The List

by Melanie Jacobson

  He still looked grumpy. “So far your advice is to dress different from my normal self and don’t hang out with my friends. Aren’t you supposed to tell me to be myself and relax and she’ll totally dig me?”

  “As your smartest cousin, Dave, I feel like I need to break this to you gently. How should I put this? It’s not that you need to dress fancy. It’s that a girl needs to look at you and know that if you got married, she’s not going to have to spend the first six months making your wardrobe over.”

  “Married!” he almost yelped. “We haven’t even gone on a date. You Barretts really are nuts.”

  “It’s not a Barrett thing,” I said. “It’s a girl thing. Sometime on your first date, she’s going to be deciding how well your personalities will fit if you get married and how much work she’s going to have to do to fix you.”

  “You’re not this crazy, are you?” he asked his sister.

  “It’s not crazy. It’s just what most girls do. Ashley didn’t say we’re always trying to decide on a first date if we’re going to marry a guy. She just said we think about what needs to be tweaked if we married someone.”

  “That’s still crazy,” he said.

  “Take it from two girls who haven’t run out and married the first guys we’ve dated or kissed. We think about it. I can tell within fifteen minutes of talking to someone whether I could marry them or not, and even when the answer is yes, I still probably won’t go on a third date.”

  “Reeeeally?” he drawled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  I eyed him, wondering at his impish tone.

  “Matt’s had way more than his fifteen minutes of fame with you,” he continued. “Could you marry him?”

  “I refuse to answer that on the grounds that no matter what I say, I am totally positive my answer will come back to haunt me soon.”

  “Back to the subject,” Celia interrupted. “I want to read, and you’re distracting me. You’re going to wear a nice shirt with a collar, shorts without any holes, and you’re going to go up to Laurel without Blake or any of your other buddies around, and you’re going to talk to her. Got it?”

  “Got it. Uh, what am I going to say?”

  “Depends on the moment,” I said. “But probably a question would be good, something where she can’t just shake her head yes or no. Maybe ask for her opinion about the activity and then follow that up with a question about her idea of a cool FHE activity.”

  “That’s lame,” he said.

  “Yeah, it is,” I agreed. “But it’s real. It’s a conversation that makes sense at the moment, it’s low threat, it tells her you want to talk to her, and opens the door to talking about other things.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I can do that. But what if she still won’t talk to me?”

  “Compliments,” Celia said. “Pay her lots and lots of compliments.”

  “Oh, and if you can, try really hard to catch her when Megan’s not around,” I said. “Neither of you will get a word in edgewise.”

  “Bitter much?” Celia asked.

  “Not bitter! Realistic. I’m not talking to either of you two anymore,” I said. “I have really important work to do.” I grabbed my laptop and hauled it back on my lap.

  “What’s so important at this time of night?”

  “I’ve got serious research,” I murmured. By the time Dave slunk back upstairs to contemplate his wardrobe, I had descended deep into the depths of Google and a search for karaoke nights in Huntington.

  Chapter 13

  The next week flew by, swallowed up in work. Thank goodness our restaurant didn’t serve breakfast or I might have broken down and started living in my uniform. I surfed with Matt twice early in the morning, feeling more confident and in control of my board every time we headed out. We flirted at church and texted back and forth a few times, but the scheduling trolls at Hannigan’s had tied up my weekend with double shifts on both Friday and Saturday. It meant plenty of extra cash, so I didn’t complain. Much. But I felt bad I hadn’t been able to redeem Matt’s rain-check request.

  By Tuesday night, I was more than ready to see him at Institute. I escaped the restaurant without much of a fight because Tuesdays are notoriously slow all over the dining out industry, and they could handle business with a skeleton staff. I was standing in front of my half of the closet. Actually, my quarter of the closet. I didn’t have nearly as many clothes as Celia did, just what fit into two giant suitcases when I drove down for the summer. She was sweet to give up even part of her overworked closet space for me to shove a few things in.

  Bored with my choices, I decided to make sure it would be worth the effort to dress nice.

  Are you going to OT tonight? I texted Matt.

  Who is this?

  Ashley!

  Who?

  I snorted. I’m the brunette with a great sense of humor. We surf together sometimes.

  Oh yeah. You.

  Yep. Are you going to OT?

  Why? You going to ditch?

  No. But if you’re going, I might actually drag a brush through my hair or something.

  You’d brush your hair for me? Cool. I think you like me.

  I laughed. I usually did when we were going back and forth about something. I think you’re all right, I texted back.

  You’re making me blush.

  Good. Are you going or ditching?

  I’ll go if you promise to sit by me.

  Done. I have to go brush my hair now.

  Want to ride over with me?

  A knock on the bedroom door distracted me.

  “Ash?” Dave called. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  He poked his head in. “Can I go to Institute with you?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You want to take another religion class? Do you miss your mission that much?”

  “Funny. No, I’m hoping Laurel will be there. She wasn’t at FHE last night.”

  “Hold on. Let me ask.”

  Can Dave come? I tapped out to Matt.

  No problem.

  OK. Come and get us.

  “You can come, but I’m catching a ride with Matt,” I reported to Dave.

