“How’s it hanging, Gimpie?” Cherise bops into the room carrying a small lunch bag.
She stops suddenly, seeing that I am not alone, and then says with a cheery lilt in her voice, “Hi, Adam.”
Unlike Adam’s gentle maneuver, Cherise plops down on the other side of me, sandwiching my legs between her and Adam. My right thigh is touching Cherise’s butt, too, but the effect is entirely different. Unpleasant, really. I tell her to skootch over a bit, and she does, but fails to puff my pillow footrest afterward.
“What’re you guys doing?” Cherise asks with a wink, as if we were doing something we shouldn’t have been.
I immediately squash that notion. “Homework,” I tell her.
Cherise looks over at Adam’s titration notes. “Wow!” she exclaims. “Such nice handwriting.” She turns to Adam. “Sylvie’s handwriting stinks. For someone so detail-oriented, you’d think she’d have perfect handwriting, but noooo.” I can see where this is headed and it’s embarrassing. I have no clue how to stop her, though. Cherise continues the story: “When we were in seventh grade, we took a typing class after school together.”
Adam looks at me and I smile sheepishly. I’d like nothing more than to pull the covers over my head.
“The assignment was to type a letter, so we did. Instead of a business letter, we wrote a love letter to the teacher.” Cherise starts to laugh. “We thought we were so funny, we typed some up to all the teachers in school and sent them anonymously.”
Adam laughs and asks, “Did you get caught?”
“Nope!” Cherise exclaims. “But because we couldn’t tell the typing teacher that we wrote the letters, we never got a grade for the assignment.”
“My first and last zero,” I interject.
“Can you believe it, the whole prank was Sylvie’s idea!” Cherise shakes her head.
I accept responsibility with a sigh. Those were the carefree days, before Yale and school and priorities got in the way of having fun. Not that I would want to relive my junior high years, but there were some bright spots. Like the love letters.
After listening to Cherise and Adam chat about the rest of the school day, I decide that it’s time for Adam to leave. It’s that priority thing again. I’m not in junior high any more and my life is on a track that doesn’t include Adam. As cute, nice, and sweet as he may be, he’s gotta go. Eight weeks till graduation, I remind myself. No boys, no parties, definitely no spring dances. Just me and my schoolbooks. Doesn’t that sound like fun?
“Before I forget,” Cherise says to me, interrupting my thoughts, “I brought you some lotions and teas.” She opens the lunch sack she’s been holding and dumps a few unmarked containers onto the bed. “Hypericum, calendula, and bryonia, to help with healing.” She picks up a small box and shows me the tea bag inside. “Rose hips and lemongrass, along with some other herbs to help your body fight infection.”
Adam’s acting like he never plans to leave. He’s opened a tube of lotion and is smelling it.
“What is this?” He seems oddly interested in Cherise’s concoctions.
“Calendula. It’ll help prevent scarring.”
“We wouldn’t want her to have a big scar,” Adam agrees. He puts a little of the cream on his finger and turns to me. “Want me to put it on for you? I’m going to be a doctor, remember?” The way he asks is really sexy.
My brain snaps. “No!” I shout so loudly the walls vibrate. I didn’t expect for it to come out quite that way. “I mean, that’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to unwrap the bandage yet. That and, I’m seriously tired. I’d like to go to the living room and”—gasp, dare I say it?—“drink a cup of Cherise’s healing tea.” I’m overcompensating for my outburst by whispering now.
Without reply, Adam’s closes the tube and sweeps me into his arms for the second time that day. I learned from the morning’s episode not to struggle, argue, or wiggle. Instead, I accept the ride by leaning into his chest and putting my arms around his neck. Our hallway’s very narrow and curves once. I wouldn’t want him to trip and drop me … maybe I should hang on tight just in case.
Cherise follows us out of my room. Adam sets me gingerly on the sofa and asks “Bernie” for a pillow to prop up my ankle. My father flashes me a look that I’ve never seen before—I think it might be akin to a smile—then leads Adam to the hall closet.
