Who's Your Daddy?

by Lynda Sandoval

  I swallowed and thought about lying, but I couldn’t. I blew out an annoyed breath. “Ismet.”

  Meryl looked startled. “Oh. Really?” I actually saw some hope blossom on her face, which sucked. I hated to see her get disappointed again.

  I nodded. “What about me?” I asked Caressa.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Hutch?!” I rasped. “Don’t tell me that’s the freakin’ Hutch seed, Caressa, or I’ll know this was rigged.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded around a grimace. “It’s Hutch. And how could it be rigged?”

  She had a point. I flicked the seed off my hand.

  We both turned our attention to Meryl. She’d gone so pale, her freckles stood out in sharp relief against her cheeks, and I dreaded hearing what she might say. Caressa extended her seed-endowed ring finger and arched a brow.

  “Bobby Slade.”

  “What?” I shrieked. “Meryl, why did you even name a seed after him?”

  “I had to!” Meryl spread her arms wide. “It wouldn’t have been fair to Caressa if I’d left him off.”

  I groaned as I spun in a circle with my hands covering my face. When I opened my eyes again, I implored my brainy pal, “There has to be some mistake. Let’s do something else.”

  Meryl tapped her bottom lip with the fingers of one hand. She stared off into the distance as if trying to thumb through the files of her mind and find just the right non-animal-gut-munching ritual.

  “I kind of like how it turned out,” Caressa said softly.

  I pointed at her while staring at Meryl. “See? That right there is evidence we need to do something else.”

  Caressa smacked my upper arm with the back of her hand, just as Meryl said, “I know, I know. I’m thinking.”

  Finally, she nodded. “Here.” Meryl handed us each two apple seeds. “Name one after”—she glanced around—“Hutch, and Caressa, you name one after Bobby. I’ll name one after you-know-who.”

  “What do we name the second one?”

  “Let’s just call them nobody. Or if there is someone else you might like to date, name it after him.”

  Caressa looked at the first seed. “I deem you Bobby. And you”—she glanced down at the other seed—“you are hereby nobody. Now what?”

  “Are you done, Lila?”

  I peered cautiously down at the little brown seeds, named them in silence—Dylan and Brad Pitt—then nodded at my friend.

  “Okay, close your eyes and stick one seed to each of your eyelids. On the count of three, we’ll all open our eyes and start blinking. Whichever seed doesn’t fall off—”

  “We get the gist.”

  We spent a few minutes adhering the seeds to our eyelids with cider-scented spit, then Meryl said, “Ready?” We both said yes. “One, two, three.”

  My eyes flew open and I started blinking spasmodically, just like that one time a gnat had flown into my eye. My friends were doing the same thing. Before I knew it, we were all laughing like crackheads. I couldn’t imagine what we looked like to the uninformed observer. Of course, I didn’t have to.

  “Well, well, well,” came the snarky, fake voice of Hellspawn.

  I spun and came face to face with Jennifer and her entourage of false blonde courage. I stopped blinking, but not soon enough.

  The blondes snickered and shared evil glances.

  “You have a bug on your eyelid, Lila,” Hellspawn cooed. “But it probably fell out of your hair.”

  I blinked in surprise, and Brad Pitt fell off. SHIT!

  “Why can’t you guys be nice?” Meryl asked.

  Hellspawn swept her with a derisive head-to-toe glance. “Why can’t you be off my planet, freak?”

  Caressa stepped forward, close enough that Jennifer had to look up to meet her gaze. It was an excellent study in intimidation, and I admired Caressa for it. “I have an idea. You get off our planet. We were here first.”

  A tense staredown ensued, but my buddy never so much as faltered. “God, Caressa,” Jennifer said finally, stepping back. “You know, you could actually be cool if you didn’t hang out with these losers.”

  “And you could actually be cool if …” Caressa frowned, sort of looking off to one side. “Hmmm. Actually, no. You couldn’t ever be cool, Jennifer, because you’re a raging bitch from hell, with a poorly done dye job to boot.”

