I’m not even lying when I tell her that I’m sick.
***
Dave stands on the front porch with a bunch of slightly-wilted daisies in one hand, and a thick stack of papers in the other. “Hey, Marian. Mrs. Mason let me grab your script for you. I hope you don’t mind that I dropped by without calling.” He holds out the papers, but before I can take them, he changes his mind and offers me the flowers instead. A half second later, he changes his mind again. He laughs nervously, wraps the script around the bouquet, and shoves it toward me with both hands. “These are for you.”
“Thanks.” I take the script-wrapped bouquet and hug it to my chest.
“Do you want to talk?” Dave shuffles his feet nervously. “You were really upset at lunch.”
I shake my head and glance over my shoulder into the house. Laina got home from school an hour ago, and she’s acting like the thing that happened with Anthony this morning was totally not a big deal. She’s all mad at Jarod, insisting he shouldn’t have punched Anthony, because she can be friends with anyone she wants. And she threw a huge temper tantrum when she found out that I told Ms. Detweiler about her diary. She’d never forgive me if she caught me talking about it with Dave too.
I’m pretty sure Laina blames herself for what happened this morning. And I don’t know how to convince her that it’s not her fault.
I step out onto the porch and close the door. “I can’t really talk about it.” I glance back at the house. I walk over to the porch swing and sit, watching a meadowlark darting back and forth, carrying something to the nest in the roof.
Dave nods and crosses over to sit beside me. “Is this about Jarod? Because, you know, that doesn’t really mean anything. He was sticking up for his best friend.” He squeezes my hand quickly, and then he lets go and pulls away. “I would’ve jumped Anthony too, if I’d known. It doesn’t mean he chose her.”
I shake my head. “I’m not jealous.” I want to tell him everything, but it’s not my story to tell. “I have a plan. Will you help me?”
Dave nods slowly. “Andi, you know I’d do anything you ask.” He frowns. “I guess everyone’s a chump for someone, huh?”
***
Laina paces back and forth across her bedroom, wild eyes flashing. “It’s not fair. Nick invited everyone in our class. Every. Single. Person.”
I grab her shoulders and force her to look at me. “You’re going to give yourself a stroke if you don’t calm down. Trust me. You’re not missing a thing. I’m not going to Nick’s party either.”
She collapses onto her bed and hugs Mr. Cuddles. “At least you had a choice. Do you know how embarrassing it was when he tracked me down to make sure I knew he doesn’t want me there?” She sighs. “The last party of my high school career, and Nick invited everyone but me. He invited the biggest nerd in school, and I’m still not cool enough. The one time I decide to actually have some fun, and I’m officially uninvited.”
I laugh. “And you say I’m a drama queen? Please. You know you’d hate it. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Nick totally agreed when I said his parties aren’t the place for someone as Snow White innocent as Laina. And we practiced what he would say, so I know he was really cool about it when he talked to her.
She buries her face in Mr. Cuddles’ tummy and sobs. I shake my head and bite my lip so she won’t see me smiling. She’s totally going to thank me later.
“You know what we should do?” I squeal, pulling the teddy bear out of her arms. “We should go miniature golfing, like when we were little. Won’t that be crazy fun?”
She stares at me, like I’ve grown another head. Because Laina always hated putt-putt golf. She only pretended to like it because it used to be my favorite.
“Oh, come on,” I say. “I’ll even allow creative putting.”
Laina shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t really feel like playing a game where I have to cheat so I don’t suck.” But she gets out of bed, which means I’ve already convinced her.
“Yay!” I grab black skinny jeans and a tank top out of her closet and toss her an emerald green cardigan, the same color as Jarod’s eyes. “Put these on.” I dig through the bottom of the closet until I unearth the black, strappy sandals I bought for her birthday last week. “And wear these. They’re perfect.”
“But those hurt my feet,” Laina says. “You know I don’t like heels.”
I sigh. “Beauty isn’t about comfort, and everyone knows Barbie is supposed to wear heels. These are totally sexy. So you’re wearing them. Now, what accessories will work with that?”
