Megan stared at me, hands on her waist. "So what? He's not a whole-package guy?"
"That's not what I meant." I'm sure my cheeks glowed brighter than the moon peeking over the trees. "He's just not the kind of guy I usually go for, I guess."
"Come on. Tell us!" Hannah gripped the merry-go-round. "Or I'll spin you again."
"Please don't. We don't need another vomiting incident." Sprinklers kicked on across the park, separating us from Hannah's car. "I'll tell you, but you can't get all weird about it."
Hannah clapped her hands together and plopped down next to me, swinging the merry-go-round side to side. "Juicy details, s'il vous plaît."
"His name is Gideon and he works at the Jewel Café. I mean, his mom owns it, and he just transferred to Reno. I never saw him there, but he was at that frat party, you know, playing his violin."
Hannah gasped. "You like the guy with the big nose! The one that you said made you laugh because he had, like, glowing toes?" Hannah paused. "And didn't he get all mad at you?"
"Yeah, but—"
"You should've seen his face, Jor." Hannah pursed her lips. "He's totally missing the humor vibe."
I picked at a fleck of peeling paint on the merry-go-round, not wanting to think about that awful frat party.
"Wait!" Megan said. "Is this the same freak who was playing the violin outside the movies? Did you know the police almost arrested him for loitering? Tyler said he got kicked out of several schools and even spent time at Wittenberg for his crimes. And he does have a big nose." Megan scrunched her own (small) nose for emphasis.
They both pounded me with a whole bunch of questions, but I was stuck on "big nose." Never mind all the stuff they said about social outcast, orchestra geek, juvenile delinquent, total rebel (but not in a good way), questionable foot hygiene, and his leading me down the wrong path. I wanted to shout at them, So what if he has a big nose? Are you afraid we might breed and have children with noses so big that when we all sneeze a small town floods?
Maybe they were right and dating a guy like Gideon would ruin me socially. We'd be the big-nosed freak outcasts. People would toss peanuts at us like we were elephants or something. Did I really like him anyway? He kissed me, right? I didn't kiss him. And I never even said I'd go on a date or anything. He tricked me, right? Any girl who feared dying a virgin would kiss any guy, if only to make it seem less likely that she'd die alone with a bottle of whiskey in a sad hotel room.
I didn't say much on the ride home. Hannah and Megan talked to me like mothers, saying things like "Please don't commit social suicide," "You have to keep your moral standards high," and "We're concerned about your judgment, that's all."
What about your judgment, Megan? You're the one who got drunk with a pervy coworker during lunch! Hannah said that I'd "taken living in the moment way past too far." Megan worried that I was becoming "too desperate after too many unfulfilled boy-crazy years."
Maybe I was! Finding out that Finn had a better chance of snagging Tyler than I did had made me a little crazy. I was the one who had liked him for thirteen months, seven days ... Whatever. How did I know that I wasn't the one who had made him want to be gay? Even though I knew he was born that way. Maybe I was the exception, the one that drove boys into the arms of men, like those super-ultra-religious people claimed.
"Megan, have fun at your dad's," I called out as I jumped out of Hannah's car. "Good luck with your yoga thingy tomorrow, Hannah." I tried to sound cheerful even as tears fuzzed up my vision. "Bye, guys. Promise to e-mail, Meg. Call me, Han. Promise."
I flung the door open, kicked it shut and gave it—them—the finger before running into my room, screaming, and slamming my door so hard it shook the walls. I didn't even care that Finn and a bunch of his friends totally gawked at me from the family room.
I flopped on my bed and screamed into my pillows like a million jilted brides. I hate Megan! I hate Hannah! The sharp corner of an envelope pressed into my cheek. I sat and picked up a small blue envelope with the initial J on the front. When I opened it, that flowery incense smell from the Jewel Café burst out. I sniffed the envelope right as Finn opened the door. Without knocking!
"Okay, that was a little nutso," Finn said. "And I don't even want to know what you're doing to that envelope, but I promised the guy who delivered it that I'd make sure to tell you to open it tonight." Finn started to close the door. "He didn't say anything about making out with it, though."
"Get out!" I threw a pillow across the room.
