by Jenni James
“Ms. Bailey, can you help me with this water?” I asked loud enough to be heard over the music that streamed into her earphones. “I can’t seem to get my lake to look real.”
Immediately the room became a flurry of activity as the students dispersed to their seats.
Ms. Bailey looked up, removed her headset, and glanced around the room as everyone scrambled. “What has been going on here?”
Because it was an advanced art class, Ms. B. usually left us to our own devices, which allowed her to work freely on her paintings. She was lenient to an extent, but even she wouldn’t tolerate complete abandonment of work.
“Get back to work, now!”
She waited until all of the students were working on their landscapes before she walked over to our table. I felt a momentary stab of guilt and hoped the class wouldn’t be punished.
“I’m sorry, Chloe. You were saying?”
“Oh, I was wondering if I could get some advice on my lake. I don’t think it looks as realistic as it should.”
“Remember, dear, you need to repeat the same landscapes and trees you see above the water, in the water. The same colors and all, just more muted, like this.”
I looked over at Taylor, my mind wandering from Ms. B.’s demonstration. He was completely engrossed in his work. He’s probably trying to make up for all of the time he wasted boasting.
A glance at Alyssa showed she was doing the same. Only Madison looked right back at me. Slowly, she raised one eyebrow. Her gaze left mine to settle on Taylor and then returned back to me. The look she sent spoke volumes.
Dang. She still thinks Taylor likes me. How am I ever going to convince her that he doesn’t? Besides, Taylor’s in love. Can’t she see that?
“Well, Mr. Winter, it says here that your parents are of German ancestry,” my dad said as he read over the four-page questionnaire Blake filled out before dinner.
We sat around the table eating Mom’s famous chicken pot pie. Dad had surprised us with the questionnaire earlier, but then he had the nerve to bring it to dinner, too. I still wasn’t sure how Blake was handling it.
“Yes. My grandparents moved here from Germany.” He bravely smiled.
“So was that before or after the war?” My father asked around a bite of broccoli.
“Uh, w–war?” Blake stuttered as he looked at me for help.
“Be funny,” I whispered as I sipped some water.
“Yes, the war,” my father said. “Did your grandparents migrate from Germany before or after World War II?”
“Oh, uh . . . before.” Blake’s eyes darted to my mom as she got up to refill her glass. He quickly scooped up a chunk of chicken.
“Well, that’s good. Wouldn’t want my daughter to date a Nazi.”
Blake almost choked on the chicken. “Oh, uh, no sir.”
Maybe he didn’t hear me. I nudged Blake with my elbow to remind him again, but Dad was already talking.
“It says here that Lionel Anderson is your boss.” “Uh, yes. I work for him.”
Wait a minute. Blake works for Taylor’s dad?
“So you’re working over at the hotel,” my dad continued. “I assume that means you work in the housekeeping department. You’re a maid, correct?”
Blake took a quick look at my father, probably trying to decide if Dad had just insulted him or not. “N–no, I’m not in housekeeping. I’m a concierge at the front desk.”
Dad took another bite and flipped a page. “A concierge, huh? That is one fancy title. Does Lionel Anderson pay you enough?”
“Are you asking me how much money I make?” Blake’s fork clattered to the table. He quickly picked it up and threw a panicked glance in my direction.
I smiled my most reassuring smile. He just teasing you, remember?
“Sure. If you want to tell me.” Dad was eating this up. Literally.
For a split second, the room stood still. Blake stared at me and shook his head in obvious disbelief.
“Be funny,” I mouthed.
Blake finally got it. He closed his eyes briefly. First one dimple appeared and then the other. He shook his head slightly and took another bite of pie, and I knew he was figuring out what to say. Finally, with smirk in my direction, he looked up at my dad and grinned. “Actually, sir, I feel I need to quit my job. It’s not really helping me reach my future potential.”
