Playing Cupid

by Jenny Meyerhoff

  There was total silence in the bathroom. I could feel it pressing down on me like I was underwater. I imagined Emily staring at Alivia, frozen, terrified of becoming an outcast, just like I had been. And then suddenly, a hot swirling anger began to build inside me, rising through my stomach and my chest, swelling and swelling until I thought I might explode. I planted my feet on the ground and slammed my palm against the bathroom stall door. It burst open and hit the next stall with a loud crack.

  Alivia and Emily both jumped, and then stared at me in shock.

  “She”—I pointed at Emily and glared at Alivia—“is not a loser.”

  I took a step closer to Alivia and realized for the first time that I was taller than her. By an inch. I straightened myself up and took another step forward. “Emily is cooler, smarter, and nicer than you will ever be. And she is great at styling hair and doing math. She has real talent, not like some people who pretend they are good at baking but really just hire someone to do it for them.” I put my hands on my hips. “Sound familiar, Alivia?”

  All the color drained slowly out of Alivia’s face. She could lie about our questionnaires and there would be no way to prove she was sabotaging us on purpose, but she couldn’t wriggle her way out of this one.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alivia said, cocking her head to one side. “But I can see why you guys are friends. You’re both so annoying. You make a perfect match.”

  “I’d rather be annoying than mean and selfish,” I said. “And even though I can’t win the ABC, I’m glad you can’t win it either, because if you don’t tell Mr. Bersand, then I will. And I don’t care if you make me an outcast. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

  Alivia blinked at me, her mouth opening and closing stupidly. I didn’t wait for her to come up with a reply. I turned and headed out of the bathroom and back to Mrs. Fox’s room. Thankfully Joey wasn’t there anymore. I gathered up my things and started to walk home.

  I strode out the front door and into a gentle snowfall. I tilted my head back and caught a couple flakes on my tongue. My whole life was ruined, but for some crazy reason, I felt great.

  “Clara! Wait up.”

  I turned around and saw Emily running and sliding through the snow to catch up with me. When she tried to stop, her feet skidded on the ice and she crashed right into me.

  “Sorry,” she said, steadying herself on my shoulders and standing up straight.

  “No. I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’ve been a terrible friend to you. I thought being popular was the only way be free of the old Clara.”

  “But why would you want to be free of yourself? You are awesome.”

  “I used to be a loser,” I explained, feeling tears threaten again. “My only friend wasn’t even a friend. She was just the other person who didn’t have any friends. I guess …” I looked down at my feet. “I don’t really know how to act with a real friend.”

  Emily shook her head. “You were never a loser. You just went to school with a bunch of idiots who couldn’t see how cool you are.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You don’t have to be nice to me after the way I treated you.”

  “I’m not being nice. I’m telling the truth.” Emily shivered. “I’m freezing,” she added.

  “You should go inside,” I told her.

  Emily nodded and started walking away. I turned and kicked a clump of snow as I began to walk home.

  “Clara!”

  I turned around. Emily had her arms wrapped around herself and was hopping from foot to foot. “Since Cupid Clara will be finished soon, why don’t you come to Mathletes next week?”

  “Mathletes?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

  She laughed. “You’ll love it! It starts at seven,” she called, running back into school. I wasn’t so sure I’d love Mathletes, but it was a huge relief to know that Emily didn’t hate me anymore. And whatever else happened, at least I still had one friend. A real friend. Just the thought made my shoulders feel warm and loose. I took a deep breath and tilted my head back toward the sky. It was cold, but the sun was out, and I could feel its gentle heat against my cheeks.

  When I got home, Mateo was waiting on my front steps.

  Oh, no. He was probably here to ask me to the Hot Chocolate Social. I took a deep breath. There were so many reasons why I couldn’t go to the dance with him now. First, I didn’t actually like him. I could see now that I’d never liked him as more than a friend. Second, I wasn’t part of that group anymore. I couldn’t just show up at Alivia’s house for pictures with Mateo on the night of the dance. And I didn’t want to! But mostly, I was done with boys, matchmaking, crushes, dances, and anything that had to do with love. Even when I was being totally careful with my heart, it had still caused me all kinds of heartbreak.

  “Hi, Mateo,” I said, walking up my driveway.

  “Hi,” he said, standing up. “I was almost about to leave. Why are you home so late?”

  “I had to stay after school,” I explained. “But before you say anything, I have to tell you something.”

  Mateo looked surprised, but he said, “Sure.”

  “Okay.” I took deep breath. “Please don’t be mad, okay? I really like you and think you are a great guy, but I like you as a friend.”

  Mateo nodded. “I like you as a friend too.”

  “I mean, I only like you as a friend. Nothing more. I can’t go to the Hot Chocolate Social with you.” I tried to make my expression as friendly as possible. “I’m really sorry, but I’m sure there are tons of girls who will want to dance with you.”

  Mateo wrinkled his eyebrows and gave me a confused expression. “Did you want to go to the dance? I can’t go to the dance with you.”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “That’s right.”

  “No,” Mateo shook his head. “I can’t go to the dance with you.”

