I look at Luke through the snowflakes. The way he’s staring at me right now is so intense, it makes my heart rate speed up and I have to catch my breath. Then a big flake smacks just below my eye and I shake my head to get it off but it doesn’t budge.
Wordlessly, Luke reaches toward my face, and with his thumb, gently wipes the snowflake from my cheek. A rush of heat goes through me, and I’m surprised the turkey doesn’t start cooking right there in my hands.
I gaze into his eyes, his thumb now caressing my cheek, and I know if he tries to kiss me out here I won’t—
“Arrr, arrr, arrrrrrrr!”
I jump and almost drop the turkey, but Luke laughs. “Way to ruin the moment, Montague,” he says over his shoulder.
Sure enough, beyond the chain-link fence, Montague is terrorizing one of his cinder blocks. And I have to thank him for that, because it completely snaps me out of this dreamy, snow-globe-y moment and back to reality.
Luke’s face falls. “What?”
It takes everything in me to say it. “I can’t.”
His brow furrows and there’s a wounded look in his eyes. “You were just about to kiss me.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I miss you. I’m attracted to you. I just can’t get over the fact that you lied to me.”
“Oh my god,” Luke says, turning around and storming back toward his bike.
“Luke, come on,” I say. “Put yourself in my position.”
He hops off the bike, lets it fall and stomps back, coming toe-to-toe with me, and for a second I think he’s going to grab me in a passionate kiss like in the movies. But instead he throws his hands up.
“You can’t ask me to see something from your point of view when you’re wrong, dead wrong,” Luke says, his face red, his eyes bright. “I’ve told you Greta and I were broken up, but, no, you want to believe a stupid gossip blog over me. But then, you’re still so damn obsessed with beating Hunter, maybe you’re still hung up on him or something, and that’s where this is coming from.”
He doesn’t wait for me to react. Instead, he stomps back to his bike, gets on, and speeds away, his tires leaving a fine black line through the dusting of snow on the pavement.
When he’s gone, it’s so quiet that I can hear the snowflakes lightly hitting the tin foil on the turkey. I look around dazedly and realize that I’m in the parking lot, the same place Hunter dumped me in horrific fashion. Which means it’s the second time in three months I’ve had a guy tell me off right here.
I really hate this parking lot.
CHAPTER 25
I’m numb as I walk home, and I’m not certain it has to do with the blustery breeze and thousands of snowflakes attacking me, nor the fact that I’ve been walking really, really slow. I think my brain may be shutting down and going on strike, considering all the emotions it has had to process in the last twenty-four hours.
I try to count my blessings, like my grandma used to say. I have my health (aside from the inevitable cold I’m going to catch from wandering around outside in the snow for so long). I have three days away from school, so I won’t have to deal with the rumor mill, which, by Friday, will probably have twisted the story into me using clubs and nunchucks to put Jared in a coma.
But if my brain somehow voted to secede from my body, I don’t think I could blame it. Especially since we are going to have to face my parents over the whole suspension thing and that in itself makes me want to crawl into the fetal position in a closet somewhere and not come out till I’m forty-six.
Just as I climb the steps to the porch, the door flies open and my mom is staring down at me, her face flushed, her mouth hanging open.
“What has gotten into you, Mary Ellen?” she asks when she can finally speak, and I can see the veins popping in her neck.
I can turn and run. I’m still not technically in the house and she’d have trouble catching me since she’s not wearing shoes right now.
“And where have you been? We’ve been trying to get you on your phone for over an hour.”
The reminder of my dead phone makes me realize I’d have no means of communication if I did run away, so my only choice is to go inside.
“My battery died,” I say quietly as I walk inside, and I stop short when I see my father sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. Oh my god, he left work early, too.
“You attacked your classmate?” he asks, not even trying to hide the disappointment on his face.
“It was provoked,” I say, dropping eye contact. “He said I was a slut and he called my group losers.”
“Your principal made us very aware of that,” Mom says. “But since when do you go around tackling people and throwing things at them?”
“Um, one fight doesn’t exactly make me the bad seed,” I say, my fear suddenly replaced with crankiness. I mean, I’ve never given them any issues before. Ever.
“What we’re worried about is that you’ve never resorted to violence,” Dad says sternly.
“Yeah, Mary Ellen,” Mom says. “What kind of person does something like what you pulled today?”
That’s when something in me snaps. “Maybe the kind of person who didn’t want to sleep with her boyfriend! Because that’s where this whole damn mess started in the first place!”
Both my parents’ faces go from stern to OMG, and it would probably be amusing if I wasn’t the one in the hot seat here.
“Or if you want to take it further back, it’s because we had to move here. Because then I never would’ve met Hunter and he never would’ve dumped me for Brynn—”
“He dumped you for Brynn?” Mom says, her voice going up a few octaves. “Why didn’t you tell us that?”
“Because you already didn’t like him and then I would’ve had to tell you I was partially dumped over lack of sex and I really didn’t want to get into that with my parents,” I say.
Dad has a look on his face like, “Yeah, ain’t that the truth,” but Mom frowns sadly, as if she’s hurt. “Well, you could have told us. But how does that lead into you getting in a fight with this Jared boy? That isn’t like you at all, El.”
