Geek Abroad

by Piper Banks

  Here’s the thing: As the heiress to a mouthwash fortune, Peyton has a lot of money. My dad does not. I don’t know exactly what their money arrangements are, but I could safely presume that my dad’s salary as an architect didn’t go all that far. The mouthwash money had paid for the beach house and for Peyton’s extensive wardrobe and for the lavish lifestyle she insisted on. It had also paid for Hannah’s new car, of course. And I got the sense that my dad was suddenly uncomfortable with this. But I didn’t know what I could do about it.

  “I’m so sorry, Miranda,” Dad said for the two hundredth time as he dropped me off at the bowling alley.

  “I know. You don’t have to keep apologizing,” I said.

  “Maybe we could have a redo next Saturday,” Dad suggested. “We could go out to dinner or have a party. Whatever you want.”

  “I can’t next Saturday. I have a MATh competition. It’s in Orlando, so we probably won’t get back until late.”

  “Oh.” Dad looked so crestfallen, I actually felt a little sorry for him. “But we have to do something to celebrate. I want to make it up to you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll have dinner or something.”

  Dad’s face cleared. “Good. How about tomorrow? I could make reservations at Swordfish.”

  “For just the two of us?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t want to spend what was supposed to be my birthday dinner getting zinged by Peyton’s nasty barbs or having to listen to Hannah natter on endlessly about her car.

  Dad opened his mouth to object—I knew how fond he was of his fantasy of the perfect family—but then he seemed to think better of it. “Okay. Just the two of us,” he said.

  I knew it was a major concession.

  I was happy to see that Finn and Charlie were already at the bowling alley, waiting for me by the shoe-rental window. I was less happy to see that Mitch was with them. He was, as usual, wearing far too much hair gel, and he was holding hands with Charlie.

  “Hi,” I said, arching my eyebrows in surprise.

  “Hi, Miranda,” Charlie sang out. “Happy birthday!”

  “Thanks,” I said, looking from her to Mitch and then finally at Finn, who looked like he’d just swallowed a bug.

  “Hi,” Finn said without enthusiasm. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks,” I said, my heart sinking. This was not going to be fun. Not at all. It was going to be awkward and difficult and—if Mitch and Charlie started up with the public displays of affection again—really uncomfortable.

  “You guys have gotten your bowling shoes already?” I asked.

  “Yep. Look, Mitch and I match,” Charlie said, pointing down at her feet. She beamed. “Isn’t that cute?”

  “Um . . . yeah,” I said, turning away before she could see the revolted expression on my face.

  I traded in my faded Jack Purcell canvas sneakers for bowling shoes, and then the four of us made our way over to one of the empty bowling alleys. There was one league playing. It was made up entirely of women over the age of seventy, all of whom were wearing lime green shirts. Otherwise, we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

  “So how has your birthday been so far?” Charlie asked.

  “Pretty rotten,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Everyone forgot,” I said. “Well, everyone but Sadie. She sent me this ring.”

  I showed off my new Claddagh ring, which Charlie admired. Then she frowned. “What do you mean everyone forgot?”

  “Dad, Peyton, Hannah. None of them remembered.”

  Charlie gasped, and even Finn looked shocked.

  “They forgot it was your birthday?” Charlie asked.

  “Dude, that sucks. It’s like that movie,” Mitch said. He scratched at a pimple on his chin.

  Charlie shook her head, her eyes narrowing with anger. “I can’t believe they did that to you. Well, just you wait, we’ll make up for it. This will be the best birthday bowling night in the history of birthday bowling nights.”

  But it wasn’t the best birthday bowling night in the history of birthday bowling nights. It was the worst.

  Charlie and Finn didn’t talk. Not at all. They sat on opposite sides of our booth, Finn sulkily withdrawn and Charlie perched on Mitch’s lap, cooing annoyingly down at him. I sat in the middle, insisting that the birthday girl should keep score, although really, I just wanted to be there to keep the peace if Finn and Charlie started bickering again. But the glacial silence between my two best friends made it unnecessary.

