Twleve Steps

by Veronica Bartles

  “What are we, Andi?” Dave asks. “Since you’re always so sure about the status of your relationships, this should be easy for you. What would you call us?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we’re friends?” The word tastes bitter in my mouth, and I turn away to stare out the window. But it wouldn’t be fair to pretend to have feelings I don’t.

  Dave reaches across the seat and takes my hand, squeezing it quickly before releasing it again with a sigh. “So, buddy, should we call Emily and Summer so they can meet us for dinner, or are you comfortable with the lie you told?”

  “What?” I turn to look at him and my heart skips a beat when he flashes that dimpled grin. I wasn’t lying. I do want to be just friends with Dave. I … Oh.

  “We never even made plans to go out tonight, did we?” I ask. “You knew I didn’t have a clue, and you let me babble like an idiot.”

  He laughs. “I thought you’d appreciate a reason not to ride home with that guy. Especially since you’re still lusting after him, and he’s stringing you along. I was trying to give you an opportunity to cut the strings; I didn’t expect you to make up some elaborate story. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you’re supposed to keep things vague when you’re lying through your teeth?”

  I shake my head. “I should have left the lying to the expert.”

  “Nah.” Dave grins. “You’re pretty good at it. Natural talent and all.”

  “And here I was, feeling like a terrible person because I thought you, Emily and Summer made plans while I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Yeah, I noticed your distraction at lunch.” He frowns. “You know, for someone who doesn’t mean anything to you, Jarod sure takes up a lot of your attention.”

  I blush. “Is it really that obvious?” No one else ever sees through my act, but it’s almost like Dave can read my mind.

  “It’s only obvious if you know what to watch for.” He smirks. “What can I say? I notice.”

  A heavy silence hangs in the air between us, and I desperately want to fill it, but I don’t know what to say. I clear my throat, preparing to apologize, but before I can speak, Dave flips on the radio and tosses me his cell phone.

  “You want to call Emily and Summer? Tell them to meet us at the Spaghetti Bowl in fifteen minutes. We can skip the movie, but if we don’t get your friends to meet us for dinner, or at least dessert, you’re going to crack when Jarod asks you about it later. We might as well avoid the drama now.”

  I grin and punch in Summer’s number. Not that I really need an alibi. Jarod won’t bother to ask about our night, and it’s not like I can’t keep a secret. But things will definitely be less awkward with Dave if I have my friends along for backup.

  I can worry about defining our relationship later.

  ***

  Emily hands her menu to the waitress and then bounces excitedly in her seat. “You have to see the dress I got,” she squeals, pulling a large shopping bag from under the table. She drapes a handful of royal blue satin across her arm and grins. “Isn’t this the most gorgeous color you’ve ever seen? And wait ‘til you see the whole dress. I look amazing. Matthew will totally flip.”

  She starts to pull the dress out of the bag, but Summer stops her. “There’s no room for a fashion show in the Spaghetti Bowl, Em.”

  Emily smiles sheepishly and tucks her dress back into the bag. “You’re right. It may have spaghetti straps, but I’d hate to get sauce on that thing.”

  Dave groans and tosses a breadstick across the table. “That was terrible.”

  “You only wish you could be this awesome,” Emily says. She slides her bag back under the table and grins. “Summer and I convinced the guys they should go in together to rent a limo. You guys want to join us?”

  “Actually,” Dave says, “I’ve already got plans. Sorry.” He glances at me and then digs into the plate of spaghetti the waitress sets in front of him.

  I smile and attack my plate of fettuccini. I wonder what fabulous plans he has up his sleeve.

  ***

  “Do you have a date for prom yet?” Nick grins at me with a bashful, puppy dog look on his face and leans against my locker.

  I push him out of the way so I can grab my books. “I’m skipping prom. And you can quit the puppy dog pout. It doesn’t work on me, remember?”

  I thought Dave and I were going together, but when I asked him about our prom plans last night, he said he was going with a group of his friends.

  He didn’t even invite me to join them.

  “You can’t skip it,” Nick says, falling into step beside me as I walk away. “This is supposed to be the best night of our lives. You don’t want to go through the rest of your life wondering about what you missed out on, do you?”

  “I don’t need to wonder. I’ve already been there and done that. Three times.”

  “You’re worried about finding the perfect date, right?” He grins and slings one arm across my shoulders. “Well, today is your lucky day, because I don’t have a date yet either. We can go together, and we’ll be the hottest couple there for the second year in a row.”

  Nick and I do look good together. But that’s not the point.

