Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  “Absolutely.” I gestured to myself. “How can they resist all this?”

  She laughed. “How, indeed?”

  I angled my head toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

  She scooted around the table. “As long as you promise to tell me about all these adventures you’ve been having. For example, do I know any of the girls who’ve been abusing you in this manner?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  Nope. Because there weren’t any. But it wouldn’t hurt to tease her. “Maybe.”

  “Hmm. Would one of them have long, dark hair and a tendency to finish every sentence with a lilt?”

  She was thinking about Kara. Did that mean she thought something might really be going on? Nah. She had to be fishing. “I’m not one to be leapt upon and tell. But I will say the person in question has an interesting secret.” I headed for the door.

  She grabbed my biceps, keeping pace with me. “I’m all ears.”

  I shook my head, not able to keep the smile off my face. “Nope. Can’t tell. It’s her secret, not mine.”

  “You are so evil.”

  I laughed as we made our way up the stairs. At the top, she spoke into my ear. “You’re gonna tell me.”

  I grinned. “Nope.”

  She smiled back. “We’ll see about that.”

  “We will.” I winked at her. “See you at rehearsal.”

  Her smile turned into a look of surprise. Good. Not a bad start to Operation Lindsey. I went in the opposite direction, weaving through the mass of student humanity. My plan had two basic steps. One, flirt till you drop, and two, be patient. And I was pretty much an expert in both of those things. The only question was, how long would it take her to be over Adam Castro?

  Thirty-Eight

  Lindsey

  On Sunday afternoon, I parked my car in front of Claire’s house. I could only hope being here would help. For the entire week of being grounded, I’d walked around feeling like I was wearing a five-pound necklace on my chest. It obviously had to do with seeing Adam, and I just couldn’t shake it, no matter what my friends did to cheer me up.

  I’d even slipped a couple of times and had forgotten to smile in front of Mrs. Mac, which ended with her taking over the rehearsals so I could “observe.”

  Now that I was free again, it seemed past time to lose that heavy necklace. I climbed out of the car and walked to Claire’s door, every step still like walking through sludge. I rang the bell, then went in. “Hey, Gardners, I’m home!” I called.

  Claire’s mom came out of the kitchen with a dish towel in her hands and a smile on her face. “Hello, you,” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “It’s been too long. How’re you doing?”

  “Not so great,” I admitted.

  She led the way into the kitchen. “Well, maybe getting out of the house for a while will make you feel better.”

  “I hope so.”

  She brushed hair off my forehead with her fingertips. “Me too.” She gestured toward the back of the house. “Everybody’s in the sunroom.”

  Uh-oh. Everybody? Claire hadn’t told me anyone else would be here. A moment of panic raced through me, and I almost turned around and walked right back out the door. But my curiosity got the better of me. “Thanks,” I said and headed down the hall.

  When I reached the sunroom, Claire was just coming in from the backyard, holding her sweater closed across her middle, her cheeks pink from the cool air. “Yay, you’re here!”

  The view through the huge windows showed Gray and Berger beside the grill, smoke billowing up around their heads. I dumped my purse on a chair. “You didn’t tell me anyone else was coming. What’re they doing here?”

  “Cooking us hamburgers.”

  “In fifty-five degree weather?”

  “That’s not cold. What’re you so irritated about?”

  I glanced at the boys, then back to her. “It feels like you’re trying to set us up.”

  “You and Berger?” She shook her head. “No way. We’re just a bunch of friends hanging out.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  She pursed her lips, then smiled. “Maybe because of the Linger conversation?”

  “Shut up.”

  She laughed. “Relax. My only ulterior motive was to have fun together. How’re things going with Jeremy anyway?”

  I dropped onto the couch. “Fine, I guess. He wanted to go out last night, but because of the grounding, I had to say no. Hopefully we can spend time together next weekend.”

  “So do you really like him?”

  Now there was a question. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s nice enough. I just need to get to know him better.”

  “Really? You two have been hanging out at school a lot in the past couple of weeks. Seems like you’d know if you were attracted to him.”

  I tried to joke that off. “Ha. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him? You’d have to hate big muscles not to be attracted.”

  Claire’s gaze traveled outside, and a slight smile curved her lips. “I don’t know. I kinda like average-sized muscles.”

  I had no response to that. The only muscles I really missed were Adam’s. He was perfect. Right in between the size of the guys outside and huge Jeremy. But Adam’s muscles were busy with someone else, so … Yeah, I probably shouldn’t go down that trail.

  “Lindsey?”

  I looked at Claire. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  I put my feet on the coffee table, suddenly exhausted. “I will be.”

  “If you’re sure. I mean, we could go hang out in my room until the food is ready.”

  It would take too much energy to get upstairs. I shook my head. “No, I’m good.”

  “Okay.” She went to the door and stuck her head out. “How much longer?”

  “A while yet,” Gray said, facing her. “We’re coming in.”

  Claire backed out of the way, and the boys walked in, bringing along a gust of cold air that swirled Berger’s hair into an even messier look. Gray’s was too short to wiggle in the wind.