  Hellspawn’s thin-lipped mouth dropped open and she stared at Caressa incredulously. Her hand flew up to her dark roots, but she didn’t seem really aware that the motion had given away her insecurities. Jennifer Hamilton wasn’t used to those who she’d deemed to be lesser beings standing up to her, I supposed. Her face turned red and the big, thick vein in her neck pulsed with anger. Without another venomous word to us, she spun on her stiletto-heeled boots (totally wrong for the conditions) and snarled, “Come on,” to her minions. They obeyed. NATCH.

  After they’d huffed away, I grinned at Caressa. “Score one for the loser freaks,” I said, with laughter in my voice.

  “Yeah,” Meryl said, high-fiving me and Caressa. “But forget them. The real question is”—she bit her lip, looking nervous—“which seed stuck?”

  Oh. Yeah. That.

  I stared at the street, sort of scuffing the toe of my boot against the gray snow. “Hutch,” I said grudgingly.

  “Bobby,” said Caressa.

  “Darn,” said Meryl. “Mine didn’t work right either.” Always the optimist, she shrugged. “Well, look at the bright side. I guess it’s good that we won’t be dating nobody.”

  That’s the whole point, Mer, I wanted to say. We ARE and probably always WILL BE dating nobody. HELLO!

  Shefka and Jenita showed up a few minutes after the seed debacle, and the four of them traipsed off to visit some of the craft booths. I started handing people—especially children—WADS of the coupon books and fliers at a time, until finally I handed the entire stack to an infant in a stroller whose mother was peering into a shop window. I skulked off before she noticed her child was covered (harmlessly, I assure you) in coupons. I wanted to find my friends, but my feet started moving of their own volition toward the launch ramp at the individual normal hill, where the ski jump exhibitions were held. A new round was about to commence, and I told myself I was merely trying to be nice by supporting Dylan’s efforts. Whatever.

  I stood off to one side, out of the view of Hellspawn and her evil flying-monkey girls, who were preening and posing on the opposite side of the ramp. It was almost as if they weren’t really there to watch Dylan and the other ski hotties, but rather so other people could SEE the hotties paying attention to them. Call me crazy, but that seemed convoluted—not to mention conceited.

  I turned away from the blondes and tried to let myself enjoy being somewhere other than on a street corner foisting paper goods on strangers. A huge crowd had gathered to watch the jumpers, and after a few moments of focused positive thinking and deep breathing, I found myself caught up in the excitement.

  Dylan competed both in ski jumping and Nordic combined for WPHS. The coach was grooming him to be the team captain next year, and there were even rumblings of Dylan and a couple other guys competing in the Olympic trials in a few years. That was mondo cool for Dylan, but how out of my realm would the guy be if he became an Olympic athlete? Then again, why was I even thinking that way? The guy was out of my realm NOW.

  My enthusiasm dimmed a bit at the thought, but soon the first skier was positioned at the Inrun, and everyone began to clap and cheer. I shaded my eyes and squinted upward, trying to identify the skier, but it was hard. Moments thereafter, the announcer read off Dylan’s name, and the countdown began.

  My heart pounded with a combination of anticipation and fear. The individual normal hill was just under three hundred feet high. What if Dylan got hurt? What if he wiped out in front of everyone and his Olympic dreams fizzled? What if—

  Dylan launched.

  I held my breath as he flew down the ramp, covering my mouth when he hit the Take
off. His form was freakin’ awesome, though, and his landing was, indeed, Olympic-perfect. The crowd went absolutely wild, and I found myself clapping and sort of jumping up and down. I pushed my way toward the front of the throng, then stuck my pinkies in the corners of my mouth and let loose with a huge, long whistle. I glanced around at the rest of the spectators as they watched Dylan. The ubiquitous blondes were swooning and shrieking in his direction, hands outstretched. I blinked, and my smile faded.

  I studied the faces of the other people pressed against the barriers around the landing area of the ramp. Just about every other one was that of a flushed, cute girl, going wild and screaming out Dylan’s name. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d started flinging G-strings and bras.

  Who in the hell was I kidding?

  Reality reared back and bitch-slapped me right across the kisser. Dylan Sebring was so completely NOT MY TYPE, and if this wasn’t proof positive, I didn’t know what WOULD be. The last thing I wanted was to be one of many, and looking around at all these starstruck faces, I knew that any one of these girls would do anything it took to have a boyfriend like Dylan—even screw over her supposedly best friends.

