I can’t believe I’m basically bowing down to Parker to make her feel better. Nobody ever does that for me.
Parker gives me a tiny nod. She finally speaks. “Thank you for apologizing. I appreciate it.”
I can’t tell what she’s really thinking. I try, once again, to put myself in her shoes, but all I can imagine her thinking is that my life is sad and I’m a horrible person. And an idiot who needs to be tutored.
I turn the car on and exit the parking lot. I return Parker’s silent treatment, but I feel my chin twitch. Maybe the reason I feel so bad is because I can’t believe this is how everything’s turning out. I had a Plan and it’s falling apart. The machine’s a mess. Yet another Valentine’s Day has passed by without being asked out. Madelyn’s patience with me is dwindling, and now this. Why can’t things be in my favor for once?
“I’m going to get a coffee.” I turn to hit up the coffee shop near the house. I need a break before I have to endure feeling like an imbecile for the next hour. I want caffeine, I want sugar, I want something, anything that will make me feel better. “You want a drink?” I offer.
“No, thank you,” Parker replies coldly as I get out of the car.
When does she ever turn down anything to eat or drink? She inhaled the big frozen mocha drink my mom got her last week in record time and finished off a brownie and a cookie.
But she probably doesn’t want anything because I’m the one offering.
I slam the car door behind me.
You know what? I tried. I did. I felt bad about last night and apologized. I refuse to grovel to Parker anymore. It was a stupid pizza. She needs to get over it. I don’t know why I even bothered.
It’s not like she and I are ever going to be friends.
16 DAYS AWAY
My brain hurts.
I spent the last twenty-four hours doing the fourteen algebra worksheets Parker gave me to prepare for tomorrow’s test. Now I’m swatting away the fumes coming from our garage as we spray-paint and decorate the last few pieces for our machine. We haven’t been able to test it all the way through since we’ve been too busy adding new elements.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping the pulsing in my brain will stop.
“Everything okay?” Mom asks as she sticks her head into the garage—then quickly puts her hand over her nose. “Should I bring a fan in?”
“We’re okay,” I tell her while I walk out to the driveway to get some fresh air.
Conor looks at all the pieces with a nod. “We’re almost there.”
Are we? At this point the light at the end of the tunnel seems to get farther and farther away.
Dan finishes spray-painting the cardboard, which will go around the back of the contraption that’s supposed to look like a castle wall. He pulls the handkerchief down from his nose and mouth. “Okay, we need to let this dry. Probably best to give it a couple days to be safe.”
I’m grateful to have some time off. Especially since this means I can go with Madelyn to Chuck’s tomorrow night for a concert. I owe her that at the very least.
“So are people free on Saturday to put the final touches together and do a dry run?” I ask.
Brady and Conor exchange a glance. Am I missing something?
Dan nods. “Yeah, I have to work until two, but can do the afternoon.”
“Um, I-I-I,” Conor stutters as he rubs the back of his head. “Sure, I have something to do later in the afternoon, but I guess we …” He keeps looking over at Brady.
Brady laughs. “Yeah, Conor and I have a little double date Saturday night.”
“What?” I say before I can stop myself. “With who?”
Conor blushes. “With Lila Beckett. You know, Parker’s friend.”
Yes, I know Lila. We’re not friends, since she’s besties with Parker. It seems like these days a line has been drawn in the sand: Team Parker or Team Hope. Although I doubt a duo could really be considered a team, as Team Hope would consist solely of Madelyn and me. Since Brady has hardly talked to me at all today, I already know which team he’s playing for.
“Nice one, dude!” Dan fist-bumps Conor.
“Yeah, I’m about to boldly go where no man has gone before,” Conor jokes. Or at least I think he’s joking. I’m pretty sure Lila’s been on dates before.
“It’s a movie, relax,” Brady teases Conor.
Mom pops her head back into the garage. “How much longer are you guys going to be? Hope has a test to study for.”
Brady glances over at me. Does he know about Parker tutoring me? He has to, right? Maybe I should tell him I apologized to Parker so he can stop being so distant around me.
“We’re done,” Dan tells Mom. “We’ll be back on Saturday to finally get this thing to work.”
“I’ll head out with you,” Brady tells Dan as they walk to their cars, both with a quick nod and a good-bye to me.
Conor stays a few more minutes to wipe the paint off his hands.
Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted or it’s the paint fumes, but I want to cry. Again. I don’t begrudge Conor going on a date, but this little group we have is one of the places I can feel like myself. What’s going to happen in two weeks when that’s over?
“You okay?” Conor asks. “You seem out of it.”
“Yeah. I’m a little overwhelmed.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I know, but we’re almost there.”
Everybody keeps saying that, but what if when we finally put all the pieces together the machine doesn’t work? What if we’re nowhere close to being there? And, most troubling, what’s going to happen once we get there?
We’re sixteen days away from the competition. Nothing has really changed for me. In fact, I feel like things might be worse.
“I could really use some of your Tolkien wisdom right about now.” As much as we all roll our eyes whenever Conor does his quotes, they’ve become a comfort to me.
Conor puts his arm around me and dramatically swoops his other hand out in front of us. “Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.”
