“We want the note,” Jillian says. The student council guy steps back a little, clearly afraid of her intensity. She looks at me and Claire. “For handwriting analysis.”
“Don’t mind my friend,” I say to the rapidly retreating student council guy. “She thinks she’s on CSI Montrose.”
He nods, smiling. “Tell your boyfriend thanks,” he says. He pauses and smiles at me. “When you find out who he is.”
I manage to push between the flowers and get into my locker. We decide to head to the caff for break. I put my head down as soon as we sit at a table. Jillian can’t stop guessing who might have given me the flowers. “It has to be Ben Donovan,” she says. I shake my head and tell her about the banana encounter. She claims that it doesn’t rule him out, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. She frowns for a moment, but then her face brightens. “More intrigue,” she says.
“The carnations were orange. Orange is one of your favorite colors,” Claire says.
“Claire, are you leaving the gifts?” I ask, thinking that she seems to already know why the gifts are my favorite.
“I’m not,” she says. “I promise.” I look over at her and smile. She’s telling the truth. Claire is as bad a liar as I am.
“Let’s examine the evidence,” Jillian says. I roll my eyes, but she ignores me. “He’s a true romantic. He has access to your locker.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “He seems to really know you.” She trails off with only three fingers in the air.
“Peter Finch?” Claire asks. We all look over to the other side of the room where Peter is flexing his arm for Sarah.
“Eww,” I say. “No.”
“Then who?” Jillian asks again. I shrug. Part of me still thought it was Jillian or Claire, but they are both genuinely baffled.
Claire interrupts Jillian’s investigation to tell her all about her phone call with Alex Muñoz. Since I’ve already heard everything, I don’t feel bad about putting my head down on my arms.
“It’s all coming together,” Jillian says.
“What’s coming together?” I ask, looking up at her.
“The Plan!” Jillian says.
“What plan?” I ask, just to annoy her.
“The Plan!” she says again, clearly annoyed.
“Oh,” Claire says. “You mean the love potion plan?”
“And the flirting plan?”
“And the makeover plan?” Claire asks. Jillian frowns.
Claire reaches out and touches her hand. “It was a good plan,” she says. She smiles. “Even though nothing worked.”
“But we do all have very good prospects for Valentine’s Day,” Jillian points out.
“Good thing, because it’s only a few days away,” I say.
Jillian nods. “I mean, I have Charlie and sort of Jeremy.” She looks at Claire. “And you have Alex Muñoz—”
“I don’t think one phone call—”
“Humor her,” I say.
“Okay, you sort of have Alex.” She pokes my elbow. “And Piper is the big winner. Ben Donovan.”
“Mm hmm,” I say, thinking about falling asleep again.
“Okay,” Jillian says. “After school we go by Jan’s and then we go to my place to get ready.” She pokes me again. “I have the best dress for you. Ben Donovan is going to freak.”
“Ben Donovan is going to freak about what?” a male voice asks. I look up and see Ben Donovan coming up behind Jillian. Jillian turns ten shades of pink which is sort of funny. I was under the impression that Jillian didn’t have the capacity for embarrassment. Ben Donovan smiles at me. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m just really, really tired.” I scoot over so he can sit down.
“I just came to see what time you wanted me to pick you up tonight, but maybe you aren’t feeling—”
“She’ll be fine by then,” Jillian says.
I smile over at him and nod. “I’ll be fine by then.” Ben Donovan puts his hand on mine. I look at him holding my hand. Maybe it’s just because I’m super tired, but I still don’t feel a thing.
“So what time?” he asks.
“Meet us there seven-ish,” Jillian says. “I’ll have them hold your badge at the front in case you get there before us.”
“Cool,” Ben Donovan says. “I’m looking forward to it.” He squeezes my hand. “Guess I better—” He nods toward where a bunch of swimmers are clustered around Peter, who is now trying to cram as many Oreos in his mouth at the same time as he can. It makes me think of Charlie. Ben Donovan gets up and gives me one more smile. It’s a nice smile, I think before putting my head back on my arms.
“He is so yummy,” Jillian says. She pokes my elbow, making me look up. “You guys make such a cute couple.” I nod, but then I notice Claire sitting there looking at me, her left eyebrow raised just a tiny bit higher than the other. I smile at her. Claire’s back, I think. I can’t ever get anything by her. I can maybe fake Jillian out and make her believe that I’m head over heels for Ben Donovan, but not Claire. I smile into my arms. I am now the girl who just isn’t that into Ben Donovan. Life just keeps throwing me surprises.
Too bad they aren’t always good surprises. Mom texts me, asking me to call her at the shop when I get a chance. I slip outside during lunch and sit on a cement bench under one of the trees.
“Hi,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?” she asks. She might as well ask Are you sitting down?
“Outside the library,” I say. “Sitting on a bench.” Mom takes a deep breath. “Just tell me or ask me,” I say. “Wait, are Dom and Lucy okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine. Beau’s with them. I’m sorry, Piper. It’s just weird. It’s Jack,” she says. I don’t say anything. “Your father.”
