“Why do I get the impression you’re about to unveil a new iPhone on me?” my dad asked, looking up from his cup of coffee when I entered the kitchen.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s what Steve Jobs wore when—” He waved his free hand. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad to see you smiling.”
I hadn’t even realized I was, although it didn’t last long. Jemma stopped rifling through the refrigerator long enough to give me a once-over. “I think she looks more like a mime … or a sad excuse for a ninja.”
My sister quickly turned any grin I’d been sporting into a scowl. “A ninja who can kick your—”
“All right, enough of that,” my mom said, joining us in the kitchen. “But I am glad to see you’re getting back to your old self.” She kissed the top of my head.
“Better than ever.” I knew that was the type of corny thing you said to appease your parents and make them think everything was all right, but in this instance I actually meant it. I was ready for the next part of my life to start.
I grabbed a sip of my dad’s coffee and a cereal bar, then yelled my goodbyes to my family as Terri honked her horn. Both she and Grace were leaning against the car, fake smiles barely masking their concern, as they watched me approach.
“Were you afraid you’d need to coax me inside?” I asked. Normally, they didn’t get out of the car to meet me. If anything, one of them would shove their head through the window and yell at me to hurry up.
“We’re just worried,” Grace said.
“I know, but I told you, you don’t need to be. I’m good. Really good. In fact”—I wiggled my eyebrows at them—“I have a plan that’s going to turn my year around.”
They looked at each other, and I could feel the skepticism oozing off them.
“Hey,” I protested. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
Terri gestured for me to continue.
“I’m finding someone new. It’s like that saying: The best way to get over an old guy is to find a new one.”
Terri smirked. “That’s not quite how it goes…”
“Cam…,” Grace said, and bit her lip. “Don’t you want to wait a little? Give yourself some time?”
“Time for what? To meet someone new? Marc didn’t need to wait to get over me; I don’t need to wait to get over him.”
Terri nodded. “You’re right. Believe it or not, I actually agree with you.”
I was glad I’d left out the part that I also hoped this would make Marc come crawling back to me. I liked having Terri’s support. When it came to dating, relationships, and guys, she and I rarely saw eye-to-eye.
“Dating around will do you good,” she told me as she walked over to the driver’s side of the car and got in. There was an instant shift in her body language. She’d gone from being all worried about me to being a woman with a plan. “You’re going to like it, you’ll see. I can already think of so many people you’ll love. This is going to be fun. I’m going to make sure you have dates for the rest of the year.”
I should have known we wouldn’t be on the same page. “I don’t plan on dating around.” I stared at her through the window. “I plan on having a boyfriend. One.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, and just how do you think you’ll find this boyfriend? From dating around. After which you’ll realize relationships are overrated.”
I groaned. Just because Marc might not be the one didn’t mean that I didn’t want to find the real thing eventually. I absolutely wanted my OTP—my one true pairing. “I’m not the only one who wants a relationship. Grace does, too. She just had a third date last night—which I still want details on, Miss I-Barely-Texted-Anything-About-My-Evening.” I nudged Grace’s arm. “Back me up here.”
She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the ground. “I wouldn’t … Derrick and I. We’re … it’s not serious. It’s … we’re … nothing.”
“What? What happened?” I asked. “You said the date was fun.” That was pretty much all I’d gotten out of her last night.
“It was—it’s not that. It’s … I don’t want to get into it.” Derrick Walker had seemed perfect for her. I studied her face. It looked like there was something she wasn’t saying. A feeling of dread washed over me. “Was this because of me? Did my breakup scare you off? Because I’m still a believer in love. Don’t let my mess of a love life influence yours.”
“No, no,” she assured me. “Nothing like that. Really, it’s not worth talking about.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I wanted to ask more, but I didn’t want to push. I knew what it was like to just want to be left alone. “Okay,” I said, “but I’m here if you want to talk. And you know what? I already came up with a new guy for me; I’ll just come up with one for you, too.”
“That’s okay,” Grace said, holding up her hands to slow me down. “I’m fine. I’m busy with volleyball and college applications. I don’t need a new guy. Let’s focus on your dating life.”
“How about we focus on getting in the car,” Terri countered, popping her head out her open window. “We’re going to be late.”
“Fine,” I said, and gestured to Grace to take the front seat. I didn’t want any more special treatment.
Grace snapped her seat belt shut. “So who is this new guy you have your heart set on?”
“He’s perfect. In fact, he was partially inspired by you.”
She framed her face with her hands. “You mean you’re picking a cute Korean athlete?”
“Well, if I thought your brother was single…”
Grace shuddered. “Don’t even joke.” For years, most of Grace’s friends, myself included, had commented on how hot her brother was, but since he was also four years older than us, it really grossed her out. “He’s way too old for you, and he’s with Melinda.”
“Calm down, I’m not going after your brother. Your fury over Lissi was my muse.”
