by Coco Simon
But as I passed the seating area, I suddenly heard his voice.
“Alexis!” he called.
I turned and blushed simultaneously. He was sitting alone, eating a plate of fried rice.
“Hey,” I said, playing it cool.
“Hey!” he said, smiling, but it was kind of tentative, like now that he’d called out to me, he wasn’t sure what to say. I think he was surprised by my coolness, too.
“Um, anything up?” I asked casually.
I saw his face fall a little. Then he started playing it cool too. “Oh. Nah, just . . . grabbing a quick bite, then riding back to school for a game.” He shrugged. There was an awkward silence. He looked like he was waiting for me to say something, but I wasn’t sure what he expected. Like, should I apologize for giving him a valentine? Whatever. I wasn’t about to do that—not here, anyway. Not now.
“So . . .” I shrugged. “I guess I’d better get going.”
“Yeah. Right. Okay. Bye,” he said, all businesslike, like he was done with me. Like he regretted even calling out to me.
“See ya,” I said, turning on my heel.
“Yeah,” he said. I could almost hear the “whatever” at the end, even though he didn’t say it out loud.
Fine, I thought. That’s just fine. I trudged away with my bags, knowing he wasn’t watching me go, which was a relief in a weird way.
So this is how it ends, I thought. In a mall. Me walking away. Him just sitting there. The whole thing spoiled by a dumb holiday and some maybe overly optimistic gift. Fine, then. I’m done with him. If he can’t even have the common decency to thank me, or deal with the weirdness head-on, then he’s not the one for me. I wouldn’t want to be with someone who had such bad manners, anyway.
I reached the bookstore, yanked the door open a little harder than necessary, and located the skating book in the sports section. I flipped through it and decided it wasn’t worth the money. Who could learn skating from a dumb old book, anyway. And who cared if I could skate well or not? I’d just go to the party to drop off the cupcakes on Friday, and then I’d head out. That’s all.
It was time to go meet my mom. I peeked out toward the food court, and just as I expected, Matt was gone. Good riddance, I thought. I won’t have to see him for a while.
Then my brain started working and my memory kicked in like a ton of bricks.
I’d be seeing him tomorrow at the new Liam Carey movie.
If I went, that is.
CHAPTER 9
BFF
After the mall, I put Matt right out of my mind. I went home, did my homework, and organized the valentines and gifts for my friends. I showered, organized my schoolwork, tweaked my presentation for the FBLA summit, laid out my outfit for the next day, and got into bed with a good book. I simply refused to think about him.
The next morning I woke up kind of sad, but I shook it off. I told myself I was over Matt and that was that. From now on, I was all about my family, my friends, and my work, in that order. It was kind of a relief to be done with him and all that “mushy stuff,” as Emma put it. I felt sharp and focused and independent. It was good. Anytime he popped into my head, I pushed him out. Mind over matter! No problem! Alexis first—boys second!
That day, I brought the valentine stuff to school, and at lunchtime in the cafeteria, we all met up at our usual corner table, where I presented the things to my friends.
“Ta-da!” I cried. “Better late than never!”
“Thanks, Alexis!’ said Katie.
“It’s a shockingly good feeling to have been more organized than you for once,” Emma said with a laugh. “When was the last time we beat Alexis to anything?”
They all had a good chuckle over that one.
A little too good, if you ask me.
“All right, all right, it wasn’t that funny,” I fake-fumed. “Break it up.”
They opened their cards and oohed and aahed over the candy baskets.
“They are just too cute!” said Mia. “LOVE the ribbons. Thank you SO much, Alexis!” She wound the ribbon over her hand in a loop and tucked it in her pocket.
“Thank you! I think I saw these somewhere. Did you get them at the stationery store at the mall?” Katie asked, wrinkling her brow.
“Uh-huh. Seventy-five percent off!” I bragged.
“Nothing but the best for your friends. Thanks, old buddy, old pal!” joked Mia.