“What?” My dad seemed surprised. He set the questionnaire on the table next to his plate. “Excuse me? Did you say you wanted to quit? In this economy?” He raised his glass to his mouth.
“Yes. Even though I make a fairly decent living, I’ve always had this lifelong passion for garbage.”
Dad nearly choked on his water. “W–what?”
Blake’s expression was completely serious. “You see, ever since I was younger, I’ve always dreamed of becoming a sanitation engineer. There’s nothing in the world that beats the hum of a large garbage truck, don’t you think?”
It was after the pot pie and over the root beer floats that Mom and Dad learned Blake’s real age, which was nineteen. I could tell they weren’t too happy about it, but after Dad spit his water across the table and sprayed Blake’s food, he wasn’t in a position to grumble too loudly. Plus, it was obvious Blake was a nice guy with a job. Besides, he had dimples, which was all the incentive Cassidy and I needed to squeal in my room as we rehashed the evening later that night. We sat in our favorite spot on my bed, surrounded by decorator pillows and stuffed animals.
“He is so cute!” Cassidy said after a loud shriek. “I know.” I smiled and tucked my legs further underneath me. “I can’t believe he likes you, seriously.” She flipped her
curly blond hair away from her face. We had the same curls, except hers were—as she described them—golden. “If you ever get tired of him, let me know.”
“Don’t you think he’s a little old for you?” I grinned as I watched her lean over to the dresser. She stole one of my hair ties and put her hair up.
“Whatever. If he was twenty-five and I was twenty-one, no one would even blink.” Cassidy scrunched up her nose and fell back on the pillows. “It’s not fair. Why can’t I be older? I want to go on dates too—except not with Collin.”
“Grr. I forgot about Collin.” I tossed a pillow at her. Just hearing his name put a damper on the evening.
Why do I have to go out with Collin, especially when a guy like Blake asked me first? Life is so unfair.
Nine
Dating Fumbles
I was very proud of myself when I remembered my date with Jacob on Saturday afternoon. We went to see the new Ryan Reynolds movie, just like he’d said we would. And I tried not to scream when the scary parts came up, but I failed. Miserably.
Jacob clearly had a great time. He thought it was funny when I screamed. I’m not so sure the people who sat in front of us thought so, however. Since every time I screamed out in fear, I made them jump. Yes, sad but true. That is me. I am the person you can hear in the movie theater that yells or screams so loudly it actually scares everyone else. That’s when people in front of you can get a bit hostile.
Needless to say, Jacob and I both survived the ordeal. Then I had to go on my date with Collin, where I spent the entire evening wishing I were anywhere else—even if it was back in that scary movie with Jacob and the scarier people in front of us.
I knew the date with Collin would be a disaster from the get-go. I mean, it’s completely evident that you have an odd date when the guy actually asks you out through your mother. But does he have to sit there in public and continue to be odd? Pardon me, but I thought the reason you took a girl out on a date was so you could get to know her a little more, not so you can play with your phone all night, studiously avoiding her.
I let out yet another silent sigh as I watched my finger twirl around the rim of my glass of lemon water. We had ordered our food a few minutes before, but I knew it would be a wait due number of people at the restaurant. The Lion’s Den is only the nicest one in our c
ity—which figured, since Taylor’s dad, Lionel Anderson, owned the place, just one of his many business ventures. I was a bit surprised at first when Collin pulled into the parking lot. It actually made me have some respect for him that he had thought to make reservations.
With another sigh, I moved my hand from the glass and began to refold the creases in my linen napkin again. The customers all around us were clearly having a marvelous time as they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.
With regret, I looked across the table at Collin and watched his face light up as he stared at his phone and read another email from one of his online friends. I wasn’t sure he had any real friends, just online ones. Collin laughed. He must’ve read a joke. He really does have a nice smile.
When I had told Blake that Collin was cute, I wasn’t kidding. Collin was really cute. Unfortunately, his personality and mannerisms needed some work.