"Okay, then." Finn closed the door. "Jor's going mental, Mom. Might want to get the straitjacket out again."
His violent-movie-watching pals guffawed.
"Finn," Mom scolded. "Be nice." Then she laughed. Nice support, Mom.
There was no note in the envelope, only a bunch of beads. I poured them onto my bed and spread them with my fingers. Half of them were letters and the other half little pink flowers. I spent an hour putting the puzzle together, wishing I had been in AP English. With my heart beating so fast I thought it would jump out and dance around my room, I worked out: "Come to Bed Tuesday Night." Oh, my God! Burying my head in my pillow to hyperventilate, I found another little a bead tucked into a fold of my comforter. "Come to Bead Tuesday Night."
A few minutes later, after I calmed down a bit, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Luke sat on the sofa next to Finn, watching some total gore-fest movie.
Oh, God, no! Luke would probably spread the word that not only did Finn's sister have the biggest nose in Reno, but she was mentally unstable. Cupcake Girl would send me sweet little not-meaning-to-be-sexual-innuendoes notes in the mental hospital. Hannah and Megan would spend all their visits nodding at me with concerned looks on their faces. "You should've listened to us and not kissed a dork/freak/rebel," they'd say.
Hoping to avoid further embarrassment, I snuck out of the kitchen during a big action scene, holding my glass of water to my smoldering cheek.
Luke raised his eyebrows. Twice. "Hey, Jory," he said with a chuckle.
Forget the mental hospital. Call the convent. Now.
Chapter Twenty-one
AUGUST: BEADS AND BONDING
I changed clothes about a million times on Tuesday night. I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard to be the new girlfriend or something, but I wanted to look very kissable. Did that mean snug jeans or a short skirt? Tank top or clever T-shirt? Gideon wore T-shirts from his favorite bands. All I had was an old Hannah Montana tee that I kept for sentimental reasons. Maybe I needed to listen to more serious music. I ran out to the family room and swiped one of Dad's classical CDs. Maybe that would get me in the mood. The whining strings and lumbering horns, however, just made me want to wear black and toss myself into a grave. Picked the wrong CD, I guess. I turned the radio on and set it to my favorite pop station. Love songs should get me in the mood, right?
After trying on nearly all of my clothes and tossing them in a heap on my bed, I skulked down the hall to Finn's room.
"Tight jeans or a miniskirt?" I asked.
"And the segue to this would be—"
"Please tell me. What makes you notice a girl?" The humiliation. Finn looked up from the book he was reading and stared at me.
Finn waggled his tongue. "Go naked. That'll get some attention."
"Oh, grow up." I slammed his door. "Thought I could ask a simple question without being totally humiliated!"
"Miniskirt with a tight shirt," Finn yelled through the door. "Show off your best ass-ets. Get it?" He laughed at his own pathetic joke. "That's no jug." More laughter.
What was I thinking, asking a fifteen-year-old, even if he did have far more extensive dating experience? Finn got asked to the senior prom last year as a freshman. He ended up hanging out with Zane Zimmerman and his date. Scary thought that keeps me awake at 3:17 A.M.: having to take my own brother to senior prom and having to make sure I asked him before someone else did.
I shimmied into a swirly-girlie minisk
irt and put on my "Who Needs Boys?" T-shirt. Didn't want to appear desperate. Even though I totally was. I should've been wearing a "Kiss Me Now Before You Change Your Mind" T-shirt. Would he even kiss me?
After combing my hair for the tenth time and adding a little splash of eau de something from my mom's bathroom, I ran out to grab Mom's keys.
"Where are you going?" Mom stirred a pot of beet soup on the stove. A week of binging had suddenly morphed into the Cleansing Soup Diet (day 2). I had kind of liked the cool smoothie-esque blended-fruit breakfast soup.
"I'm trying out that jewelry-making class down, you know, where I deliver cakes on Wednesdays."
Could she totally tell that I was far more interested in kissing than beading? I tried to calm down and not look so eager, but I kept flapping my hands around while I talked.