I really need to start reading those books because Tolkien was onto something. Am I really going to give up so close to the competition? Quitting would be the easy way out, and what great thing ever happened by someone giving up or taking the easy route?
No, the guys are right: I’m almost there.
15 DAYS AWAY
“Okay, hear me out,” Madelyn says as I shut off the car in the parking lot of Chuck’s Friday night.
Usually this isn’t the best start to the evening. It means she’s going to say something to insult me. Or stress me out. Possibly both.
I keep my eyes straight ahead as Madelyn continues, “I think for optimal enjoyment this evening we need to play a little game.”
Sure, that seems harmless enough, but it’s Madelyn, so …
“What kind of game?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“You need to do whatever I say,” she says with confidence. “But this would require you to dislodge the stick that seems to constantly be shoved up your—”
I interrupt her insult with a loud groan and place my head on the steering wheel. As much as I hate how she put it, she’s right. I’ve been so tense lately. My stupid test is done (and I have no idea how I did—I think I knew how to solve all the equations, but I’ve thought that before with disastrous results). I don’t have to worry about the machine until tomorrow. Tonight should be all about having fun. I’m sixteen years old—things shouldn’t be this stressful.
Here’s the thing with Madelyn: As abrasive as she is, my best interests are always at heart. She wants me to be as confident as her. To be as carefree as her.
While I know all these things, I still hesitate.
“Hope.” Madelyn nudges me so I look at her. “I hereby swear that nothing I’ll ask of you will embarrass you or make you uncomfortable. My plan is to set the gloriousness that is you free.”
I already know what she’s going to ask me to do: dance, sing, and have fun
.
What a horrible, horrible friend.
Before I can overanalyze it to death, I agree with the slightest nod.
“Yes!” She punches her fist into the air. “Tonight is going to be one for the record books. Let’s go in there and make some memories.”
As we walk down the stairs to the venue, I try to leave all my worries behind with each step: Brady, Parker, Mom, the machine …
Once our hands are stamped, Madelyn grabs my arm and drags me with her to the front of the stage as tonight’s opener plays some grunge song.
“Dance!” Madelyn commands me.
I roll my eyes at her as I start swaying to the music. Whenever I have the urge to look around to see if anybody’s watching, I close my eyes or focus on the band. Honestly, dancing wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only ones doing it. The space in front of the stage is empty. There are a few clusters of people around the high-top tables that line the floor. They’re all into their own conversations. There’s an occasional head bob, but for the most part it’s only Madelyn and me.
After nearly an hour, Madelyn ushers me to the bar while the band takes a break.
“Hey!” The bartender from a few weeks back notices us right away. “How are things in Nowheresville going?”
“As bleak as ever,” Madelyn replies. “Although things are looking up now. Aren’t they, Hope?”
I nod.
“Cherry Coke and Shirley Temple, right?” he asks.
“You’re right, my good man.” As he turns around to grab cups, Madelyn leans in to me. “See, we’re already regulars. While my plan is to get out of Ohio, maybe going to the U wouldn’t be so bad?”
All Madelyn has talked about since as long as I can remember is going to college far away. New York City is her dream. She keeps trying to convince me to head out east, but I’m not sure. I have no idea what I want to do after high school. Part of me wants to get far away, to start somewhere new, but there’s the other part of me that’s too scared of change. Next year is going to be hard enough.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that anytime college is mentioned in my house, my mom bursts into tears. She’s aware I need to go somewhere, but I don’t know how she’s going to handle having her full-time job leave. I don’t require much of her time now, even though she insists otherwise. I assume she’ll volunteer full-time or go work somewhere. Maybe being scared of change runs in the family?
Madelyn pays the tab and hands me my drink. She scans the crowd of about a hundred people scattered around the bar, mostly college kids laughing, telling stories. Everybody looks at home in their own skin. Maybe that’ll finally happen to me when I leave home. I can finally be the person I want to be without Mom constantly intervening.
Maybe college is when I’ll finally feel like I belong somewhere.
Do I really need to wait a year and a half to find out?
“There!” Madelyn says as she hits me on the shoulder. She tilts her head to the corner where two guys, one tall and gangly, the other the size of a linebacker, are leaning against the wall. “You need to go over there and talk to them.”
Crap. I was having such a good time I forgot about the stupid game. Although maybe I was having fun because of the game?
“Are you going to join me?” I ask, trying not to appear as desperate as I suddenly feel.
“Nope.” Madelyn bumps me on the hip. “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? They don’t want to talk to you. Then we know that they’re idiots and not worth our time and we move on to our next conquests.”
I can’t believe she’s making me do this, but of course she is. This was part of her plan all along.
“Okay,” I say as I let my feet carry me over to the guys.
The tall one looks up from his drink when he sees me approaching and gives me an actual smile. I resist the urge to look behind me to ensure that smile is genuinely for me.
“Hey,” I say over the loud music playing on the speakers above us.
“Hey!” he replies.
I hadn’t really thought much beyond that, since my experience at flirting with a stranger is nonexistent. When you live in a small town there aren’t a lot of opportunities to meet new people. Not like I’d be a huge flirt if I lived smack-dab in the middle of Manhattan.
