshot eyes. He took in the destruction. “What’s going on? I leave to make a deposit at the bank and everything goes to hell in a hand basket.”
See? It’s not just me thinking it.
The boy with the mop looked up. “The machines and stuff went crazy, sir. I think it was a power surge.”
Karen cleared her throat and pointed at me. “No, it wasn’t. That girl, she’s, like, the girl in Carrie, and, like, we . . . ” she pointed to everyone else in the booth, including my sister, “we think she had something to do with the machines freaking out.”
Vanessa, Audrey’s other friend, nodded. “Yeah, and um, it wasn’t just the machines. She made all the chip bags pop. Well, everything but the Sun Chips. But, like, no one wants to eat those.”
Ever the staunch defender of my honor, Audrey remained silent.
The store manager trained his wild gaze on me.
“Believe me, sir,” I said, my heart pounding, my husky voice even huskier as I feared I’d somehow have to pay for all this destruction, which really wasn’t my fault. “If I had that kind of ability, I wouldn’t be wasting my time eating lunch. I’d be doing a show in Vegas and charging admission.”
Drew said nothing, but I knew he was thinking “you go, girl.” I mean, he hadn’t liked it when Karen played that car game with me and he’d told her to shut up earlier.
Something stronger than anger burned inside me, much like the rash heating up on the outside. I’d had it—with Amy, with Audrey, with everyo
ne. I wouldn’t bottle up my feelings any longer. Who cared if people thought I was weird? Who cared if Audrey’s friends dumped her?
Adrenalin rushing through my veins, I picked my way over to Karen’s booth. “You know what? I may be weird, but at least I was smart enough to unplug the machine rather than sit on my ass like you and do nothing to help. And you know what else? I’m sick of you making fun of me for something I can’t control. I have hypersensitive skin. Deal with it!” I kicked Audrey’s foot, forcing her to look up at me. “And Audrey, impossible as it may seem, I’m even more sick of you. You let your friends be mean to me, you always have. You stink as an older sister. Family should come first.”
Amy tugged on a super straight strand of Audrey’s hair. “Yeah.”
“Like we care what you think,” Karen snarled. “Forget this, we’re going to Dairy Queen.” She pushed me out of the way. Vanessa tossed her freshly highlighted hair, then followed. Audrey remained seated, probably planning the best way to kill me, or dare I hope she finally saw how unfair they all were being to me? How she could find better friends?
Karen paused in front of the door. “Are you coming, Audrey, or are you staying with your weird sister and her even weirder boyfriend?”
“He’s not—” I stopped. There was no need to diss Xavier in front of everyone. He was merely an innocent bystander.
For the longest time, Audrey didn’t move. I dared to hope that she was going to stand up for me.
That’s when, all the while not looking at me, Audrey slid out of the booth and started walking toward her mean-girl friends.
It figured. I bit my cheek to fight the urge to cry. I’d sworn I’d never cry in front of her and her friends years ago, and I wouldn’t. Tasting blood, I focused on the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling fixtures and prayed the tears filling my eyes wouldn’t fall. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
“Benadryl or EpiPen?” Audrey asked.
What? I glanced across the sub shop. She was standing next to the booth I’d been sharing with Dad and Xavier. She had my purse unzipped. I glanced over at her friends still standing by the door.
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