“Well,” she finally said. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is this is all perfectly normal. And this chronic obsession won’t last forever. Your hormones will calm down. Eventually.”
“Give me the bad news.”
She twisted a lock of gray hair around her finger, her smile hesitant. “I don’t have a cure for you, Vivian. You’re going to have to ride it out. Have you tried meditating? Or chakra balancing?”
I groaned. Nothing on the Shady Cove alternative lifestyle menu was going to cure my disorder.
The front door opened and a young mom entered, towing a wailing toddler behind her. Grateful for the distraction, I moved toward the door. “Thanks, Natasha, but I need to get home for dinner.”
“Come back any time, sweetheart. You might want to drink chamomile tea to calm your nerves. Maybe try some chaste berry or evening primrose oil.”
“Yeah, okay.” Her words barely registered as I made my escape.
If Natasha didn’t have a cure, no one did. Maybe she was right; I’d have to ride out this crazy rollercoaster of crushes and getting dumped and feeling used. Maybe it would get easier as I got older. Mom seemed happy with Paul, but I hoped I didn’t have to wait that long to connect with a decent guy.
As I walked home, I thought about what Jake had said about him being bored and me being available. Did I give off some horrible desperate girl vibe? Or was he that much of a jerk? Maybe never having a boyfriend made me especially vulnerable to the first guy who showed interest.
Even worse, maybe Jake could tell how infatuated I was with him and totally took advantage. I cut across the overgrown grass behind Murder by the Sea. If I were the heroine in a book I was reading, I’d tell myself to get a grip, to count myself lucky to be rid of such a jerk.
“Sprinkles on the donuts of life,” I muttered as I entered the kitchen.
Mom glanced up from her teapot. “What’s that, honey?”
“Oh, just reminding myself of your Mom wisdom.”
“You’ll say anything for cheese fries, won’t you?”
I grinned. “Yep. Let’s go.”
Mom grabbed her sweatshirt for the short walk to the restaurant and we said goodbye to our cat, who ignored us as usual.
...
Most of the other kids who’d dragged their parents to the Doghouse hot dog shack were much younger than me, but I wasn’t ashamed of my need for comfort food.
Mom ate a veggie dog while I ate a corn dog dipped in processed cheese. We sat outside bundled in sweatshirts since the evening fog was chilly.
“All right, Vivvy,” Mom said. “You’ve found every possible way to stall and avoid me. Now please tell me why you came home from school crying.”
I dipped a few fries into the cheese sauce and took a big bite. Mom narrowed her eyes, then pulled the basket away from me.
“Nice try,” she said. “Swallow that bite, then tell me or no more fries.”
I knew I was acting like a three-year-old, but how could I tell Mom about Jake without confessing to sneaking out to meet him? I wanted to confide in her, but I didn’t want to lose her trust.
“I don’t want to go into details.”
Mom frowned. “I need to know if you’re in danger, Vivvy. Being bullied. That kind of thing.”
“It’s not that.” I decided to tell her the general story without specifics. “Okay, so there’s this guy. And I thought he…liked me. A lot, I mean. But turns out he doesn’t.”
Mom’s expression softened as she reached across the table to pat my hand. “That stinks, sweetie.” Her frown returned. “But I don’t recall you going out with anyone over the summer.”
Uh oh. Time for a partial truth. “He’s, um, just someone I’ve had a crush on. For a long time.” I cringed inwardly as I thought of all the “J + V” doodles scrawled in notebooks, starting in the sixth grade.
“I could kill him,” Mom said cheerfully. “I need to experiment with a couple of different poisons to see how the body reacts.”
“Mom,” I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. “Not funny.”
She grinned. “I’m speaking metaphorically. But I do need to write a murder scene a few different ways, so I could use him as the victim. On the page, of course, nothing more.” She grabbed a fry. “If you’ll tell me his name.”
“Nice try, but I’m not telling you. Besides, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, doing serious damage to the basket of carb heaven, then Mom spoke again.
“So Dallas is a nice boy, don’t you think? He’s smart and funny. He told me his family moved to Shady Cove because his mother threatened to leave his dad if she had to spend another winter in the Midwest.” Mom chuckled. “Not exactly a motive for murder, but it might have potential.”
