Kiri. What would it do to Kiri if I went to the premiere with Cabe? Worse, what would she do when she found out I liked him, after I’d denied it? Yes, I was annoyed with Kiri right now. But if I said yes to being his date, it would be like stabbing her in the back.
Reality brought my bliss to a screeching halt. “Cabe, wait.” My voice hitched. “I can’t.”
The hope in his face extinguished, replaced with confusion. “So, you won’t be my date, or you don’t like me?”
My throat tightened, every fiber in me wanting to shout out the truth. Instead, I forced out a gut-wrenching, “I do like you … just not that way. I’m … so sorry.” My lower lip was quivering now. I was going to cry, but I couldn’t do it in front of him. “I have to go—”
It was painful to look at him. His face was glowing red with hurt and embarrassment. “Wow,” he said quietly. “I guess I sounded pretty lame just now, huh?”
“No!” I blurted. “Everything you said was so, so sweet. It’s not you. It’s me.” Oh no. My eyes were filling. “I—I’ll never forget it.” The tears were going to spill. I turned away, hurrying down the sidewalk. “About the premiere,” I called over my shoulder. “You should ask Kiri!”
“Kiri?” His voice was puzzled. “Sheyda, wait!”
I didn’t look back, but it didn’t matter. For the rest of the night, I had a picture in my head of him, standing alone on the sidewalk in the snow, watching me leave.
I yawned over my bowl of cereal, barely able to keep my eyes open. It was Friday: D-day for my camp application. Jillian had messengered her reference letter to our apartment last night, and I’d finished my model around two in the morning, working at the kitchen table while my parents and Mina slept. Just in the nick of time, too, because Ms. Feld was expecting to see it first thing this morning.
“Are you girls okay to get ready on your own this morning?” my father asked as he set his coffee in the sink and grabbed his briefcase. “I’ve got to be in court by eight.”
“Me, too,” Mom added, giving us both pecks on the cheeks.
My cereal stuck in my throat. So they’d forgotten about the promise they’d made weeks ago to drive me to school when my model was ready for Ms. Feld’s approval. They’d probably forgotten that my application due date was today, too. I thought about reminding them; carrying the model to school through slushy streets wasn’t the best idea. But then what? It wasn’t like they could be late for court. I’d get the model to school and then text Mom later to remind her that she needed to drive me down to NYU to turn it in by 5 p.m.
“We’ll be fine.” I sighed. “Have a good day.”
I glanced at Mina, who gave my parents a silent nod. She’d barely spoken to me since our argument on Monday, and Mom, aside from a brief “let’s talk about what happened later” comment, hadn’t brought up my meltdown, either. She was always distracted when she was in the middle of litigation.
As soon as the door clicked shut on my parents, Mina was out of her chair and gathering her stuff from our room. I wouldn’t have even noticed the duffel bag slung over her arm, except that it got stuck in the door handle when she went to leave. The zipper was partially open, and I caught a glimpse of Mina’s gray skull-and-crossbones ski pants inside. Huh? She never took anything to school but her messenger bag.
“What’s the duffel for?” I asked.
“Lending Rehann clothes for her ski weekend” was all she said, and then she was gone.
I sat back in the chair, listening to the silence of the apartment. Silence was the way most of this week had gone. I hadn’t talked to Cabe since Monday. He’d been out of school all week filming with Sonora Grace at Doughlicious. The texts and calls from him before had stopped completely. He’d taken my advice and asked Kiri to be his date for the Very Valentine premiere. I’d gotten a text from her only an hour after I’d left Cabe in the snow. I tried not to be hurt by that, remembering that he was hurt, too. But it didn’t help that Kiri had taken to texting me dozens of times a day just to gush over it. It only made my heart ache more.
Since then, I’d only spoken to Kiri when I had to. On our walks to school, I’d feigned interest in a game on my phone, and I’d spent lunches in the library, finishing my essay for my camp application. It was a legit excuse, but I knew the real reason I was skipping lunch was to avoid Kiri. Phoebe seemed to suspect it, too, because she’d shown up in the library once, pulling up a chair and saying bluntly, “Spill it.”