  I wouldn’t.

  I stared down at the snow, which shimmered like a blanket of diamonds in the bright Colorado sun. God, what an idiot. I WAS one of the guys. But the big news was, that was perfectly fine, because I didn’t want to BE one of the screaming girl masses, stomping over all the other girls in single-minded pursuit of the guy everyone wanted. I never wanted to BE that kind of female. Apple seeds were stupid. In fact, I would never consume another apple as long as I lived, just on principle. Ditto apple juice, applesauce, apple-flavored Jolly Ranchers. Maybe even Snapple.

  My mood darkened, and I turned away. I might as well go find another narc and see what else needed to be done, because THIS was not my universe. All around me people continued to cheer and whistle and scream Dylan’s name. I heard Hellspawn’s voice clearly above the crowd.

  “Dylan! That’s my honey!”

  HORK.

  I tried to ignore her, but my eyes glanced over of their own volition. She had both cashmere-gloved hands cupped around her mouth and she was beckoning Dylan over. I looked from her to him and noticed he wasn’t watching her, he was watching ME. My stomach jumped. Dylan waved vaguely at Jennifer, but skied over toward me. TOWARD ME! I wanted to walk away like it didn’t matter, but I froze to the spot for a moment. I shook it off, with more than a little effort, and forced myself to take a step in the direction of sanity. But then—

  “Lila! Wait up!”

  GROAN. I turned back. A couple adults moved aside and let me move to the front of the barrier. Dylan sprayed up a sheet of snow as he skied to a stop in front of me. He pushed up his goggles and smiled. “I didn’t know you were into ski jumping.”

  “I—I’m not.”

  He winked. “Just wanted to watch me, huh?”

  “Please.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me puke on your skis. I was finished handing out fliers, so I just wandered over. There’s nothing else to do.”

  “Yeah, sure. So … did you see my jump?”

  Weird. He almost sounded vulnerable, as if he WANTED my feedback. But, how could that be? Didn’t the throngs of screaming females give him a CLUE as to how his jump went over with the crowd? “Yeah, I saw it.”

  “And?”

  My throat tightened. I thought about how amazing he’d looked, how confident and talented and sure of what he was doing. I remembered how I couldn’t breathe while he was winging down the ramp at warp eighty, and how exhilarated I felt when his jump turned out perfectly. Luckily, I verbalized none of this. In fact, I managed to just shrug. “Well, you stuck the landing.”

  Dylan laughed and shook his head. “Always Lila. That’s one thing I can say about you.”

  I scoffed. “Brilliant observation, not that I’d expect anything profound from a jock.”

  He grinned. “So, how’s it going?”

  “It sucks. Duh.”

  He leaned in. “Miss me?”

  My heart stopped. Why was he affecting me like this? It pissed me off. I was practically turning into a Jennifer clone, except for the being-a-giant-bitch part. “Dream on, Sebring. If I missed you I’d take a deep, calming breath and re-aim.”

  He really laughed at that one. “Man, how do you always know the right thing to say?”

  GLUG. “Whatever. I gotta go.”

  “Okay.” He settled his goggles back into place. I was glad, because I didn’t have to look into his eyes anymore. Then again, the goggles-on look cast all the focus onto his lips. ACK. “Thanks for coming to watch me.”

  “Sure,” I said, as if doing so had been an afterthought.

  “I’ll see you later, Lila. I know, I know, not if you see me first.” Dylan skied away, and for a moment I felt glum. Then I caught a glimpse of Hellspawn’s furious, disbelieving expression and realized two things:

  (1) I’d succeeded at making her writhe with jealousy once again, and (2) Dylan had ignored her and skied toward ME. He’d CHOSEN to speak to me rather than her, and he’d done it all in front of her and a zillion other people, including the evil flying-monkey posse.

  My mood brightened immeasurably, and I tossed her a taunting little waggle-fingered wave. Forget finding another narc. I’d worked enough for one day. I headed off, instead, to find my friends and tell them what had happened. Apple seeds were still the enemy, but I had to look on the bright side. Hellspawn’s day was ruined, and surely Meryl would have another, preferably seedless, idea for finding our destined boyfriends.