The last person I wanted to discuss with Mom was Dallas. “He’s all right,” I mumbled. Mom cocked an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to disagree, but instead bit into a fry. We Galdi girls loved us some cheese fries.
Mom drank from her water glass, then cleared her throat. “About what you said earlier, about this boy who hurt you. Are you sure you can turn off a crush? I remember when I was your age. It wasn’t easy for me to turn my feelings on and off.”
So Mom had been a victim of hormones, too? Was no one safe from their evil power? “I don’t know, Mom. I wish I was a Vulcan, you know? Free of emotions.” I’d been thinking about Dallas’s Spock vs. Kirk question.
Mom’s lips twitched and she spoke in a deep voice. “Fascinating, this human obsession with other humans.”
“Pathetic Spock impression, Mom, but you get props for effort.”
After polishing off our food, we walked home talking about unimportant stuff, which I appreciated. I knew Mom’s intent was to distract me from thoughts of Jake, and it sort of worked, at least for a few blocks.
...
I lay in bed avoiding Jaz’s texts, watching an episode of the Star Trek original series on my laptop before I fell asleep. As I listened to Spock deflect Kirk’s manic freak-outs with his Vulcan proverbs, I wondered how Spock would handle my situation.
What would Spock do if he couldn’t control his obsessions? I shifted my pillows to get more comfortable. He’d deal with it logically. I closed my eyes, imagining a conversation with him.
“I think you’ve confused lust and love, Vivian. Humans often do. What you felt for Jake wasn’t love. Search inside your human heart for the truth.”
Of course he was right. I’d read enough romance books that I should know the difference. But some hot guy just had to lure me to the beach, apparently, and I forgot everything I knew about what real love should feel like.
“Perhaps you should stop looking for true love, Vivian. Satisfy this hormonal urge with a harmless crush.”
Give up on love, Spock? Really?
“I recommend carefully selecting the object of your crush, rather than falling victim to your irrational hormonal condition.” His pointy ears twitched. “Perhaps the problem is not in the crush per se, but rather in your lack of control over it.”
I shivered under my comforter. Maybe Spock was right. If I couldn’t control this hormonal imperative to fall in lust and/or love with somebody, maybe I should focus my attention on someone harmless. Someone boring, to trick both my hormones and my heart.
“Also,” Spock continued, “it would be wise to avoid young men who are only interested in…physical connection. Perhaps you should be more selective in the future.”
He had a point. If only I could flick a Vulcan switch to turn off my feelings and my hormones.
What I needed was a Jake replacement.
A replacement crush.
“How do Vulcans choose their mates? Haven’t you wondered?” —Spock
CHAPTER FOUR
Tuesday, August 26
An angry Hiddles hissed as Jaz and I clattered down the steps the next morning. She paused to pet him but he intensified the hiss, adding a swat
for emphasis.
“He seems upset,” Jaz said as we mounted our bicycles for our daily ride to school. “You sure he’s getting enough affection?”
“Please. The last thing that cat wants is affection.”
Mom stepped onto the deck in her yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt that featured Hello Kitty smiling evilly and holding a knife. “Bye girls! Have a marvelous, murder-free day.”
Jaz giggled. “Your mom is so awesome.”
“Otherwise known as weird,” I said affectionately. “Bye, Mom,” I called over my shoulder. “Bye psycho cat!”
“So why didn’t you call me last night?” Jaz asked. “I texted you.”
Because I didn’t want to hear I told you so.
I had to tell her, though. “Amy was right about Jake talking to me after school.”
“Spill. Now.”
My body tensed, remembering how I’d felt when he’d sauntered over to me like nothing mattered. “Basically he officially dumped me. Told me that we weren’t really a thing, as he put it.”
Jaz jammed on her brakes. “What an asshole.” I circled my bike around to stop next to her. A silver-haired race-walking couple shot Jaz a glare as they sped past us.
“I know. And before you can say it, let me acknowledge that you warned me. You were right.”