“Yes, Mom. I know my father’s name.”
She makes a sort of nervous giggle noise. “It’s just that he called again this morning. He said he really wants to talk to you. He asked for your cell number, but I just didn’t feel right giving him that.”
“What does he want, Mom? I mean, after all this time?”
“I don’t know, Pipe. He said he has something to talk to you about.”
“I’ll call him, Mom,” I say. “Just not today. I’ve got so much going on and I’m wiped. I feel like I need to be on top of my game when I talk to Jack.”
Mom laughs for real this time. “Yes, that’s probably a good plan. Talking to Jack is always like playing dodgeball with an octopus. You need to have really good reflexes to react to whatever he’s going to throw at you.”
This makes me laugh. “Pretty clever, Mom,” I say.
“I can bring it when I need to,” she says.
“All right, you can put the teen slang dictionary back on the shelf,” I say. “You’re starting to creep me out.” The bell signaling the end of lunch rings. “I need to go,” I say. “I’ll call you from Jan’s.”
“Jack’s not all bad, Piper.”
I sigh. “I know.” And I do. Jack was always the fun parent. He taught me how to skateboard and spit cherry pits and make mud pies.
“I love you,” Mom says, interrupting my memories.
“I love you too,” I say, and end the call. I hope the next surprise is a good one. Or maybe just no more surprises for a bit. That would be fine too.
Jan’s is still mobbed with people when we get there. Mostly TV people, but a lot of regular people too. Jan’s made the local news this morning. The Good Morning Atlanta van is still parked in front. This time the guy at the door just smiles at us and steps aside to let us in, earning a lot of complaints from the crowd, who are all forced to observe from the sidewalk. Jillian grabs my arm hard when we enter.
“Ow,” I say, trying to pry her fingers from my forearm, but she keeps a tight grip as she stares at where Jan is talking to some guy in a flannel shirt and jeans. He turns and we can see the side of his face. I start laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Jeremy asks.
“Tell
him,” I say, elbowing Jillian. She just shakes her head. Her cheeks are bright pink.
“Last fall…” I begin. “Okay, it’s sort of stupid, but it was late and we were bored.” Jeremy makes an impatient movement with his hand. “Anyway, Claire and I were hanging at Jillian’s watching television.” Jeremy makes the hand motion again. “So Jillian makes us pick a TV boyfriend.” Jeremy squints at me. “You know, someone on television who we’d want to be our boyfriend if you know…”
“You magically fell through the screen and into TV land,” Jeremy says.
“Uh-huh,” I say. “So anyway, Jillian picked him.” I gesture toward the guy talking to Jan.
Jeremy looks over at Nerdy Flannel Guy. “Him?” he asks. Jillian nods, her cheeks still pink. “But he’s…” He struggles to find the right word.
“A nerd,” I finish. Jeremy nods, clearly surprised.
“So you like nerdy guys?” he asks Jillian. She shrugs.
Jan sees us standing there and beckons us over. He quickly introduces us to Jillian’s TV boyfriend. Jeremy and I say hello. Jillian tries, but can’t manage more than a smile. Jan looks at her for a long moment, clearly wondering what we did with the real Jillian.
“Heard you guys were the big stars yesterday,” Nerdy Flannel Guy says. None of us knows what to say to that. “So, which one of you came up with this?” he asks, pointing to the bacon truffles.
“That would be me,” Jeremy says.
“Cool,” Nerdy Flannel Guy says. “How did you account for the variable fat content of pork products?” Jeremy launches into some complicated formula that creates a ratio of butter fat to protein. He loses me somewhere around the word comestible, but Nerdy Flannel Guy just nods as he listens. Jillian pulls my sleeve and I follow her over to the Valentine’s display.
“He’s pretty cute, right?” she asks.
“I guess,” I say. “He’s shorter than I thought he’d be.”
Jillian laughs. “I didn’t mean him. I meant Jeremy.” I look over to where Jeremy is still talking and Nerdy Flannel Guy is smiling and nodding.
“Yeah,” I say. “He is. But wait. I thought popular jocks were your ideal.”
“I thought Ben Donovan was yours,” she says in what my mother would say was her sass voice. I shake my head. Some part of me is tempted to say touché, but if Ben Donovan isn’t my ideal, who is?
chapter seventeen
I don’t know about this,” I say, pulling at the straps of my dress. Or rather the dress that Jillian picked out for me. “It seems a little…”
“Oh no,” Jillian says. “You promised when you got here that you would do exactly as I said.” I roll my eyes and look back into the full-length mirror hung next to Jillian’s closet.
“You look amazing,” Claire says from where she is sitting on the bed, holding her phone. She laughs at something on her screen and starts texting back. Alex Muñoz. I look at myself in the mirror. The dress is beautiful—a pale periwinkle color with beading across the hem and up one side, so that it looks like flowers made out of jewels are climbing up one of my legs. I twist to the side. It’s my legs that are freaking me out. I’m pretty sure I’ve only shown more of them on the pool deck in my swimsuit.
