Gimme a Call

by Sarah Mlynowski

  This is getting confusing. It’s like musical dates. And poor Joelle. It’s one thing to go stag because that’s what she wants to do, but it’s another to go stag just because she was waiting for Jerome Cohen to ask her. I need to remind Frosh to help her get over him already.

  “We’re going to have the best time,” Karin gushes. “Best prom ever! And I finally bought an iPod for the flight.”

  What flight? “Wait a sec,” I say. “Are we taking Nick’s plane to the prom?”

  Everyone stares at me. “Since when does Nick have a plane?” Tash asks.

  “Doesn’t Nick have a—” Oh. Never mind. “Forget it. What plane, then?”

  “The flight to the Caribbean?” Karin says. “Where Nick’s new island is?”

  Tash rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe your mom bought you an island for graduation. Who does that?”

  “I can’t believe she’s flying us all there for prom weekend,” Karin says. “She’s the best.”

  Wowza. New shopping list: flats, new phone battery—it’s still not charging!—and one rockin’ bikini.

  I jam my key into the door and run up the stairs. I know it’s going to be better. I know it’s going to be better. She has the answers; it has to be better. I know, I know, I know, I know. Is it UCLA? Did I get my acceptance back? Please, please, please, let me have gotten my acceptance back.

  Congratulations! You’ve been accepted to Harvard.

  Harvard.

  Harvard!

  Harvard Harvard Harvard.

  Oh. My. God.

  Forget UCLA. I topped UCLA. I beat Maya. I got into Harvard! The number one school in the country! This is insane.

  I search around to see if there’s any scholarship info, but I don’t find anything.

  Okay, so I haven’t made it yet. I mean, Harvard is amazing, but obviously I need to get a scholarship. I can’t let my parents sell the house to send me there. I just can’t.

  I call Frosh.

  “We got into Harvard,” I tell her breathlessly, and then burst into a fit of giggles.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “I know! Even Maya only got into UCLA! We are officially smarter than Maya!”

  “Oh, wait. Speaking of Maya, she wants me to come visit. On the Columbus Day weekend.”

  “What are you talking about?” Why is she rambling about Columbus Day when I’m trying to discuss Harvard?

  “Maya? Our sister? Wants to see me?”

  “Yeah, I know who she is, thanks. I just don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not going to visit Maya. You never visit Maya.”

  “Are you telling me that in four years, I never—not once—go visit Maya at school?”

  That doesn’t make me sound very nice. “You’re too busy!” I huff.

  “How can I be too busy for my sister?”

  “Whatever. You are.”

  “What exactly did you do for Columbus Day, freshman year?”

  I think it might have involved a couch, a bunch of movies, some blankets, and my then boyfriend. But she doesn’t need to know that.

  “You were with Bryan, right?” she presses.

  “Perhaps,” I admit.

  “Well, I don’t have to do that. I don’t care how busy I am. I’m going to see Maya.”

  “We’ll see.” She can’t just jet off for the weekend. What if I need her to do stuff here? Who knows what could happen in California? She could upset the whole timetravel continuum. And what if crossing the time zones will screw stuff up? Until I’m at Harvard with a full scholarship, I’m not taking any chances. No, until I’m married with two kids, I’m not taking any chances. No, until I’m—well, I’m never taking any chances. As long as the phone works, she’ll have to listen to me. No matter how exhausting it is—for either of us.

  “I’m going,” she says.

  “You’re not if I say you’re not,” I snap.

  “Hello, control freak.”

  I am not a control freak. I am not. At least, I never used to be. Maybe she’s made me into a control freak. “What if you go and something bad happens?” I retort. “What then, huh?”

  “What could possibly happen?” she asks. “I get a tan?”

  “Your plane could crash.” I know it’s a mean thing to say, but whatever. It could happen. Although I probably shouldn’t be talking about crashing planes when I’m about to take one to the Caribbean. Maybe I shouldn’t bring that up to Frosh just yet. Anyway. “Remember the lottery? We didn’t think that winning twelve million dollars would lead to Alfonzo.”