Terri eyed me through the rearview mirror. She may have sensed what was coming.
“Huh?” Grace asked.
“I see how annoyed you get with Lissi at volleyball, and I thought, Who gets under Marc’s skin like that? And I remembered. Brandon Paunovic.” Brandon was a junior on the soccer team who got bumped to varsity his freshman year, stealing away Marc’s beloved spotlight. How perfect would it be if Brandon stole away my heart, too?
Terri shook her head. “So this all about making Marc jealous? Cam, come on.”
“No, it’s not like that. It’s just an added bonus. I liked one soccer guy, why not another?” I didn’t know Brandon too well. Definitely not enough to call him and say hi or anything. He hadn’t been one of Marc’s close friends, so he wasn’t one of mine, but I had the perfect way to get a reintroduction. “This is going to work. Going out with Brandon is even going to help me get into Columbia.”
“What are you talking about?” Grace asked as we pulled into the school lot.
“You’ll find out soon enough. I texted Luke to meet me before homeroom. I need him for my plan to work.”
Terri turned off the car but was still gripping the steering wheel tight. “Please tell me this isn’t one of your harebrained my life is like a sitcom schemes.”
“Maaayyyybeeee,” I said, drawing out the word. There was nothing wrong with my schemes; in fact, I was rather fond of them. Especially if they gave Marc a taste of his own medicine. I got out of the car. “There’s Luke—come on.”
When we approached him, I made sure I was all smiles. “Hi,” I said, using my sweetest voice possible.
He’d been leaning against the wall, but stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh no, this can’t be good,” Luke said.
“It’s not,” Terri volunteered.
I swatted my hand in front of my face as if shooing away her words. She didn’t know my whole plan, but I did, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.
I gave Luke what I hoped were gian
t puppy-dog eyes. “I need to write a story for the paper.”
“So why are you coming to me?” Luke asked. “I write features; I’m not the editor. I don’t assign anything.”
“Yeah,” I said, batting my eyelashes at him in an over-the-top comical way, not an I’m actually hitting on you one, “but you’re good friends with the editor—you have pull. You’ve been on the paper since freshman year and can get my article approved. It’ll be good, I promise. And it will help me get back at Marc.”
He shook his head at me. “What do you plan on writing? A story about how evil your ex is? They won’t publish it.”
“No,” I said. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I want to do it on how fantastic Brandon Paunovic is. Think about it. Junior soccer star who’s already being scouted by schools, who makes Marc writhe with jealousy. It will make a great story.”
It would also be the perfect in to get to know Brandon.
“So, let me get this straight,” Luke said. “You want to use the school paper to meet a guy?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. But it would also be something I could add to my applications. You know I need to pump up my extracurriculars. I was going to ask you about maybe writing something anyway. This just combines that with helping my love life. I’m all about multitasking.”
Luke groaned, but I was serious.
An article would be another tangible item I could put on my résumé, and if it helped me get a boyfriend and make Marc seethe, all the better.
Grace laughed. “You never cease to amaze me,” she said, and I could tell she supported my plan. She had that glint in her eye that said she wanted to see how this played out just as much as I did. Terri, on the other hand, looked more skeptical.
She just didn’t understand—she wasn’t a big enough rom-com fan to see the merits of my plan. I was creating the perfect scenario. I could picture it now: Brandon and me meeting for the interview, our eyes locking, the instant chemistry, and before you knew it, we’d be a new power couple.
I put my hands in a steeple and shook them in front of Luke. “Come on, please.”
He looked to Terri, and I silently pleaded with her. Luke would do what she said; we both knew it.
“She’s going to find a way to do it anyway,” Terri told him. “You might as well help her.”
Luke put his hands over mine. “You win. I’ll ask, but no promises.”
I jumped up and down in place. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
This was going to work. Brandon and Cam. Bram. I even liked the sound of it. Brandon was perfect boyfriend material. We had potential to be the real deal.
Even better?
It was going to annoy the crap out of Marc.
Chapter 12
When the bell rang for the start of my lunch period, I was seated in the guidance counselor’s office, praying that Ms. Vail would see me. I’d told the front desk that it was urgent. Now I was waiting with crossed fingers and toes that she’d agree to a last-minute appointment.
Ms. Vail popped her head out from her office. “Cam? Come on in.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, moving some papers around on her desk. An open Tupperware filled with salad was on her desk. I was interrupting her lunch. I hoped she wouldn’t hold that against me.
I nodded. “I promise this won’t take long. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about my college applications. I’m already looking into writing for the paper, and I came up with an idea for something else that I think will really help. It just needs your approval.”
She raised an eyebrow, and I continued on with my pitch.
“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice businesslike, “at the end of English class, Ms. Jackson keeps telling everyone she needs volunteers for the yearbook or it’s not going to have any candid photos, collage pages, and so on. No one’s stepped up to help. I was thinking it could be something for me to take the lead on.”