“You come here a lot?” I ask, then instantly regret it since it’s only the cheesiest, most predictable line of all time. “I mean, you like the music?”
The guy nods, his shaggy blond hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah, we’ve been coming here since freshman year. You? I remember seeing you a couple weeks ago.”
He did? He saw me? And remembered?
I’m going to make Madelyn in charge of all my life decisions from now on.
“Yeah, we’ve come a few times.” I feel like I’m screaming to be heard.
“Hey, I’m Ken.” He lifts his chin at me. “This is Alex.”
The big linebacker dude nods at me.
“I’m Hope.”
“Cool.”
“Cool,” I reply because I don’t know what else to say.
Madelyn saunters over to save the day.
“Who are our new friends?” Madelyn asks.
I make the introductions and her exchange is pretty much the same. The band returns to the stage and we lean against the wall with the guys and watch the band from the sides.
Standing so close to Ken, I’m overly aware of my body and what I’m doing. I mimic him by bobbing my head to the music. Taking a drink every now and then. He occasionally leans in to tell me he likes a song or goes to class with somebody. I look over at Madelyn, who’s talking Alex’s ear off. I wish I could hear what she was saying so I’d know what to talk to Ken about. I don’t want to ask him about school, since he’ll undoubtedly ask me about my school and my minor status will be revealed. Not as if the big UNDER stamps on our hands won’t give us away.
“You want a drink?” he asks as he points to my empty cup.
“Cherry Coke, please,” I yell back at him.
When he leaves, Madelyn gives me a thumbs-up. I guess this is going well. He hasn’t asked me to leave. He’s even getting me a drink.
When he returns I thank him and then take a sip and almost spit it out. It has alcohol in it. A lot.
“You said rum and Coke, right?” he asks over a guitar solo.
I don’t know what to do so I nod. I’ve never had an alcoholic drink before. Mom has the talk with me at the beginning of every year about not drinking, and if I do not to drive. She also always gives me huge hugs when I come home, which is partly because she’s that loving, but also, I sometimes suspect, to try to smell booze or smoke on me.
I give Madelyn a look and she gestures it’s going to be okay so I take another small sip.
It’s disgusting. I don’t even think there’s any Coke in the cup. And I really doubt that Mom would be fine driving an hour to come pick us up.
“My buddy’s band is playing in two weeks—you guys should come,” Ken says once the opening act finishes.
The headliner is setting up, which means it’s almost time for us to go.
“That sounds like a positively rockin’ time!” Madelyn replies. “Right, Hope?”
“Yeah!” I say as I stir the drink, hoping he won’t realize I haven’t taken any more sips from it. Then I realized something. “Did you say two weeks? From today?”
“Yeah, he’s killer on the drums. I can totally get you guys on the list.”
I look around the half-packed club. I don’t think being put on a list will be necessary, although it’s the thought that counts. But there’s an even bigger problem.
“I can’t in two weeks,” I reply. I can feel Madelyn’s eyes on me.
What did she really expect me to do? Not go to Cleveland so we can hang out with these two strangers?
“Really? Playing hard to get?” Ken leans in so he’s only inches from my face. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to a guy who wasn’t my dad or Brady.
“I have this thing.”
Yep, that sounds really convincing.
“What thing?” he whispers in my ear.
I know Madelyn said she wasn’t going to make me do anything that would make me feel uncomfortable, but that’s what I am right now. While it’s nice to have a guy’s attention, I don’t want it when he’s pressed up against me and I can smell beer on his breath.
“Have you ever heard of a Rube Goldberg machine?” I ask. Madelyn’s eyes are wide. I figure the truth would be the thing to get him to stop his hand that’s now traveling down the small of my back. “My team has a machine in a regional competition.”
It works. He leans away. “Really? You know how to make those things?” He turns to Alex. “Yo, remember that sick OK Go video we watched with that huge machine? She knows how to do that.”
“And it’s amazing.” Madelyn joins in once she realizes they don’t think it’s lame. “She’s the captain of her team and they are totally going to dominate.”
“Cool.” Ken holds out his cup.
“Cool,” I reply as I tap my cup against his and then pretend to take a drink. “I need to use the restroom.”
I excuse myself so I can get some distance and also figure out an exit plan. We have to leave in the next twenty minutes so we aren’t late. I pour the drink out in the sink. Before I can come up with a way to leave without seeming like a high school loser to the guys and incurring Madelyn’s wrath, the door to the bathroom flings open.
“We’re leaving!” Madelyn doesn’t even wait for me to reply as she drags me behind her up the stairs. Usually, Madelyn is dragging me to places, never away.
Something had to have gone wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask once we get into the car. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Madelyn folds her arms defiantly.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
“Those guys were jerks.”
“Were they?” I ask. “What happened after I left?”
Madelyn pauses, which can’t be a good thing. She has no problem telling me her truths, but other people’s …
“What did they say about me?”
That has to be it. She wouldn’t care if they said something about her, but Madelyn’s always been more protective of me. Mostly because I need protecting. I don’t have her bulletproof shield.
Just Another Girl Page 10