"You know I'm trying to find my passion and all this summer, and—"
"Wait! Is it the Jewel Café? I've heard about that place! One of my coworkers ate lunch there and then Cynthia Simons mentioned it at book club. Maybe I'll join you." Mom turned off the burner. Bad sign. "Today's Tuesday, isn't it? I think this is exactly the class Cynthia's in. Wouldn't that be great?" Mom smoothed her hair.
"Oh, Mom. I'm really late." Nose growing. I pressed my thumb against the tip of my nose.
"Nonsense. Do you know you always touch your nose when you fib?" Mom smiled. "You've been doing it for years." She shrugged. "How fun to do a mother-daughter bonding thing! Don't look so worried. Oh, God. What do I have to wear that still fits?"
Mom ran into her bedroom to put on her face and find something presentable to wear. Finn wandered out to the family room, munching on a power bar.
"Mother-daughter night? Bummer. Guess what that means for me, though."
"What?"
Finn stood in front of me with his perfectly tan legs, the right kind of wavy, blond hair, and blue eyes. No wonder every girl in Reno walked by our house.
"Pizza. Possibly a little alone time with Em." He blew me a kiss. "Thanks, Sis."
"Whatever."
Finn was on the verge of having an ultimate boy night. Cute girl, pizza, home alone. And I was about to show up to my not-really-a-date-right? with my mother! Gideon would never want to kiss, talk, or even acknowledge my existence again after a night in the presence of the desperate-to-live-on-Cutting-Horse-Circle Leah Michaels. Maybe I should pretend to get sick. Or run away and become some desperate homeless person in San Francisco who gets trapped in the illicit world of drugs (not sex, because no one will want me) and some TV station will do an exposé on me: Mother-Daughter Bonding: More Dangerous Than You Think!
I ignored Mom's chitchat on the way to the café. So Amanda Mullins isn't as bright as I thought she'd be; she didn't understand the deeper themes in the book. Apparently having millions of dollars doesn't substitute for a college degree. But you should have seen her guest bathroom: candles, gorgeous big candles. Should I try candles? You and your brother would probably just set the house on fire. I may try her decorator, though. Unless it's too expensive, but Dad thinks he might get that promotion—that's why he's been working so late. They plan to announce in two weeks. Then maybe I can cut back on my own hours. Or quit. Wouldn't that be great?
I grunted occasionally, which seemed to be enough for her. Twice I thought about flinging myself out of the car. I would end up in the hospital, and, of course, I'd need a nose job. My eyes would look really pretty against all the bruises and bandages, and Gideon could visit me in the hospital and pledge his undying love. When the doctors unveiled the new nose, I would awe everyone with my beauty. Or maybe Zane Zimmerman would be in the next room recovering from some knee injury or something and we could have a rehab romance.
"Do I turn here?" Mom asked.
"I guess." I leaned forward. "My stomach doesn't feel so good." Major jitters.
"You're just hungry," Mom said. "I heard that her quiche is simply delicious."
"You're not going to make her blend it into some kind of soup, are you?"
"Jory, give me some credit, please." Mom smoothed her blouse over her capris. She looked better than I did. Her short hair framed her classic features, whereas I depended on my long hair like some literary heroine: my one beauty.
Gideon opened the door and smiled really big, and then his eyes grew wide and his smile faded as my mother pushed in behind me.
"Cynthia!" She raced over to a skinny blonde who was gathering beads. "I'm here for a mother-daughter night. Jory, come here and meet Mrs. Simons."
Gideon kept holding the door open as my mom swept me into the room and introduced me all around.
"We're having a mother-daughter night," she bragged. "Jory practically begged me to come."
So not true! I tried to catch Gideon's eye, but he just stood there with a shocked expression. He wore nice jeans and a dark shirt that brought out his eyes. And his amazing hair. Mom gripped my arm with her manicured nails like she was some kind of socialite pro wrestler. I couldn't break away. I realized that I hadn't said a single word to Gideon. Not even hi. I smiled as Mom introduced me to another beading lady.
Helen brought us little trays on which to collect beads; Mom floated around the shop conducting a poll about which beads best matched her eyes. Gideon disappeared through a door in the back room without even looking in my direction. I swished my fingers through a box of round beads the color of Key lime pie, wondering what to do and trying not to let the tears in my eyes fall.