The instant Adam is out of earshot, I signal Cherise to come closer. Since Adam doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave and I don’t want to be rude and kick him out, I need to take advantage of the fact that he’s in the hallway.
“Did you tell him about my star chart?!” I whisper to Cherise. “Is he hanging around because you told him that we’re destined to fall in love?”
“Of course not,” Cherise says as if it’s the silliest thing she’s ever heard. “He’s hanging around because you’re a Virgo born on the Libra cusp, and today is Wednesday. I have nothing to do with it.” She’s smiling ear to ear. “But I couldn’t have picked a better match for you if I tried! He’s perfect. Perfectly right for you. Adam is your diamond guy, for sure.”
“What about the fact that he’s going to California for college and I’m going to Connecticut,” I counter. “How can my perfect guy go clear across the whole country after graduation?” I’m clearly grasping for straws here. First, he isn’t my diamond guy. I don’t have a diamond guy. Second, he just isn’t. That’s all.
“Small details.” Cherise shrugs. “These things have a way of working themselves out.” She hands me a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers on it. The number 4 is circled in red.
“When I got home from school today, I planned to review your astrological chart. I got caught up in numerology and, well,” she raises her eyebrows, “all the signs indicate the same thing. Cross-referencing your solar chart with your Soul Urge number, it’s clear that Adam is going to ask you to the Spring Fling Prom.”
I’m guessing my Soul Urge number is four, which would explain the red Magic Marker. I have to stop myself from laughing. “Is this phase two?” I ask.
“Of course,” Cherise responds in all seriousness. “Phase one was that you’d find your guy on Wednesday and phase two is that he asks you to the dance.” She seems so certain of herself. “So? Has he asked you out yet?” she asks. “He’s been here for a while already.”
“No,” I protest. “And he’s not going to. We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Sure you are,” Cherise says with a wink. “Soul Urge numbers never lie. And according to the rotation of the sun, when Neptune’s moon is high in the sky, a guy who loves you and whom you love will ask you to dance.”
I know exactly where she is headed. Ignoring the whole, “guy who loves you and whom you love part,” I tell Cherise, “There is no possible way that Adam’s going to ask me to the Spring Fling Prom today.” It’s time to enlighten her astrology with astronomy. “Cherise,” I say, “hate to burst your bubble but Neptune has eight moons, not one. Your ‘high in the sky’ theory is meaningless.”
Cherise gets a thoughtful look and says, “Now that I am thinking about it, maybe you’re right …” Her voice tapers off.
“Aha!” I cheer. Oops. My voice was a little loud there. I lower it and continue. “I told you that just because Adam coincidentally started school today does not mean that we are going to fall in love or go to prom together! I knew you’d come around!”
“Whoa. Now you’re talking nonsense.” Cherise giggles. “You’re only right in that he probably won’t ask you to prom today. Now that I am thinking about it, Neptune’s moon isn’t high yet, so we have to rely on the Soul Number alone to get us through till then.” She nods her head as if she’s come to a very important discovery. “Not to prom, yet, but he will ask you out for a regular date before the day is over.”
Did she miss the part about Neptune having eight moons?
Before Cherise drives me totally batty, it’s time to make a deal. I pause for a second and listen down the hall to make
sure Adam isn’t headed back. It sounds like my father’s showing him my baby pictures. I should start screaming like a maniac to draw their attention away from the album, but I need the time to bargain with Cherise. I’m going to have to talk fast.
“Look,” I say to Cherise, “I’ll make you a deal. If Adam asks me out before today is over, I’ll agree to go along with your ‘predictions’ and give the relationship a chance.”
This is the easiest pledge I’ve ever made. I’m good at math, and the statistical probability of Adam asking me for a date is less than nil.
“You won’t intentionally repel him?” Cherise asks, staring at me. “You’ll admit that the stars are right? You’ll open yourself up to the possibility of true love?”