  At first, I was frustrated. . . .But that quickly morphed into a simmering anger. Couldn’t they pretend to get along for a single night for my sake? Wasn’t it bad enough that my so-called family had ruined my birthday? Did my friends really have to make it worse?

  Plus, I couldn’t bowl to save my life. I’ve never been a great bowler—Finn is the really talented bowler of our group—but I was stinking up the joint worse than usual. Every ball I threw ended up in the gutter. Over and over again.

  “Shoot,” I muttered under my breath, as the purple-and-black mottled ball I’d selected veered to the left and shot by the pins without knocking a single one down. “I guess you win, Finn. Another game?”

  I thought it was a rhetorical suggestion. We always stayed for a second round, and had only bowled one round of ten frames. But to my surprise, Finn stood up.

  “I have to get home.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Curfew,” Finn said.

  Which I knew was a lie. First of all, Finn doesn’t have a curfew. Second, it was only seven o’clock.

  “You’re not really leaving now, are you?” I asked.

  Finn nodded and shot a grim look at Charlie, who was still perched on Mitch’s lap. They were kissing, oblivious to the world around them.

  “Happy birthday, M,” Finn said. He held up his fist, and, after hesitating, I sighed, and bumped my fist against his.

  “Thanks,” I said. “And thanks for my present.”

  Finn had given me a bobble head greyhound figurine and a new writing journal. Charlie had given me a T-shirt that said LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE on the front, and had a picture of a round yellow ball-shaped girl underneath.

  “I was going to get you a T-shirt that read I ONLY DATE BRITS, but I thought under the circumstances you’d prefer this one,” Charlie had joked when I opened it.

  “Later,” Finn now said.

  He waved and turned to leave. I sat back down with a sigh. Charlie and Mitch continued to kiss.

  Things went rapidly downhill after Finn left. At least while he was there, I had someone to talk to. And if Charlie and Mitch were too enamored of one another to remember to take a turn, Finn and I would just bowl for them.

  But now I was basically on my own. I got tired of reminding Charlie to bowl, or asking Mitch if he was going to pass, and finally I just gave up on bowling and slumped back in my molded plastic chair.

  The more I thought about the day, the angrier I got. Why couldn’t Charlie take one night off from her boyfriend to hang out with me? Was that really too much to ask? We’d barely spent any time together outside of school since I’d gotten back from London. And when I did see her, all she wanted to talk about was Mitch. Well, I was sick of hearing about Mitch. And I was sick of watching Charlie coo and giggle at him as though he were an infant, rather than a seventeen-year-old guy with pimples and fuzz on his chin that I think was supposed to be a goatee. Not only was her behavior nauseating, it made me uncomfortable to be around it.

  Finally, I’d had enough. I stood and without a word to Charlie stalked off. I paused just long enough to exchange the bowling shoes for my sneakers, and then stomped out of the bowling alley. As soon as I was outside, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called my dad.

  “Hi, it’s me,” I said. “Can you come get me?”

  “Sure,” Dad said. “Is everything okay? You sound upset.”

  “Everything’s fine,” I lied. “Can you come now?”

  But it wasn’t fin
e. I was so angry and hurt that I was actually shaking. My heart was pounding in my chest like a fist, and my skin felt tight and prickly. I stood, waiting for my dad to arrive, and wondered how long it would take Charlie to figure out that I’d left.

  The answer? About twenty minutes.

  “Miranda? What are you doing out here?”

  I spun around and saw Charlie standing behind me. It was already dark out, but the sidewalk in front of the bowling alley was well lit, so I could see the confusion on her face.

  “I’m leaving,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “But . . . why?” Charlie asked.

  “Why?” I repeated. “Why? Because I don’t feel like sitting by myself anymore.”

  “Where’s Finn?”

  “He left an hour ago,” I said. “Did you seriously not notice?”