When I didn’t after a few minutes, she’d nodded and stood up. “Sheyda, you have to tell her. It’s no crime that you like Cabe, and I’m guessing your ‘like’ is realer than hers, not that I’m judging. But it’s not fair that she doesn’t even know how you feel.”
I’d kept thinking, How can Phoebe see the truth and Kiri can’t? I shouldn’t have to spell it out for Kiri.
I finished breakfast and carefully slipped a trash bag over my model to protect it. Then I headed for school. I had to be there early to meet with Ms. Feld, so thankfully I wouldn’t see Kiri until later. But even the relief I felt in finally finishing the model couldn’t overcome the sadness of having to celebrate its completion alone.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I nearly dropped the model in surprise when I saw Kiri sitting on the school steps.
“There you are!” She smiled. “Today’s the big day! Are you nervous? I’m so glad you finally showed. My toes are freezing!” She held up a Doughlicious bag. “I brought your favorite to celebrate. A Cheesecake Crumble, still warm.”
“Thanks. You … you remembered today was my deadline?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m your best friend. Of course I remembered.” She peered over my shoulder. “But wait, where’s the car? I thought your parents were going to drive you today.”
I shrugged. “I decided to walk,” I said simply.
“You should’ve texted me, silly. Mom would’ve come to get you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled. “I’m here now.” I suddenly realized her cane and bandage were MIA. “How’s the ankle?”
“So much better!” she said. “Like it never happened.”
“Mmmmm,” I said, and thought, It probably never did.
She tilted her head. “Hey. Is everything okay? ’Cause you’ve been acting strange all week. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.”
My heart bolted. “It’s fine,” I told her. “I’m fine.” I focused my eyes on the model. “I better get this inside.”
Together, we eased the model through the school doors and hallways to the theater. Ms. Feld was waiting in her office, her eyes bright, her multi-ringed hands clasped in anticipation.
My own hands shook as I slid the garbage bag from the model, but Kiri’s were steady, holding the foam board below. Ms. Feld and Kiri stared down at the model.
“Sheyda,” Kiri breathed. “It’s fantastic.”
I set the model on Ms. Feld’s desk, and Kiri and Ms. Feld bent over it, examining the details. “See, the entire set sits on a rotating base,” I explained. “One side is the world of Romeo and Juliet’s past. The other side is their future. When it’s time for a transition from past to future, the stagehands rotate the set like one big revolving secret door.”
On the future side, there was a backdrop of sleek furniture, the suspended spiral staircase, and a city sky speckled with droids and hovercrafts. The past side had the balconies and old-fashioned homes of fourteenth-century Verona, Italy.
Ms. Feld bowed her head toward me. “Brava! I won’t jinx it by saying it’s a shoo-in, but I predict an acceptance and a scholarship.”
I blushed with pride and relief. “Thanks. I just hate that I can’t take the model to NYU right now. How am I going to keep it safe all day at school?”
Ms. Feld waved a hand over the model. “Leave it to me. The model will be fine in my office. I’ll lock the door if I step out.”
“Okay,” I said.
The bell rang, and Kiri and I grabbed our bags to
go find Phoebe and Val. But I kept glancing at the model, not wanting to leave it, until Ms. Feld laughed and shooed me away.
Even with Kiri’s encouragement, I left the theater reluctantly, knowing I’d still worry until my model was safe at the NYU admissions office. It was going to be a long day.
* * *
“Sheyda Nazari.”
I jerked my head off my desk at the sound of my name, my pulse racing. I’d been trying to pay attention to Mrs. Milano’s history lecture, but it was seventh period, the room was as warm as a toaster, and I was exhausted. Now, I tried to look as alert as possible.
“You’ve been asked to report to the office.”