I turn to raid her jewelry box, but I stop mid-turn when I see the locket around her neck. The one Jarod bought for her birthday. She grabs the locket and holds it tightly. “What’s wrong with this?”
I bite my lip and take a deep breath. I’m definitely doing the right thing. “It’s perfect.” I flash a carefree smile. “Now get dressed. I have to make a quick call, and then I’ll be right back to do your hair and makeup.”
It’s time for Cinderella to get her prince, and I’m the perfect fairy godmother to make it happen.
I call Dave to let him know everything’s going according to plan, and then I tell Jarod to meet Laina at the Putt-A-Round Mini Golf behind the mall. By the time I throw on some clothes and run a brush through my hair, Laina’s waiting for me.
My hands are shaking like crazy, and it takes more than half an hour to do her makeup and pin her hair back away from her face. By the time I finish, Dave’s already waiting by the front door, wearing a dark, fitted suit and the ridiculous chauffer’s cap I borrowed from the costume closet of the Little Community Theater.
He looks totally hot.
“Your chariot awaits, ladies,” he says with a bow.
Laina pulls me into the bathroom. “I can’t crash your date, just because I’m a social leper. Dave’s been trying to get you to go out with him since he broke up with Heather, and I’m not going to ruin things.” She smiles. “You go. I’ll say I have a headache or something.”
“No way. I’m not letting you back out that easily. Remember how much fun the three of us had that one night? When he was following us all over town? Well, this might be the last time we get to go hang out like this before you go off to college and abandon me.” I bat my eyes at her and put on my best puppy dog pout.
“We have all summer to do things. It’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“But it’s not the same. And this tricycle needs a third wheel, so don’t you dare back out on me now.”
She laughs, and I drag her out of the bathroom before she tries to back out again. We drive to the Putt-A-Round, and Dave plays his role perfectly, totally sidetracking Laina every time she tries to ask about the details for our plan tonight.
As soon as we get inside the arcade attached to the mini golf course, I put phase two in motion. “Wow, it’s really crowded tonight,” I say, looking around at all the screaming kids and frowning slightly.
Laina shakes her head. Before she can argue that we should’ve listened when she suggested going out to dinner instead, I grab Dave’s hand. “You wait here.” I push Laina onto an empty bench along one wall. “We’ll go check on the wait time for mini golf.” I pull Dave through the crowd of kids until I know she can’t see us anymore, and then we backtrack to the door and out into the parking lot.
She won’t follow us, because she’s already feeling guilty about crashing our date. And by the time she realizes we’ve left, Jarod should be here. He promised he wouldn’t blow it, but in case she feels like running, those strappy sandals I forced her to wear should make sure she doesn’t get very far.
Dave drives to the park and pulls up to the lake. “I know there’s no footbridge,” he says, “but I thought we could run lines and practice our big scene.” He takes my hand and walks to a secluded bench near the water.
I sit down, a smile playing across my lips as I watch the ripples blowing softly across the water in the breeze. “What big
scene would that be, Dave?”
“That’s Professor Harold Hill to you, Marian.” He grins and slides close to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “And we should rehearse the scene where you meet me at the bridge to tell me that you love me.”
“Oh no. I think we need more practice with the bit in the library. When I’m totally not fooled by your charm. That’s probably the most critical scene.”
He cups my cheek in his hand and brushes his thumb across my lips, totally ignoring my nervous outburst. “And then I’ll admit that I love you too, Marian the Librarian.”
He kisses me softly, winding his fingers through my hair as he pulls me into him. My breath catches and my heart thumps as the kiss deepens, and then suddenly, he’s pulling away.
“Wait a minute.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. “That’s not quite right. You missed your line. Aren’t you supposed to say you love me too? I’m sure it’s in the script.”
Dave’s wrong, of course. Professor Harold Hill and Marian the Librarian don’t even say the words “I love you” in the foot bridge scene.
I take the page from him and toss it aside before melting into his arms. “I guess we’ll have to keep practicing until we get it right.”
