Paper or Plastic

by Vivi Barnes

  The hospital released me at ten o’clock with a list of things to watch out for. Though they clearly thought I was fine, my mother pretty much jailed me at home to “recoup.” I just thought she wanted to keep me close, since for a while she thought I had died. She was uncomfortably attentive, bringing me chicken noodle soup—it wasn’t like I had a cold—and brushing my hair for some reason. The upside was that I could read and watch TV without any interruptions. Rory was even nice and thought of someone other than herself for once. Well, at least one time, when she unloaded the dishwasher for me. But that was the highest degree of unselfishness for her. I spent a lot of time hanging out with Grandma in her room—so much so that my parents let the Willy Wonka nurse take time off.

  Syd and Court were in tears when they heard what happened at SmartMart. They came over to the house as soon as I got home and cried and apologized—for what, I didn’t know, and I didn’t think they did either. But it was a nice reunion, anyway, and very much like the old days, sitting outside on the patio and talking about relationship things.

  “Have you been hanging out with Cole or Ryan?” I asked Syd. She had been dead set on going out with one of the obnoxious twins as soon as they came back to town, but she hadn’t said anything much about them lately.

  She gave me a look that clearly said What the hell? “Those guys are jerks. Why would I want to hang out with either of them?”

  Ah, translated: they were jerks to her. But at least she finally realized they weren’t good enough for her. “Need me to kick their asses for you?” I asked at the same time that Court said about the same thing.

  “No. I’m over them.”

  “You’ll find someone,” Court piped up. “Someone who deserves you.”

  Syd winked at her. “Hey, I’m good being single. Being single leaves me free to mingle.” She waggled her eyebrows, making Court and me laugh.

  Noah ignored my mother’s warning that I needed rest when he showed up the second day with flowers—yellow roses, which were beautiful—and plenty of kisses, which I loved most. I think he made her uncomfortable, which was awesome. I introduced him to my grandma, too. She loved meeting him, though I knew her memory of him would last until he walked out the door. I’d remind her a thousand times if that’s what it took, though.

  Noah refused to let Miller tell anyone what happened two years ago. When I asked him about it, he said, “It’s between me and him, and it’s been a long time now. Why would I throw my best friend under the bus?”

  Some best friend, I wanted to say, but I didn’t say anything. If Noah wanted to keep quiet, I couldn’t force him, and deep down I understood where Miller was coming from. After all, I let Noah take the blame for that awful customer with Mr. Hanson. I had no room to talk, even though the repercussions of what happened with Miller were worse. And though a part of me still had hope that Miller would tell Bryce, maybe Noah was right. Maybe it wouldn’t help at all for Miller to own up to it. After two years of holding a grudge, I doubted it would be easy for Bryce to redirect his anger to someone else.

  Bryce finally stopped by a couple days later, full of apologies, but he hadn’t put everything behind him like I’d hoped.

  “I still can’t believe you’re dating that guy,” Bryce said as we sat by the pool.

  It took everything in me not to shove him into the water. How long was he going to keep this stupid grudge? “It happened two years ago,” I said. “You treated Noah like shit for two years, and to be honest, if you want to continue acting like that then we can’t be friends.”

  He gaped at me. I continued. “Noah and I are dating. Serious dating. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak. You’ve been my best friend for years. But if you can’t accept him, then I can’t accept you.”

  Bryce stared out over the pool for a long time without speaking. I sipped my Diet Coke and waited. I hated giving him an ultimatum like that. Bryce was like my brother, and it killed me to think of not having him in my life. Whatever he decided I’d have to stick to, though. There was no way I could let Noah keep going through hell, whether Miller told the truth or not. I was determined to protect him from Bryce, Holly, and anyone else who tried to keep making his life a living hell.

  “Fine. I’ll accept that you like him,” he said gruffly. “Maybe he has changed. But don’t expect me to double-date with you guys anytime soon.”

  My heart ached to hear those words. Really, it didn’t sound too much better than things were now, but I knew it was the best he could do right now. “Okay.” Maybe Bryce would get that baseball scholarship he wanted so bad and would put all this behind him. I had to hope.

  SmartMart was a mess. It would take a couple months to rebuild before the store could open again, which meant I was out of a job. I was fine with that, since my dad convinced my mother to help me out with the car. It wasn’t like I got fired or quit. Half the damn store was gone. I wanted to take Noah with me on the car-shopping trip, but my dad told me not to push my luck. All in all, I was thrilled with the Honda Civic they bought me. I got to pick my color—red—which made my mother frown. “It’s a car for safety, not for hot-rodding,” she said grumpily. That made all of us laugh. Hot-rodding in a Civic.

  Mr. Hanson offered me a part-time job whenever the store reopened. It was on the tip of my tongue to politely decline. I had my car and my parents would pay insurance and gas until I went to college. And I played softball, though that wasn’t until spring and Mr. Hanson said he’d work with my schedule. But then I thought about Noah working his ass off for college. Not a bad idea for me, too, since I didn’t want to live in my parents’ pockets forever. So I accepted.