  “Cool.”

  He ducked back out again, and I returned to my outfit search with purpose now. I settled on a white cotton skirt and snagged a cute pink hoodie from Celia’s side of the closet. We had an informal trade working where she could raid my makeup box anytime she wanted to and I got to borrow from her to expand my wardrobe. I rustled my flip-flops from under the bed and dug out my brush. When my curls refused to cooperate, I gave up and braided two long pigtails. Checking out my full-length reflection on the closet door, I convinced myself that my look could pass for bohemian chic and not a girl who lost a fight with her hair.

  I had barely slicked on my favorite strawberry Lip Smacker when a knock sounded on the front door, right on time. Dave beat me to it, but I enjoyed the extra moment I had to admire Matt when the door swung open. Man, he was hot. He had some cool Von Zipper sunglasses tucked into the neck of his light green shirt, and it hardly seemed fair that he had to do so little to look so good.

  Dave turned to glare at me. “How come I have to wear a collar? Matt doesn’t have one.” Dave had taken our advice about making a little effort with his appearance for Laurel and wore a short-sleeved button-down shirt with some cool snaps on the front.

  “You’re wearing shorts, so you have to counteract that with a collar. Matt is wearing jeans, so he doesn’t need a collar,” I answered.

  Matt looked perplexed. “Is that true?” he whispered as I walked out the door.

  “I have no idea. It sounded good.”

  “You had me convinced. I thought maybe I’d been a fashion don’t for years, and nobody told me.”

  “You’re fine. Dave has to wear a collar because he’s trying to impress a girl, and he needs to compensate for his age deficiency.”

  “Age deficiency? Isn’t he twenty-one?”

  “Yeah, but that’s hum
an years. In guy years, he’s barely fifteen.”

  “What the heck is a guy year?”

  I shrugged. “By middle school, pretty much every girl has figured out that we mature twice as fast as guys. In human years, we might be the same age as you but in guy years, you’re emotionally only half as developed. But don’t worry, it all evens out around twenty-five.”

  “I see. So, I’m pretty much grown up now that I’m twenty-six?”

  “Yeah.” He’d grown up quite nicely from where I stood.

  “Good to know. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

  “No, I haven’t. Girls just know this stuff.”

  He shook his head. “But you don’t tell us and then wonder why we can’t figure you out.”

  “We do tell you, though. That’s what we mean every time one of us tells a guy to grow up.”

  He shot me a glance full of mock concern. “You’re not going to get your chick card revoked for revealing girl trade secrets, are you?”

  “I told you, you’re old enough to know now.”

  He helped me into the car while Dave scrambled into the back, and we headed out for Institute. Megan and Laurel were already seated when we got to class, third row center, as usual. Dave threw me a slightly panicked look. “What do I do about Megan?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.

  “You’re the one that said she’s harmless,” I reminded him.

  “Fine, she’s the devil incarnate. Now will you tell me what to do?”

  I thought about it for a minute. “Maybe I can draw Laurel off. She seems to like me okay.” I mean, it was hard to tell from our nonverbal communication, but she did help pick all my stuff up the week before. “I’ll give it a shot,” I said. “I’ll get her talking, and then you can come join the conversation and I’ll introduce you.”

  “Who are we talking about here?” Matt asked.

  Dave nodded his head in Laurel’s direction. Since our vantage point was behind the girls, they wouldn’t catch us ogling and conspiring unless they turned around. “The blonde next to Megan.”

  Matt smiled. “Good choice.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I set out for the pair, intent on my mission. Sliding into the seat next to Laurel, I said, “Hi. If I promise not to let Megan knock over any more of my stuff and make you clean it up, can I sit next to you?”

  She looked confused and before she could answer, Megan jumped in.

  “That was an accident. It didn’t look like such a big deal that you would need help.” She sniffed.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “If I asked you for the time of day, would you give it to me?”

  “I’d probably fudge it by fifteen minutes.”

  That startled a laugh out of me, and I felt an unwelcome twinge of respect for her.

  “Good strategy,” I said. “I’d probably only have lied by ten.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. Laurel’s head swiveled back and forth between us, her expression growing confused.

  Matt chose that moment to wander up. “Hey, Megan,” he said. “Did you get that surfboard?”

  She nodded. “Thanks for the advice,” she said.

  “You should probably get a surf rack for your car,” he said. “I can check it out really quick for you before Sister Powers gets here, maybe help you figure out which one would work best.”

  Way to take one for the team, Matt. I knew he didn’t relish Megan cornering him in the parking lot again, but it was a great way to get her out of Dave’s way. Megan touched Laurel’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be back.”

  Laurel nodded and Megan shot me a small, satisfied smile before following Matt out of the classroom.

  “So, you’re Laurel, right?” I said.

  She looked uncertain.

  “Isn’t that your name? Laurel?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you like coming to Sister Powers’s class?”

  Another nod.

  “Have you taken any other classes from her?”

  A head shake.

  I began to feel a little frustrated. This girl was beyond shy. I’d never had such a challenge in pulling actual words out of anyone before.

  Changing tactics, I groped for an open-ended question.