Ms. Vail glanced at her salad. “You don’t need my permission to sign up for a club, Cam.”
“I know, but I do need you to make it count as a class.”
She rubbed her fingers on her temples. “An extracurricular doesn’t get you academic credit, and we don’t offer a yearbook class.”
“But,” I interjected, “you do have a last-period Photoshop class with Ms. Jackson. I took it last year, and I was good at it. I know I can’t take it again, but I was thinking we could switch me in there and count it as an independent study. Ms. Jackson gets the help she needs, I get something to write on my application, and the senior class gets a yearbook that is more than just the bare minimum.” Added bonus, I would get out of that horrible art class with Marc, but I wasn’t going to say that—not yet.
“Cam—”
“Before you say no, think about it. There’s a class for chorus, and people write that down as an extracurricular. This is no different. Besides, I’ll still have to do outside work. A lot of it. No one’s signed up for the yearbook, and Ms. Jackson has a whole folder on her computer of photos students emailed that they want included in it. There’s no one to go through them, no one to do the layout or the color correction. That could be me. Ms. Jackson is already on board.” I pulled out a note and handed it to Ms. Vail. “In fact, she said it would be a huge help.”
I had spoken to Ms. Jackson right after English. I knew she’d like the idea. She was the adviser for the yearbook and was practically begging people to sign up. There’d been no takers. This was an answer to her problem—and mine.
Ms. Vail finished reading the note and put it down on her desk. “Cam, I appreciate what you went through to try to make this happen. But this is something you can do on your own time. It simply doesn’t qualify for an independent study.”
“It should,” I said, way too loud. I brought my volume down. “What’s the difference between this and my painting a picture in art class? That’s all I’d be giving up. And learning how to work with photos actually has career potential for me. It’s something I can do and want to improve on.” It wasn’t something I’d really thought about before, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. “My painting skills are a joke. If there was an advanced Photoshop class, I’d take it, but there isn’t one. So this is my chance. I’ll be sitting in the back of Ms. Jackson’s class working. When I have questions, she’ll be able to answer them, just like she does when students work on their projects for her Photoshop class. Please, this is important to me. It’s a class I want, but I also need.”
“I hear what you’re saying,” Ms. Vail said, “but first you spent all summer pleading to get into Ms. Winters’s art class, and now you want to get out of it? How do I know you won’t be coming in here next week asking for something else?”
I could hear the exasperation dripping off her voice.
“I won’t. I’ve never done this before. I never even set foot in this office before this year. I know it seems strange and out of the blue,” I continued, “but it’s not. I tried painting. I suck at it. Which would be fine, if my future wasn’t at stake. In a way, this is all because of you.”
She raised her eyebrow at me again.
“You got me thinking about my hobbies and extracurriculars. I take awesome photos. And the ones that aren’t, I can make them look great through editing. You told me I need something to help my application. This is it. Ms. Jackson knows her stuff. I’ll learn more being in her class and asking questions than I ever would making a painting of dot clusters. The classes are the same period. It won’t mess up anything. Please.”
Ms. Vail picked up the note from Ms. Jackson again. She looked from it to me before letting out a long exhale.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do. But this is it. No more changes. Your schedule will be final.”
I let out a small shriek of joy. “Got it. No more changes. Not a problem.”
In fact, it was the opposite of a problem. It was perfect.
&nbs
p; No more art class, no more being trapped in a room with Marc, no more getting stuck in the past. I was making my future happen, and I’d already gotten past the first hurdle.
Chapter 13
It took longer than I’d have liked, but Luke came through. The editor of the Brooksvale Bulletin agreed to let me write the article about the up-and-coming soccer star. Brandon seemed pumped about it, and before I knew it, we were emailing and texting back and forth almost every day. It was usually about soccer, but it was a start, and I could work with it.
We planned to meet in person, but our schedules didn’t line up at all. We didn’t have any classes together, not even study hall or lunch, and between his soccer schedule and his parents’ rules about not going out on a school night, meeting in person for any extended amount of time was trickier than I’d hoped.
When we finally found time for a face-to-face, he had already answered all my interview questions electronically, and I had pretty much finished the article.
“This sweater work?” I asked Terri as I twirled around in my bedroom in a red V-neck. It was about the tenth top I’d tried on. It was just her and me. Grace was stuck in a late volleyball practice—the team had been going hard-core since they’d just scraped by to get their last win.
“Yes,” Terri said, throwing herself back on my bed amid my pile of previously tried-on clothes. “As did this one and this one and this one.” She tossed the shirts into the air as she spoke. Her tone was light and cheery, but she sounded off.
“Hey,” I said, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she answered before letting out a giant sigh. “I guess. It’s nothing serious.”
I sat down next to her. “What’s going on?”
Finding Mr. Better-Than-You Page 7
