Love? Maybe.

by Heather Hepler

  “We should rename this place Piper’s,” Artie says.

  “Would I get free pizza?” I ask.

  Artie laughs. “That would probably put me out of business.”

  “It might,” I say. I give him our order, telling him we’ll pick it up at six when my mom’s shop closes. He hands it off to one of the guys working the ovens. I start to walk over to where Jillian and Claire are playing the claw machine, but Artie stops me.

  “So, do you want to just take your other order with you when you come get these?” he asks.

  “What other order?” I ask.

  Artie walks over to a long metal strip that they hang their orders on. He pulls a slip down and reads from it. “One heart-shaped Vegetarian’s Delight,” he says. “Absolutely no olives.” He looks up at me. “I’ve never done a heart-shaped pizza before, but it’s a great idea. I might steal it.”

  “I didn’t order that,” I say.

  Artie shrugs. “Well, someone did. It’s all paid for.” He looks at the order slip. I look over to where Claire is pulling a red and white monkey out of the prize door. She holds it up toward me and smiles. She was also a member of Charlie’s Brotherhood of the Claw. He named it that, saying it sounded mysterious.

  “I guess we’ll just pick it up with the others,” I tell Artie. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Artie says, relaying the message to one of the guys making the pizzas. I walk over to where Jillian is trying her hand at the claw.

  “Dang,” she says when the pink dog she managed to pick up drops before it reaches the chute.

  “So guess what?” I ask.

  “What?” Jillian asks, feeding another quarter into the machine. I tell them about the heart-shaped pizza. Jillian forgets the claw, still hanging over the pile of stuffed animals. She puts her hands over her heart. “That is one of the most romantic things I have ever heard.” Then she looks at me with big eyes. “It has to be Ben Donovan,” she says.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “Who else could it be?” Jillian asks. I raise one eyebrow. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean, it could be anyone. My money’s on Ben Donovan.”

  “It has to be him,” Claire says.

  “Maybe,” I say again, but I just can’t picture Ben Donovan going to all that trouble. The more I know of him, the more I’m convinced that very little concerns Ben Donovan outside of Ben Donovan. “Maybe it was you,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Jillian.

  Jillian rolls her eyes. “What evidence do you have of that?”

  “Well, you have been leaving all that stuff in my locker,” I say.

  “Nail polish, fig-colored Burt’s Bees, and that cute clip with cherries on it?”

  “And the banana and the peanut butter and the pin and the cockroach,” I say, ticking them off on my fingers. I watch the claw drop behind Jillian and retract, a pink snake clutched in its grip. Jillian starts looking wildly at the floor around us. “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “I’m looking for your marbles. The ones you’ve obviously lost.” I look over at Claire who is smiling and shaking her head.

  “Jillian, have you or have you not been leaving paper bags with gifts in them in my locker?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jillian says. The claw drops the snake down the chute. “I haven’t left anything in your locker in paper bags.”

  I look at her, trying to figure out if she’s lying. She’s not. She seems genuinely baffled by my questions. I tell Claire and Jillian about the gifts. Claire smiles and Jillian actually starts bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  “It has to be someone with access to your locker,” Jillian says. I reach around her, grab the snake and hand it to her. She smiles at it. “So romantic.” I shake my head.

  “All three of those people who can get in my locker are right here,” I say. Jillian frowns for a moment, thinking. Then she smiles at me. “The only thing better than a Valentine is a secret Valentine,” she says. I roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure if I told Jillian someone was leaving rolls of toilet paper and bags of ABC gum in my locker she’d find it romantic.

  I wave at Artie as we leave, telling him we’ll be back to pick up the pizzas in a few hours. We spend the rest of the afternoon helping my mom organize the coolers and pulling the wilted stock from the bins to make room for the big shipment arriving in a few days. We wear flannel shirts and fleece coats that my mom keeps for working in the cooler, though really I don’t mind the cold. The best part is the noise of the fans as they crank out cold air. It makes talking nearly impossible, so Jillian can’t continue her nonstop chatter about my secret Valentine.

  “Let’s call it a day,” Mom says from the doorway. We step back into the workroom, shedding our coats and hats. Jillian’s lips are slightly blue and Claire’s teeth are chattering. My fingers feel numb. “If you’ll go pick up dinner, I’ll pull the car around.” The three of us walk back over to Artie’s.

  “Order up!” Artie yells when he sees us. The three of us crowd the counter to take a look at the heart-shaped pizza.

  “Ooh,” Jillian squeals. “This is so cool.” I can feel my cheeks get pink. Claire is smiling too.

  “It’s great,” I say to Artie.

  “Was it a guy who called?” Jillian asks him.

  Artie holds up his hand. “That is strictly on a need-to-know basis,” he says.

  “We need to know,” Claire says.