“Sure. I’ll even go to the prom, if Adam asks me to.” I pin her with my gaze. Now it’s my turn. “However,” I begin, “Wednesday is over in another”—I check the clock hanging on the wall—“five hours and fifty-five minutes. If Adam hasn’t asked me out by midnight tonight, then you must promise to rip up my star chart, admit that there is no diamond guy in my near future, and that your past predictions have been nothing more than luck.” I pause, then add, “Oh, and you have to join the astronomy club with me.”
“Done,” she says and reaches out her hand for me to shake it.
This is the easiest bargain I’ve ever struck. Adam has barely been at school yet. He hasn’t had a chance to check out the other girls in our class, or the underclassmen, for that matter. This is a bet I can’t lose.
How can I be so sure?
The guys who have asked me out in the past, and whom I’ve turned down, have all been a bit geeky, like me. Adam may like astronomy and chemistry, but he’s no geek. Guys like Adam, well, they never, ever, ever, date girls like me. We’re good for friendships, but not romance. I’m a background kind of girl and we background girls don’t get asked out by popular guys. Like Tanisha and Jennifer told me, it took him only one day and he’s already the most popular guy in school.
A noise in the hall catches my attention. Back on task, I hear my father rustling around in the closet trying to get the pillow off the top shelf. Adam laughs at something my father says and I’m stunned at the sound of the two of them palling around. Like the tuxedos he sells, my father’s usually dark and serious.
“Did you say five hours and fifty-five minutes till midnight?” Cherise asks me with a satisfied grin. I look at my watch again. “Five hours and fifty-two minutes,” I reply with an equally satisfied look on my face. “The day’s almost over.”
“Plenty of time,” she retorts and just then, Adam and my father emerge from the hallway. Adam’s carrying a pillow.
“Well.” Cherise gives me a wink. “Since I can see you’re being taken care of, I’m gonna dash.” She obviously intends to leave Adam and me alone.
Cherise gives my father the tea bag and directions to prepare it. My father’s used to Cherise’s teas and doesn’t bat an eye at her instructions. He just nods and assures her he’ll take care of it.
Her plan fails. As Cherise is leaving, Adam says, “Actually, I’ve gotta run, too. Wait for me, Cherise. I’ll walk out with you.” He comes over to the couch and kneels down beside me. He gently sets the pillow from the hall closet under my foot. Adam gets his backpack from my room and heads to the apartment door where Cherise is standing.
She appears oddly unconcerned when she should be worried. It’s over. I win.
My father’s in the kitchen. There’s no way Adam’s going to ask me out now. Not with everyone around. Plus, he’s clearly leaving. He even says good-bye. I make a big show of announcing that I’m going to take another painkiller then go directly to sleep, just in case he plans to call later. Not that I believe he will, I just want to make certain he won’t.
Adam opens the door. He steps one foot out into the hall.
Fire up the paper shredder! My star chart is about to get torn up. I hope Cherise is interested in black holes. She’s going to be studying them with me in astronomy club Monday night.
I’m so certain that I’ve made a date-free getaway that I’m completely thrown off guard when Adam suddenly turns back to me and casually asks, in front of everyone, “Want to go out Saturday night?”
I’m completely stunned. I make him repeat the question. “What did you say?”
“Do you want to go on a date with me Saturday night?” he asks again.
I feel the blood drain from my face. Cherise on the other hand has turned pink, her skin glowing with utter joy at having made a lucky guess once again. Although now, I suppose, I am going to have to call it a prediction, without the quote marks and added sarcasm.
“Sure,” I tell Adam, with a tinge of resignation. In another time and place, I really would love to, but now isn’t that time or place. Not so close to the end of school with so much in the balance. Then again, a promise is a promise. I told Cherise that if Adam asked me out today, I’d go. And I will. I promised that I’d open myself up to the possibility that this could be the “right” guy for me and … sigh … I will. If things don’t work out, then you can blame someone else because I won’t intentionally repel him. I swore I wouldn’t and I am good to my word.