A few minutes later Helen found me in the corner searching through some jagged poke-your-neck-so-you-can-bleed-to-death beads.
"Your mother is quite a character," she said. "A force of nature."
"Tell me about it." I poked my finger on a bead, pressing until it hurt.
"These aren't good necklace material. Why don't you look for something more suitable. More Joryish."
"I don't really know what that is." I stared down at a shiny brown stone, blinking hard. Don't cry. Why couldn't Helen leave me alone? Why couldn't Mom find her own stupid hobby? She always gloms on to everyone else's passion. She's not interested in anything other than popularity. And I'm just as bad. I joined the film club because Megan likes that kind of thing. I did yoga because Hannah likes that kind of thing. I only listened to music that Tyler liked. I had no idea what I liked. I couldn't even decide if I liked Gideon or if I just liked the fact that he seemed to like me. Until tonight. A tear dripped out of my eye. I looked so dumb, standing there crying like a kid who'd lost her balloon.
"Now, now." Helen put her arm around me. "Why don't you look over by the door. Pick out eight to ten large beads and twice as many small beads. We're doing a string necklace tonight. Always good to practice those knots." Helen sashayed out of the room toward the group laughing in the classroom, leaving me alone.
Violin music now mixed with the New Age stuff Helen played; the sound made my heart hurt. I pulled the little blue envelope out of my purse and dropped those flower beads onto my tray, then searched for smaller beads to match the light green leaves on the flowers.
"Jory, hurry up." Mom swung through the door. "Helen is about to start."
On the way to the classroom we walked past Gideon's open door. He stood in his bare feet playing the violin with his eyes closed. Sadness hunkered heavy in my stomach.
"Quite a musician, isn't he? Helen said he went to a very prestigious music camp this summer."
Mom positioned herself between Cynthia and me. Another woman kept giving Mom long nasty, jealous looks, but Mom didn't notice. Or didn't care.
"Oh, Cynthia. You're so naughty," Mom said as Cynthia went into far too much detail about her husband's vasectomy. I wanted to die when Mom started talking about how Dad had wanted another child, but she'd insisted that the skin on her stomach could not carry one more baby. Two had just about ruined her for swimwear.
"Oh, I thought your daughter was adopted," Jealous Woman said. "She doesn't look anything like your son, the soccer player, right?"
"What
's wrong with adoption? I was adopted!" Cynthia spat.
Jealous Woman snapped her mouth shut and blushed a shade darker than her lipstick. But then Mom had to go and say, "Jory takes after the Lessinger side of the family. She's the spitting image of Evan's maternal grandfather."
How could she say that! Flustered, I bumped my tray, spilling my beads all over. While I crawled around on the floor looking at everyone's professionally polished toenails and expensive leather sandals and picking up beads, Gideon's bare feet padded through the room. Oh, God. Had he heard my mom tell everyone that I looked like Great-Grandpa Lessinger?
My face burned and I felt tears coming, so I sat on the floor under the table, hiding. Current chance of dying a virgin: 100 percent.
Mom peeked under the table. "Did you find them all, honey?"
"I'm missing one."
"Why don't you go get another one," Helen said. "I can't tell you how many beads I sweep up every night. I should make a necklace consisting only of lost beads." Everyone laughed.
I walked back into the front room and stood staring at all the bins of beads. I'd lost one of the flower beads from Gideon, and I hadn't seen any like it earlier. The door swung open.
Gideon.
"Helen said you lost a bead."
I nodded, not looking at his face.
"What did it look like?"
"You know." I turned around and stuck my hand in a box of red beads.
"Oh." Gideon paused. "Those are still in my room." He kind of tilted his head in that direction.
I followed him back to his room, even though I wasn't sure he wanted me to. His violin case lay open on his bed, next to the orange cat. Starry Night by van Gogh hung over the bed, but over his desk he had an Andrew Bird concert poster. A stack of books cluttered the floor. Gideon moved some papers on his desk, uncovering a bin of beads.
"Here." He put the little bead into my hand. "You better return to your classmates."
My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters Page 15