Emma looked at the baskets as though she was trying to remember something. “I know I’ve seen one of these before somewhere. It wasn’t at the stationery store. I just can’t think of where it was.” She tapped her lip for a minute, then she shrugged and said, “Oh well. I’m eating some candy right now! Thanks, Lex!”
“Before your lunch?” I said disapprovingly, joking. “That is just not healthy.”
Emma laughed and then shrugged. “YOLO! You know—you only live once!
“Sounds good!” said Katie, diving into hers.
I had to sit back and smile. They were enjoying the stuff I gave them. Maybe Valentine’s Day could be fun after all!
It wasn’t until that afternoon that I began to actually panic about Matt. We were at Katie’s to bake the cupcakes for Friday, knowing we wouldn’t have time to bake them tomorrow. Things were moving along quickly, since Katie has two ovens, and since she is an only child, so there are absolutely no distractions, like brothers at the Taylors’ house.
Toward the end of our session, as rows of future plump pandas sat cooling on racks, Mia asked, “Are you guys going to go home before the movie tomorrow or straight to the theater?”
Emma answered, “My dad is going to pop over from work, because he has to bring Jake to us to watch him. He’s going to give me and Matt a lift to the movies from school, since Jake can’t ride that far on a bike. He can take any of you, if you’d like.”
“Great! I’d love it!” agreed Mia.
“Me too, thanks,” said Katie.
I didn’t say anything, but I felt a pit in my stomach. So this was how it was going to be from now on. All my besties, riding to the movies together with my former crush. And me, riding solo. Biking, actually. Wow.
“Lex? Ride?” Emma asked absentmindedly, like she knew I would be in.
“Uh, actually, no. But thanks. You guys go on, and I’ll meet you there.”
They all turned and stared at me.
“Why?” Mia asked incredulously.
I shrugged. “Oh, it’s a lot of people for the minivan. . . .”
“It seats eight,” said Katie. “We’re only at six.”
There was a brief silence, then Emma said quietly, “Is this about Matt?”
“No!” I said a little too forcefully. “No, no,” I added more casually. “I just . . . have some stuff, so I’ll see you there.” I smiled, all fake-cherry. “Seriously. No prob.”
Emma continued to look hard at me, then she shrugged and raised an eyebrow at the others, and they all looked away. Now I was embarrassed and kind of mad, because I knew that meant they’d all be discussing me later.
See, this is why it’s not a good idea to have a crush on your best friend’s brother. ’Cause when it’s over, there’s no way to get away.
In fact, maybe liking boys is just more trouble than it’s worth. It certainly seems to mess up your friendships while you’re at it.
I focused on my task of setting the cooled cakes in their travel containers, so we could seal them up for the night. They’d have to be ready to decorate on Friday, and then we’d tote them over to the skating party, after which point I would turn on my heel and head home. Maybe I’d rent a movie. Nothing romantic. Not at all.
Our baking session ended, and we were all getting ready to leave. Mia’s mom was picking her up, and she offered to drive me and Emma home, but we both refused politely. It wasn’t that far to walk, and the brisk air would feel good after the warm, sweet-smelling kitchen.
“I’ll go with you, Lex,” said Emma.
It sounded more like a command
than an offer, so I said, “Fine.”
We all said good-bye, and Emma and I set out. Even though at first I enjoyed the chilly air, it started to get a little too cold for us, and we both began to move more quickly. The ice crunched under us.
“Alexis,” Emma said after almost a block of silence, “you are my best friend, and I think it’s really mean you’re letting your Matt drama get in the way of our friendship.”
I’d known it would be coming. I just didn’t realize she’d take the aggressive tack right out of the gate. It made me feel defensive. I breathed out a long puff of air and watched the smokelike vapor hang in front of me. I considered how to reply.
Finally, I said, “I don’t want to be in a fight with you, Emma. I just . . . I’m not even sure I want to go tomorrow. It’s just still too raw. Did you know I saw him at the mall last night?” I asked, wincing at the memory.
She turned and looked at me. “No. He didn’t mention it.”
