“Papi,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not concentrating on boys. I’m starting a business. A matchmaking business. I think I’d be good at it. Why are you talking about Mom?”
I should have prepared better for this conversation. But I thought Papi would be proud of me. Sometimes it seemed no matter how hard I tried, I was just too much trouble for him.
“Your mother called me today.” My father laid a hand on the table. The vein in his forehead started to darken. “She wants you to come live with her. All the time now. She said a girl your age is changing. Needs a mami more than a papi.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not true. I won’t do the matchmaking business if you don’t want. I just want to stay here with you.”
Papi stared at me. I could hear my words reverberating in my head. I wanted to plead even more, but I didn’t want to be a burden on him. My mother’s words, the ones she said to me the morning she left, were always at the back of my mind: “Don’t cause Papi any trouble. He needs you to take care of him now.”
Because of that, I’d never really told him about how bad it had gotten for me at my old school, Holy Cross. He’d thought I just wanted a change of scenery. He didn’t know that anyone who had to sit next to me would always scoot just an inch or two farther away, like I had some contagious disease. That anyone who had to be my partner would roll their eyes in disgust. He didn’t know that making friends at Austen was way more important to me than grades.
He already had enough to worry about: being a single dad and dealing with his sadness over my mother leaving, which never quite went away. He didn’t need me to make that worse.
“Clara,” Papi said, his eyes dimming. “I love you, but a girl your age …”
My father’s eyes grew watery, like they did whenever he started thinking about my mother. And like I always did, I pretended things weren’t so bad, so he’d feel better.
“I’m the same as I always was,” I assured him. “You’ll see. Let me prove it to you. And don’t send me to live with Mom.”
Papi sighed. “Okay, you do your matchmaking business, try harder in school. We’ll see how it goes. But your mother wants to talk with you. I want you to listen to what she says.”
I exhaled. “I will,” I told him. My eyes started prickling, and I could feel the heaviness of tears building up behind them. A lump welled halfway up my throat and then stuck, but I swallowed it away. I couldn’t be the loser with good grades anymore, but I couldn’t be the popular girl with bad grades either. Not if I wanted to stay at home. I couldn’t give Papi any reason not to want me.
On Wednesday, Emily came home from school with me so we could get to work on Cupid Clara. She would be my assistant and my first customer.
“Are you sure you don’t mind being a guinea pig?” I asked her as we settled down in my room with a plate of orange slices and two bottled waters.
“I don’t mind at all,” Emily said. “I mean, I know you know what you’re doing.”
“Great.” I twisted the cap on my water and took a sip. “Because having a success story is good for business. Once people see you with your match,” I told Emily, “they’ll all be racing to sign up.”
“This is going to be so much fun,” Emily said, biting into an orange wedge. “I can’t wait to see who you pair me with.”
“Okay, then let’s get started. I think the best tool for making this many matches will be a questionnaire, so I wrote us one.” I handed Emily the sheet of questions I’d printed. “Why don’t you fill it out while I work on the sign for our storefront?”
During the business contest, my school used the big lobby in front of the office as an actual marketplace, and every business that wanted to sell things at school got their own table. You could decorate it however you wanted, but a sign was mandatory. I pulled out a huge stack of red, white, and gold paper, plus cutouts of hearts, cupids, arrows, and mugs of hot chocolate. I was going to collage our sign. I dipped my foam brush in the glue and layered the first strip of paper onto a big wooden heart.
I’d almost forgotten the sweet gluey smell of Mod Podge. I trailed the brush over the top of the paper to seal it. Sofia, my one and only friend at my old school, always giggled at how much I’d liked that smell. We’d both liked doing art projects; it was the one thing we had in common besides being social outcasts. But I hadn’t made a collage since the day T. J. Thomson told everyone I had Sofia’s snot in my hair. It had really been Mod Podge.
I tore off three more strips of paper and tacked them down quickly. The heart was halfway covered when Emily handed me back her questionnaire.
