“Who’s the secret admirer?” Dan asks when he arrives for our meeting.
“My parents,” I say for what feels like the four hundredth time in less than three hours. “Conor’s already downstairs. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.” I take the roses upstairs to my bedroom, out of sight so I don’t have to endure the same humiliation with Brady.
Another Valentine’s Day tradition is that my parents always spend the night at some romantic bed-and-breakfast thirty minutes away. This is the first year they aren’t forcing a babysitter on me.
So I have the house to myself. And what am I doing? Hosting a Rube Goldberg club meeting.
There are nuns who have better romantic prospects than me.
The doorbell rings and I let Brady in. I’m painfully aware he’s only here because Parker has to work.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hope,” he greets me.
There’s absolutely nothing happy about this day.
When we arrive to the basement, Dan and Conor are already at work. Conor is sitting in a corner, gluing a ramp to the machine while Dan is working on adjusting the angle of the fan so the boat can cross our fake moat to hopefully hit the target on the other side.
I sit down next to Dan and begin to tinker with the boat that’s going to set sail. We’re all so busy with each of our tasks, I don’t realize how late it’s getting until my stomach starts to grumble.
“Hey,” I say, “I’ve got money to order pizza if anybody wants to join me.” Mom left a fifty-dollar bill on the counter so I could get dinner. It’s become my Valentine’s Day tradition: order pizza and stuff my face while I watch some cheesy romantic comedy where the girl gets the guy. Madelyn usually joins me (and groans at the predictability), but has to babysit. Like the local florists, tonight she charges double.
Dan stands up. “I need to get home to study for tomorrow’s history exam. So I’ll be spending my Valentine’s evening with multiple dates … of key moments in the Allied invasion during World War II.”
“I should probably go,” Conor replies as he puts the finishing touches on the ramp. “My parents are having an actual date, so I’ve got to babysit my sister.”
Everybody has somewhere to be but me.
I can’t bring myself to look at Brady. I know he has plans with Parker. I saw them leaving school today, Parker with her arms filled with those roses. He doesn’t say anything as Dan and Conor leave.
The room is quiet as we both continue to work.
“You know.” He finally breaks the silence. “I’m heading over to The Pie Shoppe to hang with Parker while she works. You can come if you want to pick up a pizza or whatever.”
“That’s okay,” I reply. How can he be so oblivious to the fact that watching him and Parker on Valentine’s Day is the last thing I want to do?
(Oh, that’s right, because I’ve kept my feelings for him a secret.)
“I’ll order in.” I wish I hadn’t said anything about pizza.
Brady stands up and reaches down to me. “Come on, Hope. Join me for some pizza. Parker will be running around working. You’re not going to let me eat an entire pizza by myself, are you?”
I can’t help but smile. Brady wants me to be there. He wants to spend tonight with me. He’s asking me to help him eat a pizza. How can I turn that down?
“Okay,” I say as I take his hand and get up from the floor.
He places his arm around me as we head upstairs. “Plus, nobody should be alone on Valentine’s Day.”
So it’s a pity date, minus the date part.
Still, I’m going to take whatever I can get.
We drive separately to The Pie Shoppe, but since downtown isn’t buzzing, we get parking spots next to each other. We walk into the restaurant and it’s pretty dead. There are only two tables with customers.
Maybe this is a bad idea. I thought it was going to be busy and I’d be keeping Brady company while Parker worked.
(Okay, part of me is slightly happy about the thought of spending time with Brady in front of Parker. I know that makes me a horrible person, but I have to witness them together all the time. Let’s see how she likes it.)
There’s a handmade sign at the front booth with the word reserved and hearts all over it. It has to be for Brady. We haven’t seen Parker yet. Maybe it’s not too late for me to leave?
Parker comes out of the kitchen, her back to us, as she carries a pizza. She turns around and it’s the first time I see a genuine smile on her face, until she sees me. Her face completely falls when she realizes I’m there.
It doesn’t make me feel as giddy as I thought. Actually, I kind of feel crappy about it.
“Hey, babe,” Brady says to her. He looks over at me and I can tell he realizes his mistake. Right as I’m about to say that I’m there to place a takeout order, Brady continues, “We had some more work to do on the machine and I thought she and I could grab a quick bite while you were still working.”
I’m grateful to Brady for not telling Parker the truth: I have nothing better to do.
“Of course,” she says, her voice really quiet.
“Is this for us?” Brady asks Parker as he slides into the booth and motions for me to join him.
Parker looks down at the pizza in her hand and around the room. After what seems like an eternity, she places the pizza in front of us.
It’s heart shaped.
“I’d already put this order in for us,” Parker explains.
This is so awkward. I want to melt into the wall or go back in time and stay home. Instead, I decide to look down and help myself to a slice of pizza. The sooner I eat, the sooner I can get out of here.
I hear Brady apologize to Parker, while I try to act as if this is totally normal.
Isn’t this what I always wanted? To come between Brady and Parker?
But now …
I can’t handle this silence so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Oh, I love veggie pizza.” I practically scream it through the tension between the three of us. I really should leave. I need to speak to Brady alone. And there’s only one way to get Parker to give us a minute. “Can we get some plates? And silverware? And I’d love a Cherry Coke. Thanks.”
