The Matchmaker

by Kitty Parker

  "Then," he retorted, his persistent goodwill cracking beneath my obstinate refusal to acknowledge his charms, "you must be blind."

  "Maybe I am," I retorted. My eyes, crackling with anger and very much functional, met his and forced him a step back. If beauty was in the eye of the beholder, than apparently so was sight. Because he was missing some crucial things right now, the most important being that if I didn't regain control soon, I might hit him. "But that's not your concern, now is it?" I took a deep breath to recollect myself and closed my eyes for a second. When I reopened them, the green was as calm as the ocean shallows on a summer day. "Our next session's Monday," I continued serenely, "I'll see you then."

  I was gone before he could respond.

  o0O0o0O0o

  "Mann is so damn annoying!" I exclaimed as I dropped angrily into the backseat Allan's car, tossing my backpack beside me with more force than strictly necessary. Allan and Candy (who we were apparently giving a ride home) turned to face me, confused by my lack of preamble. Still,

  "He's worse than annoying," Candy agreed with an alacrity that made me wonder if Mann had fooled her before. She certainly had more perception into his true character than most of the girls in her set, but that was the deadly irony in Mann's game. No girl would ever tell another that she had been duped, because that would reflect poorly on her. Villainous, certainly- but I had to have a certain reluctant admiration for his efficiency. "He's, like, a complete bastard. Have you heard about Trisha Corwin? He totally got her to break up with her boyfriend- who the Matchmaker, like, found for her- and then he dumped her like, right away!"

  I had heard. And while I didn't think much of any girl who allowed Chris to seduce her, Trisha wasn't stupid, just foolish, and I had been proud of that much. Both she and her boyfriend had been heartbroken after Hurricane Mann rolled through- though now they were happily together again. Ahh, the beauty of the Matchmaker.

  Allan's concerned brown eyes fixed on me, alarmed by my angry expression. He probably though I was angry at Candy for accusing Chris of something like that, rather than at Mann for being such a bastard. "Emma, you know he's bad news, right?"

  My exasperated look failed to quench him, so I resorted to words. It was a pity, too, that he had built up a tolerance to my withering expression. Would I not be able to use it on anyone anymore? "Did you hear what I just said?" I inquired sarcastically.

  "Yeah, but-"he ignored the mouth I opened to protest, and I closed it sulkily. I couldn't argue if I couldn't get a word in edgewise, but that was what was so annoying about Allan. He steadfastly refused to quarrel. He also took all the fun out of life. "-you said you didn't like good boys, and Mann is sorta a bad boy, and-"

  "I'm not an idiot," I replied, rolling my eyes even though I was rather touched by his worry. I had a reputation to protect, after all, and being seen as soft wouldn't help it. 'I said he's annoying because he won't accept my refusal. There's bad boys who are endearingly misguided and misunderstood, and there's sleazes. And Mann is definitely in the latter category."

  Satisfied, Allan turned back and started the car. As we drove through the parking lot, all of us wrapped in our own thoughts, Darien walked in front of our car, crossing to his own. He raised a hand in a sort of farewell salute; I grinned back, making a face at him before we left the parking lot and turned onto the road.

  Candy tossed a knowing look over her shoulder, curling a strand of her blond hair innocently around one finger. "Darien's got the bad boy thing going on," she observed, blue eyes disingenuous beneath her tasteful, if heavy, makeup.

  "Yes." I admitted blandly, not quite certain of where she as going with this or sure if I wanted it to get there, "What are you implying?" She better not be thinking what I thought she was…

  "Just that you liked the bad boy type, I can't see why you wouldn't have a crush on him." The car slammed to a stop as Allan stomped on the brakes in his shock. He disregarded the squeal of tires that was heard behind us, and the furious yelling, to spin to face me.

  "You have a crush on McGavern?" he demanded, usually passive face gape-jawed in surprise and a hint of anger. The surprise I could understand the source of, the anger less so. But I would find out, eventually.

  Candy put a gentle hand on his leg, forcing him to look at her. "Lex, you can't, like, stop in the middle of the road," she pointed out. He obediently restarted the car, and we sped on, faster than he usually would risk going.