I read it, then tucked it in the red folder I’d bought for Cupid Clara paperwork. One pocket was full of empty questionnaires; the other pocket now held Emily’s completed survey.
“Do you think my answers are okay?” she asked me. “Like, good enough for a match?”
“Of course they’re good enough! This isn’t about being good enough or not good enough,” I explained. “It’s about finding the person whose answers are the most similar to yours. Like if you both prefer watching movies and love Rice Krispie Treats, then you’d probably have fun hanging out together. Make sense?”
“I guess.” Emily looked at my half-finished sign. “Want me to help with that?”
“Sure,” I said, handing her a brush and a stack of colored paper. I showed her how to lay the glue underneath and on top of the paper, and also how to rip so she’d get a cool jagged white edge on the paper.
“Wow,” Emily said after a few minutes. “You’re really good at this.” She pointed to our sign. “Your side looks like something I could buy in an art gallery, and mine looks like … a mess.”
“You’ve just never collaged before.” I patted her shoulder with my clean hand. “I’ve made a million of these, so I know what looks good.”
“I didn’t know you were into art!” Emily added a gold heart to the collage, then layered a strip of sheer red tissue over half of it.
“That looks good,” I told her. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
“How come you aren’t taking art? Or doing art club?” Emily asked. “I’d do it with you if you want.”
“Ew!” I said, then I realized how that sounded. “I don’t mean ew about doing an activity with you. I’m just not that into art. Anymore. It was something I used to do. Besides, you and Alivia and everyone do dance and soccer, right? I was thinking I might try out for soccer with you guys this spring.”
For a second, I thought Emily looked disappointed. “Oh yeah, sure. I mean, it’s more Alivia’s and Kacy’s thing. I’m not really that good, but I’ll try out with you.”
“We can practice together. But first, we have to finish this sign.” Emily and I got back to work, gluing and talking about other ideas for the business.
Later that night, I wrote up our business plan.
I figured those prices were fair. That way, I could make up to fifteen dollars per customer. It wouldn’t be too much work since I’d already prepared the questionnaire. I wouldn’t have to keep making more and more baked goods like Alivia, or like the kids who sold jewelry or T-shirts. The only downside was I just didn’t know how many customers I’d get. But if I could find the perfect guy for Emily before Monday, I was pretty sure I’d have a line as long as the entire school.
For the next two days, I took notes on every boy in every one of my classes. I had a couple of ideas, but it was important for Emily’s match to be a guy that every girl would drool over. Then they’d all be begging to be a client.
I kept a blank questionnaire with me at all times, just in case. I brought a whole stack of them to Alivia’s house on Friday night. Her parents were letting her have the party in their new basement. They just added a Ping-Pong table, a Pop-A-Shot, and a big TV for a home movie theater. They even had a popcorn cart.
Emily and I both got root beers from the mini fridge and sat in the reclining movie seats. Alivia didn’t put on a movie, b
ut she had the top-forty station playing on the TV, so I swung my foot to the beat. Kacy and Savannah, another girl in our grade, played Ping-Pong, and Alivia and Danielle sat at a game table in the corner decorating cookies for later.
Emily tugged at the stretchy pink shirt I’d made her borrow. I grabbed her hand and put it on her lap.
“Stop fidgeting,” I told her. “You look gorgeous.”
Emily adjusted the shirt one more time and said, “I wish you’d have let me wear my sweatshirt. I don’t feel like me.”
“This is the new you,” I told her. Hopefully it was the Emily that fit into the popular group.
“Alivia,” Alivia’s mom called down the basement stairs. “A few more of your friends have arrived.”
Alivia stood up and put the cookies on the counter at the back of the room. Above us, what sounded like a hundred water buffalo tromped down the stairs. It was the guys. I patted the folded questionnaires in my back pocket.
“Where’s the food?” Mateo asked as soon as he appeared in the basement.