  She sucks in her breath. “Omigod, you’re so selfish! You don’t care if I crash! You only think about yourself!”

  “Are you even listening? You are me. And anyway, it could happen,” I say, softening my voice. “Anything could happen. That’s why you have to stay the course. Anything different you do can have major repercussions.”

  “Why is me going to visit Maya dangerous, but me using your tests and papers not?”

  “Be-because I wrote those tests and papers!” I stutter. “It’s not the same thing. At least, I don’t think it is.” My head starts to pound. I can barely tell what’s right and what’s wrong anymore.

  “Maybe I should stop using your old tests, then?” she asks hopefully. “Just in case.”

  “No way,” I say. “We are not sliding back from Harvard to Hofstra. I need to give you the answers to everything. For the entire four years.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No! Plus you need to step it up a little.”

  “Step it up? Why?”

  “Because we may have gotten into Harvard, but we can’t afford it. We need a scholarship. Where are you now?”

  “Play rehearsal. I’m always at play rehearsal.”

  “Okay, good. I have to go to the mall.”

  “Why do you get to go to the mall and I’m stuck at play practice? I hate play pratice! I don’t even have any lines!”

  “Because I need to figure out how to fix our battery situation. And MediaZone is in the mall.” And I need new shoes for prom and a bikini for post-prom, but I should probably just keep those bits to myself. No need to rub it in. “If you get home before I do, catch up on your reading.”

  “Why? I thought I don’t have to anymore now that I have all the tests.”

  “You should still keep up with your reading,” I tell her. “What if a teacher calls on you in class? Do you not remember what happened in economics on Monday? Do you want to go to Stupid State? Or do you want to go to Harvard?”

  She pauses. “Honestly, I don’t really care.”

  “Trust me. You will.”

  “Well … I was asked to be a peer tutor. Do you think that will help?”

  “Absolutely!” I tell her. Devi Banks, peer tutor! Who would have thought?

  “But how am I supposed to help people do their history homework when I have the worst memory in the world?” she asks. “Maybe I shouldn’t do it.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” I snap. Yikes. That was mean. Have I always been this mean? Ever since the Bryan breakup, I’ve gotten so … hard. She brings it out in me, though. She’s giving me a serious headache. Can’t she see how close we are to getting everything I—we—want? I’m not going to feel guilty about this. I’m doing this for us.

  “I just might not be able to help it,” Frosh says. “Nature versus nurture and all that.”

  “Frosh, I take it back. You are not stupid. We are not stupid. And this is a fantastic opportunity.” We’re so close I can taste it. “It’ll get us a scholarship to Harvard for sure.”

  “Get you a scholarship to Harvard, you mean.”

  “Get us. Us. It’s all about us.”

  “Is it? I just want to go to the mall.”

  “Try to think a little bit more long-term, will ya?”

  “I do want to go to a good college. But do I really need to go to the best college?” She sighs. “How
am I supposed to tutor when I don’t understand anything?”

  “I’ll help you.” Eeeeeep! Or not. The battery warning comes on every half hour now. Scary.

  I call Maya as I’m walking through the mall. I want to make sure she knows I got into Harvard. Can’t criticize me when I’m at the number one school, can she?

  “Hello there, brainiac,” she says as soon as she picks up.

  I guess she knows. “Hi,” I say smugly. “How are you?”

  “Great! Packing. I can’t believe I’m off to Europe in two weeks!”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a terrific time,” I tell her.

  “Sure you don’t want to come with me? I don’t know why you have to take summer courses to get ahead. Wouldn’t you rather take some time off?”

  First of all, summer courses? Seriously? And second, she’s still criticizing me? I got into the top school and now she’s telling me I work too hard? “I don’t need time off,” I snap.

  “You sure? You sound like you do. We’d have so much fun! Lots of pizza in Italy you could eat upside down.”

  “I can’t. I have too much to do.”