  “No, I didn’t . . . I mean, I did, but I thought he was just in the bathroom or something. I didn’t realize he’d taken off. I can’t believe Finn—he’s so selfish to leave like that.” Charlie rolled her eyes skyward.

  I stared at her. She was criticizing Finn? At least he’d talked to me while he was at the bowling alley, which was more than I could say for her.

  “Come back inside.” Charlie rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “It’s too cold to stand out here.”

  “My dad’s on his way to pick me up now.”

  Charlie kept staring at me as though I had lost my mind, the same way she might have had I stripped off all my clothes and started turning cartwheels through the parking lot.

  “Are you mad at me?” she finally asked. As though it was completely inconceivable to her that it would anger me to be left sitting by myself in a bowling alley, on my birthday, while she macked with her boyfriend.

  “Yes, I’m mad at you!” I said hotly.

  “But . . . why?”

  “Why? Why? Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I seriously have no idea. Do you have PMS or something?”

  That was it. The final straw.

  “No! I do not have PMS!” I shouted at her.“I can’t believe you! You can’t even spend one evening—one evening—alone with your friends! You have to drag your stupid boyfriend along. And then you spend the entire night sitting in his lap, giggling and baby talking to him and generally acting like an idiot!”

  As I yelled at her, Charlie’s expression shifted from one of confusion to tight-lipped anger. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at me.

  “So now you agree with Finn? You think Mitch is stupid?” she snapped.

  It was my turn to be bewildered. “What? What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You just said he’s stupid! That’s what you think, isn’t it? I know it’s what Finn thinks. That Mitch is dumber than you are, and therefore beneath you,” Charlie fumed.

  “I don’t think that!” Well. That wasn’t entirely honest. From what I knew of Mitch, he didn’t strike me as a brain trust. But his brain power—or lack thereof—wasn’t the point. “This has nothing to do with Mitch. It wouldn’t matter if he was a Nobel Laureate. You’re the one who’s acting stupid. You’re not even painting anymore. The Charlie I knew would have never given up her art for some guy. In fact, that’s just it . . . I don’t even know you anymore.”

  Charlie let out a humorless laugh. “And that’s just it, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. You’re just jealous that I have a boyfriend and you don’t. If Dex hadn’t blown you off, how much do you want to bet you would have been with him tonight, and not begging Finn and me to spend time with you?” Charlie said.

  My mouth actually dropped open with surprise. “No, I wouldn’t have done that,” I finally said. “I wouldn’t throw my friends over the minute I got a new boyfriend.”

  “Maybe that’s because you’ve never had a boyfriend,” Charlie said.

  The force of these words hit me like a physical punch. Charlie knew I was sensitive about the fact that I’d never had a boyfriend . . . and she especially knew how terrible I’d felt since Dex had walked off on me at the Mu Alpha Theta competition. Tears started to sting in my eyes.

  Just then, my dad pulled up, giving the horn a playful honk to get my attention. I gave Charlie one last hurt look and then spun around on my heel, and headed to the car. I got in and slammed the door behind me.

  “Does Charlie need a ride, too?” Dad asked.

  “No,” I said shortly. I used the heel of my hand to wipe away my tears. “Charlie already has a ride.”

  My dad cast a sideways glance at me. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “Yep. I’m fine.”

  “How was bowling?”

  “Bowling pretty much sucked,” I said. I inhaled deeply and blew the air out in a long sigh.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But I have something that I think will cheer you up,” Dad said hopefully.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously. “It’s a surprise.”

  I halfheartedly tried to get more information out of him on the short ride home, but Dad wouldn’t budge, so I finally gave up. Because, really? I didn’t care. My birthday had been such a complete and total bust, all I wanted to do now was go home and go to bed, and try to forget any of it had ever happened.

  As we pulled up to the beach house, Dad honked the horn again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing,” he said, with feigned innocence.

  We went inside. I turned to head off to my room to get Willow for her evening walk, but Dad stopped me.