  What could I say? I was on a high. I could handle it all—Roxanne, crazy customers, and Ruthie. I did ask to be relieved from bathroom duty, which he agreed to. Noah even owned up to our relationship. Mr. Hanson simply shrugged and said we were teens and he couldn’t expect much else, so we took that as a good sign. Roxanne would be shocked.

  I looked forward to telling her.

  The rest of my summer until I had to leave for my weeklong softball camp revolved around Noah, and since he was only working at Cooper’s three nights a week, we had plenty of time together. My mother and even my dad commented on occasion that it was unhealthy how much time I was spending with him, but I ignored them.

  I got to meet another friend of Noah’s, Steve, who apparently was a math genius as well as a master at gaming. Steve was friendly and very funny—the kind of guy who cracked jokes with a totally straight face so you weren’t sure if he was kidding or not. We got along great.

  I told Noah I didn’t want to hang out with Miller—I still had a bad taste in my mouth for what he’d done. But it seemed to hurt Noah’s feelings that I couldn’t stand one of his friends, so I agreed to go to a movie with a large group of friends on both sides—minus Bryce, of course. Miller and I said hello but that was pretty much it. I talked to Steve most of the time. I noticed Syd had her eye on him, too. By the end of the night, they’d pretty much tuned out everyone else but each other. A couple days later they were meeting up for pizza. I guess Syd was rethinking the whole single/mingle thing.

  Noah’s mom was always happy to see me when I’d come over. Noah said she was just glad he was dating “like a normal kid.” She asked him to keep his door open when we were in his room, though, to his total embarrassment. Guess she didn’t trust us that much.

  The time I wasn’t with Noah and my friends I was at home, reading magazines to my grandma or talking to her about this or that. Most days she’d stare out the window, talking very rarely. She didn’t even want to go outside for walks. Whatever happened with that stupid pneumonia did a number on her, and she wasn’t the same. I still watched shows with her and talked with her, and on her best days she’d talk back, even exchanging sarcastic comments with me like old times.

  I wished I could bottle up those moments and save them for the days when she looked at me like she wasn’t sure who I was.

  O
ne unexpected side effect of Grandma’s decline was that my mother and I spent more time together. I had a feeling my dad was trying to convince her to spend more time with me, especially with Grandma so distant these days. He’d give her one of those looks that parents did when they thought their kids weren’t looking, the expression that plainly said, This is your chance. So when he asked me what I was doing and I said probably just working on my summer math, out came the look and suddenly my mother would get the urge to play Spades with me.

  The funniest thing was that I didn’t mind. I didn’t know if it was because I was craving attention, or because I actually appreciated that she was making any effort at all that didn’t involve pointless shopping trips. She’d even ask me about softball, what I hoped to get out of softball camp, stuff like that. I gave her basic answers, since I still got the feeling she didn’t understand it. She did ask what I planned to do in the future but I gave her a vague response about just focusing on high school right now. Maybe someday I could tell her, but I didn’t want to set our relationship back again. I liked that she was trying.

  Sometimes we played cards alone, and sometimes we’d get Grandma to join us. Those times were my favorite, especially when Grandma was having a “good” day, laughing and poking fun at me like the old days. I could almost pretend like things were back to normal—well, a normal that included a mother who actually wanted to be around me.

  During a game one day, Mom asked if I regretted taking that lipstick two months ago.

  “Of course I do,” I told her.

  “Really?”

  She tilted her head, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she winked at my grandma. Oh, I got it. If I hadn’t taken the lipstick, I wouldn’t have ended up working at SmartMart, and more than likely Noah would’ve remained the shy, reclusive kid at school who I never would have noticed.

  Grandma laid a spade on top of mine as Mom asked, “So what’ll happen when you return to school?”

  I sighed. “Well, let’s just say I don’t think my prospects look good for Homecoming Queen.”

  Honestly, I didn’t care about me—it was Noah I worried about. He might have been better off being left alone. But I’d do everything I could to keep them from hurting him. Maybe Bryce would come around and try to get to know Noah. And maybe eventually his friend Miller would confess to telling on Bryce so long ago and everyone could just let it go.

  Grandma touched my knee with her thin hand. “Don’t forget, you’re not in a cage. You’re free to be yourself, even if it means being alone.”

  I smiled at her. “I won’t be alone, Grandma. I’ll have my boyfriend, Noah.” I always said “boyfriend” to clue her in when I mentioned Noah. It seemed to help, at least as far as I was concerned.

  She nodded. “Ah, and if he can’t take the pressure? You will still need to be strong for yourself. Not for anyone else.”

  Her words didn’t bother me. She didn’t know Noah. He’d made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. His text later confirmed it for me.

  Hey.

  Hey.

  I love you.

  I love you too.

  I smiled. Those words were all I needed. He and I could get through this next year. We’d handle any of the crap people threw at us.

  Together.

