Wrong in All the Right Ways

by Tiffany Brownlee

  She hands the canary-yellow rectangular package to me and pulls two tissues from the box on my side table. “Well, what are you waiting for? Try it on. Let me see your dress,” she says, dabbing at her eyes. I can’t believe she’s getting all blubbery over homecoming. It’s not like I’m getting engaged or anything like that. It’s just a school dance.

  I vanish behind my dressing screen. It takes me all of two minutes to slip into and lace up the dress I’ve dreamed about at least three times since I first tried it on. The satin fabric awakens the same intoxicating feeling that I had at the boutique. I feel proud, beautiful, and unrelentingly visible.

  “Try your hardest to keep the waterworks to a minimum,” I warn as I peek around the screen. My mom nods, but I know that the second I step in front of her, she’s going to lose it. Again.

  Her gasp is so great that she has to cover her mouth with both hands to conceal it. “Honey,” she breathes, “you look absolutely amazing.” She signals for me to turn and I do as I’m told, like I’m one of those TLC pageant girls. Spin left. Pause. Shoulders back. Smile. Eyes on the judges. “So which lucky guy are you going to go with?”

  “Mom, I literally just decided that I was going. What makes you think I have a date lined up?”

  “Your excuse for not going the previous three years was that you couldn’t go without a date, and seeing as Karmin went out of her way to buy you this gorgeous dress, I’m willing to bet that the two of you at least have someone in mind for your date.” Before my mom married my dad, she had every intention of going to law school. Nothing gets past her; she is, and always has been, according to my grandmother, very observant. “And by the way, I’m glad you have such a generous and thoughtful friend, but you need to make arrangements for us to pay her back.”

  I feel my temperature rise as my tongue goes dry—sticking to the roof of my mouth—and a warm sweat breaks through to the surface of my skin. There is someone I want to go with, but telling her that it’s Dylan will cause more trouble than it’s worth. And I don’t have enough time to think up an elaborate lie that will get her off my case. I’m stuck.

  I scrounge up some saliva to wet my mouth enough to spill everything that’s been going on with me these past few months: my feelings for Dylan, the many kisses that we’ve shared, what just happened at the sub shop, even the possibility of him being in love with me. Until—

  My cell phone screen lights up, and Karmin’s name flashes across it. “We’re gonna have to postpone this conversation. I’ve got to thank Karmin for the dress. But I’ll tell you later, Mom.” When I’ve thought up a good enough lie, that is. I shoo my mother out of the room and wait until she’s halfway back to the house before I answer the phone. “Hey, Karmin. What’s up?”

  “Did you get the package?”

  “I did, and I cannot believe you bought me this dress!”

  “I didn’t. Keegan did. Apparently, he’s as interested in who your date is going to be as I am. Speaking of, that’s why I’m calling. Now that you have the dress, there is absolutely nothing holding you back from asking this mystery man of yours to the dance.”

  “Karmin, I don’t know if—”

  “You’ll thank me later. Call him!” Click.

  Tossing my phone onto the bed, I take another look in the mirror at me in my homecoming dress, and smile. Dylan is going to love me in this. Now I just have to figure out how to ask him without setting off too many foster-brother-etiquette alarms.

  chapter 12

  Dear Catherine,

  Six days. There are six days standing in between now and my first-ever homecoming dance, and I must say that I’m proud of myself for keeping cool about everything. I asked Dylan to be my secret date the night I got my dress and he said yes, which I’m ecstatic about. I haven’t told a soul who my date is, and no one but Karmin even knows that I like a guy. I’ll call this a win.

  Dylan and I agreed that we wouldn’t go with anyone else, because we will be each other’s secret date, even though I won’t get the chance to dance with him until we’re hidden away back home. Thursday we’re going to decorate his studio with lights and candles, so we have somewhere private to slow dance afterward. That was actually his idea. God, he’s so thoughtful, and sweet, and just … perfect. Would I love to scream that I’m his girlfriend from the rooftops? Of course. But this clandestine arrangement will have to do for now. Having to hide our feelings for each other is better than not being able to be together at all. Wouldn’t you agree?