  Why was this so confusing? “That’s what I said. I know you came over here to ask me to the dance, but I’m saying no.”

  Mateo got a really sad expression on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought you understood. I didn’t come over here to ask you to the dance. I came over to tell you I asked Sofia. She said yes! And it’s all because of you and all your matchmaking help.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked in surprised. “You asked Sofia? You like Sofia?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I told you, remember? The girl who used to get teased?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “I thought you were talking about me!”

  Mateo blinked a couple of times. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I guess I forgot people used to make fun of you. Sorry.”

  I looked at Mateo. I was so obsessed with my own tortured past that it didn’t even occur to me that people wouldn’t remember it. I felt a pang of regret for wasting so much energy on trying to hide the old me, but I also felt a new sense of relief.

  “I have to go,” I told him. “And that’s great about you and Sofia. I’m happy for you.”

  I went to open the door, when I noticed an envelope taped to the doorknob with my name in a heart on the front.

  “From you?” I asked Mateo.

  He shook his head. “Nope. See you around.”

  I opened the envelope and found a ticket to the Hot Chocolate Social, a package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and a note.

  I looked at Mateo walking away up my street. If it wasn’t from him, who could it be from? I didn’t even want to try to guess.

  I couldn’t believe I used to think I knew so much about making couples. Maybe I could match strangers sometimes, but when it came to my own life, I didn’t know anything. I’d spent so many years hiding my feelings, that maybe I didn’t know or understand my own feelings at all anymore. Or anyone’s feelings. I thought Alivia was my friend, but she wasn’t. I thought Logan liked Emily, but he liked me. I thought Emily wasn’t good enough, but she was the best. I thought Mateo liked me, but he liked Sofia. And I thought I liked Mateo, but I liked Joey.


  And if I was so wrong, so stupid, about so many things, who knew what else I had all wrong? I thought Papi would send me away if he knew the truth of how complicated things were for me. But he already wanted to send me away, so maybe I needed to tell the truth anyway.

  All the next day, I tried to plan how I would talk to Papi. Sometimes I thought I should call him at work. Sometimes I thought I should write him a note. In the end, I decided I would tell him at dinner. That was where we had most of our best conversations.

  “Clara!” a familiar voice called out when I walked through the front door after school. A woman’s voice.

  My heart began to race. Was Papi sending me away already? Was I too late to have my conversation? I ran into the kitchen and saw my mother stirring two mugs of hot chocolate.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, sinking down at the kitchen table.

  “I talked to Papi yesterday and took the first flight out this morning. It sounded like you needed someone to talk to.” She came over to give me a hug, and her perfume smelled like I remembered.

  “You flew out here just to talk to me?” I asked doubtfully, too surprised to hug her back. “Are you going to make me go home and live with you?”

  “No, baby. Living with me is your decision. I really want you to, but more than that, I want you to know that you can talk to me. I haven’t been the world’s best mother, I know, but I’m going to do better now. I want to do better.”

  I swallowed hard, but my heartbeat slowed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to talk to her a little bit. Maybe that was one of the other things I had been wrong about.

  We took our drinks to the couch, and I told her what it was like for me at Holy Cross after she left. She cried a lot, but she didn’t interrupt or apologize or explain. She just listened, which was exactly what I wanted. Then I told her everything that had happened this year at Austen, every single way that I had been totally wrong and silly. She didn’t have much advice, but just telling someone made me feel better.

  “¡Dios mío!” my mother said when I was done, both of us sniffling. “You have a knack for drama. But you have a very good heart, Clara. It’s time you start listening to it and trusting it, you know?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  She smiled at me slyly. “So,” she said, “little Joey Fano?”

  “He’s not that little,” I said, laughing. “He’s taller than Papi.”

  “Taller than Papi!” My mother laughed, too. Then she got up and beckoned me into the kitchen, where she began to open cabinets and peer through the refrigerator. “I think we should make carnitas, and maybe tres leches too?”

  “Sounds good,” I said, my stomach growling.

  My mother and I spent the afternoon talking and cooking, and when Papi got home at seven thirty, she and I were both sitting at the dining room table waiting for him. His face fell when he saw both of us sitting there together.

  My mother stood up. “Sit down, David. I just remembered a phone call I have to make.”

  Papi sat down as my mother left the room. At first, we both sat there silently, then I said, “Papi, I don’t want to make you sad, but there is something I need to tell you.”

  My father started to say something, but I stopped him. Then I told my dad the whole story, from the way the kids at Holy Cross treated me, to all my crazy misunderstandings at Austen. When I finished, Papi leaned forward and put his face in his hands.

  “I was supposed to take care of you,” he said sadly. “I was supposed to protect you from the pain and instead you protected me.”

  “I didn’t want to be too much trouble for you,” I told him, feeling choked up. “You always said things would have been better if my mother went to college, which meant everything would be better if I was never born. I didn’t want to give you any more reasons to wish me away.”

