Falling in Like #11

by Melissa J Morgan

  Before she could stop herself, she said, “He said I was too young for . . .” Warning bells went off. Shut up. Don’t go there.

  “For?” he prompted. When she blushed and gave her head a little shake, he said, “For going out with a boy?”

  Going out? This was beyond Rollerblading! Her heart was pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it.

  She stared at him, unable once again to make friends with those pesky English syllables.

  “Tori?” he said. “Is that what you were going to say?”

  “The movie,” she said, avoiding answering. “I’m supposed to be, um . . .”

  “Or that you’re too young . . . for a boyfriend?” Now he was blushing. He looked away and said, “Because I think it would be cool to be your boyfriend, Tori.”

  You do? she nearly cried. You really, really do?

  She wanted to jump up and down and scream and laugh and throw her arms around him and—and—

  “I have to go!” she nearly shouted, her brain finally reconnecting to her mouth. Shocked at how loudly and firmly she had said it, she lowered her voice. “My parents are here and we’re sitting with Kallista’s family.” She had to discuss this with Kallista!

  “Okay,” Michael said. He took a breath. His cheeks were even redder, and he looked unsure of himself as he said in a rush, “Listen, Mark Durgan is having a party on Friday night. At his house. Live band. Meet me there?” He wrinkled his nose and added, with a lopsided smile, “That way, it won’t be a date and your dad can’t not let you go.”

  A date that wasn’t a date! “Oh, I—”

  “Kallista’s invited too, of course,” he said. “It’s pretty much an open party.”

  He was making it very hard to say no. And why should she say no? It was just a party! It wasn’t a date!

  “I . . . I’ll see,” she said, even though she wanted to shout, “Yes, yes, yes!” just like in the shampoo commercial.

  “I’ll e-mail you the details,” he told her. “It’s going to be a good party. Live band,” he said again. Maybe he didn’t remember telling her that. Maybe he was that nervous, too. He sure seemed nervous.

  “Cool,” she said, then realized that she had just ended the no-e-mailing sitch with him. Her dad wouldn’t like it if he knew. Or so she assumed. She didn’t actually know what was okay and what wasn’t. But despite what Michael had just said, she did know that meeting him at a party definitely wouldn’t be okay with her dad.

  But it’s just because my dad doesn’t know him, she thought, as she turned to go. He would never, like, spill our family secrets to a magazine. Besides, we don’t even have any family secrets!

  He walked with her, and she got a little anxious. What if her dad saw them come back in together? Would he think she had snuck out to see him?

  As they came to the theater door, he said, “I’ll wait out here for my dad.”

  “I’m still sorry you’re going to miss the end of the movie,” she said, terribly relieved that he wasn’t going back into the theater.

  “Yeah, well,” he said, dropping his voice, “I’m not missing anything important.”

  Her skin prickled from the top of her head to her toes. “It was neat to run into you,” she said.

  He chuckled and reached forward to open the door for her. “Yeah, funny coincidence,” he replied.

  “Yeah, ha-ha, how funny,” she said, laughing weakly. Then she went inside and scanned the flickering darkness for her parents. As she spotted them, she started up the carpeted stairs.

  I saw Michael! I saw Michael and—

  Wait a minute, she thought, as the guy on the end of their roped-off VIP row—could it be Heath Ledger?—rose so she could scoot past him. Was Michael trying to tell me that it wasn’t a coincidence that he ran into me out there? That maybe he was even waiting for me?

  Could that be any cooler?

  She was overheating with joy.

  As she sat down next to Kallista, her BFF whispered, “Are you okay? You were gone forever.”

  “I’m great,” she whispered back. “Kallista, I am so great!”

  “What is up with you?” Kallista half-whispered, half-cried, and it was clear that she had figured out that Tori had good gossip. As she got shushed, Kallista giggled and whispered, “Have we got to talk?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Tori replied. “We have so got to talk!”

  Valerie called her mom to tell her about her promotion to the advanced class. Her mom was happy for her. Then Valerie waited up really, really late until her dad came home from work to tell him. He was delighted—and even more so when she told him about the recital on Saturday for Ashanti Utu.