The bummer of this all is not the date. For a split second, I look across my living room, into Adam’s gorgeous eyes, and think: This certainly isn’t the worst deal I’ve ever made with Cherise. Not by a long shot.…
The bummer is that now I’m going to have to listen to her boast about how her astrological predictions are all true. She’s going to tell me that I met Adam because today Mars moved into Gemini. She’ll remind me that the number 4 was responsible for my date Saturday. Cherise is going to constantly say that I will be getting a dance invitation when Neptune’s moon (any one of the eight) is high in the sky. And how, now that the stars have proven themselves once, I can rest assured, they will again. I suppose I should go ahead and buy myself some dancing shoes.
From her place by the door, Cherise gives me her best I-told-you-so look, then turns to go. She and Adam are leaving together, but before she takes off, Cherise can’t resist the opening of the bragfest. She turns back and mouths for my eyes only:
“It was written in the stars.”
Six
You have the qualities of a lawyer, critic, or scientist with your critical observations and quick wit. Your partner needs to be as smart, diverse, and interested in the world as you.
www.astrology4stars.com
If anyone had told me how much fun dating could be, I might have started a long time ago. Nah, that’s not true, but what is true is that I’m having a blast with Adam and we haven’t even gone out on our official Saturday night “date” yet.
Apparently the word “date” means many things. I know because I looked it up in Webster’s Dictionary last night. (So I’m completely neurotic … what’s a girl to do?) According to Mr. Webster, there is the “date” on the calendar. Then there is the kind of “date” that means going somewhere at a specific time. In my case, this kind of date would be the romantic appointment on Saturday night, though Adam hasn’t told me specifically what time to meet or where we are going.
Then there is a third kind of “date,” the one we casually call “dating.” It’s a transitive and intransitive verb form meaning, to go out with someone regularly either socially or romantically.
Oh, there is also the fruit. “Date” being a noun meaning a sweet, small oval-shaped fruit with a large, narrow seed.
I’m excitedly anticipating the “date” night out, avoiding the fruit because I’m allergic, and I am actively participating in the verb.
Adam and I are officially dating. I mean, Jennifer and Tanisha said we were, and when it comes to gossip, they are definitely to be believed.
Today’s Friday and already, I can hardly recall why I’ve avoided guys all these years. The fact is, with a guy like Adam, I am quickly discovering that I can have it all: the boy, the grades, the job, and the scholarship focus.
It’s been a whole two days and I haven’t slid down the slippery slope of dating—when girls lose their minds over boys. Hours spent at the mall buying makeup and new clothes. Instant Messaging instead of homework. Text messaging in class. Study sessions with no studying. Late nights out at parties. Grades dropping. College scholarships drifting away. That steep tumble that I’ve been actively and effectively avoiding.
Now I think the slope might not be so slippery after all. I mean, I’ve text messaged with Adam, but it hasn’t been for no good reason or during teacher’s lectures. My study sessions with Adam (all two of them) have been full of actual studying. There have been no late-night parties (so far) and well, I did great on the one quiz I had this morning. In the couple of days that I’ve known him, I’ve discovered that Adam actually pushes me to work harder. Isn’t that amazing?
I feel like I have a firm grip on this dating stuff. To use an astronomy metaphor, I have been rotating as smoothly as Earth around the sun. Perfectly on my orbit and not too close to get burned. But not too far to cool things entirely either. My thanks goes out to Galileo for giving me the ideal analogy.
If things continue like this, which according to Galileo’s heliocentric theory, they must, I might even be psyched to go to Spring Fling Prom with Adam. If he asks that is.
While I’ve been “dating,” Cherise has been busy working on a chart of Neptune’s moons to let me know when the big ask will happen. She says she’ll have it ready this afternoon and will bring it by the tuxedo shop. I told her I’d be busy. She didn’t believe me.
“Ahem.”
Huh?
“Ahem.” It’s Cherise clearing her throat. “Sylvie, what are you doing?”
“I’m—” What was I doing? Oh yeah. I’m in the school cafeteria having lunch with Cherise (and Tyler, of course, but as usual, he’s not talking. Today, he’s busy making a sculpture out of his mashed potatoes.) Cherise has caught me staring out the cafeteria window.
In the Stars Page 5