“Oh.” I gulped, scrambling to grab my books as I glanced at the clock. There were only ten minutes left of school. This couldn’t be good. I hurried out of the room and down the hallway, thinking about my math test, with its bright red D, sitting heavily in my schoolbag. That had to be what this was about. Mr. Quinten had handed the test back to me in first period with a disappointed shake of his head, and now he’d probably called Mom and Dad to tell them the news. As if worrying about how my model was doing in Ms. Feld’s office wasn’t bad enough, now I had an awful grade to tell my parents about tonight, too. Stress? I had some.
When I stepped into the office, though, Mr. Quinten wasn’t anywhere in sight. Instead, the school secretary held out the office phone to me.
“Your mom’s on the line,” she said.
I frowned. I’d texted Mom before the start of seventh period to ask her to drive me down to NYU, and she’d said she’d meet me outside the school. I always turned off my cell during class, but I couldn’t remember Mom ever calling the school before.
“Mom?” I said into the phone, dread stealing over me.
“Sheyda.” Mom’s voice was tight. “Mina’s school just called. She didn’t show up for last period this afternoon, and her cell’s going straight to voicemail. I tried using the cell tracker app to find her, but she must’ve turned hers off because it’s not working. We have no idea where she is. Do you?”
“No,” I said. “She’s probably hanging out with Rehann or—” I froze, my mind suddenly flashing back to the duffel bag Mina had been toting this morning. “Wait a sec, isn’t this the weekend of Rehann’s family ski trip?”
“What? I—I suppose so, but you don’t think Mina would—”
“Mom. Mina had her duffel bag when she left this morning and her ski pants were in it.”
There was a gasp on the other end of the line, and then, “I have to go. Right now. I’m heading to Rehann’s house. You go straight to Doughlicious after school. Wait there until I call.”
“But, Mom. What about—”
My application, I thought as the line went dead. The final bell rang at the same moment. The anger started in my chest and flashed through my body like lightning, quick and fierce. Anger at Mina, at my parents. Why did Mina have to do this, today of all days?
I rushed out of the office, heading for the theater to get my model. I texted Kiri as I walked, asking her if she could call her mom to ask about driving me. The fact that my model was still in perfect shape when I reached Ms. Feld’s office seemed like the only plus of the day so far. I responded faintly to Ms. Feld’s wish of luck as I carefully maneuvered the model through her office door. Kids from the glee club were starting to crowd the wings of the stage for their after-school practice, and I had to duck and weave around them to keep them from knocking into the model. Val was there, too, and when she saw me with the model, she made a protective circle with her arms around me, trying to ward off anyone getting too close.
“Stay back. Precious cargo coming through,” Val warned in a voice about as scary as a mouse’s. Still, I appreciated her sweet effort.
I was holding my breath, praying I’d make it out of the school with the model intact when Kiri came rushing toward us, her face pale and frantic.
“Guys! I lost my lucky necklace,” she cried, groping at the empty space where it usually sat along her collarbone. “I had it on this morning, like always, and I didn’t even realize it was missing until a few minutes ago.” Her lip trembled. “Sheyda, you gave it to me. I have to find it.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, setting my model down on the edge of the stage to help her look for it. Val put her arm around Kiri, offering comfort, but Kiri looked so beside herself. “You said you had it this morning,” I thought out loud. “We walked into the theater with the model.” I headed for the stairs leading to the theater seats. “Let’s check the aisles.”
I bent over, searching under seats and along the edge of the dark red carpet. Val and Kiri did the same. It took a few minutes, but I finally spotted it, dangling from an armrest halfway up the aisle. “Found it!” I cried.
Kiri’s face lit up just as I heard the ominous crunch from the direction of the stage.
“Oops.” Terry, one of the glee club’s lead singers, stared down mournfully at my model, then up at me. “I didn’t see it there. I’m sorry.”
I dropped Kiri’s necklace into her palm and ran to the stage. My model was in pieces, the suspended staircase crushed, the backdrops warped. I picked it up, shaking my head in disbelief and panic.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no, no, no!”
“Oh, Sheyda.” Val was already tearing up.