  “Come back to the kitchen,” he said.

  “But I have to get Willow.”

  “Come on. It’s your surprise.”

  So I followed Dad into the kitchen, which was dark. . . . Except for the glowing light of the sixteen candles on the sheet cake on the table. Peyton, Hannah, and Hannah’s boyfriend, Emmett, were all there, and as soon as they saw me, they started to sing “Happy Birthday.” My dad joined in.

  I couldn’t help smiling. I’d thought I wasn’t going to get a birthday cake, which had been a truly depressing thought, considering how much I love birthday cake. But Dad had come through. Dad and Hannah, and even Peyton. Maybe she didn’t hate me as much as I thought she did.

  “Make a wish and blow out your candles,” Hannah said, once they’d finished singing.

  I didn’t know what to wish for. Should I wish for Dex to call and ask me out? Or that Charlie and I would make up? Or that I’d win the Winston writing contest? Or maybe even for the Geek High Mu Alpha Theta team to win at our competition next Saturday?

  I couldn’t decide. So finally I just wished for something— anything—good to happen to me soon. And then I blew out my candles. Everyone clapped, and Peyton turned on the light, while my dad got out plates and a gallon tub of vanilla ice cream.

  It was only then, with the kitchen lights on, that I realized what the cake said. Written in blue frosting, across a pure white background, were the words HAPPY RETIREMENT, BOB.

  “ ‘Happy Retirement, Bob’?” I read aloud. I looked up, grinning. It was a joke, obviously.

  But Hannah exchanged a guilty look with Emmett . . . and Peyton wasn’t meeting my eyes.

  “What?” Dad said. He came in closer and read the cake, his eyebrows furrowing. Then he looked up at Peyton.

  “It was the only one they had at the bakery,” Peyton said defensively. “I guess Bob, or whoever ordered the cake for him, never picked it up.”

  “You couldn’t get them to scrape off the words retirement and Bob, and write in birthday and Miranda?” Dad asked.

  “Well. They offered to. But they said it would take too long, and I didn’t want to wait,” Peyton said.

  “You didn’t want to wait,” Dad repeated blankly. “How long did they say it would take?”

  Peyton shrugged. “At least ten minutes,” she said.

  “You couldn’t wait ten minutes so that Mi
randa would have a cake that actually had Happy Birthday on it?” Dad asked. This time it didn’t sound like a real question . . . more like an accusation.

  “It doesn’t matter, Dad,” I said. “The cake will still taste good.”

  “See? Miranda doesn’t care,” Peyton said.

  “Yes, she does. And I care, too. I’m starting to realize that the only person around here who doesn’t care is you, Peyton,” Dad said.

  “Should I go?” I heard Emmett murmur to Hannah.

  “No, stay. Let’s have some cake,” Hannah said. She handed me the knife. “Here, Miranda, you cut.”

  Dad and Peyton stopped arguing—actually, they stopped talking altogether—long enough for me to cut and serve the cake, and for all of us, except for Peyton, to eat.

  Later, after Emmett had left and Hannah and I had gone to bed, I could hear Dad and Peyton fighting behind the closed door of their bedroom. Dad’s voice was low and grumbling with anger, while Peyton’s was high and shrill. While part of me was glad that my dad was finally sticking up for me . . . another part of me wished they would just call a truce so the whole mess would go away.

  Chapter 18

  In a way, I got my birthday wish: something good did happen over the next few weeks. Actually, a few good things happened.

  First, Dad and I had a really nice dinner out together. He took me to Swordfish, my favorite restaurant, and we sat at a table by the windows, overlooking the intracoastal waterway. It was actually really nice spending time alone with my dad. We were able to talk and joke more freely, without the conversation being hijacked onto topics like the new handbags of the season or laser hair removal. My dad gave me a pretty necklace, a delicate gold chain with a gold flower pendant hanging on it. In the middle of the flower was a blue topaz stone.