by Sue Seabury
“Diana,” I said, shaking my head. “You totally missed the point. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” I admit the tone of my voice was pretty bitter and if it had been me, I wouldn’t have trusted myself.
Just to end the third act of this tragedy on the worst possible note, I snatched my lunch bag out from under her hand, which tipped her off balance. Her sweater landed in the ketchup on her tray. A big blotch on her left boob. She looked about as pathetic as she could.
I sighed. “Diana...can I do anything?”
“No!” she sobbed at me. “Just leave me alone!” With that, she ran out of the cafeteria, but not before a significant proportion of diners got a good snigger at the red stop light of ketchup on her neon green sweater.
I truly regret never having had that fashion consultation with her.
As if tidying up the space could somehow fix our relationship, I gathered up her abandoned lunch tray and cleared the table of crumbs with attention I have never before given to any school property. Then I calmly walked out of the cafeteria and headed straight for the nearest bathroom.
Before touching the door, however, I wisely listened. Muffled sobbing was coming from within. This was not the restroom for me. In her current state, Diana might well try to drown me in a toilet.
I walked rapidly away from that door. It would be awful to be caught by Diana right outside the girls’ room and have her see I was too chicken to come in after she had come to my rescue in a bathroom more than once. But just a few seconds later, an excellent idea came to mind. I made a beeline for South Wing.
Sure enough, Hannah was there in the second story girls’ room, presiding over a sacred ceremony being conducted at the altar of Hair and Makeup. Things had definitely cooled between the trio of Hannah, Bree and Meliss after Hannah and I had had our little chat in Miss Kindley’s room about a certain incident at the winter formal. But I guess important bonds like getting the latest beauty tips trump any differences of opinion on less important matters, like basic human rights.
I pretended it was a big coincidence that I happened to be there in spite of my French class being back in North Wing and starting in a mere six minutes.
I chirped out a cheery “Hi!” and was greeted with stony silence. High Priestess Hannah bestowed a slight nod unto me.
Sauntering casually over to the sinks, I checked myself out. I thought I had done a decent job of appearing unconcerned, but the mirror told another story. My cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and speed walking and, now that the only sound coming from the room was the brush of a mascara wand against eyelashes, I could practically hear my heart pounding.
As I made ineffectual primping motions at my head, I tried to signal to Hannah that I needed to speak with her alone. I wasn’t sure if she caught my drift. Since I was standing directly in front of a mirror, even I could tell my gesture was ambiguous. It just kind of looked like I was having trouble with my contact lens.
There were only four minutes left in the period. I just about gave up hope and then, without a word being uttered, Bree and Meliss filed out with only a slightly prolonged eyelash flutter from the one and an extra-loud gum snap from the other.
“Thanks,” I said, glad to give up the pretense that I knew how to fix my hair with just a touch of the fingers.
“What’s up?” Hannah said with a flip of her perfect golden tresses.
Now that I had my audience, I didn’t know where to begin. “Um, something’s happened.”
Hannah nodded. “So...” She made a slight show of checking her watch.
Only three minutes to go before the bell. I started babbling. I told her how the artificial extract defense had worked. I told her what Ned said. I asked her if she had any advice about Kyle who had been a little too generous with the Valentine’s Day gifts.
I would like to state for the record that, although it was extremely tempting, Diana’s name did not cross my lips.
Hannah received the praise for her ingenious idea with the extract with a slight fluff of the hair. With a more irritated shake of the tresses, she repeated that Ned was a fool, unworthy of my time, which didn’t cheer me any more than the first time she had said it.
As to Kyle, she was more interested and asked for particulars.
“He did, huh. Who?”
I said I preferred not to reveal my sources. It earned me an eye roll.
Sounding bored, Hannah said, “Okay, well, what do you want me to do about it then?”
Even though neither one of her parents is a lawyer, she can come up with some good questions.
“Well, I guess I was wondering how I could find out if he’s just jerking me around, or if...he really likes me.” I said the last part very softly.
Hannah nodded meditatively. “So, you’re thinking about dating Kyle now that Ned’s out of the picture?”
I wouldn’t have stated it quite so crudely, but I suppose that was what I was asking. Diana’s revelation had aroused jealousy in me.
“Well, my advice is just to go for him.” She shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard. You’re most of the way there. He already kissed you.”
I reminded her that he had been acting more distant, perhaps due to the fact that I had screamed at him to leave me alone.
She nodded as if that were the key to it all. “There you go. He proves my theory.”
“What theory?”
“That guys like it when you keep them guessing. Once they know they’re safe, they lose interest.”
“Well then how do you explain what Ned is doing?”
“He’s the exception that proves the rule.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“Okay, then he’s the idiot who has proved his idiocy once again.”
If Hannah had not just given me very valuable advice that had saved me from suspension, I would have been forced to make an unfavorable comparison to her face of my opinion of her and Ned’s relative net worth.