“You’re such a pig,” Alivia said, laughing and swatting his shoulder, but then she called up the stairs. “Mom, we’re ready for the hors d’oeuvres.”
Alivia’s mother brought down trays of mini pizzas, soft pretzels, tiny hot dogs, chips, and veggies. Everyone pounced on them like they were starving. I hung back so I could make a mental list of all the boys.
Jack, Ben, and Ryan were the sporty boys.
Connor, Sam, and Miles were the future politicians.
Mateo and Eli were the class jokesters.
And then there was Logan. He was newish at our school, just like me. He’d transferred in October. I think his parents got separated or something. He was standing by the mini pizzas, but he wasn’t taking any. His thick brown hair was cut short and neat. But he was cute. And kind of mysterious.
“Be right back,” I whispered to Emily. Then I got up and walked over to Logan. The old Clara never would have been able to talk to a boy at a party. First of all, she never would have been invited to the party, and second of all, the boy would have run off in the other direction. But New Clara could talk to anyone, because nobody knew a thing about her past.
“Hi,” I said, picking up a plate and serving myself a mini pizza with peppers. This was it. The start of Cupid Clara. My heart was beating so wildly it felt like there was a helicopter in my chest, but I pretended I was practically bored. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” Logan said, smiling. “Did you try the math homework yet? It’s impossible.”
“Not yet. Thanks for the tip.” I smiled back at him, but not too big. I was feeling pretty good about my choice. Logan had brought up math. Math was Emily’s favorite subject. So far so good.
“You look like you are having a hard time deciding,” I said, pointing to his empty plate.
His cheeks got a little pink, and he looked down at the ground for a second. “I’m not that hungry actually. I didn’t realize this party was going to have food, so I already ate.”
“Next time you’ll know better,” I said, remembering something Emily had told me. “When Alivia throws a party, her mom serves enough food to feed the whole school. They even hire a caterer. Wait until you see the desserts! At her last party, they had a chocolate fountain.”
“Whoa!” Logan made an appreciative face.
“Yeah, I know. Chocolate-covered anything is my favorite.”
“Me too.” Logan smiled at me, and I suddenly remembered that Emily’s favorite dessert was Rice Krispie Treats.
“What about Rice Krispie Treats?” I asked. “Do you like them?”
“Who doesn’t?” he answered, nodding enthusiastically.
Perfect! That was two things Logan and Emily had in common so far.
Logan was going to be a great match. He was obviously popular, since Alivia had invited him to her party, and judging from how many girls were looking at him, he’d make a solid success story. Everyone would sign up if they thought they could get their own Logan.
“I’m hanging over there with my friend Emily.” I pointed across the room to where Emily was sitting on the couch watching us. I waved at her, and she waved back cheerfully, her curls bobbing. “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”
“Um, I—” Logan’s cheeks turned pink again. “Sure,” he finally said.
He thought she was cute! All signs were go for a Cupid Clara match. But I didn’t want to rush it. I had to do things by the book.
“Can I ask you a favor?” I pulled a Cupid Clara questionnaire out of my back pocket and handed it to him. “You know about the ABC, right? Austen Business Challenge? Well, I’m doing a matchmaking business, and I feel like I know someone perfect for you.”
Logan looked me right in the eye and blinked a couple of times in surprise. Then he smiled, first with just half of his mouth, then all the way. “You do?”
“Yeah. It’s mostly to find a person to dance with at the Hot Chocolate Social, but you could also ask the person out, if you wanted to.”
“Okay.” He nodded his head.
“All you have to do is fill out this questionnaire, and I’ll let you know if you guys are a match. I’m going to ask all the other boys to do it.”
“Hey there! What are you guys talking about?” Alivia walked up to the food table and angled herself right between me and Logan. She grabbed a carrot and took a bite.
“Just the ABC,” I told her.
“Cool. Hey, Logan, remember you told me you’d teach me how to play Pop-A-Shot?” Alivia smiled at him.