  “That’ll be something nice to look forward to,” he told her as they walked together toward the kitchen. “I have a big presentation on Friday. That’s why I’m putting in all these extra hours. So it’ll be nice to watch your recital on Saturday to celebrate.”

  “Manzuma hasn’t picked the dances yet,” Valerie reminded him. “She might not pick mine.”

  “Oh, I can’t believe that,” he said, giving her a hug. “You’re so good at everything you do, honey.”

  She hugged him back. Then Valerie’s stepmother, Sharin, came out of the office she shared with Valerie’s father. She was carrying a file folder and her reading glasses were perched on the crown of her head.

  Sharin gave Valerie’s dad a kiss and said, “Hi, honey. Did you hear the good news about Valerie and LaToya?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Valerie caught herself before she pointed out that LaToya hadn’t actually had any good news. She and she alone was the good-news-haver. Instead, she said, “I think I’d like to continue taking dance after Mom gets home. Do you think that would be okay?”

  Her father considered. “Well, we’ll have to discuss the tuition. LaToya is able to help out at the school for a discount.”

  “Maybe Mom could help pay for mine,” she said. “Or there’s this guy who answers the phone. LaToya used to do that. Maybe I could do that, too.”

  “That’s possible.” He smiled at her. Her stepmother did, too. “Both those sound like good ideas.” He gave her a noogie. “You’re really using your noggin.”

  Despite the noogie, she basked in his praise. Then, as the three of them walked into the kitchen, Valerie murmured, “Oops.”

  There were dishes all over the counters. Dirty dishes. Dishes with caked-on mashed potatoes and congealed gravy. And it was her turn tonight to do them.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as the two adults turned to look at her. “I forgot.”

  “Understandable, with the good news and all,” her father said. But her stepmother didn’t say anything. She just looked irritated.

  “I’ll get to them right now.” Val rushed to the sink and turned on the water.

  “Good idea,” Sharin put in, her voice a little edgy. Valerie winced. Sharin was very big on chores, and especially on chores getting done on time. Valerie and her mom were both much more casual about such things, and sometimes when Val was at her dad’s, she forgot that it was such a big deal to some people.

  “Did you give Mr. Bubbles his medicine?” Sharin continued.

  Valerie shut her eyes. She had not. And at the sound of his name, Mr. Bubbles rose from his bed in the adjoining laundry room and skittered on his toenails across the slippery tile floor.

  Mr. Bubbles was the family pet, and Valerie used that term loosely. He was a pug, and his face was so smushed that she thought he looked like some weird alien creature. He also had a skin condition. Pieces of skin flaked off his sides and the top of his head, which she thought was unbelievably disgusting, and he had to be given pills for it, which was even more disgusting—you had to force his mouth open and push them down his throat.

  “I’ll give Mr. Bubbles his medicine after I do the dishes,” Valerie promised, pushing up the sleeves of her pajamas.

  Valerie yawned sleepily as she picked up the dish sponge. She wished Sharin had reminded her abou
t the dishes. Or that LaToya had. While LaToya had done her homework, she had gone into the kitchen at least twice for snacks. That meant that she had seen the dishes and not said a word.

  Thanks, LaToya, she thought.

  chapter EIGHT

  By the time Valerie was finished with the dishes, the house was quiet, and she was exhausted. She went to use the bathroom and found that her dance clothes, which she had hand washed and hung in the shower to dry, were soaking wet. Probably from when LaToya had taken a shower, and not bothered to move them.

  Thanks, LaToya.

  She wrung them out and rehung them. Then she crawled into bed and dropped off immediately to sleep.

  After the movie premiere, Tori put on her pink pajamas with the black Eiffel Towers and French poodles and checked her e-mail. She saw Michael’s name and her stomach did a little flip. She clicked open the message.

  To: Tori

  From: MichaelS

  Subject: Party

  Hey, Tori,

  It was so great to see you 2nite. I didn’t know if you knew Mark’s address. It’s 2123 Beverly Rancho Drive. Also, here’s my cell: 310-555-2931. What’s yours?