  “What did you think of the assigned reading for today?”

  She hesitated, forced to choose between breaking down and talking to me or being outright rude and not answering. I waited her out. She swallowed, licked her lips nervously, and then said softly, “It was hard to follow.”

  Her voice sounded strange, a little hollow even, and I wondered if she was hoarse or something, but I felt encouraged that she answered so I pressed on.

  “Yeah, I thought so too. I mean, the pieces are starting to come together for me, but there’s a lot of really arcane stuff, and I get a little lost sometimes, you know?”

  She looked confused and then trapped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have a hearing loss. Could you repeat that?”

  And then it hit me. The quality to her voice that I couldn’t quite place . . . it sounded like I do inside of my own head when I’m talking and my ears need to pop but they won’t. Perfectly clear but kind of far away.

  “You’re deaf?” I asked.

  She nodded, shy again.

  “Wow, that’s great!” At her look of surprise, I hurried to add, “I mean, it’s not great that you’re deaf unless you think it’s great that you’re deaf. I mean it’s great that you weren’t ignoring my cousin Dave the other night.”

  “You talk really fast,” she said.

  “Sorry! You need to read my lips, right?”

  “Right,” she smiled. “And they move really fast.”

  “I’ll slow down,” I promised. “Have you always been deaf?”

  She nodded. “I was born deaf.”

  “So are your parents deaf too?”

  “No, hereditary deafness is kind of rare. The doctors aren’t really sure what caused my hearing loss.”

  “You read lips really well,” I said.

  “Thanks.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Dave approaching.

  “Hey, do you care if I introduce you to my cousin? He thinks you’re cute.”

  A flustered look crossed her face. “The deaf thing kind of bothers most guys,” she said.

  I grinned. “Dave is not most guys. Come on, let me introduce him.”

  She sighed but nodded.

  I waved my cousin over, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled toward us, trying really hard to appear casual.

  He stopped a little behind us, and I pulled him around so Laurel could see his face more easily.

  “Dave, I’d like to introduce you to my friend Laurel. Laurel, this is my cousin Dave.”

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” Laurel answered quietly.

  I sat back, deciding to let them carry on the conversation since my introduction was done. A long, awkward pause ensued.

  At last, Dave mumbled something that sounded like, “So you mblf nnngr mmmml class?”

  Laurel looked at me, anxious and unsure about what Dave had said since he spoke to the floor.

  “Dave? Laurel needs to see your lips when you talk.”

  His head shot up, confusion creasing his forehead.

  “I’m deaf,” Laurel said.

  Dave brightened. “That’s cool,” he said.

  I stifled a laugh, and he hurried to clarify, “I mean, it’s not cool, exactly. Not that it’s not cool, but I didn’t mean that—” He interrupted himself and started over. “I think it’s interesting that you’re deaf,” he said. “My best friend on my block when I was a kid was deaf. I learned some sign language from him. I forgot most of it, but it was a great experience.”

  He made sure to speak clearly enough that Laurel could keep up, and she answered, “I was raised orally, so I didn’t learn to sign until a few years ago, but now I love it.”

  Dave slid into the seat on her other sid
e and began peppering her with questions. Satisfied that they were off to a good start, I moved back a couple of rows, leaving another empty seat by Laurel so that Megan could sit there and not by oh, say, Matt.

  When he and Megan returned a couple of minutes later, he made a beeline for me, and Megan threw me a glare before reclaiming her seat next to Laurel.

  “How was it?” I asked quietly enough to avoid having Megan eavesdrop.

  “Oh, you know,” Matt said.

  “Don’t be stingy with the details. I want to hear all about your fantastic parking lot field trip.”

  He rolled his eyes. “This is what I get for trying to help.”

  “No, it’s not. That is,” I said, nodding toward Laurel and Dave, who were still engrossed in conversation. “The satisfaction of knowing you did your part.”

  Laurel headed for the piano to “play” the opening hymn by pushing the preset button, which also made a lot more sense now. After the song and prayer, Sister Powers began by saying, “Time for fun with ancient scripture.”

  When the lesson ended despite Megan’s best efforts to extend it with multiple off-topic responses, Matt twisted in his chair to confront me head on.

  “Do you have some sort of bias against weekends I should know about?”

  “No. Why?” I asked, caught off guard by the slight impatience in his tone.

  “I think you’re trying to duck out of our date.”

  “I am not!” I protested. “You’re the one who canceled last Wednesday.”

  “No, that was a postponement, and you won’t let me cash in my rain check. What’s up with that?” He crossed his arms and waited for my answer.

  “I have this thing about making a living,” I said. “Weekend shifts pay the bills.”

  “Fine. No weekends. How about tomorrow night?”

  “For your rain check? Yeah, sure,” I said, suddenly stumped as to how to come up with a good date idea quickly.

  “You sound way excited,” he teased me.

  “I am,” I said. “I want to hang out with you. I’m just going to have to think of something to do for our date.”

  “How about if we go to the ward activity?” he said. “I know that sounds kind of lame, but my sister is the activities chair and I told her I’d go. It would be way better if you were there.”