  Emma

  “SO,” my mom says to me when I come into the kitchen after school, smiling. Dylan is upstairs, and he’s just texted me a lame joke that I can’t help but laugh at.

  “So … what?” I ask her once I look up from my phone. My cheeks are hurting from smiling so hard, and I try to calm myself down in front of her, but no matter what I do, my grin won’t go away. I get the sinking feeling in my stomach that she can tell something’s up, but I know I have to play it cool.

  “Who’s the boy?”

  “What boy?”

  “The one who’s got you walking around here giggling like a grade-school girl. Now, you skillfully evaded my question the other day in your room, and I’ve decided to pick up where we left off. So, who’s the boy?”

  “What makes you think it’s a boy? I mean, can’t a person just be happy about life?”

  “You’re right. Maybe it’s not a boy. Is it a girl?”

  “Mom, please don’t.”

  “Okay, okay. It’s true that a person can just be happy about life, but a teenager can’t. Or have you forgotten that I, too, was young at some point in time?”

  I give her a look like I don’t know what she’s talking about, and she grins.

  “Oh, come on, Emma. The signs are all there. I see the way you’ve been skipping around the house with a permanent smile plastered to your face. And every time your phone buzzes with a new text, you light up even more.”

  She has a point; I have been a lot more chipper than usual. I guess my mouth kept everything concealed, but my face couldn’t hide anything. What am I going to say? Hey, Mom, I’m falling for the teenage boy who’s going to be my brother in about five months, and by the way, he’s my secret homecoming date? I think not.

  “You can tell me. Who am I going to tell?”

  I don’t say a word. My best bet is to keep quiet—and if that fails: Deny. Deny. Deny.

  “Okay, fine, at least tell me that you guys are being safe.”

  “MOM!” I feel my face burn red. I cannot believe she’s about to have the sex talk with me in the middle of our kitchen. Gross.

  “What? I know how teenagers are. Hooking up and making out.” She leans against the refrigerator and gives me a raised-eyebrow glance, like she has everything figured out.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “About which one? The hooking up or making out?”

  “Both. I’m not doing either, because I’m not dating anyone.”

  I see her eyes relax as another small smile graces her face. “So no boyfriend?”

  I shake my head again. Deny. Deny. Deny.

  “You may have postponed my sex talk, but don’t think you’re off the hook.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief and lean against the kitchen counter. She has turned her attention back to cooking dinner, giving me a tiny window to escape out of the kitchen, but I fail to do so before she starts back again. “Well, there’s a guy in your life. Maybe not as a boyfriend, but as some kind of love interest. You’re too smitten for there not to be. I may be getting old, but I’m not dumb.”

  “Well, there’s no one.”

  “Hmm” is all she says as she adds a couple seasonings to the pot she’s hovering over. “I don’t believe you.” She places a lid on the pot and looks down at my phone as it vibrates on the counter. “Is that him?”

  I don’t want to look at it, but I find myself unable to resist the magnetic pull of our secret inbox. I glance down, expecting to s
ee Dylan’s response to my text. But the name that flashes across my screen is not Dylan’s; it’s Keegan’s. Oh God. He probably wants to talk about that extravagant homecoming dress, just like Karmin already did.

  Keegan: Did you like your homecoming surprise?

  Yep. They really are twins. I reread the word homecoming in his text, and a brilliant idea slams into my head with the force of a category-five hurricane.

  “Yeah. It’s him,” I lie. I figure it’s better to tell her that I’m dating another guy, so if she ever suspects Dylan, I will have someone else to cover my ass. So much for “Deny. Deny. Deny.”

  “I knew it,” she squeals. “You can’t hide the ‘in like’ smile from me.”

  I pour myself a glass of apple juice, and grin with relief. I’ve escaped her interrogation for now. I’m safe.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Keegan Ortega. He’s Karmin’s brother.”

  “So he’s the one who bought you the dress, huh?” she teases as she adds salt to the now-boiling pot. “When can we meet him?”