  —Michael

  Tori read the message over and over. She wished he had signed it, “Love, Michael.” Or even with some X’s and O’s. But it was too soon for something like that. The only guy who had ever signed a letter with “love” with her father. Still, it would have been so exciting!

  What should she do? She really, really liked Michael. Really. But her dad had been very clear about her not hanging out with him, and meeting him at a party was definitely hanging out. She had told Kallista about it at the theater, and Kallista definitely wanted to go to the party. But Tori just didn’t know.

  She had three days to decide. And luckily, she had her camp friends to help her make the decision.

  To: Alyssa

  From: Tori

  Subject: Date?

  Hi, Lyss,

  You know that pic I sent you of my friends and me in our FREE ALYSSA T-shirts? Well, that is Cameron Stevenson’s son and I’m totally crushing on him. And he likes me, too!

  Here’s the problem: His dad is a client of my dad’s, and so my dad has told me not to hang out with him. Michael wants me to meet him at a party on Friday and I totally want to go! But what should I do about my dad?

  Your friend,

  Tori

  Sitting in her jammies in her bedroom, Alyssa read the email from Tori. Her mind immediately jumped to Romeo and Juliet—star-crossed lovers forbidden to be together.

  Whoa! Alyssa thought, as inspiration struck. She opened up the jpeg of Tori, Michael, and Tori’s bud Kallista for inspiration.

  She started sketching Tori and Michael as Romeo and Juliet, trying out different poses and even different outfits, until she finally settled on a velvet gown for Tori, and a blousy shirt and leggings for Michael.

  She posed them beneath an arch of roses, imagining them meeting in secret. Maybe they were getting married! She saw them silent, and statue-still, on the brink of their great romantic tragedy. The whole idea gave her the shivers—in a good way.

  Inspiration had struck again!

  “Val?” her father called the next morning. “We have to go in ten minutes.”

  “Be there in five,” she sang out.

  LaToya was gliding down the hall, nibbling on a piece of toast. She walked on by, then returned.

  She said, “Did you give the dog his medicine last night?”

  Valerie thought a minute. Had she? She must have. “Yes,” she said.

  “Oh. Really? Because I accidentally moved his pills into my medicine cabinet yesterday afternoon, and they’re still there.” LaToya looked into the hall as if she were talking to someone else.

  She was: Sharin stepped into the doorway. She was dressed for work in a black pinstriped suit.

  “Valerie,” she said angrily, “we don’t lie in this house. If Mr. Bubbles doesn’t get his medicine, his condition could worsen.”

  “I didn’t mean to—” Valerie began.

  “Your father and I are going to have to have a talk with you about this,” Sharin said.

  Valerie tried again. “I’m sorry. I was just confused. I wasn’t trying to lie to you.”

  “We’ll discuss it later. Your father is waiting to drive you two girls to school.”

  Sharin left the room. Valerie heard Sharin’s heels click down the hall. She glared at LaToya and said, “You planned that! You made sure she was there when you asked me about the medicine!”

  LaToya just smiled.

  Ten minutes later, she, her father, and LaToya were on their way to school. Her father said, “Your stepmother told me about what happened this morning, Val. If you can’t take your responsibilities more seriously, we may have to skip those dance lessons.”

  “Daddy!” she cried. Then her eyes ticked in the rearview mirror to LaToya, who was still smiling.

  “Mr. Bubbles is on a strict regimen,” her father continued. “He has to get his medicine every day or he won’t get better. Forgetting was bad enough, but it would have been much better if you had owned up to it.”

  She said, “Daddy, I thought I had given it to him. I won’t mess up again. Please don’t take away my lessons!”

  In the back, LaToya leaned her head back and calmly closed her eyes as if to say, My work here is done.

  Valerie was completely freaked. Her author report on Laura Ingalls Wilder was missing.

  “It was here. In my folder,” Valerie told her history teacher, Ms. Meyers.

  “You know my policy,” Ms. Meyers said. “People who don’t turn in their homework get detention.”