  I loved making Jennifer Hamilton squirm with jealousy, no doubt, but I was jacking with my own mind as well. A dose of reality was in order. Nothing good would come of my stupid crush, hence I HAD to get Dylan off my mind. At this point, I was up for just about anything.

  Well … other than swallowing a wild duck heart.

  BLECH!

  eleven

  meryl

  I finished dusting off the front display shelves at Inner Power, then stowed the cleaning supplies in their little cabinet underneath the front counter. After that, I went from section to section blowing out candles and incense, and turning on the lamps that were to be left lit while the store was closed.

  I loved my job, and I loved my bosses. Kelly hadn’t worked that day, but Reese was in the back room tallying up the day’s sales, which had to be great since we were so close to Christmas. I know we had more foot traffic that evening than I’d seen in a long time, and I’d rung up an amazing number of purchases. I was exhausted, but in a good way.

  As I walked the floor completing my closing duties, I pretended I was one of the owners of the funky little metaphysical shop rather than a part-time clerk. How cool would it be to own a business like this? I would wear long flowing outfits every day and a signature armful of tinkly bangle bracelets. My entire aura would exude serenity and confidence at all times. People would flock to me and ask my advice about everything from Wicca to weddings to which guy to date.

  If only.

  Over the past month, Lila, Caressa, and I had made full use of Inner Power’s resources on our quest to find the perfect guys, but it had never worked out. No matter what we tried, fate kept stubbornly pointing us back to Ismet, Dylan, and Bobby. So, as far as the whole shop-owner fantasy went, believe me, NO ONE should ask my advice on who to date … or even how to find out!

  But, it didn’t matter, because I wasn’t one of the shop owners. Unfortunately, I was only the part-time clerk, and even more unfortunately, I had places to go and lots of things to do before I could hit the sack that night, so my delusions of grandeur had to stop.

  The rhythmic click, click, click, whirrrrrr … click, click, click, whirrrrrr of the adding machine carried through the otherwise silent store, and I hated to interrupt Reese while she worked. But, I only had a small chunk of lee-way time between when I left Inner Power and when I needed to show my face at home to avoid questions. Plus,
our tiny Sears store didn’t stay open too late on weeknights. I had to get there at least half an hour before they closed if I wanted it to be worth my while.

  None of this had ever been a problem for me before.

  Don’t think about it. You don’t have a choice.

  With a deep, calming breath, I leaned my head inside the door to the tiny, brightly lit office and pasted on a smile. “Excuse me, Reese?” I said softly.

  She glanced up, a pleasant expression on her makeup-free face. She kept one finger pressed onto the stack of receipts so she didn’t lose her place in the adding, I assumed. “All done out there?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to take off, if that’s okay.”

  “You have a lot of studying to do before finals?”

  Something like that. I averted my gaze and felt instantly crappy about the fact that I had been lying to basically everyone in my world since the White Peaks Christmas Market. Even Lila and Caressa. Even myself, if I really thought about it—which I tried not to. You know what they say … denial is more than just a river in Egypt. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Well, you’ll do great, as always. But if you need to cut down on hours or study at the cash wrap desk when business is slow, that’s fine.”

  “Okay. I appreciate it.”

  “You go on, Meryl. See you this weekend. And thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Bye,” I said, feeling a fresh stab of guilt. If I was falling behind on my studying, it sure as heck wasn’t because I’d been working too much.

  I slipped out the front door of the shop, relocking it behind me, then hunched my shoulders against the cold, ominous wind. I pulled my collar up around my cheeks and prayed I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. Once I’d made it safely inside my Volvo, I breathed a sigh of relief and mentally sketched out my evening. I would head to Sears, put in another session of Operation: CIA (Catch Ismet’s Attention), and rush home in time to relax and spend time with my family.

  I was basically leading a double life, but I couldn’t see any other way to solve my ongoing guy problems. I mean, COME ON. The dumb supper and the two separate apple seed experiments came up with the same result: Ismet. Subsequent tarot and rune readings and other little rituals confirmed the fact that Ismet was allegedly the guy for me. All that repitition had to mean something significant. And yet the only way to snare him was to somehow transform into a cool, all-American, pop-culture-savvy teenager. It was a NIGHTMARE, because I felt completely out of my element.