  "You like Darien McGavern?" he repeated incredulously, grip scarily tight around the steering wheel. Like any gentle giant, he didn't know his own strength, and when angry, tossed it around like it was nothing. All of which contributed to his own feeling of invincibility that, though hidden deeper than Darien's, was just as strong. Boys.

  "No, I don't," I explained patiently despite Candy's disbelieving look, "Candy only thinks I should." And I couldn't express how much I disagreed. No words in the English language could even come close to the strength I needed.

  "Well, you shouldn't," Allan declared, his basso's voice as uncompromising as it could be, "He might be a good friend, but you deserve a better boyfriend. He's almost as much bad news as Mann."

  Candy giggled fondly. I ruffled my stepbrother's hair, grinning cheerily and non-committedly at him.

  "Thanks for caring, Allan," I laughed merrily, "But I can judge a potential boyfriends' worth on my own." Two pointed looks. "Not that Darien is one," I shot at Candy, crossing my arms resolutely across my chest.

  "If you say so," Candy assured me artlessly, her eyes wide and naïve. Oh, she was good. "If you say so."

  o0O0o0O0o

  At 7:30, my phone rang. Surprised- Darien had requested help with history and said he would call me at 8, but he was rarely this early- I rolled over on my bed and glanced warily at the caller id. When I saw who it was, though, I snatched it up eagerly.

  "Hey!" I said happily as I brought the phone to my ear, collapsing back down amid my blankets.

  "'ello," Rhi answered, just as cheerfully. She had been consistently in a good mood (or at least, whenever I had talked to her) ever since Christmas, when her parents had decided to allow her to come home.

  "Dropping h's?" I teased with a grin, "You aren't going to talk in Cockney Rhyming Slang when you come back, are you? 'Cause I don't think anyone could understand you, let alone me."

  "I'm not that anglicized!" she protested with a giggle, "but it would be no barney to try-"

  "Oh, just shut up," I cut her off. CRS may have been the weirdest language- pidgin- I had heard of. Those messed up English people. "So, why'd you call?"

  "Can't I just want to talk to my bestest of friends?" she inquired, hurt saturating her voice. Rhi always did have a penchant for melodrama; it was one of the reasons she and Brock worked so well together. He mellowed her out. Somewhat.

  "Sure, but she can't talk for long," I warned with an affectionate roll of my eyes.

  "Why not? What could be more important than your exiled best friend?" she asked, her tone still playful. But I hadn't known her for years upon years without learning her mannerisms, and I could detect a hint of actual offense.

  "Well, I told Darien-"

  She interrupted me, understanding dawning in her voice, though I couldn't tell where the smug chuckle came from. "Ahh, Darien. Say no more; I get it."

  "What?" I whined, sick of everyone pretending they knew what I was talking about. They could at least have the courtesy to inform me of what I was saying, because more often than not these days, I was the one left in the dark. "I'm just helping him with some homework."

  'Sure you are," she said it in a tone that said the exact opposite, and then in a knowingly conspiratorial voice, "but it's okay. I did it enough to you. You can ditch me for him."

  "Why just him?" I demanded testily. I wanted to know what conspiracy I was apparently a part of! There was nothing I hated more than not knowing stuff, especially when it concerned me. And this was about me, godamit!

  "Because you like him, and
I have to give you time to woo him," she stated with utter certainty. My fists clenched, and I sat bolt upright on the bed.

  "No I don't!" I almost yelled. It didn't have any effect on Rhi. Later, I would wonder if my retort had been too quick to be true. But at the time I only figured that, being Rhi, once she got the idea in her head she would never let it go. I personally think she just hoped me going out with Darien would force him to approve of her more. He had never liked her after all, and apparently ditching his best friend hadn't helped.

  "That would be so great if you two got together," she gushed. Of course, she had to go to the absolute extremes. Next thing I knew, she would probably be discussing plans for our double wedding. "We could double date, and go to prom together, and-"

  "Rhi!" I barked, halting her spiel of potential joys before it got too out of hand, "that would be great. If I liked him. Which I don't!"