Hannah continued mercilessly, “Tell me I’m wrong: Here he was, had a great thing with you and he dumps you over one stupid little misunderstanding. He should have punched Kyle out, not run away like a baby.”
“But I thought you said that being secure is boring.”
“Girls like security, guys don’t. It doesn’t work the other way.”
Confusion was bringing on twinges of a headache.
Hannah explained, although without excessive patience. “It’s your job to keep him guessing. It’s his job to make you feel like you’re the only girl in the whole entire world.”
I was actually glad to hear the bell ring a moment later.
“Anyway,” Hannah continued, “There are tons of other fish in the sea.”
I nodded, ostensibly to concede the point, but privately told myself that I didn’t care for just any old fish, but one particular brown-eyed mackerel. And maybe one multi-colored tropical fish.
Hannah threw another metaphor about men being like buses over her shoulder as she sauntered out the door.
Although Miss Kindley’s office isn’t on my normal route to French class, I found myself in her hallway. I was so close, it would be rude not to pop my head in to say hi. Except her door was shut. Through the little glass window I could see she was in consultation with someone. Sofagirl again.
What is her problem? It is clear she is in desperate need of a fashion consult. If she would stop using up all Miss Kindley’s time, I would be willing to offer my services, gratis. And if it’s hairstyling advice she needs, I can direct her. But she should stop selfishly using up Miss Kindley’s valuable time when I have the pressing need to discuss some very important boy dilemmas.
Strange but true scientific fact: Eating chocolate releases the same hormones as falling in love.
As long as you are willing to wear stretchy pants, chocolate is a much more reliable method to achieve eternal happiness.
Needless to say, in the days that followed, Diana treated me like I was the second coming of Judas.
The only up side to Ned never going to the lunch room anymore was that he hadn’t been there to witness that awful scene with Diana. He was definitely avoiding me. I looked for the faintest hint of thawing. A sigh as he tried to understand the difference between sines and cosines would have been enough for me.
All I saw, however, was cold distain. It had moved in permanently on his face. It was as if there was a giant wall of ice between us.
I am not proud to admit this, but I would pretend my shoe needed retying and intentionally drop pencils just to have an excuse to get a glance at him.
I had to stop doing that though because after the third time I looked up, there was Sofagirl looking back at me with something like pity in her eyes.
Although we still chatted companionably during class, Kyle had suddenly become very popular at lunchtime. I took advantage of my time alone by logging several quality lunches at the library.
After three more days of the deep freeze from Ned, I came up with a new plan. I would track him down after school, even if it meant getting blisters from walking home. Throwing a few random books into my bag, I raced out the side door. The car that picked Ned up was already there. I called out, “Wait -” but the rest of my words died on my lips.
There was someone getting into the car with Ned.
Never in a million years would I have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
Sofagirl.
Even in dress boots, I had enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to catch my bus.
As soon as I got home, I slammed my book bag down on the kitchen table and looked around for a place to vent my fury.
The refrigerator, standing quietly and unmolested by my forever-eating brother, caught my eye.
All the forbidden ingredients came out of their hiding place in the freezer. The butter. And the chocolate. And the cheese. And the real bacon.
Okay, so just because each of these items is delectable on its own does not guarantee a delicious outcome in combination.
But bacon and chocolate go together better than one might think, especially when you throw in some extra butter (make sure its salted).
I baked more, this time using real recipes. It wasn’t good for my hips, but it was good for my soul. Ned can have his skinny little pipe cleaner girl. I might end up big as a whale, but at least it will be in service of setting one thing right in this crazy world.
For my second round of cooking, I was reduced to using some healthy ingredients. It was okay, though. This batch wasn’t for me.
The next morning, I wrapped up my delightful confection of banana nut muffins with cream cheese frosting and toted them off to school. After depositing them in my locker, I whistled down the hall to math class. To keep my neck from getting stiff from staying in one position, I turned it a few times in the direction that happened to contain a view of Ned and Sofagirl, but I never saw any signs of friendship - never mind more - between them. Ned merely looked confused.
Slightly reassured, I still felt the need for a little sugar pick-me-up at lunch. I brought the whole box with me to the lunchroom since I had French right after. Sitting alone yet again, I unwrapped a perfectly iced muffin to enjoy all by myself. I hadn’t intentionally positioned myself to be in Kyle’s direct line of vision.
I swear.
But it worked out that way. I could practically see his salivary glands working.
I refused to give a single thought to how much Ned would have enjoyed them.
As I took the first bite, I made a point of not noticing any envious glances coming from any wolfish eyes located on any freckle-faced people that might be nearby. After he caught my eye for the third or fourth time, however, I started to feel a little self-conscious. I hoped I didn’t have an icing mustache.
Since I could no longer pretend I hadn’t seen him, I decided to throw him a bone. There was one puny muffin I didn’t need to include in my gift package to M. Waddell. I got up and set it in front of Kyle with a saucy little smile and then went back to my seat. Diana appeared and used her ample hips to muscle a spot next to him. Kyle’s muffin was pretty much history by that time, but I think she saw part of what happened. As I took another bite of my delicious dessert, my eyes happened to meet Diana’s.