Would it kill the guy to share with me what is so funny? It’s like I don’t exist. What was the point of taking me out, anyway? Frustrated, I glanced at my watch.
After another fifteen minutes, I had begun to feel a bit desperate and was debating whether or not I would be missed if I walked out the door—the same door that every three or four minutes released another happy couple to explore the world beyond this boredom. I enviously followed the progress of a young couple in their twenties as they departed. I was reminded briefly of Blake, which would’ve led to morose thoughts of a missed date had I been given the chance, which, unbelievably, I wasn’t. Because as that couple left, someone else’s arm held the door open for them, an arm my eyes soon discovered belonged to Taylor Anderson. His other arm was wrapped around the waist of Kylie, his new cheerleader girlfriend.
Oh my gosh! What is he doing here? What are the odds he would show up here tonight, of all nights?
I followed Taylor’s progress across the room as he, with Kylie in tow, trailed the hostess to their seats. Many tables along the way were graced with his blinding smile and charm. I couldn’t have been more grossed out by such a display. Spare me.
As Taylor neared our table, I quickly averted my eyes and proceeded to refold the napkin. Oh, please don’t let him recognize me. Don’t let him recognize me. For an instant, I was jealous that I had nothing else to occupy my hands like Collin did.
“Chloe Hart. Hello.” Dang.
Reluctantly, I looked up into his amused eyes and faked a smile. “Oh, Taylor, hi. I didn’t see you.” In my nervousness, I accidentally brushed my napkin to the floor.
Taylor swiftly bent over and picked it up. As he placed the napkin in my hand, he held it and whispered in my ear, “Liar. You’ve been watching me since the moment I walked in.” He squeezed my hand, then stepped back.
I felt my face heat up as Taylor swept Kylie toward Collin. I was speechless.
“Collin Farnsworth. Good to see you,” Taylor said.
As he gaped at Taylor, Collin fumbled with his phone and dropped it. Then in a flash, he was up, pumping Taylor’s hand. “Taylor Anderson! What a surprise! So nice of you to come over.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Taylor glanced back at me and grinned.
I rolled my eyes. Could he be any more obnoxious?
“Here.” Taylor forcibly removed his hand from Collin’s grasp. “Let me introduce you to Kylie.” With his left hand he gently pushed her forward.
She looked a little less than thrilled to be introduced to Collin. But for Taylor’s sake, she fulfilled the requirement like a beauty queen, all teeth and shiny lip gloss. In his obvious attempt to impress, Collin showered her with a load of gratuitous compliments. I was a bit embarrassed by his conduct and would’ve gotten over it eventually had Taylor not turned at that moment and grinned at me slyly. He glanced at Collin, then back at me and raised his eyebrows. All at once it hit me. Taylor totally thinks I have a thing for Collin! Collin? As if!
Immediately I began to pray they would leave soon, or our food would come, or the building would start on fire. Anything to escape Taylor’s stupid “knowing” grin.
And then like manna from heaven, I was saved. Not the way I hoped, but who cares? Taylor’s gaze left me long enough to catch Kylie’s look. She seemed to practically beg to be out of our sight. All at once the gentleman in Taylor came alive. After a reassuring smile at Kylie, he turned back to me and Collin.
“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your night.”
Yes! I was so happy, I could’ve hugged Kylie. Until—
“You’ve got yourself a great catch there, Farnsworth,” Taylor said. “You hold on to her, all right?”
Collin looked at me—really looked at me for the first time that night—and then smiled. I could almost see the imaginary wheels turning. Suddenly, visions of repeated date nights just like this one popped into my head. Briefly, I contemplated causing Taylor bodily harm. Taylor patted Collin on the back like he would one of his buddies. Clearly proud of himself, he beamed right at me. Why stop at bodily harm?
Believe it or not, after that the date was even more boring, primarily due to Collin’s excessive compliments of a certain “local celebrity” that I had to hear. To add insult to injury, after I had finally finished my meal, that little rat Taylor had the nerve to send over our bill, paid for by him, with a little note attached to the receipt that read: “We hope you enjoyed your romantic evening as much as we enjoyed ours. Love, Kylie and Taylor.”