  Papi’s eyes grew shiny. He looked up at the corner of the ceiling. “I would never wish you away. You are the most precious thing in my life, Clara. When I say that it would have been better if your mother went to college, I don’t mean it would have been better for me. I mean that for a young person, it’s better to know your own heart before you decide to share it with another. Your mother didn’t know what she wanted when we got married, and I was too young and too in love to realize that I couldn’t be everything for her. But she gave me you, and I could never be sorry for that.”

  Papi leaned forward and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

  “I don’t want to live with my mother,” I told him. “I want to stay here with you.”

  “I want you here too, but, mija, you can’t hide things from me. You have to trust me to protect you.”

  I nodded my head.

  “Do you forgive me?” he asked. “For not protecting you better before?”

  I gave Papi a big hug. “I don’t need to forgive you,” I told him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Papi held me at arm’s length. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “It was very wrong of you to fake my signature, but now I understand. Still, it better not happen again.”

  “It won’t.” I held one hand in the air. “I promise.”

  My mother knocked softly against the doorframe. “Is it okay if I come back now?”

  Papi looked at me and I nodded, wiping my eyes with the back of my finger.

  “She’s an amazing girl,” my mother told Papi as she pulled the pork out of the oven and began to shred it. “Thank you.”

  Papi and I got up and helped my mother bring the food to the table. When we all sat down again, I said, “I want to keep living with Papi.”

  My mother nodded. “I understand.”

  “But maybe I can come stay with you for two months this summer,” I suggested, feeling hopeful. “And maybe we can start talking on the phone more than once a week.” Even though I was still a little mad at her for everything she’d done, I knew she was sorry, and I knew I needed to learn to forgive.

  Now my mother’s eyes got shiny. “I’d love that,” she said. Then she laughed. “It will be better than a telenovela!” My mother turned to Papi. “So much drama, this one.”

  My mother gave me a ride to school the next morning on her way back to the airport.

  “Papi told me your matchmaking business made the top five,” she said as we pulled up to the front of my school. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you. Maybe you will start your own dating company someday?”

  I shook my head. “It was fun,” I told her, “but matchmaking really isn’t for me. I liked making the Claragrams, though. I might try joining art club this spring.”

  “Yes!” my mother said. “Try everything you like. That’s the way to find out what you will love.”

  I gave my mother a hug good-bye, then waved at her as I walked into school. This morning was the final ABC assembly where they would announce the winning business. The entire school got to attend.

  Emily and I sat together in the front row.

  “Who do you think will win?” Emily asked me anxiously. “Everyone’s business is so good. I don’t have any idea.”

  “Me neither,” I said, biting my lip.

  Mr. Bersand stood at the podium and asked everyone to be quiet. He made a little speech about all the wonderful goods and services everyone bought this year, then he told us we’d raised over $9,000 for charity. Everyone clapped. Finally he held up a gold envelope with the invitation to the Future Entrepreneurs Conference.

  “This year’s most successful business is …”

  He paused and Emily double-crossed her fingers on both hands.

  “Hoppy Frog!”

  Emily screamed and began clapping so loudly her palms had to be stinging. “That was such a fun game!” she told me while all around us people cheered. “If we couldn’t win, I’m glad it was them. Yi Ling’s in Mathletes,” she added, nodding toward the beaming winner.

  Mr. Bersand continued. “Their addictive game was a hit not only with Austen students and faculty, but
also made the top one hundred games in an online app store last week.”

  “Woo!” Emily shouted again.

  “Thank you to everyone for helping us through another successful year of the Austen Business Challenge. You may now return to first period.”

  Emily and I stood up.

  “Are you upset?” she asked me.

  “Not really,” I said, surprised to realize I didn’t feel too overwhelmingly disappointed. Even if Alivia hadn’t spread those rumors about not taking more questionnaires, I don’t think we could have beaten Hoppy Frog. “I think everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

  “Hey, are you going to the Hot Chocolate Social tomorrow?” Emily asked. Then she lowered her voice and leaned in close to me. “I think I’m going to do something crazy.”

  “What?” I asked, starting to feel a little nervous as we walked out of the gym.

  “I’m going to ask a boy to dance!” Emily giggled. “Can you believe it? Me?”

  “Who?” I said, my voice coming out squeaky. “Joey?” I didn’t say more. Despite my feelings for Joey, I wanted Emily to be happy.

  Emily looked at me like I was crazy. “Why would I ask Joey? I’m going to ask Evan.” She gave me a funny little smile. “I never really stopped liking him, you know.”

  Right. Evan. Of course. A pang of guilt stabbed my chest as I remembered insisting Logan was the perfect guy for her. “I have a feeling he never stopped liking you either.”

  “I hope so.” Emily’s eyes sparkled. “Joey told me Evan talks about me all the time.” Emily blushed as she and I walked slowly down the hallway toward science. It felt nice to be hanging out with her again.

  “Did you hear about Logan and Alivia?” she asked me.

  I shook my head. “No, what?”

  “They broke up. Eli asked Alivia to go the Hot Chocolate Social, and she said yes. Apparently Logan only asked her to go the dance, but not out to dinner.”

  Emily and I walked into our classroom and sat in our seats. A part of me felt bad for Logan. He wasn’t the nicest guy, but that didn’t mean I wanted bad stuff to happen to him.