A shame I didn’t have any other rejects.
She really didn’t need the extra starch anyway.
My scheme was going swimmingly. It was a good thing M. Waddell had a blotter on his desk because when I unwrapped the muffins in French class, he practically started drooling on the desktop.
“Mrs. Rochel sure comes up with some unique recipes.”
I had worked a long time on how to phrase that sentence. I didn’t want to flat-out lie. Careful observers will note that I did not say anything connecting Mrs. Rochel with the batch of muffins. And ‘unique’ was the perfect adjective because, although it implies that a thing is good, the true definition is merely that the thing is one-of-a-kind.
As anyone who has ever taken her class knows, Mrs. Rochel’s recipes are unique. Not even my own mother, who is a pretty unique chef herself, has ever whipped up raw eggs and orange juice as a health beverage.
I informed M. Waddell that Mrs. Rochel didn’t like any direct acknowledgement. When he asked why I wasn’t taking the muffins home, I told him I was trying to watch my waistline.
The last bit wasn’t a lie either. After my cookfest, I was watching my stomach expand uncomfortably. It was currently engaged in a serious disagreement with the waistband of my pants as to who had the right to be where. My gut was asking for more room but my pants weren’t willing to budge.
When Diana gave me the cold shoulder as she emerged from her Spanish class, I was glad all over again that I hadn’t shared any home-baked treats with her.
Truth to tell, M. Waddell is another one who doesn’t need extra starch. But I think baked goods are a better choice than alcohol, at least during school hours.
Strange but true scientific fact: To determine a mate’s level of interest, the male porcupine douses his potential love with urine - standing six feet away due to her quills - until he gets the go-ahead.
I am definitely going to start carrying a poncho.
I know I should have been strong enough to choose sisterhood over love. But the way Diana had refused to even listen to me for a minute, I could only conclude that all is fair in love and war.
Kyle was now my object. I figured I had made up a good amount of ground after my generosity with the muffins. The biology joke goes that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his veins. I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell Kyle that one yet. In the meantime, I’m sticking with the common wisdom which holds that food is the foolproof route to get there.
Kyle liked the chocolate-covered bacon bits I brought in the next day. And when I asked him if he wanted to “work together” on the math homework, I barely got the sentence out of my mouth before he jumped on it.
My friendly overtures paid off after only two days. We were staining cell samples when Kyle asked if I was doing anything Friday night.
I nearly dropped the slide but recovered quickly. After checking around to make sure no one - such as Diana - was near, I said boldly, “No. You wanna do something?”
“Yeah. You want to meet up at the mall for a Soke?”
I thought we had been models of discretion. We didn’t even walk together from bio to gym because Kyle said he wanted to stop off at his locker. I contained my enthusiasm to a couple of thumbs-up in Hannah’s direction with a significant nod in Kyle’s direction. Kyle and I kept the smiles and meaningful glances to a minimum even though it was hard since we were standing next to each other. When I got hit twice in the head with the volleyball by someone on my own team from Diana’s end of the court, however, I worried perhaps we hadn’t been so vigilant after all.
Hannah, for one, was across the net from us and giving me glances I could only categorize as displeased, which I found confusing. She was the one who had encouraged
me. And it was impossible that she secretly liked Kyle. She categorically refuses to date underclassmen, even if the freckles weren’t an immediate no-go.
There was no doubt Hannah had understood me. I had an evil wish that she would tattle to Ned about my date with Kyle. But even if she had, chances were slim to none that Ned would see me out with his rival because he is almost always grounded.
The mall is new and is the hottest place to go if you’re a teenager living anywhere within a twenty mile radius of the place. Kids may even come from farther away for all I know. I stressed a little that Mom would say no, but when she heard it was Kyle I was going to meet, she couldn’t have been more eager to take me.
The prospects of this date were kind of ruined by the way she was practically throwing me into his arms. Then when we got there, I had the additional worry that she was going to stick around to chat up his mum.
But she didn’t. She just told me to be on time when she came back to pick me up when the mall closed at nine. It was pretty lame to have a date end so early. But I was counting down to when I would be sixteen and not need to rely on parental rides to get anywhere anymore ever. Only 487 days to go. It’ll be here before I know it.
Kyle showed up right on time, but he was acting strange. Obsessively checking a watch five minutes into a date is not a positive sign in my book. When I asked him about it, he apologized, said it was a nervous habit and didn’t mean anything.
He clicked a (real) piece of gum at me and smiled, but I thought it odd that I had never noticed that particular nervous habit before.
We went to the food court. As we ate, he was still acting odd, except instead of checking his watch every two seconds, he kept scanning the crowd. Again I asked if there was anything wrong. He said no and then started talking about random things, school, their new house, getting a job after school. I didn’t get a chance to reply most of the time and he didn’t seem to notice.