I nodded. “Well, it was really, really awkward. He almost acted like he was . . . mad at me or hurt or something, which is really weird. I mean, obviously I didn’t give him a valentine to be mean! And I’m actually kind of mad at him right now. Besides being embarrassed, that is. So, I am sure it will get better one day, but right now I just don’t want to be around him. I’ll do my best to figure out how to be around you without that getting in the way, though. Does that make sense?”
Emma nodded. She was a rational person. I mean, she is my best friend after all. But then she said, “Okay. But if you don’t come to the movie with us tomorrow like we’ve all planned, then you’re not my best friend anymore. And I’m only kind of joking when I say that. It’s going to be so much fun! I really wish you’d reconsider.”
The rest of our walk was a little awkward, to say the least. And by the time I got home, all I could think was, Great. Now I’ve got the whole Taylor family against me.
At dinner, my mom tipped her head at an angle and studied me. I knew I was being mopey, but I didn’t have the energy to be otherwise.
“Honey, you love salmon teriyaki,” said my mom. “Eat up!”
I pushed a piece of broccoli around on my plate and sighed.
“Still having a tough time of it?” asked my mom. She looked at my dad, and he raised his eyebrows. Right then, I knew they’d been discussing me, which is always annoying.
“About what?” I asked. I wasn’t going to give them an inch, those traitors! Talking about me behind my back!
“What’s up, people?” said Dylan, clueing in to the conversation. “I smell drama.”
“Gosh, what is this, family therapy?” I huffed.
“It can be if you want it to,” said my mom.
“No, thanks!” I said vehemently. I stabbed a piece of salmon and forced myself to eat it to show I was fine, even though I wasn’t very hungry.
“Middle school troubles?” said Dylan. “Those were the days. I had it so easy. Who knew at the time?”
“All right, Dilly, enough,” my dad said, laughing a little.
“Seriously, Alexis. What’s the deal? Tell your big sister. Maybe I can help. Remember, I’ve seen it all.”
I hesitated for a second, then figured, What the heck?
I explained about Matt and the cupcake. Then I told them about the mall and Emma.
“Oh, sweetheart. She’s just hurt and maybe a little jealous,” said my mom. “You two have been such good friends for so long!”
“Well, I think it’s mean and immature,” Dylan said fiercely.
“Thanks,” I said.
“But more to the point, why oh why didn’t you consult me first before giving Matt a valentine?” Dylan moaned.
I shrugged. “I didn’t think of it. It was just . . . impulsive!” I said.
Dylan stared at me. “Never. Be. Impulsive. When. It. Comes. To. Boys. Get it?”
I gulped. “Okay,” I agreed meekly.
“Excellent advice!” my father said, nodding vigorously. “I couldn’t agree with you more, my dear.”
My mom was nodding too, so I guess we had a consensus.
“Let’s move on,” said Dylan. “It was a bold move, and I commend you for that.” She flipped her hair. “We will continue with this conversation after dinner in the privacy of my own room, where we will come up with our plan of action.” Then she gave me a meaningful glare.
“Right!” I agreed.
“Nothing bold! Nothing impulsive!” my dad added.
“Right,” agreed Dylan. And she winked at me.
Right, I thought. Here we go!
CHAPTER 10
New You
Of course you’re going. You have to go. And you have to look fabulous,” commanded Dylan. “Make him see what he’s missing! And when you see him, give him a big smile, but then ignore him.”
“Wait. I’m confused,” I said. She’d almost had me up until then, but that part made no sense. “Smile . . . then ignore him? I don’t get it.”
“Exactly!” Dylan cheered. “You’ll be intriguing . . . mysterious . . . exciting! He won’t know what you’ll do next.”
“Oh. Okaaaay?” I wasn’t too sure.
“Now,” she continued, “if you do catch his eye, try to look mysterious.”
I was completely baffled. “What does mysterious even look like?”
“Like this,” said Dylan. She gave her head a toss, lowered her chin, and let the front lock of her long hair drop over one eye. She looked up and kind of widened her eyes, then she looked down and away. It was totally weird and phony looking, like a girl villain from a cartoon or something.
“Um, yeah. That is totally not me, so I don’t think I’ll be doing it.” I almost shuddered at the idea.