  “No, you want to know,” Artie says. “And I’m not going to spill the beans.” He winks at me as he closes the box. “Whoever it is sure knows you,” he says. I nod and thank him for the pizza. As we walk to the car, I try to figure that one out. A lot of people sort of know me, but know me? I don’t think anyone really does.

  chapter thirteen

  The second we pull into the driveway, Jillian is out of the car. She walks directly over to Charlie’s. She was asking questions about him during the whole drive home. I caught my mother looking at me in the rearview mirror, one eyebrow raised. Jillian insisted we invite Charlie over for pizza “because well, after the meet, I’m sure he’s starving.” Claire and I both pointed out that the meet was over six hours ago, giving Charlie plenty of time to eat enough food to feed a small country, but she just waved the back of her hand at us as she hopped the flower bed separating our front lawn from the Wishmans’.

  Claire and I help Mom carry the pizzas and the flowers inside. She brought the flowers for Mrs. Bateman. Apparently when Mom called a couple of hours ago “just to see how things were going,” Dom and Lucy had barricaded themselves at the top of the playscape in the backyard and were pelting Mrs. Bateman with toys whenever she came near.

  “Thank you so much,” Mom says, handing Mrs. Bateman the flowers and what I’m sure is a sizeable check. She walks her out while I slide the pizzas onto the counter.

  Claire pulls a stack of plastic plates out of one of the cabinets. “It is so much fun working with your mom,” she says. “She knows so much about flowers. Did you know that if you put an aspirin in the water before you add the flowers, they’ll last longer?” I nod. “And if you want them to bloom faster, you just put an apple near them?” She pauses and smiles. “Thanks for suggesting it,” she says.

  “It seems to be good for you.”

  She nods. “I think it’s good for your mom too,” she says. I wait for her to explain, but she just gives me the same Cheshire Cat grin Jillian’s been giving me for days. She turns, leans against the counter, and looks at me. “Tell me the truth.”

  “About what?” I ask. I open the fridge to pull out juice, milk, and lemonade.

  “Pipe, I’ve known you for seven years. I know when you’re lying. How was your date with Ben Donovan really?”

  I sigh and look at her. “I don’t know. I mean, it was fine.”

  “Fine and good,” Claire says.

  “We just didn’t have that much to say to each other.”

  “You seem surprised by that,” she says. “What did you expect?”

&nb
sp; “I don’t know. Something,” I say. “I mean he is Ben Donovan.”

  Claire snorts, a habit she picked up from me. “Piper, you’re smarter than that.”

  I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I’m not really his type.”

  “No,” she says. “I’m not entirely sure he’s your type.”

  “I don’t think I have a type,” I say. “I’m not that great at relationships.”

  “You want to know what I think?” Claire asks.

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “Whenever people say that, they’re about to tell you something bad.”

  “Not bad, just true,” she says.

  I put the carton of milk, the bottle of lemonade, and the bottle of apple juice on the counter. “Okay,” I say. I take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  Claire laughs. “I think you like to sabotage yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “The few times you’ve gone out with a guy, you do a preemptive strike so you can make sure you get away before he gets too close.”

  “I don’t do that,” I say. Claire just looks at me. “When?”

  “Casey was too short. Eric’s voice was too ‘adenoidal.’ Peter didn’t say the word robot correctly.” She ticks them off on her fingers as she lists them.

  “But all those things are true,” I say. “Casey Williams is like five feet tall.”

  “He was thirteen,” Claire says. I wave my hand, dismissing her point.

  “Eric constantly had to clear his throat and well, the robot thing was sort of minor, but it was just a symptom of Peter’s larger problem which is that he’s completely intolerable. And seriously. Have you even considered what it would be like if I dated Peter? I mean, Peter Piper?” This makes Claire laugh.

  “Maybe,” she says. I frown at her, but before she can say anything else, the front door opens and Mom comes in, followed by Jillian and Charlie and the terrible twosome.

  “Go wash up,” Mom tells Dom and Lucy. They race up the stairs. “Use soap!” Mom yells. “I better go supervise,” she says to me, smiling.

  “Charlie was hungry,” Jillian says.

  “Charlie, have you ever not been hungry?” I ask.

  “No,” he says without having to think about it. “I’m pretty much always hungry. What are we having?” I nod toward the stack of pizza boxes at the end of the counter. “Awesome. I love Artie’s.”

  Jillian tugs Charlie’s sleeve, pulling him toward the stack of boxes. She flips the top one open. “Look,” she says. “It’s a heart.”

  “I can see that,” Charlie says, peering into the box. “But why is it a heart?”

  “Piper has a secret Valentine,” Jillian says. I swear she actually swoons a little when she says it. “Isn’t that romantic?”

  Charlie pulls one of the pieces from the box and takes a bite out of it. “It’s tasty,” he says. Jillian rolls her eyes in my direction. Footsteps thud all the way down the stairs. Dom tears around the corner followed closely by Lucy.