  Acknowledgments

  I will forever acknowledge first how important my wonderful children are to this process. Whether it’s bouncing story ideas around, making me laugh, dealing with my cray-cray self when I’m on a deadline, or helping me come up with awesome names (thank you, AJ, for SmartMart!), their support has been extraordinary. Jack, AJ, and Elaine, I love you all the way to the moon and back.

  To Agent P—Pam van Hylckama Vlieg—thank you for tirelessly cheerleading all my stories. You put your go-get-’em skillz to work like nobody’s business, and I greatly appreciate it!

  Eternal gratitude to Stacy Abrams for lifting the rug under which I try to sweep everything and helping me identify holes. You are an amazing editor, and I’m grateful for you “getting” my vision, even if I take issue with the fact that you haven’t watched enough Disney movies. One day I shall buy you a $1.50 cup of tea just to laugh as you roll your eyes. And to Tara Quigley, my butt-chair pal, you’re the sweetest savvy editor. Thank you for working on this project and appreciating my goofy sense of humor.

  Heather Riccio, I adore the fabulousness that is you. You always go above and beyond the normal call of a publicist to make your clients feel special. Sometimes I wonder if you even sleep.

  My beautiful book covers have been more than I could ever imagine, and for that I have Kelley York to thank. You are ridiculously talented, and I’m grateful that you once again agreed to be my cover designer. And to the Entangled and Macmillan teams, thank you for again making my dreams come true and helping me see Paper or Plastic to fruition.

  Thank you to the early readers of this book—my mother, Pat Harris (playwright extraordinaire); Peggy Jackson (for the many ideas generated from our nightly walks to Starbucks); Lindsey Jackson (for helping me keep it real); Leslie Fillip (you’re like a boss—and I still can’t get it right!); Marlana Antifit (talented and fearless leader); Jen Woods (you are so fetch); and Patricia Ivanushka Taylor (Puma? Puma!).

  To my fellow ChicksTracey Smith, Eva Griffin, and Peggy Jackson—you support me, inspire me, and a-MUSE me, and I love you all!

  I have enormous appreciation and respect for my talented critique partners who saw me through all my crazy—Kristen Lippert-Martin, Tara Kelly, Julie Bourbeau, Marlana Antifit, Peggy Jackson, Joe Iriarte, Dennis Cooper, Christy Koehnlein, Rina Heisel, Stephanie Spier, Jennye Kamin, Tori Kelley, and Lauren Vandivier. Special thanks to the OWLS for plenty of laughter and good times during our meetings and SCBWI conferences.

  The past couple of years would’ve been much more challenging without the support of the fantastic writers who make up OneFour KidLit. I love you all! And thank you to the Florida SCBWI organization—Linda, Curtis, and Gaby, you have helped make this group feel like “home” to me. And to all the bloggers, librarians, booksellers, and readers, you keep writers’ dreams alive. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.

  Enormous gratitude to all those who shared their expertise, especially Jeanette Pulgarin and Trey Tatum. And to my fellow YA Chicks Kickin’ It gals, Amy Christine Parker and Christina Farley, I’d go on road trips with you guys any time!

  To Emily and Grace, you girls are special even beyond your lovely names! Thank you for being a part of this process.

  I am truly grateful to the entire Food & Beverage/Merchandise Line of Business team for making me laugh and keeping me sane during this process. You make the “day job” a true pleasure.

  And to my greatest love and best friend, David, thank you for helping me keep it real, for identifying the holes, and for your never-ending support. Our love story inspires my stories.

  About the Author

  Vivi Barnes was raised on a farm in East Texas where her theater-loving mom and cowboy dad gave her a unique perspective on life. Now living in the magic and sunshine of Orlando, Florida, she divides her time writing, working, goofing off with her husband and three kids, and avoiding dirty dishes.

  Don’t miss Vivi Barnes’s thrilling and romantic debut, OLIVIA TWISTED

  Olivia

  He tilts my chin up so my eyes meet his, his thumb brushing lightly across my lips. I close my eyes. I know Z is trouble. I know that being with him is going to get me into trouble. I don’t care.

  At least at this moment, I don’t care.

  Tossed from foster home to foster home, Olivia’s seen a lot in her sixteen years. She’s hardened, sure, though mostly just wants to fly under the radar until graduation. But her natural ability with computers catches the eye of Z, a mysterious guy at her new school. Soon, Z has brought Liv into his team of hacker elite—break into a few bank accounts, and voila, he drives a motorcycle. Follow his lead, and Liv might even be able to escape from her oppressive foster
parents. As Liv and Z grow closer, though, so does the watchful eye of Bill Sykes, Z’s boss. And he’s got bigger plans for Liv…

  Z

  I can picture Liv’s face: wide-eyed, trusting. Her smooth lips that taste like strawberry Fanta.

  It was just a kiss. That’s all. She’s just like any other girl.

  Except that she’s not.

  Thanks to Z, Olivia’s about to get twisted.

  Available now!

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