Not Okay, Cupid

by Heidi R. Kling

  “You hungry?” I asked, hoping. I squeezed my eyes shut—was I doing the right thing? This was a little…eccentric. Was I too enthusiastic? Maybe she was done with me. Maybe she didn’t want to be my friend either. But I had to try.

  “Starving,” she said with a little sigh. “Being sick is the worst. I can’t remember ever being this sick before.”

  She plopped down onto the high-backed barstool chair, slumped her cheek onto her fist, and watched me cook.

  “I remember when you were this sick.” I couldn’t look at her when I said it, still feeling weird about being here. I cleared my throat and focused on my task of cooking for Hazel.

  “When?”

  While I stirred the eggs that probably didn’t need to be stirred this much—I just couldn’t meet her eyes—and moved the bacon around top to bottom, flip, bottom to top, while I reminded her of the story.

  She and Kimmy had both gotten food poisoning from a take-out Thai restaurant. It came on fast and furious. My parents were out at a movie, so their cell phones were off. I didn’t know what to do; Hazel’s mom wasn’t home either—that was pretty soon after her father died, and she used to attend these meetings for widows/widowers on Friday nights. It was a usual thing for Hazel to stay over the night at our house. I was a year older—I may have been held back in school, but I was deemed the responsible one, so it was okay for us to stay home alone.

  So I had taken care of them both, bringing them bowls and Sprites.

  As soon as I reminded her of the story, she remembered. She nodded and crossed her eyes, remembering how sick she was. We laughed about it for a minute before she cocked her head to the other side and looked at me appreciatively. The way she looked at me when I came up with the revenge plan in the caf. The way she looked at me when she said she agreed to come with me to the dance. Before she turned me down via email for said dance and I showed up here to what? Try and make her change her mind?

  No. That would be stupid.

  What did I expect to happen if she didn’t finish the revenge plan? She’d been pretty clear. She needed this to happen if she wanted to feel whole again. And she needed to feel whole if she was ever going to be with someone else again.

  It didn’t matter if I wanted her to go to the dance with me for real. I knew—she knew—everyone knew that I wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved a guy who would drop what was important to him so he could be there for her. She deserved a guy who truly cared about her. She deserved a guy she knew she could rely on no matter what happened.

  “You were so sweet,” she said, surprising me, giving me a spark of hope.

  I grinned at her over my shoulder. “So what changed, huh?”

  She paused—seemingly taking me all in—before saying, “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I prodded, again surprised.

  “You’re still sweet, Felix James. And like I said in the email. I really, really appreciate you helping me with the revenge plan. It’s all…working out the way it’s meant to, and that’s because of you.”

  I swallowed. If it was going the way it was “meant to,” why did the thought of losing her feel like the worst thing in the world?

  But I had to put up a brave front.

  I had to want what Hazel wanted, and that was revenge. I looked away and cleared my throat.

  “Why thank you, Hazel Bazil. So while you’re eating, how about we download the first season of X-Files and you can see what it’s all about, huh?”

  Because that was what friends did. But could I be just friends with Hazel?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Hazel

  When I finally got back to school, I was stressed out of my gourd. Hanging out with Felix had felt so great. So right. Why had he shown up in my house like that? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he liked me. Like, actually liked me. But there was no way. He sat on the other side of the couch. Didn’t touch me at all, though I was highly aware of his proximity throughout. Felix James.

  God.

  And now I had so much make-up work to do, how could I possibly catch up? Plus, I was anxious—maybe more anxious than I should have been—about seeing Jay now that I’d accepted his invitation to the dance.

  How would I act?

  More importantly, how should I act?

  It’s not like there’s proper protocol for how you act toward your cheating ex that you agreed to go to a dance with as a key element in your Revenge Plot.

  Not to mention Felix.

  Felix James.

  The boy in the pink ruffled apron (that would make a great book cum movie title, wouldn’t it?)

  Le sigh.