Logan gave her an embarrassed look, then glanced back at me. “Um, I said would give her some shooting tips.”
“Oh. No problem. Go ahead.” I held out two questionnaires. “You can give it back to me at school on Monday. Keep the extra for mistakes, or give it to one of your friends.”
Logan took the questionnaires and tucked them in his back pocket. I couldn’t believe how smoothly everything was falling into place. It’s like I was destined to be Cupid Clara. I was helping myself to a mini hot dog and some baby carrots when Mateo came over to me. Suddenly I found it hard to breathe, and a tiny piece of baby carrot went down the wrong pipe and launched a giant coughing fit.
Mateo pounded my back. “Are you okay?”
I took a deep breath. Remember you’re cool now, I chanted in my head. But it didn’t work. I kept coughing, and I could feel myself turning bright red.
Mateo and I had both gone to Holy Cross School together until fifth grade, then he switched to Austen for middle school. One year before me. We weren’t friends at Holy Cross, obviously. He was never mean to me there, but he was never nice either. Now that we were part of the same friend group at Austen, I mostly tried to avoid him. For some reason, whenever I was near him, Old Clara came rushing back and it was impossible to let my inner popular girl out.
“What’s up with you and the new kid?” he asked.
I never knew how to act around Mateo. He was always nice to me now, but whenever I spoke to him, I felt like any minute he was going to tell everyone I was an imposter, or make some kind of comment about how I used to be the school outcast.
“Nothing,” I said, coughing one last time. “He’s just doing something for my ABC project.” I thought about handing Mateo a questionnaire, but my nerves failed me.
“Oh,” he said, picking up a handful of chips. “Cool.”
He popped a chip into his mouth but didn’t go anywhere. I got the feeling he wanted to say something to me, but he wasn’t speaking. I was about to sit back down with Emily when he finally spoke.
“Do you ever see, um, anyone from the old school anymore?” he asked.
I froze. The hair on my arms prickled, and all the noise in the room faded as Mateo came into crystal-clear focus in front of me. He knew I only had one friend in elementary school. Why would he ask me that question? Was he getting ready to do something mean? In front of everyone?
A surge of energy filled my body. There was no way I was
going to let him do that.
I put my plate down and stared right into his eye. “I never even think about that school anymore,” I told him. My voice was shaking. Then I spun around and walked away from him as fast as I could.
In second grade, I was the girl who cried during recess. In third grade, I was the liar who tried to claim her mother was a movie star. By fourth, fifth, and sixth grade, it didn’t matter who I was anymore because all anyone remembered was second and third grades. But in seventh grade, I started over. Now I’m the new Clara, the girl who’s practically popular. I’m not going to let that change.
On Monday after school, I walked outside with my friends and nearly froze to death. It couldn’t have been warmer than negative two degrees outside, but Alivia wasn’t even wearing her coat. Danielle and Kacy had their coats half on, half off.
“It’s freezing!” Emily shrieked, pulling her hat and scarf from her bag and putting them on. Her coat was zipped up to her chin.
“Emily!” Alivia said shaking her head. “Your hair’s going to look crazy at dance when you take that off.”
Emily’s pink cheeks got even pinker, and she reached her hand up to her head, then put it back down.
I had started zipping my coat, but I stopped and wrapped my arms around myself instead. At that moment, Joey walked out the side door of the school. Even though he was half the school away, I could tell it was him by the way he walked. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he put on his pom-pom ski cap and big woolly mittens and wrapped an extra-long striped scarf around and around and around his neck.
Alivia laughed. “Don’t look now, Clara, but I’m pretty sure I see the guy you’ve been looking for.”
Suddenly I didn’t feel cold at all. My cheeks burned a thousand degrees and my neck began to sweat. “What are you talking about?”
“Aren’t you looking for a match for Emily?” She laughed again and pointed at Joey. “Don’t you think they’d be perfect all bundled up together?”
Playing Cupid Page 3
