by Paula Stokes
“Or from the bottom of a mountain?” I take a bite of ice cream.
“Exactly,” she says.
“Exactly what?”
“This whole section is basically saying you have to be on even ground to fight. Or better yet, you want to be the girl on the mountaintop. Think of it like in soccer. If the field isn’t level, it’s easier to score when moving downhill.”
“Oh, I get it. Jason is dating someone new so he has the upper hand, the better position.”
“All we have to do is find you a guy to date and you’ll be back on level ground.” She smiles. “Then Jason will see you, get jealous, and voilá—you’ll be the one on top.”
“A guy to date,” I repeat slowly. I feel like eating my way to the bottom of this bowl of ice cream and then getting a refill. I feel like crawling into bed, pulling my covers up over my head, and crying myself to sleep. What I don’t feel like is finding a guy to date.
“Yes.” Bianca peers around Denali as if one of the college kids bent over their laptops is just going to turn around and volunteer.
“Wait,” I say. “What if the guy falls for me and gets all stalkerish, like when the Swedish exchange student got a crush on Kendall sophomore year?” I’m actually thinking more along the lines of what if I flirt with a guy and he blows me off and I get to experience that crushing rejection feeling all over again.
Bee slides the ice cream toward her, out of my reach.
“Get your own,” I whine, grabbing for the bowl.
“No. You are not doing this,” she informs me, her hand wrapped firmly around the base of the dish. “I’m not going to let you drown yourself in ice cream. Gaining ten pounds will not make you feel better.”
“Neither will dating some other guy,” I say. “Let me finish reading the book. Maybe it’ll give me a better idea.”
“All right,” Bee says. “You work tomorrow, right? We can talk more then.” She tucks her phone back into her purse and then gives me another quick hug. “Let’s get out of here before your dad puts us to work.”
As we head out the front door, Micah and the new guy, Leo, are strolling over from the parking lot. They look weird walking together: Micah and his mohawk, Leo and his baseball cap and polo shirt. Micah raises one hand in a half wave, and Leo mutters something that sounds like “Hiya.” They’re both smiling at Bee. Neither one of them even glances in my direction. Normally it would not faze me that I’m being ignored by kitchen weirdos.
Today it does.
“Nice to know my Invisible Woman costume still works,” I mumble. I can’t remember the last time I felt this alone.
Chapter 7
“THE DIFFICULTY OF TACTICAL MANEUVERING CONSISTS IN TURNING THE DEVIOUS INTO THE DIRECT, AND MISFORTUNE INTO GAIN.”
—SUN TZU, The Art of War
The next day, Bianca and I grab the table by the bookshelf again after we finish our shift.
“I ordered us a barbecued chicken pizza,” she says as I settle into the chair across from her. “I figured we could go through The Art of War together, break it down, make a list.” She’s already got the book open on her phone.
I slide up a third chair and prop my feet on it. “Show me the way, Warlord Woman.” I pull The Art of War out of my purse. “I read the second half last night. The part about exploiting enemy weaknesses made sense, but then there was some stuff about spies and alliances that doesn’t seem as helpful.”
“All right. Let’s brainstorm strategies,” she says.
I flip through several dog-eared pages, reading certain passages as Bianca makes notes.
I’m on Part VII, Maneuvering, when Ebony strolls out of the back with our barbecued chicken pizza. She’s wearing camo pants, a black sleeveless tee, and a studded leather necklace that looks like a dog collar. I resist the urge to tell her that her head is looking particularly shiny today. She frowns at my feet as she sets the pizza and two plates in the middle of the table. “Try not to make a mess, okay?” Without waiting for a response she disappears into the back.
Snatching a chunk of chicken from the slice of pizza nearest to me, I flip to Part VIII, Variation in Tactics. “‘There are five dangerous faults which may affect a general,’” I say. “‘Recklessness, cowardice, a hasty temper.’” I pause. “‘A delicacy of honor? Over-solicitude’?”