  “Hey, Lindsey,” Gray said.

  I lifted a hand without moving my arm from the cushion and tried to smile. It must not have convinced Berger, because he came closer, toed the bottom of my shoe with his, then set his foot down. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Why does something have to be wrong?”

  “Because you look like you’ve melted into the couch cushions. Like you can’t move.”

  I looked away. “I can move. I just choose not to.”

  He bent over and wiggled my foot. “I know what you need.”

  I met his gaze. “Oh, really,” I said, infusing it with as much scorn as I could.

  “You need a good, old-fashioned argument.”

  I shut my eyes for a moment. “Seriously, Berger, I don’t want to get into one of your silly fights.”

  “It won’t be silly.”

  “Right. What do we possibly have to argue about?”

  “Adam.”

  Claire let out a muffled gasp. I ignored both her and Gray where they hovered on the other side of the room. I homed in on Berger, who stared at me with that fake pleasant look he sometimes used on other theater people. The fact that he would use it on me actually made my chest ache. “I’m not talking about Adam with you.”

  “What don’t you understand about the word argument?”

  “Why are you being so weird?”

  He shrugged. “There’s stuff I’m curious about. Like how any girl in her right mind could go for that guy.”

  A burst of energy zinged through me, and I climbed slowly to my feet. I wanted to hit him. “What?”

  “You heard me. Castro’s such a prime example of douchery that it’s amazing—”

  “Shut up,” I said, lifting my arms and bringing them back down hard. “I know what you’re doing. It’s not gonna work.”

  He cocked his head like I wa
s stupid. “It’s already working. You moved. Now tell me what was so awesome about the guy.” He shoved a palm toward me. “No, wait. I’ll do it.” He blinked rapidly like he was trying to bat his eyelashes. “He’s so hot and says just the right thing all the time,” he said in a breathy voice.

  “You’re an idiot,” I said, the words shooting from my mouth.

  From somewhere in the room a deep voice said, “Not this time. I’m staying.” I ignored it. All I could handle was staring at Berger. Why was he acting like this? He was my friend. He always supported me. What had happened to change that?

  “I guess I’m an idiot,” he said, “but the fact that you dated him for so long qualifies you for idiot status, too.”

  “Berger!” Claire’s voice came out loud and strong.

  I waved her back. “It’s okay, Claire, he’s just jealous because he’ll never be as amazing as Adam is.”

  “Yeah, I hear a lot of girls thought he was amazing.”

  That zinging energy raced through me again, and I tightened my fists to keep my hands from shaking. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, Lindsey, you know what it means. He’s not Mr. Perfect. He never was. He’s a douche who used you and—”

  “Stop it!” I swung my arm toward him, but he easily stepped out of the way. “Okay,” I said, tears stinging my eyes, making me furious with myself. “He’s a jerk. He cheated on me, and he broke my heart. Is that what you want me to say?”

  Berger folded his arms across his chest. “Not really. I always thought the guy was a bro, you know? Easy to get along with, nice to old ladies and small children.”

  What the heck? My mouth fell open. I sniffed. Sometimes I just did not understand Berger at all. “I hate you so much right now.”

  He smiled. A real smile this time, one that made his brown eyes glow warm. “I know.”

  From out of nowhere, Claire shoved a wad of tissues into my hand. I stared at them blankly for a couple of seconds, then wiped my eyes and nose. Thank goodness I hadn’t bothered with makeup before I came over here. I tossed the tissues onto the coffee table and walked right up to Berger. He didn’t move away. So I punched him in the shoulder.

  “Ow,” he said.

  “That was mean.”

  “I know. But you feel better now, right?”

  I tilted backward, and he caught my arm, probably thinking I was about to fall. “No,” I said, “do not start telling me it was for my own good or some other BS like that.”

  He let go of me, looking confused. “Wait, are we still fighting? I thought we were through. If we’re not, I may need a sec to come up with a new plan of attack.”

  I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. But instead I stepped in close enough to feel the warmth from his body without touching him. I looked up into his eyes. “You hurt my feelings. Don’t ever do it again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I still hate you.”

  “That’s okay. I hate me too.” And then he wrapped his arms around me.

  I sighed as I relaxed into his warmth, sliding my arms to his back. Why did this keep happening? I was either crying on him or resting on him. It was just so incredibly weird. We stood there quietly, his hand gently holding my head against his chest.

  “Well, that was entertaining,” Gray said.

  I backed out of Berger’s arms, heat rising up my neck. I’d forgotten Claire and Gray were in the room. Because all I wanted to focus on was the warmth of being in Berger’s arms.

  “And I’m starving,” Claire said a little too enthusiastically. “Could someone check the hamburgers?”

  Gray clapped Berger on the shoulder. “Berger and I will check the burgers.”

  “Ha, ha,” he said with a glance at me.

  But I just pressed my lips together. I needed time to get myself back together. To stop feeling so confused about Berger. “Be right back,” I said, heading for the restroom.

  “I’ll go with you,” Claire said, doing her part to keep the girls go to the bathroom together stereotype alive.