  “A little fun wouldn’t kill you,” she says. “A European boyfriend maybe … You’ve worked your butt off for four years and you deserve a break! A little romance! Balance in your life is healthy.”

  I’m starting to regret having called her in the first place. This is why I stopped wanting to talk to her when she went away to school. Back then she kept telling me that I spent too much time with Bryan. I didn’t want to hear it, so I stopped calling her back. I stopped telling her everything. I told Bryan my secrets instead. He took me under his wing. Why did I always need to be under someone’s wing?

  I shake my head. I can’t believe now she’s telling me I spend too much time working. She should make up her mind already.

  “I have to go,” I tell her when I reach MediaZone.

  “Devi—”

  “I’ll speak to you next week, okay? Bye.” I hang up before she can say anything else. A European boyfriend! I can’t believe Maya is telling me I need to find a boyfriend! When have I ever had a problem dating guys?

  Although I am going stag to prom.

  Whatever. I walk over to the clerk at the front desk, put my phone on the counter, and explain my charging problem.

  He nods for a while, then opens a new lithium battery and puts it in. “Hmmm. This doesn’t seem to work,” he says. “That’s odd.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He picks up the phone and studies it from different angles. “I’ll be right back.” Five minutes later, he returns with a rectangular box. “Here you go,” he says with a big grin.

  “You fixed it?” I ask hopefully.

  “Even better,” he says. “Since you’ve had the phone for over two years, you’re eligible for a new one.”

  I throw the box back across the counter. “I don’t want a new phone! I want my old one.”

  He blinks repeatedly and hands me back the box. “But this one has Bluetooth. And a navigator.”

  “I don’t care.” I shove the box back over to him. “I need my phone.”

  “But it doesn’t work.”

  “So make it work!”

  “I can’t.” He shrugs. “Sorry.”

  He returns my original, Bluetoothless, navigationless, battery-deficient phone. There’s only a half bar left. Now what?

  chapter thirty-eight

  Wednesday, September 21 Freshman Year

  I stop by the peer tutoring office before leaving school.

  “Ms. Fungas sent me,” I tell the guidance counselor. I feel ridiculous saying her name out loud. “I’m supposed to sign up to tutor American history.”

  She waves me in. “Outstanding! You can start right now. A student popped by at lunch asking for help. I told him to check back after class in case we could accommodate him.”

  What? “Today?” I wasn’t expecting to have to start now. Sure, I paid extra attention when Fungas reviewed and explained the answers today, but it’s not like I know them by heart.

  She gives me a thumbs-up. “Isn’t that great?”

  The back of my neck starts to tingle. “But, um, I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine, dear, or Ms. Fungas wouldn’t have sent you. It’s just another freshman. He’s in Ms. Fungas’s other class and wants to review his last quiz.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I can do it. I’m so sorry, but—”

  “Here he is,” the guidance counselor says.

  I turn around.

  Bryan.

  He smiles at me. My entire body flushes.

  “So, Devi, what do you think?” the counselor asks. “Are you up for it?”

  “Yes,” I say without missing a beat. “I’m up for it.” Maybe Ivy doesn’t have to know.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh. My. God!” she screams.

  “Omigod what?” I ask, glancing at Bryan. Oh, no. She’s going to kill me. I push back my chair. “He was just—”

  “We did it! We’re going to Harvard with a full scholarship!”

  “We what?”

  “It worked! The peer tutoring! Full scholarship! To Harvard!”

  “Really?” I squeak.

  “Yes! That peer tutoring totally worked! Wahoo!”

  “Awesome! But I have to go. I’m here right now. Tutoring.” I hesitate. “Nothing else has changed, right?”

  “No. Why would it have? The letters from Harvard are here. Pictures of my friends are here. Nothing’s changed. Besides the scholarship. Wait, who were you talking about before? ‘He’ who?”

  “No one,” I say quickly. “The head of peer tutoring. He wasn’t sure if I’d be good at this.”