  “You want to … what?” I say, almost spitting out the apple juice in my mouth.

  “I want to meet him. Invite him over for dinner with the family one of these days.” My mom is pushing the situation too far now. First she thinks that I’m having sex, and now she wants to invite Keegan into the house to meet everyone. She’s messing everything up. “I’m making my special shrimp pasta tomorrow. Invite him over.” Before I can find a way to weasel out of it, she exits the room. Great. This is a mess. Dylan is going to kill me.

  * * *

  Before I hit send on my phone, I send up a silent prayer, hopeful some divine intervention will block the message from going through. Right now, it’s the only chance I have left.

  Me: I ADORE this dress, but I don’t feel comfortable accepting an extravagant gift like this. I will pay you back for it, I promise.

  Keegan: Absolutely not. A gift is a gift.

  Me: True, but I’m still going to pay you back.

  Keegan: If that’s what you really want, but no obligation.

  Me: I will. But I’d also like to thank you for the dress, so do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? My parents are making shrimp Alfredo pasta.

  Before he can text back, I send him another one.

  Me: I know it’s weird and last minute, so you don’t have to come if you’re busy. After the whole dress delivery, my parents wanted to meet you, but we can postpone this or forget it altogether if you don’t want to do it.

  He doesn’t text me back for ten minutes, and I pace the room until he does. Is he trying to find a way to let me down easy? I sure hope so. I want him to tell me that he already has plans or is allergic to shrimp or that he’s getting back together with his ex. Something. Anything to get me out of this tangled web.

  Keegan: Is that even a question? I’d never turn down an invitation to eat. I have practice but can be there by 6ish. Sound okay?

  Me: Sounds great.

  Yeah. Just great.

  * * *

  I keep trying to find the words to tell Dylan, and it isn’t until five minutes before Keegan shows up that I finally do.

  “Don’t freak out, but I had to invite Keegan over for dinner tonight.”

  “Why?” Dylan still isn’t too fond of Keegan, but he needs to get over it. I’m with him, not Keegan.

  “Because I kind of told my mom that I’m into him to cover up why, according to Mom, I’ve been so ‘smitten’ lately. Apparently, I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.” I see his jaw begin to clench and unclench again, telling me that he’s not pleased. “Anyways, Mom wanted to meet him and he’s going to be here any minute … for dinner.”

  “So you’re into him, too, now?” This is a loaded question, and I know I have to answer it carefully.

  “No. But I have a plan, and we need him for it. It’s kind of crazy, but hear me out, okay?” I take a breath before continuing, not to steady my thoughts, but to prepare myself for the blowup that’s about to happen. Dylan’s a very territorial person, and if he even thinks that another guy is stepping in to take me away from him, this could escalate fast. “How about I get him to ask me out and we become a couple?”

  “But you’re with me.” I can almost see the question mark of confusion hovering over his head. Maybe he thinks that I’m having second thoughts about us.

  “I know that. But my mom knows that I’m into someone, and if they find out it’s you, they’ll take you away. And that can’t happen. But if they think it’s Keegan, we can fool them.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me, his big, brown eyes fuming.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but we have to throw them off our trail somehow.”

  He’s going to need some convincing, I think, so I grab his head with both my hands and pull it toward mine. Before I know it, my hands are playing in his hair, his are exploring my body, and our lips and tongues are playing tug-of-war. I’ve never kissed him like this before, so I hope it’s sending the message clearly.

  “I want you, and only you,” I say once I catch my breath. “This arrangement will just make it easier to conceal us. You have to trust me.”

  “Fine.” His voice is low and cold. I know he doesn’t like it, but he’s going to have to. “I’ll go get changed for dinner.” He pecks at my neck before he leaves and then rushes inside. He’s on board, or at least he seems to be, but something inside of me feels like I just planted a ticking time bomb.