  “I want to sit by Charlie!” Lucy yells, grabbing his free hand. She pulls him over to the table. Jillian is quick to claim the chair on the other side of Charlie, sliding it closer to him as she sits down. I grab the cups and plates and forks. Claire brings the stack of pizza boxes over and places them in the middle of the table.

  “I’ll help,” Charlie says, starting to get up, but Lucy pushes him back down and climbs into his lap. I smirk, thinking Jillian is just an older and only slightly more subtle version of my little sister.

  Mom comes down the stairs. Her hair is up in a ponytail and she’s changed into jeans and a T-shirt. My mother is really pretty. She has the same brown hair as me, but hers is run through with gold. And where my eyes are sort of a milky blue, like sea glass, hers are such a dark shade of blue that they almost seem purple in certain light. She comes up to me and puts her arm around my waist.

  “This is nice,” she says.

  “Just a quiet dinner at the Paisley house,” I say. She laughs as we watch Claire dishing out slices of pizza to Dom and Lucy. Dom flips his backwards and starts eating the crust first. Lucy barely touches hers. She’s too busy making sure Jillian knows Charlie is with her.

  “You’re my Valentine, right, Charlie?” Lucy asks, glaring at Jillian.

  “Stop pestering him,” my mother says. She walks over and lifts Lucy out of his lap and slides her into her own chair. I follow and sit in the last empty chair, between my mother and Claire.

  “Who’s your Valentine?” Jillian asks Dom.

  He squints at her. “Valentine’s Day is stupid,” he says.

  “Mommy! Dom said a bad word,” Lucy says around a mouthful of pizza.

  “But that’s what Piper said,” Dom says. It’s suddenly quiet and everyone looks at me.

  “I didn’t say that,” I argue, but I’m not that sure.

  “You did too,” Dom says. His eyes start filling up with tears.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say softly. I put my slice of pizza back on my plate. Suddenly I don’t feel much like eating. It’s one thing to be cynical when you’re my age, but when you’re five? “Dom,” I say. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just being grouchy.”

  He looks at me for a moment, then smiles. “You are pretty grouchy,” he says, making everyone laugh.

  “Not all the time!” I say.

  “Just when you wake up,” Claire says.

  “And when you’re hungry,” Charlie points out.

  “And when you’re doing homework,” Lucy adds.

  “When you’re tired,” Mom says.

  “Or sick,” Charlie says.

  “Or hot,” Jillian says.

  “Or cold,” Dom says.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, holding up my hands. “But only then.”

  “But that’s all the time,” Lucy says. This makes everyone laugh again. My cell phone goes off. It sounds like a herd of cows.

  “Saved by the moo,” I say, pushing away from the table. I look over at Charlie, who just smiles. I have yet to see him fiddling with my phone. I pick it up and look at the screen before putting it to my ear. “Hey, Jan,” I say.

  “Guess who I just got off the phone with?” Jan asks.

  “Umm…” I look at the ceiling.

  “Forget it,” Jan says. “You’re a lousy guesser. I just got off the phone with the Food Network.”

  “Cool,” I say, mostly because I don’t know what else to say.

  “They want to film a segment here!” he says.

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s amazing. You must be psyched.”

  “No, Piper, you don’t understand,” Jan says. “They’re going to be here in two days.”

  “That’s soon,” I say, stating the obvious. Everyone at the table is quiet and looking at me. I smile at them, then stare back down at the floor and listen.

  “I need to stock the cases and clean the windows and clear the tables so they’ll have room for the cameras and—” Jan keeps listing all the things that need to happen.

  “We’ll help,” I say. I look over at everyone sitting at the table. They all nod, making me smile. They don’t even need to know what they are signing up for. They’re in.

  “That would be great, Piper. But listen, school comes first. I want you to make sure—”

  “Jan,” I say. “I’m good. Remember, I’m the queen of organization.”

  “She’s the queen of grouchy too!” Dom yells.

  Jan starts laughing. “Okay, Queen Grouchy. Whatever time you and your cohorts can spare would be much appreciated.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say. I click off and put down the phone. I take a deep breath.

  “Well, tell us!” Jillian says. I laugh. Patient, she is not. I tell them all about the Food Network coming and Jan freaking. “So do we get to be on television?” Jillian asks. I shrug.

  “Whatever we can do to help,” my mother says.

  “Mom,” I say. “You’re busy too.”

  “I
know,” she says, standing up. “But I know you’d all help me if I needed it.” She picks up two of the empty pizza boxes and walks with them into the kitchen.

  “He asked if we could be there tomorrow,” I say to Jillian, who nods. “And Claire, if you want to—”

  “Of course. Once I finish sorting the ribbon and restocking the gift cards and dusting the vases.” I smile. She clearly loves working for my mom.