This book wouldn’t exist without two very important people, so first and foremost I would like to thank Shawn Curtis for helping me to find my voice, providing inspiration for one of my favorite characters, and walking me through the creation of Alaina Andersen’s story. (And for all of the Facebook chats whenever I was stuck on a scene!) And an extra special Thank You to my little sister, Angie Murphy, for insisting that Laina’s little sister, Andi, needed a chance to tell her side of the story, and for the page of “fan fiction” that sparked Andi’s story in my mind.
I could never have written any of this without the love and support of my amazing family. Thank you for everything you do for me! Phil, my Prince Charming, who still makes my heart flutter after eighteen years. Benjamin, my favorite (and only) son, and the best cheerleader I could ask for. Emily, who helped me write Andi’s twelve-step program during an especially cold wait in a very long line. Rebekah, who did lots of cartwheels to celebrate my book deal, since I didn’t have the balance to do it for myself. And Katherine, who carefully read the entire draft to find redundancies and typos.
Giant squish hugs and thanks to my amazing critique partners who helped shape Andi’s world. Ashley Turcotte, who read more drafts than I can count and held my hand through countless self-doubt moments. Brenda Drake, who kept me sane and gave me the push I needed to actually send my story out into the world. Without you, my story would still be sitting in the hard drive of my computer. Rachel Solomon, who read an early draft and helped me pinpoint all of the little plot holes I’d forgotten to fill. And my awesome Maryland critique group: Laura Shovan, Amie Rose Rotruck, Jackie Douge, Marjory Bancroft, Connie Morgan and Barbara Dell. I am a stronger writer because of you all.
Thank you to my mom, who always encouraged me to keep writing, and who answered my frantic calls when I had questions on proper punctuation and grammar issues. My dad, who never takes anything seriously, and who would have played right along with Nick’s prom night teasing. And my siblings, Carin, Angie, Sheryl, Robert, Steven, John, and Mark, who taught me that siblings can love each other like crazy, even when they’re driving each other insane. And thank you to my “adopted” sister, Susie, for sending me story pencils from all over the world. One quarter of the words for this book came pouring out of your pencils.
I’m so grateful for all of the amazing writers who have encouraged and supported me along the way. Jason Wright, thank you for setting the spark in motion and giving me the push to sharpen my very first story pencil. And thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to have lunch with me and give me pointers when I was starting out. Laura Bowers and Lois Szymanski, thank you for your insightful critiques, and for encouraging me to swallow my fears and let my story make its way out into the world. Summer Heacock, Sharon Johnston and Literary Cupid, thank you for picking me for your teams in the online pitch contests that introduced TWELVE STEPS to the world, and for your continued support and encouragement. Rachel Harris, you are my hero. I am truly blessed to call you my friend. Thank you for always being there for me, when I have a question or when I just need someone to squeal with when I have news that I’m not yet ready to share with everyone.
Love and gratitude to the best agent ever, Jessica Sinsheimer. Thank you for answering all of my questions and helping me through all of the behind-the-scenes stuff that goes into making a book happen. And for reminding me that this race is a marathon, not a sprint.
Thank you a million times over to Mandy Schoen, my amazing editor. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to work with on my debut novel. Your love for Andi and her story kept me going through all of the tough revisions, and I can honestly say that I love this book more now than I did when this whole process began. Thank you for pushing me to dig deeper. I couldn’t have done it without you!
And last, but certainly not least, a giant thank you to my friends and followers on Twitter, who remind me daily why I write. To my nieces and nephews, who let me use their names for the supporting characters in this story. To the Cheyenne East High School class of ’95, who inspired many of Andi’s adventures. Especially that one boy who became Nick Carver. I never got the courage to tell you that I had a giant crush on you in high school, but you still managed to turn my ragged self-esteem into an ego made of awesome.
Thank you.
Veronica Bartles
Veronica Bartles grew up in Wyoming and currently lives in New Mexico with her husband and four children. As the second of eight children and the mother of four, Veronica Bartles is no stranger to the ups and downs of sibling relationships. She uses this insight to write stories about siblings who mostly love each other, even while they’re driving one another crazy. When Veronica’s not writing or lost in the pages of her newest favorite book, she enjoys creating delicious desserts, exploring new places, and knitting with recycled materials. TWELVE STEPS is her first novel.
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