  I don’t have much time to think about Dylan and how he’s feeling because as soon as I make it outside, Keegan’s white truck pulls into our driveway. When he gets out of the car, I can see that he’s dressed up for the event, like I hoped he would. He has on black pants and a light blue collared shirt, the same color as the blouse I’m wearing. All I can think is, I hope Dylan doesn’t think that we planned to match.

  “Are you trying to copy me?” Keegan says as he leans in for a hug.

  “Great minds think alike, I guess.” Though I’ve already had three encounters with him, it isn’t until now that I look deeper into his eyes. They’re a dark green, just like Karmin’s, with hints of gold in the center, almost as if it were dusted on. I find myself staring into his eyes for longer than I intended, and the electricity between us that I felt at the restaurant returns.

  “You look gorgeous tonight, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” I don’t know why, but as I accept his compliment, I feel my insides curl into a ball. But it’s not a ball of nerves; it’s more like a ball of bliss. “So do you. Handsome, I mean … not gorgeous.”

  His smile turns into a tiny but deep-voiced laugh. “You’re really cute when you’re nervous.”

  Blushing, I try to keep the conversation going. “Do you like shrimp Alfredo?”

  “Is that even a question?” A smile stretches across his cheeks, and as it does, a laugh escapes me. That rhetorical question is his catchphrase and I’ve heard him use it numerous times. “My mom grew up in the south—Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to be exact—and seafood is its own lifestyle down there. I came out of the womb as a shrimp lover.” He chuckles as he rests his hand on my lower back.

  I remember reading in a magazine that a girl can always tell if a guy likes her by the way he touches her back. If it’s too high, he wants to just be friends, but if it’s low, then he wants something more.

  I lead him around to our side deck, and while trying to hide my excitement for the lower-back touch he just gave me, I wait for the rest of the family to join us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dad approaching, and I’m instantly worried about Keegan’s safety; I expect my dad to grill him like I’ve seen some fathers do in movies, asking what his goals are after high school and what his intentions with me are.

  “Is this Keegan?” he asks, extending a hand. “I’m—”

  “Daniel Ellenburg,” Keegan finishes before my dad can get the words out. “I used to watch you play when I was a kid. You’re a
legend. I’m a huge fan, sir.” Keegan is such a charmer. Before I know it, he’s bumping fists with my dad and talking all things baseball as if they’ve known each other for years.

  “They seem to be getting along pretty well,” my mom says to me as she hands me a stack of glass plates to set the table.

  “Keegan’s a baseball player.”

  “So that’s why he’s being so nice. I expected your dad to be stone-cold all night.” I have to laugh at this; I thought the same thing. “Dinner’s ready, guys. Please, come sit.” As she introduces herself to Keegan, I hear him say that she looks too young to be my mother. Yep, he’s definitely a charmer.

  My mom and I set out the usual five placemats; Matthew is away at a sleepover, which means that Dylan will probably take his spot across from me, and Keegan will take Dylan’s place next to me. I’m glad about this, because Matthew would be the one to say something embarrassing and ruin things before they even begin. Also because I’ll be less tempted to hold Dylan’s hand under the table with him sitting across from me.

  “Hey.” I feel Dylan sneak up behind me and place his hand on the small of my back, just like Keegan did a moment ago. I quickly remove his hand after giving him a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. I can tell that he’s uncomfortable, but I can’t do anything about it. One, we’re with our family, so I have to act like his sister. And two, I need him to be okay with this so that our relationship can continue undisturbed. “He looks very comfortable,” he whispers so only I can hear.

  “Yeah,” I whisper back. “He knows how to swim with them. He and Dad are already hitting it off with baseball talk.” A small grin creeps onto my face as I watch Keegan mingle with my mom and dad. “This just might work.”

  “Just don’t get caught up in the lie and forget your reason for doing this” is the last thing I hear him say before his natural scent of paint and soap leaves my side. With his hands crumpled into fists, he goes over to take his seat in Matthew’s usual spot. The grimace on his face says it all: he’s not happy about this. And as much as I want to kiss his perfectly pouty lips to reassure him, I can’t. I know he doesn’t like this, but for tonight, he’s going to have to get over it.