Parker looks like I’ve punched her.
“Right away,” she says in a robotic voice. She turns to Brady. “And what can I get you, sir?”
“Parker …” Brady reaches out to her, but she takes out her notebook and starts talking about some appetizer special.
I’m about to stand up to leave when Parker interrupts and says, “Let me grab Hope’s Cherry Coke, and I’ll be back to get the rest of your order.”
What was I thinking?
Although, in my defense, Brady was the one who practically insisted that I come tonight. But why did I agree? (Okay, it’s because I’ll always agree with Brady. He could probably get me to rob a bank if he wanted. I’m that pathetic.)
Parker goes to the back room.
“I should leave,” I tell Brady.
“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking. She’s got a lot going on. I’m going to talk to Parker. She’ll be fine. She knows we’re just friends.”
Just friends. Those two words sting. While I know it’s the truth, it’s worse hearing it directly from him.
I really, really should’ve stayed home.
Brady leaves me. I sit and stare at the pizza … then help myself to another slice. I always eat when I’m stressed. Or happy. Or have any sort of emotion.
You’re going to have one more slice, drink your Cherry Coke, and then leave Parker a huge tip, I tell myself. Leave the entire fifty-dollar bill. It’s a small price for such a disaster of a meal.
Brady’s back a few seconds later. “Everything okay?” I ask.
“She’s busy in the back. I should’ve asked if it was okay to bring a friend.”
That word again.
I get it, Brady.
This is quite possibly the worst Valentine’s Day in the history of the world.
Okay, there was that one massacre that happened way back, but pretty sure my heart has been ripped apart and that should count for something.
“I’m going to go,” I tell him as I start to put my coat on.
“Please don’t,” he says as he grabs my hand. “I think I’m in big trouble so I really need the moral support.”
I look at his hand in mine. We’re holding hands. It’s Valentine’s Day. There’s a heart-shaped pizza between us. I should be elated, but I’m not.
None of this is meant for me.
He shakes his head. “Although let’s hope we don’t have to relive the Meagan Cooper Incident.”
A laugh escapes my throat. “Oh God, you always manage to drive the ladies wild. And not in a boy-band way, in the they-legit-want-to-kill-you way.”
Back in sixth grade, this new girl in my class had a crush on Brady. She would follow us home from school. It got to the point where I’d have to be his lookout. I’d exit the school first and look around the corner to let him know it was safe. Then we turned it into a silly spy game complete with code names. We kept doing it long after Meagan (code name Philly, due to her moving from Philadelphia as well as her two unfortunate buck teeth) lost interest.
“Do you remember you climbed that tree?” he asks as he picks up a slice.
“And almost broke my arm,” I remind him. “You know, now that I think about it, I don’t owe you a thing for the pie incident. A cherry-filled face is nothing compared to the fact I risked my life for you.”
We both begin to relax as we reminisce about all the adventures we created for ourselves on our boring walks home from middle school. I start enjoying myself and even pick up another slice.
Maybe today isn’t so bad after all. Whenever I get down on the fact that Brady isn’t interested in me as a girlfriend, I’m reminded of the connection we do have. It’s more than anything he’s ever had before with another person. That makes me special to him. We, in a way, do belong together.
A smile starts to spread on my lips as I realize Valentine’s Day isn’t really that awful.
Until I spot Parker looking at us from the doorway and the guilt comes back.
17 DAYS AWAY
“He did what?” Madelyn asks at lunch the next day after I explain all the drama from last night. I sent her some texts when I got home, but something as crazy as spending Valentine’s Day with Brady in front of Parker needed to be dissected in person.
“I know, it wasn’t the best—”
“What a jerk.” Madelyn cuts me off. “Seriously. I never got your whole Brady infatuation, but that’s because my tastes run a little less nonfat vanilla than yours.”
“He didn’t know—”
“Are you seriously going to defend him?” Madelyn’s eyes narrow as she glances over at Brady. He’s sitting at his usual table with his arm around Parker.
“Well, if you’d let me finish a sentence then maybe I could explain.” I take a deep breath. “Neither of us knew it would be slow. He hangs out there a lot when she’s busy and she spends hours ignoring—”
“Working,” Madelyn corrects me. “Parker is busy working, not ignoring her boyfriend who’s coming to her workplace.”
“Are you taking Parker’s side?” I ask. Madelyn has never been a fan of Parker’s. Truthfully, she doesn’t like most of the people in our class. At this moment in time, I’m not sure how much she likes me.
“No.” Madelyn shakes her head. “I’m taking your side.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.” I poke at the pale brown lettuce leaves that are the school cafeteria’s excuse for a salad. I should’ve gotten a sandwich or something else, but I always feel as if I’m being judged in the cafeteria line about what I’m going to eat. Luckily, this is only the second time I haven’t had a homemade lunch to bring. Hopefully it’ll be the last.
“I wish you were more mad at what Brady pulled,” Madelyn says to me. “I mean, have some self-respect, Hope.”
“I respect myself,” I reply. In response, Madelyn glances at my salad. “What?” I ask. “I can’t eat healthy?”