“Pride and excessive worry,” Bianca translates, helping herself to a slice of pizza. “Maybe not exactly what Sun Tzu was thinking, but close enough for our purposes. So we need to make sure you avoid all of those feelings while you’re utilizing the rest of these strategies.”
I nibble on another piece of chicken. “Those feelings probably make up 85 percent of any given day for me, especially lately.”
Bee blots her lips on her napkin. “No one ever said war was easy.”
We finish going through the last few parts and then I slide around to Bianca’s side of the table so I can see the list she’s compiled.
1. Plan your attack
2. Know your enemy
3. Be flexible, unpredictable, deceptive, decisive
4. Seize opportunities as they present themselves
5. Attack from a position of power
6. Attack directly and indirectly
7. Don’t be too aggressive
8. Exploit enemy weaknesses
9. Divide and conquer
10. Utilize spies and allies
“It’s like a top ten list,” she says proudly. “Top ten ways to win back your ex-boyfriend.”
I read through the list again. “So what does all this mean for me and Jason?”
Bee takes a bite of pizza before answering. “We’re obviously planning your attack right now. Number two: Know your enemy. You know enough about Jason, but we need to learn more about this EMT girl.”
“EMT Girl. It’s like she’s a superhero. How am I supposed to compete with that?”
“What’s her name again?” Bee asks.
“According to Jay, his ride-along partners were a paramedic named Lance and an EMT named Alex. So unless he’s been lying to me for weeks, her name is Alex.”
“Do you know anything else about her?”
I see her walking out of Jay’s condo, her plain navy uniform hugging her curves, the sun shining brilliantly off her scarlet ponytail. “Hair is fake. Boobs are probably fake.”
“Helpful,” Bianca says drily. “So she either works for the Hazelton fire department or Gateway Transport?”
“She works for Hazelton. I remember the ambulance from the day Jason broke up with me, and every other excruciating detail. I could tell you what color socks he had on.”
“So then we need to do a little research on the Hazelton FD.”
I dig into a slice of pizza while Bee goes a-googling on the local fire department website. Denali’s barbecue sauce is actually a mix of barbecue, powdered onions, and hot wing sauce. It’s delicious but after a few bites I’m fanning my mouth. “Find anything on her?” I ask. “X-rated blog? Slutty EMT calendar?”
Bee wrinkles her forehead in concentration. “There aren’t any first names on here. There’s a A. Malincheck. It says EMT-B, certification through Hazelton Community College.”
Jason told me it only takes one year to get EMT certified at the community college and two years to become a paramedic. That would mean Alex could be as young as nineteen. A nineteen-year-old girl and a seventeen-year-old guy? It’s weird, but within the realm of possibility. “Okay, so let’s say it’s her. Alex Malincheck. So what? What happens next?”
Bianca shakes her head. “I still can’t believe someone older is interested in Jason. He’s so immature.”
“You think? I always saw Jay as way more mature than most of his friends.”
“Yeah, but that’s not saying much. Didn’t some of his friends get suspended for peeing in a girl’s Coke when they were selling refreshments at Homecoming?” Without waiting for a response, Bee goes back to her googling. “I can’t find her on any of the social networking sites,” she mutters.
“I can’t even find a home address.”
“Gee, imagine how hard it must have been to find addresses back in the time of Dead Chinese Warlord,” I say. “How did he learn to know his enemy?”
“Sun Tzu,” Bianca corrects. “He probably enlisted the help of spies.”
Spies. Right. Strategy number ten.
“I bet we could get her fired.” I slide a second piece of pizza onto my plate. “She shouldn’t be hitting on the high school boys she’s supposed to be mentoring. Not to mention, if she’s nineteen, isn’t that technically illegal?”
Bianca’s dark eyes widen. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because that would be really mean.”
“Meaner than stealing my boyfriend?”
“It would also be counterproductive,” Bee says. “Remember: we’re supposed to divide and conquer. If you get her fired, you’ll only unite them against you.”
I fan my mouth again. “Then what good does knowing anything about her do?”