  “Obviously you are. ’Cause we are in! And—”

  Ivy continues rambling about Harvard this, Harvard that, but instead of listening, I’m staring at Bryan.

  Sweet Bryan. Funny Bryan. Dimpled Bryan. “I really have to go,” I tell her again.

  “Right,” she says. “Have fun. Sorry for interrupting. I’ll call you later.”

  I hang up and turn the phone off. “Sorry about that,” I tell him.

  Bryan is sitting across from me in one of the tutoring rooms, looking as adorable as always. I know I should have told Ivy who I was helping, but if it doesn’t change anything in the future, then it doesn’t really matter, right? If I had somehow gotten us back together, she would have noticed. Yeah. She definitely would have. The pictures would be all about Bryan again.

  It’s not like we’re making out or anything. Not yet. Ha. Kidding. I’ve been helping him with the quiz. He forgot his, so I’ve been using mine as a springboard to explain the concepts. It’s kind of fun, actually. Who knew? I can teach! You don’t really have to remember all the details when you’re explaining it. It’s mostly about understanding what happened and why. Cause and effect, something I’m an expert on these days.

  Cause: I didn’t say no to tutoring Bryan, and now he’s only a foot away from me. Smelling very yummy, like buttery popcorn.

  Effect: every time I inhale, it feels like kernels are popping throughout my entire body, from my stomach to my toes. In a good way.

  “So, how is Ivan?” he asks.

  The name startles me, but then I remember that I told him that was my boyfriend’s name. “He’s good.”

  “So what else have you been up to?” he asks. “Besides continuing to have a boyfriend.”

  “Oh, you know.” I shrug. “This and that.”

  “You seem really busy all the time. Stressed.”

  “I am,” I admit.

  “So spill,” he says, reaching across the table and putting his hand on my elbow. “What’s weighing you down?”

  Pop, pop, pop! His hand is on my arm! He’s touching me! Must remain calm. It’s not like it matters. It doesn’t matter. I can’t like him. I’m not allowed. He’s no good for me. I pull back so his fingers fall to the table. “I’m under
a lot of pressure,” I say.

  “What pressure?” He clasps his hands together above the table.

  I wish he were still touching me. “Well, for one, the pressure to get into a good college.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “College? You’re worried about college already? In the first month of high school?”

  I bite my lip. “When you say it like that, it does seem kind of early.”

  “Are you planning your college courses too? What about your job after college? Are you putting money into your retirement fund?”

  I laugh. “What, you don’t worry about the future?” He shrugs. “I worry about the present. I try to enjoy, you know? The day. The sun. My bench.”

  I giggle. “You love that bench of yours, huh?”

  “Why, yes, I do. I’d be happy to share it with you, if you’d like to check it out.” “Why, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. It encourages relaxation.”

  “I could use some relaxation,” I say. “I’m just so nervous about messing anything up.”

  “You just need to chill,” he says. “And maybe more sleep?”

  I twist a lock of my hair. “Am I looking tired?”

  He flushes. “I didn’t mean that you don’t look good. You look great. You always do.”

  Pop, pop, pop!

  “You just seem overburdened,” he adds.

  I am overburdened! “It’s all the extracurriculars. I’m taking on too many.”

  He shrugs. “So drop some. Which do you hate?”

  “All of them. No, that’s not true. I like organizing the memories and photos in yearbook. But being in Beauty and the Beast kind of sucks. It takes a lot of time and I don’t even have any lines.”

  He laughs. “I think you’ll make a very cute tree.”

  “Thanks. But I’m actually a chair in the Beast’s mansion. Mostly I just sit there and … well, act like furniture.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make a cute chair. Though I hope no one sits on you. But I’m also sure they could find a replacement chair if they needed to.”

  “I know, but if I drop the play, then Tash will drop it, and it’s really good for her, so I can’t. Plus, I signed up for Interact, which I can’t drop, because who drops their volunteer work? That would just make me a bad person. Oh, and there’s golf.”