  When I’d stumbled down the stairs yesterday and saw him standing there cooking, I’d felt something I hadn’t felt since I first started seeing Jay. And if I was being completely honest, something far more spectacular than I ever felt about Jay.

  Butterflies. No, too dainty, bluebirds had flown in my stomach.

  And something had felt like it was piercing my heart.

  There’d been an actual stab, a jolt. A bolt of electricity as I’d admired his back, the way the muscles rolled under the silly ruffled apron. The way his confident hands moved almost like an expert pianist moved his fingers on black-and-white piano keys, effortlessly, like bees grazing from one flower to the next.

  And he was doing all this for me.

  Jay never cooked for me.

  Come to think of it, Jay never did much for me that didn’t actually end up helping him. He’d come get me on the way to school, sure, but he was already heading that way.

  He bought me a white tennis skirt once…to play couples tennis with him.

  He brought me flowers when he picked me up for a date…but only to impress my mom.

  And when I thought about it, Jay wanted me to go to the dance not to make me feel better but to make him feel better about cheating on me and then dumping me for my best friend. Jay did things to help Jay.

  Whereas Felix, at least lately, was motivated by helping me.

  The Revenge Plot didn’t help him in the least, in fact, it did the opposite—it had completely squelched his dating life. Cooking breakfast for me didn’t help him in the least—he exposed himself to my flu! He could get sick himself! —He did that entirely for me. Not to mention how fun it was curling up under our fluffy red blanket in the living room watching the entire first season of X-Files. It was, like, ten episodes, and we sat there all day watching. I asked Felix if he had anywhere else to be and he just shrugged and shook it off, but now that I knew he was working at the diner, I knew he might’ve been lying. Had he taken the day or evening off, just to stay with me?

  Felix James was a sweetheart. He’d always had a sweet heart ever since he was a boy—my mom was right about that.

  Sigh.

  And the X-Files turned out to be not half bad either. I couldn’t wait for tonight when I’d start the second season. Maybe I’d talk to Felix about it today at school. Invite him over to watch it with me. But what if he was scheduled to work? I’d already taken enough of his time. Felix James…I continued thinking about his face, his smile, his sweet gestures while I walked into the school from the parking lot.

  I turned the corner—and what I saw slammed me into place.

  “You did what?” Kimmy screeched.

  “Shh. Calm down, Kimmy. It’s what we decided…”

  Jay and Kimmy were in the hallway, both red-faced, both looking like they were about to combust.

  “It’s what you decided, Buster!” Kimmy poked Jay in the chest with two fingers, which was actually hilarious. And Buster? Nice one.

  “It’s what we decided, Kimmy. As a couple. That I’d offer to take her.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Kimmy whined, “because you knew she’d say no.”

  Ah. So that was it.

  They’d expected me to decline.

  Hence the offer.

  “Oh, boy, what’s this train wreck we’re looking upon?” came Felix’s soft and wry vo
ice behind me, so close to my hair I could feel his breath on my neck.

  The butterflies—no, the blue jays were back.

  “Hey,” I said, my face heating up. “It looks bad from this vantage point.”

  “Sure does. Too bad we don’t have any popcorn.”

  “You’re terrible.” I glanced up at him.

  “You love it.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You do. Admit it.”

  “Never,” I said with a grin, though I was plenty pissed off about the conversation between Jay and Kimmy.

  He had no intention of taking me to the dance. He just asked me to “do the right thing” to ease his guilty conscience.

  Bastard.

  There’s no way he’d get away with this.

  Did I love it?

  As much as I liked imagining Felix and I at the dance together, no matter how sweet he’d been lately, Felix James was the Player of La Playa.

  And I needed to get my revenge on Jay.

  “Hi, Felix,” one of the Barbies said as she walked by, causing Kimmy and Jay to stop fighting and look over at the two of us standing there gawking at them. Jay looked surprised; Kimmy just looked annoyed.

  Course, Kimmy’s standing face was annoyed, so it was hard to tell if she was actually annoyed or just looking at us nonplussed.