“That depends on what we find out. I’ll handle the spying.” She smiles mischievously, clearly psyched at the idea.
“You?” I’m surprised. “I figured you’d find anything like that to be inappropriate and criminal.”
Bee winks. “For you, Lainey Mitchell, I will sink deep into a life of crime.”
“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” I ask. “Are you going to stalk her?”
“Yes, you have,” Bee says. “And stalk is a strong word.” She’s still grinning. “But you shouldn’t get involved. Jason might see you. It could blow your whole plan.”
I envision myself tailing Alex from the fire station back to her house, hiding out in the bushes to see if Jay comes over. I can totally see myself sneezing or getting a phone call at the worst possible moment, getting dragged out of the shrubbery by Jason himself. If dying of embarrassment is more than a figure of speech, getting caught stalking him and his new girlfriend would do it.
“Okay,” I say. “You’re in charge of spying. As far as some of the other stuff, I can work on being unpredictable and flexible and deceptive and decisive, but how am I supposed to get close enough to Jay to display these fabulous traits?”
“You’ll have to figure out how to run into him, preferably in places where Alex isn’t with him.”
There are a handful of places Jason frequents regularly that I might be able to “accidentally” cross paths with him. I nod. “Got it. I’m all about seizing opportunities. And I won’t be too aggressive.” I skip over the positioning strategy because I don’t want to listen to Bianca tell me I need to date someone else again.
“Exploit enemy weaknesses,” I say. “I wonder what kind of weaknesses Alex has. Younger men, apparently.”
“I’m finished.” Bianca pushes the silver pizza pan toward me. “What would you say are Jason’s weaknesses?”
“Sex?” I offer.
“What else?” She’s not going to say what we’re both thinking—that sex probably isn’t a weakness if he’s getting it from another girl.
I tick a few more off on my fingers. “Alcohol. Food. World Cup soccer.”
“Does he get jealous?”
“Uh . . . I don’t think so.” I slump down in my chair a little.
“What about that time sophomore year?” she asks. “You and Matt Clifton after the Aquinas game?”
“Oh, right.” We lost when I missed a penalty shot wide, and I refused to go home until I put twenty shots in each upper corner of the net. The boys’ varsity goalie saw me practicing as he was walking to his car and offered to stay and play keeper for me. “It wasn’t even like Matt was hitting on me. He probably just felt bad that I had to chase down the ball each time I kicked it. But you’re right. Jason made snide comments about how he was a no-talent hack for at least a month afterward.”
“So then if you were to date someone else, that might do more than level the field. It might put you in a position of power . . .” Bianca’s voice trails off meaningfully.
Dude, she is fixated on this idea. “Forget it, Bee. It’s not like it would be fair to date some other guy when all I’m doing is thinking about Jason.”
“So find a guy to pretend to date,” she says. “Adding a little deception to the mix.”
“Where am I supposed to find a guy like that? Fakedates dot com?”
“Not online.” Bianca shakes her head violently. “I said a guy, not an ax murderer trolling for victims. Let me think on it.”
The wind chimes do their weird clunking thing, and Micah and Leo saunter into the shop. I glance up at the clock. It’s almost four. Time to set up for the evening. The guys cruise past our table without even so much as a grunt in acknowledgment. As I watch Micah swipe at the screen of his phone, I get the beginnings of a great idea. “Micah,” I say, my voice slick like honey.
“No.” He doesn’t even look back.
“Come on,” I wheedle. “Come talk to us.”
He pauses just outside the doorway leading into the kitchen. “I have to help Leo prep the line, Lainey.”
“Oh, sorry. I just had a quick question about your girlfriend.” I clear my throat. “I mean, your ex-girlfriend.”
Bee inhales sharply. She looks from me to Micah back to me again. She’s onto my plan. “Now that would be unpredictable,” she says.
And deceptive.
And flexible.