Kiri peered at the model, her hand cupped over her mouth. “Let me take a look. Maybe we can fix it together—”
I spun on her, the dam breaking. “I can’t fix that!” I cried. “It’s ruined. Ruined! And—and it’s your fault!”
“Guys,” Val started, her expression pleading for peace, “come on—”
“My fault?” Kiri stared at me, stunned.
“Yes! You and that stupid necklace, and just … everything!” My eyes welled. “You faked that sprained ankle, didn’t you? So that you could stage that kiss with Cabe?”
Kiri frowned. “Are you saying that I lied? I don’t lie—”
I snorted. “No, you just act your way into getting whatever you want. And I’m sick of you speaking for me all the time. I have my own thoughts and feelings, only I never get the chance to say them before you do. And—and you’re wrong most of the time about them anyway!”
She balked. “What are you talking about? I look out for you, and you hate me for it?” Her voice was quavering, too. “What about me? How do you think I feel whenever Mom brags about you to customers? Or whenever she says stuff like, ‘You should be more like Sheyda.’” She bit her lip, all traces of her usual confidence and composure gone. “She should have had you as a daughter instead of me.”
I stared at her in shock. I’d never realized she’d felt like that before. But then my anger returned in a flash. No. I wasn’t going to let her make this all about her. Not anymore. I glared at her, tears coursing down my cheeks. “You don’t even like Cabe, do you? Not really. You only want to go to the premiere with him because you think it’ll get you an acting job.”
“I like him!” Kiri protested, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe not ‘like like,’ but I could. I don’t have to know how I feel about him right now.”
“You should know! I do!” I started pacing, fists clenched. “It’s wrong, what you’re doing! You can’t mess with his head like that. He’ll end up getting hurt, and I’m not going to just sit back and let that happen …” I wiped at my eyes, but when I glanced up at Kiri, I saw she was crying, too. Then, realization dawned on her face.
“Oh, Sheyda,” she whispered, her eyes widening. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked him?” She glanced at Val. “Did you know about this?”
Val bit her lip. “Um, I kind of suspected …”
Kiri shook her head at me. “I asked you before, and you said—”
“I know what I said, but I lied, okay? I knew you were interested in him, and I didn’t want to get in the way.” My voice shook. “I should’ve said something. I should say a lot more than I do. I know that now. But …” I heaved a sigh. “It’s too
late. And my model.” I choked back a sob. “My model’s ruined.”
I grabbed my bag and ran up the aisle.
“Sheyda!” Val called after me.
“What about your model?” Kiri cried. “Sheyda! Wait! Don’t go! Donuts!”
I nearly stopped when I heard our code word.
“Donuts!” Kiri called out again, more desperately this time.
But I was done doing what she told me to. Everything I’d been working toward was lying in a crumpled pile back there on the stage, and all I wanted to do was go home and cry until I didn’t have a single teardrop left.
The buzzing came through my dream loudly, like a pesky bumblebee. My eyes were swollen from crying. I didn’t want to open them, but the buzzing kept going. I pulled myself off the bed to peek at the clock.
Five p.m. I didn’t remember falling asleep, only stumbling into the apartment and locking myself in my bedroom before crumpling onto the bed for a good, long cry. I was sure Mrs. Seng had called my parents by now to tell them that I’d never shown up at Doughlicious, but I’d set my cell to “silent” and hadn’t checked it since I’d left school. For all I knew my parents could be driving up to Vermont to bring Mina home.
The buzzer sounded again. “Go away,” I mumbled. But when it didn’t stop, I reluctantly yanked open my bedroom door and went to the intercom in the hallway.
I pushed the button to listen, then waited. “Sheyda,” Cabe’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I know you’re in there. Please. Open the door.”
My heart bounced at his voice, but I instantly scolded it. That was all done now. Cabe and Kiri were going to be a couple. I’d have to accept it. So would my disobedient heart. “Cabe, this … isn’t a good time,” I muttered into the intercom. “I thought you were working today.”
Donut Go Breaking My Heart Page 13