“You sure?” I ask for the seventeenth time.
“Oh my goodness,” Jillian says. “Yes!” I smile at myself in the mirror. I do like my hair, and my makeup looks great. As a thank you, the Food Network stylist did all three of our hair and makeup before we left Jan’s. “We need to get going,” Jillian says, looking at the clock on her bedside table. She points to the pair of heels she put out for me. I swear they look like Cinderella’s glass slippers, all crystals and Lucite. I slip them on, wincing a little at the pinch on my toes.
“Girls!” Jillian’s mother yells up the stairs. I follow Claire and Jillian out, taking one last look in the mirror as I go. I barely recognize myself. We walk down the stairs toward Jillian’s mother, who is standing in the front hall, waiting. This time, I actually do feel like Scarlett O’Hara descending Jillian’s stairs. They are long and sweep along one side of their circular entryway. I run my hand down the carved banister to keep from falling and breaking my neck.
Jillian’s mother stops us at the bottom and takes a million pictures of us; first individually then the three of us together. I hand her my camera and she takes a dozen with that one too. I promised my mother that I’d get lots of photos. It’s not every day that I get to see you in a dress, she said when I called her from Jan’s.
We all pile into the car parked out front. Jillian’s mom can’t complain about feeling like our chauffeur this time because there actually is a chauffeur. And while the car isn’t a limo, it’s the biggest car I’ve ever been in before and I’ve been in Jan’s hearse plenty of times. We drive the short distance over to the Umlaut event, which is being held outside at the Bernaby Water Gardens.
“Wow,” I say as we pull up. The trees surrounding the garden have all been decorated with twinkling strings of white lights and even from inside the car I can hear the harpist that is playing near the entryway. “I really do feel like Cinderella.”
“Well,” Jillian says, pointing toward the entry. “There’s your prince.” I lean forward to look out and see Charlie standing near the front, talking to a woman with a clipboard in her hands. He is wearing a tuxedo and his hair is pulled back from his face.
“I, uh…” I look over at Claire, who is shaking her head at me. She gestures over to the reception area. Of course. Ben Donovan is standing there talking to several girls who all look the same, like they are actually paper dolls who’ve only recently been separated from one another. “Oh,” I say, but I feel something in my stomach. Something that is a little too much like disappointment. Am I the girl who is now disappointed that she’s going on a date with Ben Donovan?
“Well, this is it,” Jillian’s mom says as the chauffeur comes around and opens the door. She accepts his hand and steps out of the car. Jillian and Claire follow her. I concentrate on how they do it, so I can attempt to exit the car as gracefully as they do. A big downside to arriving at an event in a fancy car with the president of the foundation is that everyone has turned and is watching us. I manage to climb out with only a slight stumble. Luckily the chauffeur seems used to dealing with klutzy people, and his hand catches me before I wobble too much. I offer him a smile of gratitude. He nods at me and closes the door behind me. I follow Claire and Jillian and Jillian’s mother up to the entrance.
“Ready for the stop and repeat?” Jillian points over to the side where people are standing having their photos taken from every angle.
“Seriously?” I ask.
Someone touches my elbow. I look up and see Ben Donovan smiling. “Hi,” he says. “You look beautiful.” He holds my elbow as we walk over to the group of photographers clustered in front of a banner advertising all of the sponsors for the event.
“Thank you,” I say. “This is pretty amazing.”
“Um yeah,” he says, looking around. Something about the way he says it suggests that he’s been to things like this before, maybe a lot before. Jillian has her photo taken by herself, then with her mother, then with her mother and Claire. She manages to pull Charlie in for one shot. Charlie isn’t smiling. Then it’s my turn. The flashes momentarily blind me as a woman in a black dress guides me and Ben Donovan down the line. She grabs Charlie’s arm before he can leave and drags him over beside me. She instructs him to put his arm around me.
“Nice,” one of the photographers says, snapping picture after picture. The woman in the dress pulls Ben Donovan away for some individual shots, leaving just Charlie and me.
“Cute couple,” an older woman murmurs as we pass. I glance over at Charlie, wondering if he heard her, but he’s staring toward the row of cars pulling up to the entrance.
“You look great,” I say to Charlie, but it’s so loud he doesn’t hear me. The blonde woman steers us toward another line where another woman in a black dress hands us our b
adges and goody bags. One peek inside confirms that these bags are way better than those we used to get at grade school birthday parties. Jillian collects them and gives them to one of the waiters who takes them somewhere for safekeeping.
Ben Donovan is at my side again. “Do you want to go inside?”
I pause, looking around for Charlie, but he’s not standing near the entrance anymore. “Sure,” I say, surprised at how disappointed I am that Charlie is gone. I let Ben Donovan steer me through the crowd and into the garden. Frank’s paintings are hanging on thin wires from the trees. They are lit by soft lights set up in the grass below them. The lighting is so subtle that the paintings almost look like they belong there, as much as the trees and flowers surrounding them. I accept a glass of something gold and bubbly with raspberries in it.
Love? Maybe. Page 17