“I know it’s not like me!” I yell, unable to stop myself. “But when you get dumped for being a frigid bitch or whatever, and then you have to share a class with your ex and his new girlfriend and when you’re finally getting over him, you start liking another guy who turns out to be another liar and then your best friend can’t go to her dream school and she takes it out on you and you tell her off even though you know she’s really hurting,” I gasp for air, “and then you get in another fight with your ex-boyfriend because of all your pent-up anger and his new girlfriend starts accusing you of sleeping with him and you stupidly take all your anger out on your group and that Jared guy overhears and accuses you of being a slut, well, yeah, I kind of had had it.”
I catch my breath and feel a little dizzy, as if getting all that off my chest was like getting thirty vials of blood drawn.
Mom and Dad gape at me, their mouths literally hanging open.
“I felt humiliated by a lot of it and because I know you never liked Hunter and he’s what triggered everything. I guess I didn’t want to get an ‘I Told You So.’”
“Oh, El,” Mom says, and sighs. “I know I wasn’t great with Hunter and I apologize. But never in a million years would I have said ‘I told you so.’”
“Me neither,” Dad says.
“Well, then I’m sorry for assuming,” I say quietly, and sit down on the step next to my dad. We’re silent for a few minutes and I hold my breath waiting for my punishment.
“The boy who turned out to be a liar, is that Luke?” Mom says, her brow furrowed.
I nod sadly.
“What did he lie to you about?” my dad says, clenching his jaw.
I almost burst out laughing at his paternal side getting triggered. “It’s fine, I handled it.”
Mom’s eyes are narrowed like she doesn’t believe me, and I have to clench my own jaw so I don’t melt down over t
hat. It’s not something I want to go into now.
“It sounds like you’ve had a lot on your plate, El. And I’m worried this has a lot to do with what happened to you in middle school, and maybe we didn’t do enough to help you stick up for yourself then, and it’s rearing its ugly head now.”
I sigh deeply. “I hadn’t even thought of that. But it kind of makes sense. I didn’t ever tell off the people who made fun of me, and I think, deep down, I always wish I’d had. I’ve never really gotten over that. But that’s not on you guys.”
Mom tucks my hair behind my ears. “I really want you to know you can talk to us instead of keeping everything bottled up inside.”
I nod, feeling the slightest bit relieved. “I will. I thought I could handle it all, but clearly I reached a breaking point. I won’t let that happen again.”
“Good, I believe you,” Mom says, caressing my cheek. The phone rings then, and Mom goes to answer it. Dad pats my back. “I’ve been dying to know what happened with the Feast-Off. Did you get to do it before the fight?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“What? You were looking forward to this for weeks. I want to know if you brought down all your classmates with that amazing menu you were planning.”
Tears sting my eyes over realizing how that never got to happen. “No, I got us disqualified because of the fight. But I was really flipping out on the guys before that. I took the class competition way too far. I think they hate me.”
“Aw, El,” Dad says. “I bet they’re over it already.”
I can only shake my head regretfully in response.
“Next time?” Dad says, lowering his voice. “You throw raw eggs at a boy who insults you like that. Deviled eggs are too good for him.”
I laugh. “The deviled eggs made a nice mess, too.”
“Well, any boy who makes comments like that deserves what’s coming to him and I’m glad you did it. And I think your friends will forgive it, too.”
My friends. I’d never thought of them as that and yet … it’s true. I like being in class with them. I like hanging out with them. We give each other advice. We laugh a lot (or at least we did before today). Sure, I’m not going to invite them over for a sleepover or go prom-dress shopping, but they’re kind of like my school … family.
And here I am, three months after dreading the sight of them, hoping that they feel the same way about me.
* * *
My parents may be pretty cool in that they’re not grounding me, but they’re more than making up for it by leaving me lists of things to do during my suspension. Like cleaning the toilet. And dusting everything from the shelves to the molding on the floor to behind the radiators.
“This isn’t a vacation, sweetie,” Mom says when she wakes me up at 6:00 a.m. the next day.
I can’t argue with her, seeing as how great she and Dad were about my meltdown, so I wait until she’s out of the room to groan into my pillow.
But by 11:00 a.m., I’m kind of glad to have the long list stuck to the fridge with a “Whistle While You Work” magnet because it lets me ruminate things as I go, especially how to make things up to the guys.
I’m pondering this as I vacuum the blinds in the dining room, with Earth, Wind & Fire blasting on the record player. One of my epic moments of procrastination this morning was thumbing through my mom’s old records and deciding which would add the perfect soundtrack for household duties, and I’m humming along when there’s pounding on the front door.
Instinctively, I drop to the ground and kill the vacuum. I’m worried it’s either a kidnapper or a religious group.
Bangbangbangbangbang!
I crawl along the floor on my stomach, wondering if I can peek through the curtains without being seen.
“Ellie!” a voice calls out. “It’s me. I know you’re home because the music is blowing your cover.”
I throw open the door and Jodie is standing there in her coat and backpack and St. Catherine’s uniform.