  "Emma," she informed me, like she was talking to a kid who wouldn't understand the obvious but who needed to know it nonetheless, "You talk about him like every other sentence. You get jealous-"

  "No I don't-"

  "You get jealous of all his follower-girl-people. You think he's gorgeous. And," she administered the final stroke with an air of uncontested triumph, "You don't want him asking for the Matchmaker because that means he's not into you."

  "He's probably my best friend after you," I admitted, refusing to acknowledge the last few accusations, "And everyone knows he's hot. There's no point denying the obvious. But I do not like-"

  The beeping of my phone cut me off. There was another call. I flicked my eyes down to the screen. 8 o'clock. Of course. Rhi would never let it go now.

  "That's Darien," I explained hurriedly. I could almost hear her smirk. God, how self-satisfied could you get? She had no idea. I did not like Darien! Why could people not get that through their heads? Boys and girls could be just friends- would no one understand that? "I have to go. Later!"

  I hit the switch button with all the force of my resigned fury. I thought that it was resigned, that is, but my first words to Darien could, perhaps, have been planned better.

  "I do not like you!"

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  "Emma, I'm hurt," I drawled, my surprise at her unconventional salutation not fazing me enough to stop my quick comeback, "I thought we were friends," Where the hell had that come from? I hadn't even gotten her mad yet today (a rare occurrence), though that may have been because I hadn't actually talked to her. But she had seemed happy enough with me when she left school, and her mood swings were usually triggered by something I did.

  "We are- I didn't mean- Different kind - arg!" she reverted to an inarticulate groan when words could not express her meaning. I waited, savoring the unusual happening of Emma flustered. Either she would tell me what the hell was up, or it would be chalked up as a minor secret. My butting in wouldn't change the ultimate outcome. Still…

  "Emma, what are you babbling about?" I inquired coolly, cutting through her frustration like a hot knife through butter. A deep breath from the other end as Emma regained her habitual calm. Good. As much as I enjoyed hearing Emma ruffled, it disturbed me. Emma shouldn't be like that. It wasn't right.

  "It's nothing," she finally said, all her impenetrability back in place. "So, what did you need help with?" Oh, that's cold, just leaving me hanging. And I didn't need help; we were just going to work together on a fairly challenging assignment. I could have done it by myself; I simply didn't feel like exerting myself.

  "It's not nothing," I contradicted matter-of-factly, hoping my objective voice would convince her to spill, "Not if you got mad enough to take it out on me. Tell me what's wrong."

  "I told you, it's nothing."

  "It's something." I had been sitting at my desk, now I rose to circle my room. We wouldn't get anything done until she was serene enough to concentrate, and moving helped me to focus. And coaxing Emma out of a rage promised to be just as difficult as the homework would have been. "Why don't you like me?"

  She sighed, but even over the phone I could hear her walls cracking and her reserve crumbling. "Why does everyone insist that I do?" she countered, anger rising in her voice. If I had been closer, I might have taken a step away. I was extremely glad that a few blocks separated us. "Even if every other girl in this school has a crush on you, that doesn't mean I have to!" Oh. This wasn't awkward at all, nope, no in the least. Maybe I shouldn't have pressed. But now I was in, for better or worse.

  "There's no shame in liking me," I smirked. She would be in good company, after all. Not to mention the huge boost to my ego. And that meant Mann wouldn't win the bet. And- actually, did she seem a bit too defensive?

  "Except I don't!" she snapped with a huff of irritation. Okay. Maybe not too defensive, and just furious. "What is it with everyone? First Candy and Allan, then-" a miniscule pause, by which I figured out that this person had a connection with one of her secrets. Not worth probing for right now, though. I would have plenty of chances later. "-another friend, and now you!" her voice, edging on murderous, warned me that teasing was not appreciated.

  "Fine, fine, you don't," I agreed placatingly, ignoring a twist in my stomach that must have some from lunch. I knew I should've avoided the meatloaf, but nothing had looked any more recognizable. "But why do you even care what they say?"