  No! If she got detention, she would miss the carpool. And dance class. And LaToya knew that.

  Would LaToya actually take my homework?

  She said, “Please, Ms. Meyers. Something . . . happened to it. It was in my folder. Really.” She took a deep breath. “I can tell you what I wrote. My paper was on Laura Ingalls Wilder. She was born in 1867 in Wisconsin.”

  The last bell of the day went off and Valerie jerked her head toward the door. She couldn’t be late!

  She rattled on, “She started writing when she was sixty. She tried to sell an autobiography but it was rejected. So she reworked the story and sold it as Little House in the Big Woods.”

  “Go on,” Ms. Meyers said.

  “Um, she became a schoolteacher, to help pay for her sister to go to blind school.”

  “What was her sister’s name?” Ms. Meyers asked.

  I have to go! Valerie thought frantically.

  “Mary,” she said.

  The teacher sighed. “All right. I’ll let it go this time. You’ve always been a good student, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But don’t let it happen again.”

  “Thank you, so much,” Valerie said, hurrying out of the room to get to her locker, then out to the curb to wait for Mrs. Wilcox.

  Her evil stepsister was already there, and so was the white Odyssey. Did LaToya looked surprised to see her? Valerie couldn’t tell.

  Mrs. Wilcox beeped her horn as Danielle threw open the van door and cried, “Hurry, you guys! My mom has a dentist appointment!”

  “I’m telling Mom you kept us waiting,” LaToya said to Valerie as she climbed into the passenger area. “Next time you’re late, I’m going to tell them to leave without you.”

  Note to self, Valerie thought, do not be late tomorrow, no matter what!

  They got to the studio. Valerie noticed that Antoine wasn’t at his desk. LaToya noticed her noticing and said, “Antoine stole your homework and left the country.”

  “Ha ha,” Valerie said. LaToya was sticking to her story that she hadn’t gone anywhere near Valerie’s report on Laura Ingalls Wilder.

  “Actually, he quit,” LaToya said.

  Maybe I could have his job, she thought. If I can pay for my classes, maybe I won’t have to quit. Maybe paying for them can be my consequences for lying.r />
  There was a big sign tacked on the wall next to the poster of Alvin Ailey. It read, “There will be no beginners’ class tomorrow. The studio will close early in preparation for the recital to honor Ashanti Utu on Saturday at 10 A.M.”

  They quickly changed and warmed up. Then Manzuma gave them the rest of the class time to work on their dances.

  “I’m doing a poem, like you,” one of the other girls told Valerie.

  “Me, too!” said the girl who usually wore China blue.

  Valerie was shocked. It seemed that half the students were copying her idea by using steps to stand for words in poems and even song lyrics. Four of them were dancing together, and there were two sets of three girls. And their dances were more elaborate and complicated than hers.

  Even LaToya was one of the copiers. “Like it?” she asked Valerie. “I’m using a poem by Maya Angelou. Manzuma loves Maya Angelou’s work.” The nerve! Especially after warning Valerie not to get too excited about the audition. The worst part was that LT’s dance was really beautiful.

  This is terrible, Valerie thought. I can’t compete with these girls. They’re all better dancers than I am.

  And no one else—including Manzuma—seemed to notice or care that everyone was stealing her idea. All Manzuma said to her was, “Tomorrow is the big day!”

  To: Jenna

  From: Valerie

  Subject: My evil stepsister!

  Dear Jenna,

  LT is doing all these mean things to me! I think she’s trying to make sure I can’t try out for the recital. I am in such big trouble with my dad & stepmom that I don’t think they would listen if I tried to tell them about it.

  Now she is stealing my dance idea! Half the class is doing dance poems now!

  What should I do?

  KIT,

  Valerie

  To: Valerie

  From: Jenna

  Subject: LT

  Dear Val,

  I am so sorry! Try to remember that she is doing these things because she is worried you will take one of the four spots in the recital. Which must mean she is threatened by you! And she has been dancing for YEARS! So you must be a good dancer. Maybe your parents WILL listen. Try to do everything extra right until the audition, okay?