“Well, practice, anyway. A little mystery goes a long way. Remember that,” Dylan said. “Now, let’s talk about your outfit. We’ll lay it out tonight. I’m thinking jewel tones. Powerful. Bright. Confident. Don’t you think?”
“Sounds good,” I said. I was curious to see what kind of outfit Dylan put together for me, even if I didn’t go to the movies in the end. Dylan started flipping briskly through the hangers in her closet. The girl does enjoy a good makeover.
“Aha!” she said. She pulled out a vintage leopard-skin patterned dress. “This, for sure! Me-ow!” She made her hand into a claw and pretended to scratch the air with it.
But I was already shaking my head. “Seriously, Dyl? To wear to the movies? In the afternoon?”
“Oh, right. I was getting a little carried away.”
Push, push, push—the hangers squeaked along the metal pole in rapid succession.
“Okay, now here we go. That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dylan pulled a black leather biker jacket from the rod and held it toward me on its hanger. “Go on. Put it on. This thing was made for tomorrow.”
“Where did you even get this?” I laughed. “Mom and Dad would never let me go out in this.” But I shrugged it on anyway and turned to look in the mirror.
“I got it in a vintage store in the city. Killer, right?” she said.
“Yeah. More like, I look like a killer. I don’t think so,” I said, taking it off and handing it back to her. “Sorry.”
Dylan pursed her lips. “You are not making this easy. Okay. Think, Dylan, think,” she scolded herself. She stood in front of the closet and heaved a big thoughtful sigh. Then, after a minute, she continued thinking out loud, talking to herself.
“Okay. We want her to look fantastic. Her best color. But casual. Superperfect, but looking like she hasn’t tried. Like ‘This old thing?’ Okay.”
She reached up on her shelf and brought down one of her prized possession: a beautiful deep emerald-green cashmere turtleneck sweater given to her by her godmother. It was thick and fuzzy, folded perfectly, still with the dry-cleaning tissue wrapped around it. Reverently, she held it out to me. The way it caught the light, it almost seemed to glow.
I put up my palms in protest. “Oh, Dylan. I couldn’t. That is so nice. Se
riously. Thanks.”
Dylan nodded. “I know,” she whispered. “But you really need to wear this. Please. Take it.”
“Thank you,” I whispered back. “I promise I’ll take good care of it. If I go.”
“Put it on,” Dylan commanded in a normal voice.
Quickly, I whipped off my shirt and pulled the sweater on over my head. It felt wonderful against my skin, like the softest baby blanket in the world. Popping my head out of the top, I blinked and pushed my hair out of my eyes. Dylan was there to primp.
“Here, fold the turtleneck down, I think. And then fluff your hair like so . . .” She tweaked the waistline and where it sat, and then she gave a gentle tug to align everything. Then Dylan nodded happily. “Yes!” she shouted. “Just look!”
I turned around and looked in her full-length mirror. I couldn’t believe how nice I looked.
I gasped. “It’s fantastic! It’s . . . it’s magical! It’s so pretty, I could cry!”
“It’s ridiculous how good that sweater looks. Like it was made for you. Emerald green is definitely your color,” Dylan said.
I turned back, drew closer to the mirror, and I had to admit she was right. The emerald green complimented my pale skin perfectly, made my eyes sparkle, and my red hair glow. What’s more, it fit me perfectly, and boy, did it feel wonderful on. She was right. I had to wear it.
“Um, okay. You’re right. I’ll wear it. But with what?”
“Something casual. Something that makes the sweater look like, ‘This old thing?’ What do you have for pants? Cords, maybe?”
“Oh! I have those new cream cords? I was kind of saving them, but—”
“Perfect! Go get them. And you can wear them with those brown leather boots Grandma got me for Christmas.”
I dashed into my room and rummaged to the bottom of my pants drawer and found the cream cords I’d gotten at Big Blue when my grandmother took me and Dylan shopping for the January sales. They were also soft and cozy. It would be a fitting way to break them in. I threw them on, fixed the sweater’s hemline, and popped back into Dylan’s room.