  "I don't!" she yelled. I winced and held the phone farther from my ear. For someone who was usually so quiet, she could certainly shout. Really, really loudly. Should have known; it was Emma, after all, and she had to defy expectations. "But you would get annoyed too if you heard the same thing from four people!"

  "Three," I corrected. She must have been really mad to miscalculate like that. I did not envy Lex in the slightest, being only a few rooms away rather than a few streets.

  "Four," she spat. I raised an eyebrow in almost amused surprise. I had never heard Emma get so angry for so long. She generally flared and than burned out quickly, not this continued blaze. It was kind of funny, in a way; she was sort of cute mad- in a little kid way, that is. Not in any kind of attractive sense. "Chris didn't actually say anything, but even he implied it! And he had the nerve to call me blind!"

  "What did Mann do?" I snapped to attention at the sound of his name, all amusement gone. If he had decided to push the issue of the bet… I knew I shouldn't have made it. Even if, as Emma insisted (and insisted and insisted), she could take care of herself, he was still a lot bigger and… well, I didn't like it.

  "Oh, nothing," I could almost see Emma wave her hand dismissively; I was that certain she was doing it. Scary, but somehow comforting. "Just nagging me to go to a party with him."

  "So I'm to presume you said no?" I queried delicately, trying no to sound as ecstatic as I felt. The hundred bucks were nothing compared to the confirmation that Emma wasn't a fool. And then Man would leave her alone, finally.

  "Of course I did," she retorted, the 'you idiot' only implied. I bet she rolled her eyes, too. Well good for her; she still couldn't rain on my parade. "He's obviously trying to get something. I just have to figure out what before I ditch him."

  "I think what he wants is obvious," I observed blandly. Emma had to know that; he was the kind of guy it sounded like she used to go with, from everything I had found out about her. And she had always seemed to understand that sort of stuff; I had even heard her give Candy advice on wooing a guy once, though I didn't catch the guy's name. "It's the same thing most guys do."

  "Well, yeah," she replied. Her silky hair brushed against the mouthpiece, causing a vague crackling sound, as she shook her head in frustration. Or maybe she was just opening a cough drop. It was probably that; Emma's hair was not silky. Except her voice hadn't sounded at all scratchy today. "But if all he wanted was to get laid, he wouldn't waste his time on me. There has to be another motive."

  "Has anyone ever told you you're way too suspicious?" I inquired with a wry grin. She could never accept that sometimes a cigar was j
ust a cigar, even if this time she was right. Although Mann would have done it anyway, even if I hadn't agreed to the bet; it wasn't my fault he put words to it.

  "Paranoia is only absurd until it happens," she informed me loftily, but I could hear her calming down. Good, distracting her had worked. I had been getting concerned that the female brain had transcended my understanding; I was glad to know that wasn't true.

  "Yeah, but people don't always need ulterior motives," I argued. It suddenly occurred to me that Emma was the only person I could have said that to. Maybe because she was even more cynical than me, or because with everyone else I had to keep up my sophisticated, world-weary pose. Though why I didn't have to act like that with her, I couldn't tell. It was still nice, in a way. "Maybe he only wants what he seems to."

  "No one's simple enough to want just one thing. There's always a lot of motives."

  I chuckled. I wouldn't be too sure about that. Mann really was that simple. He only cared about sex. And drugs, I suppose. And basketball. And- okay, fine, maybe Emma was right. But that didn't mean I had to concede.

  "How about no motives, then?" I replied, unwilling to let that point go. Not only did that mean I would lose, but I also wanted to keep Emma distracted so she wouldn't enter the downward spiral of her rage again. "Selfless love, or something."

  "Love?" she mocked, her voice sharp enough to pierce flesh, "there's no such thing."

  My jaw dropped.

  "Yes there is," I stated. It was a fact, after all; she only had to look around to see it. And if there was one certainty in this world, it was that Emma looked around. So why hadn't she seen it?

  "No there's not," she replied, as businesslike as me. No petty emotions for her after all. "It's an illusion, a fantasy. People can be compatible; can desire each other sexually, but love? That's just a fancy word for nothing."