  “I haven’t seen you around much,” the Barbie said, soothing sex-on-a-stick.

  “I’ve been busy,” Felix said in his nonchalant Player of La Playa voice. A tone I hadn’t heard for a while. A tone I certainly didn’t miss. His genuine Felix voice was so much nicer.

  “Oh.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. I couldn’t believe they allowed half shirts on school grounds. “I hear you don’t have a date to the dance.”

  She touched his shoulder, cocking her head. Her dangling earring swinging back and forth.

  Jealously grew in my stomach like a weed.

  “I did,” Felix said, looking at me, his eyes hooding over. “But not anymore.”

  Was he legitimately upset, or faking it for the revenge plan?

  “Oh. Oh!” Barbie brightened up. “Do you want to go with me?”

  She hadn’t wasted a second!

  I applauded her gusto.

  I hadn’t been that straightforward in my life.

  “Sure,” he said.

  Sure. He wanted to go with Barbie? So he’d been in my kitchen making me breakfast for the exact reason he’d explained: because we could still be friends.

  I swallowed away heartache. It was never about the dance; it wasn’t about the kisses; it wasn’t about me feeling safer with Felix than I had since my dad died. Of course it wasn’t. It was about the plan.

  I looked over at Jay, who had his hands on his hips. Kimmy glared at him. Then Kimmy glared at me. Barbie just looked confused. The revenge was working.

  I couldn’t look Felix in the eye.

  It had to be about the plan.

  We had to complete our revenge.

  I tried to swallow the regret that threatened to pop up as Barbie beamed and Kimmy cringed.

  Jay’s eyes flew open, his mouth opening in protest and then snapping shut.

  This was the right call.

  Felix nodded again but avoided my eye as well. “You go with Jay, Hazel.” And then he looked at me. Dead on. “You two belong together.”

  I didn’t like the way he said it. Like it was a threat. Or a tease. Or…

  What did he want me to do?

  “Oh. Okay, if you’re sure.”

  What was I doing? This was the plan! I should be happy.

  I looked at him for advice, but he was writing something on Barb’s hand with a pink marker that seemed to appear from the ether. The pink pen reminded me of the pink construction-paper heart. The one with my name on it with the sweet invite from Felix.

  I wasn’t ready for this ruse to be over. I wasn’t ready for anything with Felix to be over. We had more episodes of X-Files to watch! We had waves to surf! We had special shoestring French-fry sauces to try at the diner!

  “Whoa. Whoa. Just wait a minute,” Kimmy said, but Jay silenced her with an index finger. He was such a pompous ass. The last person I wanted to go to the dance with was Jay. I wanted to go to the dance with Felix!

  Suddenly I didn’t even care about the rouse.

  Or the Revenge Plot.

  But Felix wasn’t listening to me anymore.

  Felix was walking through the double doors, his arm slung around Barb, looking forward.

  Moving on.

  I knew where they were going: to his truck, where he’d sling his arm around the back of her seat, his truck with the folk-rock playing from one working speaker. He’d take her back to her house where she’d be the eager recipient of his magic Felix kisses; ripe peaches always in season.

  And I was jealous.

  I was so flipping jealous.

  I wasn’t jealous of Kimmy and Jay.

  I suddenly didn’t give two shizbots about those two d-bags.

  I just wanted Felix to look at me the way he had in my kitchen.

  The way he had when I’d fallen into his arms in this very hallway.

  When his brown eyes had been so sweet and wanting and present that I’d put my arms around him and kissed him.

  I gulped. Crushed.

  No. Please don’t go.

  I was struggling to focus on homework and trying to think about anything other than dancing with Jay at the dance —the thought of his arms around my waist now made my stomach crawl—while fighting away what was really bothering me: the image of Felix with his arm slung around Barb leaving school together this afternoon.

  The image stuck with me though, and it kept recurring and recurring like a Vine.

  My real feelings took over, sucking them up like the disappearing-twin phenomena. You know about that one? The healthier twin, in utero, sometimes absorbs the weaker one. That’s what had happened to the Revenge Plot. It had been absorbed by my feelings for Felix. My real feelings.