“How did you—”
“I cut class,” Jodie says, brushing past me.
“You cut school?” Chinese class is one thing, but high school is another animal entirely.
Jodie raises an eyebrow at me. “You got suspended?”
I squint at her. “How did you know?”
“I stopped by the shoe store and Richard told me. He thought I knew.”
I slap my hand to my forehead. I’d been texting last night with Richard and told him about the suspension, and that my parents were still allowing me to work.
“Did you really throw scrambled eggs at that Jared guy for calling you a whore?” Jodie’s eyes are kind of hopeful and it makes me laugh.
“It was deviled eggs and he said I was ‘slutting it up lately,’ if we’re being specific,” I say.
“No!”
“Yes! And before this convo continues, can I just say I’m really sorry for yelling at you about USC?”
Jodie waves her hand. “Thank you, but I know I’ve been an überbitch lately. Even my guidance counselor yelled at me. And I really shouldn’t have gone off on you about Hunter like that. Especially since you hooked up with Luke. Spill.”
We plunk down on the couch and I launch into the whole story of the party and the secret kisses, the lying, and the fallout.
Jodie frowns. “I really wish you’d told me.”
“I wanted to, but you were so bummed about USC,” I say. “And for what it’s worth, no one knew, and that’s probably for the best considering what happ—”
I can’t get the rest out because a sudden torrent of tears grips me and Jodie has to swoop in and smooth my hair from my face.
“Ugh, I thought I was over this.”
“You really liked him,” Jodie says sympathetically. “Knowing you, you’ve been sitting on this and it’s eaten away at you.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say. “I’ve tried being friends with him, but the feelings just keep coming to the surface.”
Jodie scrunches up her face in thought. “You’re a hundred percent sure he was lying to you?”
“The way Greta was crying, I don’t think there’s any way Jared made it up.”
Jodie shakes her head. “I know I only met him that one time, but, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have seen this coming, either, so don’t beat yourself up. I’m really sorry he turned out to be such a dude.”
“I guess that’s what I get for taking a risk,” I say, forcing a laugh. “You were right about that, though. I run away from things.”
“I’m so sorry I ever said that. I mean—”
“No. I ran away from middle school, which was probably valid, but after that I just kept avoiding anything tough. It’s half the reason I was probably with Hunter in the first place. I didn’t have to meet anyone and make an effort if I just took on his friends. I mean, I tried to drop home ec to avoid him. What kind of person does that?”
“Someone who’s looking out for themselves?” Jodie says. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, El. You’ll take risks when you’re ready.”
I smile at her, my number one cheerleader since the fourth grade. “I can’t believe you actually cut school.”
Jodie shakes her head. “Well, let’s just say I’ve done some reprioritizing.”
I picture her cutting all of her classes from here to graduation and giving up on college all together. I must have a freaked-out look on my face because Jodie throws her head back and laughs. “I just mean that I’m trying to not be so concerned about school right now and more about myself. You’re right about the college thing.”
I start to apologize again, but she holds up her hand. “I know I’m terrified to fly, but if I’m serious about this TV writing thing, I think I really have to give a long hard think about my options.”
“Could you do NYU or something? Don’t they have a good dramatic arts program?”
“I applied there, Columbia, and Emerson. I’m not going to lie, it’s an adjustment not thinking about USC anymor
e.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
“You’ll do great no matter where you go,” I say, squeezing her arm.
Jodie blows out her cheeks, then glances around the room and spots the vacuum next to the drapes. “Are you doing housework?”
“That’s my punishment. It could be worse, I guess.”
Jodie taps her chin thoughtfully. “What if I help you out with that and we make some grilled cheeses for lunch and then watch terrible daytime TV together, like we used to during our middle school vacations?”
“Best. Day. Ever,” I say, clapping my hands.
“You know, if this were an old TV show, we’d totally hug right now and the studio audience would go ‘awww,’” Jodie says.
“I don’t need a studio audience,” I say, and throw my arms around her.
“Aww,” Jodie coos, and we both double over laughing.
CHAPTER 26
On the third day of my suspension, I’m tasked with heading over to the Shop & Save to do the food shopping. I decide to go early enough that I don’t run into any of my classmates—surely they won’t be hanging out in the produce aisle at nine thirty in the morning.
I’m hit with a sudden wistfulness as I enter through the automatic doors, thinking of my group expedition here back in September, and how wary I was of all the guys at that point.
Now I’m just hoping they’ll speak to me again.
The wistfulness hits its full peak when I steer the cart through the frozen food section. In my winter coat, I’m nowhere near as cold as I was that day, but the memory of the smell of Luke’s sweatshirt hits me like the world’s saddest cannonball to my stomach. It doesn’t help that Christmas carols are playing, and I wonder what Christmas nerd Luke would think about that.
I really can’t think about him like this. It’s not good for anyone.
I manage to finish shopping without losing myself further down Memory Lane, and for that I’m grateful. As I’m pushing my full cart out the door, my eyes fall on someone sitting on the bench outside the Shop & Save entrance.
The Secret Recipe for Moving On Page 24