  Thirty-Nine

  Berger

  Through the window, Gray watched the girls leave the sunroom, then swung around to face me. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  I needed to figure out what to say before answering him. “What do you mean?” I lifted the lid of the grill to the sizzling of meat and a wave of smoke. “Are these burning?”

  Gray flipped a burger with the spatula. “No.” He started turning the others. “You are completely into Lindsey. I figured you had a crush on her, but this is different. This is serious.” He closed the lid, tapping the spatula against a nearby plate. “Well? Are you gonna deny it?”

  “Nope.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh.”

  I shrugged, not sure what to say now that he knew for sure.

  Gray opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “You know she’s high-maintenance.”

  I laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “And she’s still getting over Castro.”

  I pointed toward the sunroom. “Obviously.”

  “And you have taking-care-of-people issues.”

  “What?”

  He stuck his free hand in his pocket. “You know, always trying to make people happy whether it’s helpful for you or not.”

  “Whatever.”

  He waved his spatula-wielding arm around. “This whole situation is one big game of ‘make someone happy.’”

  I just stared at him. What was wrong with trying to make Lindsey happy? She’d had enough bad things happen for three people.

  He let out an exasperated exhale. “Do you even have a plan?”

  “Sort of. I’m just trying to give her time.”

  “Time. Right. How much?”

  “As much as she needs.”

  He gave me a sour look. “And in the meantime, you’ll be her knight in shining armor always ready to come to the rescue. I don’t want to diss you or anything, but have you thought about the fact that she might be using you?”

  “Doh!” I hit my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Of course she’s using me, man. She’s hurting. She’s probably using any guy she spends time with these days, trying to find a replacement for Castro.”

  Gray looked at the spatula like he didn’t know why he was holding it, then put it down. “And you’re okay with that?”

  “For now. Ask me again in three months.”

  “Berger, I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “She doesn’t have a very good track record, you know. Before Castro, she dated someone new once a month. And I’d know. I watched all the time.”

  “I know you did. But we don’t need to get into that stupidity.”

  Gray shook his head. “No, we don’t. But I don’t want to watch you go down that same road.”

  “It’s not the same. You stood around staring at her like she was some goddess you couldn’t approach. I’m hanging around being her best friend.”

  He opened the grill and slid the burgers onto the plate. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Why? You afraid I’ll come out of this hurt and crying?”

  He looked me straight in the eye. “No. I’m afraid you both will.”

  ***

  Kara and I had been rehearsing for ten minutes Monday afternoon when she closed her script and leaned closer. “Have you been on the website recently?”

  Not only not recently, but never. “No. Been kinda busy.”

  “Oh my gosh. It’s amazing. There’s been a sighting in England, outside a city called Leeds. There’s a video of this spaceship, like the kind you see in movies, only better.”

  Hadn’t she ever heard of special effects? Before I could say anything, Mrs. Mac’s voice sounded behind us, making me jump.

  “Kara?” She strode up to us and frowned.

  “Yes, Mrs. Mac?” Kara asked, trying to secretly open the script in her lap.

  But the teache
r’s gaze flicked over us sitting there like plastic people in our folding chairs, most likely missing nothing. She pursed her lips and then nodded once. “I think you two are finished for today. Come watch the rehearsal with everyone else.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we both mumbled.

  I put the chairs away and followed Mrs. Mac and Kara, a smile forming on my face. If Kara was in trouble, maybe I’d get to run lines with Lindsey again.

  And, as if I’d rubbed a genie’s bottle, my wish came true. At the end of rehearsal, Mrs. Mac took Lindsey and I aside. “I want y’all to run lines together again. Once a week is probably enough. Work on all the parts in the play.”

  Lindsey froze in the act of sliding a section of hair behind her ear. “All of them?”

  “Yes,” the teacher said with a smile. “It’s good practice.”

  “Okay,” Lindsey said, grinning. “I want to see Berger play one of the girls.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  Mrs. Mac laughed. “You don’t have to go that far.”

  “Does it matter what day of the week?” I asked, hoping I could lobby for Thursday. Nana did her senior day care that afternoon, so I wouldn’t have to rush to get home.

  “No,” Mrs. Mac said. “Whatever works.”

  We agreed on Thursday, and then Lindsey took off like a shot, probably to go hang out with the Football Dude. I didn’t like it, but I sucked it up. I figured he had a week, maybe two, before she moved on. Lindsey was too smart to want to be with someone who bored her to death.

  And now I had Thursdays. Excellent. More time for Operation Lindsey.

  Forty

  Lindsey

  Berger sighed and looked up from his open script. “This is really weird, doing these other parts. I keep hearing Parker or Mike say these lines in my head.”

  “Yup,” I said from the other end of the couch in my living room. The late afternoon sun slanted into the room, forming stripes on the carpet. “But Mrs. Mac is right. It is good practice.”

  “Huh.” Berger idly dug through the bowl of mini pretzels that sat between us. “Man, if I was performing this, I’d be worried I’d say someone else’s line.”