Micah mutters something to Leo, who nods in reply and disappears into the back. Then he turns toward Bianca and me. He’s sporting a new eyebrow piercing, a shiny silver barbell above his right eye. It’s probably a starter piercing that he’ll replace with something black and spiky, but right now it looks strangely delicate amongst his masculine features.
“So what?” he says. “What’s your point?”
“She broke up with you, right? How’d you like to get her back?” I give him my most charming smile as I smooth the wrinkles from my Denali T-shirt.
His face tightens up. Something—pain or doubt—flashes in his hazel eyes.
I’ve got him. I reel him in. “I have a foolproof plan.”
He rests his hands on the back of an empty chair. “What? Did you find some Wiccan love spell on the internet? All I need is a lock of hair and three tears?”
“This is the real deal,” I say. “We can make her think you’re over her. She’ll get jealous and then wonder if she made a mistake.”
“Oh yeah?” Micah’s voice is full of skepticism but I can almost see him turning the idea over in his mind. “And how are we going to do that?”
“We can pretend you and I are dating.” I’ve been feeling more and more undesirable since I saw Jason and Alex together, but for some reason even just the thought of a fake date replenishes some of my confidence.
“A pseudo-date,” Bee interjects. “It can help both of you win back your exes.”
Micah spins the chair around and straddles it backward. “I don’t know,” he says with exaggerated seriousness, looking back and forth from Bianca to me. “I miss Amber and all, but dating Lainey? Even for pretend? Not sure if it’s worth it.”
“Oh, ha-ha,” I say. “You don’t really think I’m that bad.”
Micah smirks. “I don’t think of you at all.”
Zing. Ouch. I remember flinging those exact words at him the day Jason and I broke up. I had no idea they could draw blood.
“It wouldn’t work anyway,” Micah continues. “Amber would never believe we were dating.”
I gather my hair into a ponytail and drape it over my left shoulder. “Why? Because you like your girls a little less smoking hot? A little freakier?”
Micah’s eyes flick down to my hair for a second. Then he smirks again. “More like a little smaller.”
I gasp. “You asshole. I am all muscle.” He ducks out of the way as I make a move to slug him in the arm. “Take it back,” I demand. “Take it back or else I might get, like, an eating disorder.”
Micah snorts. “Pretty sure an eating disorder won’t make you any
shorter, dummy.”
Oh. That. I never really thought about it. I guess at five eight I am almost as tall as he is.
“Wow,” Bianca says. “It’s like you guys are already dating.”
We both give her a dark look, but she’s got a point. Micah and I sat next to each other in fourth and fifth grade, back before I got popular and he went all freaktastic rocker boy. Maybe that’s why I still feel like I know him, even though we haven’t really said much more than “Excuse me” and “Do you have any more of those Caribou Cookies?” in years. My heart starts skipping in my chest. This plan could actually work.
I give him my most pleading look. “I’ll wear flats. Come on. Do it for Amber.”
Micah gets up and heads to the kitchen. He looks back at me over his shoulder right before disappearing into the back. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 8
“RAPIDITY IS THE ESSENCE OF WAR.”
—Sun Tzu, The Art of War
After torturing me for a couple of days, Micah finally calls. “So how would this work anyway?” he asks.
I flop down on my bed. “We pretend like we’re dating and take each other to places where we know our exes will see us.” I cross my fingers as I glance around my room full of Jason mementos. Micah has to agree—he has to. I can’t ask just any guy to fake-date me. He needs this too. It’s like fate delivered him into my lap.
“And you think it’s that simple?”
“I think it’s a start.” Without mentioning The Art of War, I explain about leveling the playing field.
“So how long would we keep up this charade?”
“Good question. What about five dates each?” I suggest.
He whistles long and low. “That’s a lot of quality time together.”
“Well, what about either side can terminate the agreement early if it’s not working out,” I say. “I wouldn’t want us to spend our whole summer being miserable or anything.”
“What about rules?” he asks. “Things we can and can’t do?”
“Rules, yes. Good call. I think we both should be able to make any rules we want, but I haven’t thought that far in advance. Does that mean you’re in?”