How long would it take for them to find Taylor’s body? A long time, I bet. No one would really miss the guy anyway, right?
After church I pulled out my homework again and hit the books. I already had an essay to complete for English class, plus two paragraph worksheets for World History. I turned on my radio to a soft-rock station and plopped onto my bed. About forty minutes into ancient Rome, I had almost finished my second worksheet when Mom called me down to dinner.
My parents asked 101 questions about my date with Collin the night before. Talk about awkward. I mean, how do you tell your mom the guy she set you up with was a total pathetic loser, one who wouldn’t even look twice at you until some popular jerk basically told him to? The worst part was that by the time Collin dropped me off he had almost convinced himself we were in love. Good grief.
Anyway, my family’s dinner conversation went something like this:
MOM: So, how did your date with Collin go last night? DAD: Yeah, how did that go?
ME: Uh, go? What do you mean?
MOM: Do you like him? Does he like you?
ME: What? No.
DAD: Why doesn’t he like you?
ME: No. I mean, he likes me and all, he just doesn’t like me.
MOM: Oh. So what did you talk about?
ME: Not much.
DAD: How much did the meal cost?
MOM: Honey, don’t ask her that!
ME: I don’t know.
DAD: A-ha! A good guy. He wouldn’t let you see the receipt when he paid for it.
ME: Yeah, a true good guy. You have no idea.
CLAIRE: So was the food good?
ME: The food?
CASSIDY: Yeah. What did you order?
ME: Order?
CLAIRE: I bet it was awesome.
ME: You know, I can’t remember . . .
MOM: There you go. If a girl can’t remember the next day what she ate at the Lion’s Den, then—
DAD: Then it isn’t worth going there.
MOM: No, then she’s in love.
ME: I am not in love! Eew. Look, can I go to my room now? I have a lot of homework.
MOM: Sure, honey. I’m glad you had a great time.
Parents. They so never get it, do they?
Had it not been for Blake’s phone call that evening, I’m not sure I would’ve poked my head back out of my room until the morning. As it was, Blake completely cheered me up and brought me out of my grumpy mood.
“So, did you miss me while you were on your date last night?” he asked.
“Uh, what do you think?” I grinned.
“Yes. Definitely yes.”
“Then you would be right.”
“I would, huh? So how did it go?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Awful.”
“Awful?” He sounded pleasantly surprised.
“Yes! Completely, totally, and utterly awful.”
Blake chuckled. “So you missed me bad?”
“I was so desperate for conversation I would’ve talked to my fork. Except then people would’ve heard me talk to it.”
“So you’re saying the guy never talked to you?”
“No. It was so immature. All he did was play with his fancy Google phone.”
“He’s got a Google Nexus 5? Wow! What does his look like?”
What is it with guys and gadgets? “Blake, focus.”
“Sorry.” He sounded so sheepish I forgave him instantly. “So, you were saying you had a horrible date. How can I make it up to you?”
Ask me out on a date again. “Uh, I don’t know.”
“How about I take you somewhere amazing, somewhere really fun?”
I’m hooked. Seriously, is there a sweeter guy in the world? “Okay. When? Where?” I giggled.
“After four-wheeling Wednesday night? I already have that day off.”
“Um, okay. I just have to be home by ten 10:00.”
“Oh, yeah, you have a curfew,” Blake said. “I forget that you’re younger than I think you are.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You seem older to me, you know?”
Oh my gosh, he’s so awesome. “I wish I was older.” “How old are you, anyway? Eighteen? Nineteen?” “Really?” I giggled again. “I’m seventeen, weirdo.”
He laughed his deep laugh. “Oh, someone just walked into the hotel. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you Wednesday then, okay?”
“Yep. It’s a deal. I’ll talk to you later.”