Jaz’s face crumpled. “Oh, Viv, I wasn’t going to say that. Yeah, I warned you, but that doesn’t make what he did okay. Knowing someone’s an ass doesn’t excuse their ass-like behavior.”
I gave her a tiny smile. “True.”
“So what do we do about this? Key his car?”
I laughed out loud, which felt good. “His dad would buy him a new one.”
Jaz nodded. “Well, revenge is bad karma anyway. I recommend ignoring him.”
“Everyone always says that, but it’s not so easy. Especially since he’s in two of my classes and the same lunch period.”
Jaz nodded, but focused on her mission as she moved toward the overlook spot to scan the beach.
“Anyway,” I said, “I have an idea about how to—”
“Oh my God! Vivian, look!” Jaz pointed to a solitary figure running in the surf, a tall guy with a trim but toned body, streaky blond hair, and sunglasses. “That’s Fisk Vilhelm.”
I snorted. That definitely was not the America Sings winner who’d shot to stardom practically overnight. “No, it’s not. It’s probably the mechanic from Ted’s Beater Repair. Or maybe the delivery guy from Wok to You. Honestly, Jaz. That could be anyone.”
She turned to glare at me. “But it’s not just anyone. I know it’s Fisk. Need I remind you that I’m an expert celebrity stalker?”
“No reminder necessary.” I shaded my eyes and followed the guy’s progress up the beach. He was definitely ripped, but that didn’t mean he was a famous rock star.
“Remind me to add him to my log,” Jaz said, returning to her bike.
“Like you’d forget.” Jaz had started her celebrity log in the eighth grade, recording date, time, and location of sightings, along with critical details. Today’s would probably include descriptions of Fisk’s body and lots of exclamation points. I still didn’t think it was him, but whatever made Jaz happy.
“So back to Jake,” I said. We were almost to school and I wanted to tell her my plan in private. “I need to stop obsessing over him, but apparently my hormones need to obsess over someone.”
Jaz glanced at me, then focused back on the road as we coasted down the hill. “You’re powerless over the hormones?”
“Yes, and so are you. Don’t deny it. It’s a biological phenomenon. Remember what we learned in health class? The drive to procreate is dominating our lives right now. Don’t tell me you don’t feel this way about Lance.” Lance was Jaz’s genius artist boyfriend who was in his first year at RISD, so their relationship had recently transitioned from IRL to virtual. So far, I’d managed to stop her whenever she tried to tell me about their sexting and Skype exploits.
Jaz glanced at me, grinning wickedly. “You have someone in mind for this procreation activity? I could give you some pointers.”
“No! That’s like the opposite of what I want.” Well, not exactly. I’d been tempted by Jake, but I was grateful I hadn’t crossed that line with him. I didn’t want my first time to be with somebody who could walk away from me as if I didn’t matter.
I bounced on my feet, straddling my bike as we waited for the light to change at the crosswalk. “So anyway, last night I came up with a plan. To forget about Jake, I need to focus on someone else. A replacement crush.” I paused. “Someone my body doesn’t want to, uh, procreate with.”
“Who do you have in mind?”
A shiver of anxiety made me glad I’d worn a hoodie today. “That’s where you come in, bestie extraordinaire. I need to make a list of potential targets.”
We wheeled our bikes to the nearly full racks. Not many students drove cars to school. Our town was bike-friendly, and the racks were crammed full of mountain bikes, street bikes, beach cruisers, and even a few old-style BMX bikes.
“We’ll discuss at lunch,” Jaz said, sounding efficient. “I might have an extra notebook in my locker.”
A whiny, buzzing sound caught my attention and I turned to see Dallas arriving on his Vespa.
“Whoa. Who’s got the cool ride?” Jaz asked.
“It’s, um, a new guy. From Wisconsin. His name is Dallas.”
She spun to look at me, fluffing out her helmet hair. “You’ve been holding out on me, Vivvy.”
I hated when she used my childhood nickname. Usually she remembered to call me Viv or Vivian, but once in awhile she slipped.