  The look on his face as he acknowledged me rejecting him, and then, after he’d rejected me. An arrow to the heart. A pierce to the gut. A flock of dead blue birds splayed across the hallway at school. His brown eyes so full of emotion and then just…empty as he turned away from me. Rejecting me. Leaving me…forever.

  Just when I’d found him again.

  No. Scratch that. Just when I’d discovered him.

  Truly gotten to know Felix James.

  It’d felt so final. And now it was over.

  I swallowed away the pit in my throat.

  All I felt was his soft hair between my fingers. All I tasted was his soft lips. All I felt was the heat of his warm chest through his soft T-shirt.

  Everything about Felix was soft: his hair, his lips, his shirt…his heart.

  Felix was a softie. Kimmy was the one with hard edges.

  Jay was sharp-edged, stubborn, and narcissistic.

  Kimmy and Jay were perfect for each other!

  And Felix and I…

  It was too late.

  The doors swung close behind him, and I hadn’t felt this alone since my dad died.

  I stood there with Kimmy and Jay among the lockers and the groups of kids laughing and talking and making plans. But I was there alone—an arrow piercing my heart.

  Not okay, Cupid. Not friggin’ okay.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Felix

  I’d hated leaving Hazel in the hallway like that, but it was the best thing to do. It was the only thing to do, really.

  It would work with the plan—the revenge plan—the point of all of this, anyhow.

  I would be yesterday’s news.

  I swallowed. Glanced out my open window at myself in the review mirror. My eyes set and determined. I had to get past this. I strummed my thumb on the stirring wheel. Barb said something. I answered with a nod as we cruised down the street.

  Sure, maybe Hazel would think of me from time to time—maybe if she accid
entally ran into an old DVD of Felix the Cat, or smelled a ripe peach at the farmers market, but that would be it. She’d avoid Fred’s at all costs. She’d never try a pesto mayonnaise dip for her fries.

  A familiar sad and romantic tune filled the cab. A quick glance at Barb told me this was making her all swoony and hot. Not what I was going for. Not in the least. Why had I even let her get in my truck?

  I tugged on a piece of windblown hair, suddenly so antsy.

  I turned the music off—it was one of the songs I listened to with Hazel, one she especially liked and sang along to (all the wrong words, adorably, I might add). I couldn’t hear it right now. I felt like I’d swallowed a peach pit.

  To the right of me was the wrong girl. Clearly the wrong girl.

  “I’ve missed you, Felix,” the wrong girl said, unsnapping her seat belt (Hazel would never take her seat belt off in a moving vehicle. She was far too smart for that) and resting her palm on my knee.

  The weight of her hand felt all wrong as it crawled up my thigh.

  “You should fasten your seat belt.”

  “But I want to be close to you.”

  “And I want you to be safe and me to be law-abiding.”

  Yes, I actually said that. I was panicking! I had to get her off me. If she told everyone I’d turned into a Goody Two-shoes, fine. It was worth it.

  I felt bad, of course. It wasn’t Barb’s fault that she wasn’t Hazel—she didn’t know what was going on with me—I was the one acting weird. I didn’t want to reject her outright and hurt her feelings, but I had to stop her.

  “I…” I lifted her hand off my leg and set it back on her own lap.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I…I don’t feel that great,” I confessed. I felt sick.

  Suddenly my head hurt so bad that it felt like a swarm of wasps were digging into my brain. I felt like Cupid’s arrow—full of poison—had landed splat into my gut, injecting it with goo. I needed to puke ASAP.

  Was I that upset about Hazel?

  The sad look on her face in the hallway almost killed me.

  But why was she sad? She had the revenge against Jay. And revenge against my asshat sister. That was it. Sure, she’d gone along with kissing me, and she’d seemed to enjoy my company when we were alone, but that didn’t mean anything. She was a good actor. She’d been going along with the revenge plan.