“That’s not it—you can eat whatever you want, but you aren’t eating that rabbit food because you want to be healthy. You want to be skinny. You want to defend Brady, because it’s as if you’ve been brainwashed to do so. He can do no wrong in your eyes, but if you really thought about it, there’s no way you’d want to be with him after you witnessed how he treats his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day.”
“Let’s not blow this out of proportion! It was a simple misunderstanding!”
Now I wish I hadn’t said anything to Madelyn.
She leans back in her chair, studying me. “I don’t think you understand the point I’m trying to make. Let’s pretend we’re in Bizarro World, where you have to work for money and are dating Brady.”
I try to pretend like that doesn’t hurt. I understand how lucky I am that my parents don’t make me work, but she didn’t need to make that dig.
She continues, “How would you feel if he brought some random chick to your work on Valentine’s Day of all days?”
“First, I’m not some random chick,” I argue.
“Which, in a way, makes it worse.”
I push away my salad and decide to glare at a scratch on the table surface. All I did was grab some pizza with a friend who asked me to keep him company. I was the one who decided to leave after a half hour, especially since Parker never brought us plates or my Cherry Coke. I got the hint and left.
So Parker won. She always wins.
“Okay, okay,” Madelyn relents. “I get you didn’t realize she wouldn’t be busy, but come on, Hope. You have to admit you knew exactly what you were doing walking into that place with Brady on Valentine’s Day. I don’t have a problem with you going after what you want, but don’t pretend Brady’s some saint. It was a crap move, plain and simple.”
My jaw clenches. While I can admit Brady didn’t think things through, as I look over at Parker and Brady now it doesn’t seem like they’re in a fight. They look as cozy as ever. What if last night brought them closer together? And ends up putting a wedge between Brady and me?
“You know I can’t stand Parker, but humor me and put yourself in her shoes for a second.”
What would it be like to be Parker? I could eat whatever I want and be skinny. I’d have Brady as a boyfriend and ace advanced algebra.
Whatever point Madelyn is trying to make, she’s doing a poor job if she thinks this isn’t making me go back to resenting Parker.
I don’t want to argue anymore with my best friend. I don’t want to throw a pity party for poor Parker. At the end of the day, she got what she wanted: alone time with Brady.
I grab a potato chip from Madelyn’s bag. “Can we change the subject?”
“Absolutely!” Madelyn lights up. “I’d love nothing more than to never speak of Brady again. Can you even imagine what will happen after your competition? We won’t even have to talk about Rube Goldberg machines for the rest of the year. However will we pass the time?”
I can’t help it, but I find myself glancing over at their table. Parker’s eating chicken nuggets, laughing at something. She looks as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. I’d love, for only one day, to be in her shoes. To have everything she has.
I’m trying to remember the last really good day I’ve had. These past few weeks have been filled with nothing but working on a machine that keeps failing us. A brain that keeps failing advanced algebra. Diets that keep failing me. And, most unsettling, arguments with my best friend.
All afternoon, my mind keeps replaying last night and lunch in a loop. I also haven’t seen or heard from Brady since I said good-bye to him last night. It’s as if he’s avoiding me. Or I could be paranoid.
It’s the first time I’ve ever hoped paranoia was the answer.
And to make everything even better, I have a tutoring session with Parker.
I’m packing my bag after class when I can sense someone
behind me. I turn around and Parker is standing there with her arms wrapped around a few books.
“Hey! I didn’t realize you were already here,” I say to her as I shut my locker. Usually she says hi to me when she gets to my locker, but not today.
We start walking and she remains mute. It’s not like we’re super chummy or anything, but usually she tries to talk to me about something. I’m the one who shuts down the conversations.
Maybe she’s trying to give me a taste of my own medicine.
“Ms. Porter said we’re having an exam on Friday,” I inform her.
She nods.
Hmm. All right, she’s mad. I guess I don’t entirely blame her. Maybe I should apologize for last night. Even though the person who really needs to apologize to her is Brady, but he probably already did. And now I look like the jerk.
We arrive at my car and I unlock it. We both get in and put on our seat belts. This is usually when I turn on the car and start driving, but something stops me. While I’m looking straight ahead, I can sense Parker’s eyes on me, probably wondering what I’m doing.
Like I have any clue.
God, Hope, just do it. You’ll feel better and then you both can get on with your lives.
“Okay, Parker.” I turn to her and see that she looks so sad, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. “I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t realize …”
I stop myself, because Madelyn was right, yet again. Of course I realized what I was doing. Brady invites me somewhere and I jump at the chance. I don’t think about anybody but myself.
Wow. I really can be a jerk.
I sigh. “Okay, here’s the truth: My mom and dad spend every Valentine’s Day evening together. They left me money for a pizza. I’m pretty sure Brady took pity on me because I’m a loser and invited me to join him because he assumed you were going to be slammed at work. I should’ve left sooner. I’m sorry. This isn’t Brady’s fault, but mine.”
Why am I defending Brady? Especially to her? Why don’t I put them in a bedroom with roses and candles? Ugh, that’s probably what they did last night after I left.
Just Another Girl Page 9