Tugging off my helmet, I tightened my ponytail. I’d pulled the crazy curls out of my face today since I hadn’t been in the mood to spend time on my hair or my clothes. My soft hoodie and worn jeans were a safe, Jake-free cocoon.
“I just met him yesterday.” We watched Dallas as he dismounted the Vespa.
“Cool helmet,” Jaz whispered.
“I know,” I whispered back. “Why are we whispering? He can’t hear us way over there.”
Dallas pulled off his helmet and tugged at his spiky hair. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, then adjusted his backpack.
“Wait a sec,” Jaz said. “Didn’t we see him yesterday? When you asked me what nerd-hot was?” She turned to stare at me. “Tell me how you met him.”
I kept my pace purposefully slow so we wouldn’t accidentally catch up to Dallas. The last thing I needed was him overhearing any more conversations. “He’s working for my Mom at the store. She’s on a mission to bring us into the twentieth century.”
“But it’s the twenty-first century.”
I smirked, picturing our index cards. “Yeah, well, since we’re about to computerize our process, I’d say we’re barely attempting twentieth century technology. You know the only reason my mom has an author website is because her publisher made one for her, right?”
“Sounds like your mom,” Jaz agreed.
“So anyway,” I continued, “Dallas is some sort of coding genius, so Mom hired him to help us convert the index cards into actual data.”
We’d reached Jaz’s locker and I waited as she pawed through the mess. “Ta-da!” She handed me a notebook with a glittery purple cover. “For the replacement crush mission.”
I took the notebook, smiling. “Thanks. I’ll put it to good use.”
“I’m sure you will.” We moved on to my locker.
“So his name’s Dallas? Cute.” Jaz paused. “He’s definitely nerd-hot, Vivian. Put him on your list. RC target number one.”
Panic surged through me. The last thing I wanted was to replace one hormone-fueled crush with another. I remembered how jittery I’d felt around Dallas yesterday. I imagined Spock warning me with his raised eyebrow face.
“No way,” I said vehemently. “Absolutely no McNerds.”
“Why not? You don’t like the adorkable type?”
I slammed my lock
er shut and whirled around just in time to see Jake and the dreadhead stuck in a lip-lock. Jaz followed my horrified gaze.
“Come on.” She tugged my arm. “Focus on your list. Adorkable Dallas.”
“No,” I whispered. “Not Dallas. I’m not opposed to cute nerds…just not him.”
Jaz knocked against my shoulder as we headed to homeroom. “Give me another name, then.”
“I need to think about it,” I said, picturing Spock’s stern gaze. “I need to handle this logically.”
We slid into our chairs and Jaz gave me her patented you’re-insane-but-still-my-best-friend look. “Logically? Who falls in love logically?”
“Shh.” I glanced around nervously, making sure no one overheard her. “We’ll discuss this at lunch. Privately.”
Jake wandered in and parked himself with the rest of the surfers. Jaz shot him a murderous glare, which he didn’t see since he was yawning, probably replacing the oxygen he’d depleted from all the kissing.
Ms. Kilgore took attendance and yammered about the importance of being a participatory student, joining clubs, sports teams, and all that jazz. “Surf team final tryouts are this week,” she read from her iPad.
“Time to rip it!” Toff piped up. A few of his surfer bro-dudes fist-bumped him, including Jake. Toff was the star of the competitive surf team. He and Jake were probably the best two on the men’s team. Even if they’d gone to one of the huge public schools, they’d still be the stars.
Toff and I had been friends since kindergarten for reasons I didn’t fully understand. We were so different, but we made each other laugh, and things were always easy with him. He caught my eye and winked. I rolled my eyes at him and he pursed his lips, sending me an air kiss. His buddies catcalled and one of them said something I didn’t catch.
“Gentlemen! Please restrain your antics until you’ve left my classroom.”
God, I loved Ms. Kilgore. Our other teachers acted as if they were in a contest to be the most chill, tolerant hippie teachers on the planet. Not Ms. Kilgore.
The antics finally ceased in the surfer corner and Ms. Kilgore’s voice boomed as the Buddhist chimes rang, signaling the end of homeroom. No noisy, clanging bells in our school.
The Replacement Crush Page 4