  “I’m not doing it this year. All that time and money spent on hair and makeup and a dress, and all you have to show for it is a cheesy, awkward picture with a date you probably won’t even be talking to by this time next year. No thanks.”

  Nick leans against a bank of lockers and smiles, stretching casually so that he can flex his muscles without being all obvious about it. His tight t-shirt stretches across his stomach, highlighting perfect, washboard abs that totally make me want to reach out and touch him. I know that ploy too, but that doesn’t make it any less delicious.

  “Which is why you should go with me. We had fun last year, and here we are. Talking.”

  I laugh. “Tempting. But my answer’s still no.”

  “So is this an objection to the idea of prom itself, as in the actual dance, or are you trying to let me down easy so you can keep your options open in case someone better comes along?”

  “No waiting for a better offer or any other offer. I’m just not doing prom this year.”

  Nick flexes his muscles again with another not-so-casual stretch. “Then what are we doing instead? And does this mean I don’t have to rent a tux and a limo?”

  “What about bowling? Tux is optional, but I want a limo.” I can have fun without Dave.

  “It’s a date.” Nick smiles and saunters away.

  “Andi!” Emily squeals, running up and practically tackling me with a massive hug. “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Nick were getting together again?” She steps back and bounces a few times. “You guys are so freaking cute. Now we can triple date with Summer and Josh.” She gasps. “We have to go shopping after school today. Summer and I saw the perfect prom dress for you when we were picking up our own dresses last week, and it’s still on sale.”

  “Wow. What did I miss?” Summer asks, hurrying to catch up with us.

  Emily bubbles over about Nick and me again, and I literally have to put my hand over her mouth to get her to shut up. “We’re going bowling,” I say. “No prom.”

  Emily waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Bowling is just the appetizer. That’s where it all begins. You’ll go out tonight, and then you’ll hang out a few times over spring break. You’re totally going to change your mind about prom, so don’t leave your dress shopping for the last minute. That’s when desperate girls get stuck with the most disgusting things.” She shudders. “We’re already cutting it close. We only have two more weeks.”

  I laugh and grab Emily’s arm, steering her outside and through the parking lot to Summer’s car. “I hate to break it to ya, Em, but I can’t go shopping today. You’re dropping me off at rehearsal, remember? And I’m not bowling with Nick tonight. I probably won’t even see him again until after spring break. We’re going bowling on prom night. Instead of the dance. So I don’t need a dress, even
if it is on sale.”

  I groan and roll over, knocking my alarm clock to the floor, and pulling my blankets up over my head. Spring break is supposed to be for sleeping in and then staying up late to party. But we’ve had extra choreography rehearsals for Cinderella every night this week, and now Curtis expects us to be at the theater by nine o’clock in the morning on the last Saturday of spring break for a full-day practice session. Because Duke Dipweed still can’t get the choreography right.

  I must have been insane to let Dave and Jarod talk me into this.

  I hear my bedroom door creak open, and I pull the blankets tighter, snuggling down into my mattress. “Leave me alone,” I mutter. “I’m exhausted, and my feet hurt. They can rehearse without me.”

  I shouldn’t have let Laina see my rehearsal schedule. Barbie dolls don’t get tired, and Miss Perfect’s still determined to turn me into a younger version of herself.

  I wrap myself up like a blanket burrito, resisting the sharp tug from my enemy. Luckily, I’m stronger than Laina, even when I’m sleep-deprived. She’ll give up soon, and then I can rest in peace.

  Eventually, the pulling stops, and I hear retreating footsteps. But when I relax, someone grabs me by the waist and lifts me out of bed, blanket cocoon and all.

  “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” Dave says. “We’re already running late, and you don’t want to keep Prince Charming waiting, do you?”

  There’s a hint of a challenge in his voice, but by the time I manage to pull the blankets away from my face to look at him, there’s no trace of bitterness in his eyes. Just the mischievous twinkle I’ve missed so much lately.

  He tightens his hold on me for a quick hug, and then he drops me on my butt in the middle of my bedroom floor, yanking my blankets away in one quick motion, like that cool magician trick where they pull a tablecloth off a table and leave all the dishes in place.

  Except yanking the warm blankets off a sleepy girl is so much less cool.

  Dave tosses them onto my bed, and then he turns to look at me. I blush as his eyes slowly travel the length of my body, and I wish I’d chosen my fuzzy, flannel pajamas to sleep in last night, instead of my sports bra and a pair of boxers.

  I jump up and glare at him, hands on my hips. “Well?” I ask. “Are you at least going to let me get dressed, or do I have to go to rehearsal in this?”

  Dave smirks. “I like what you’re wearing right now, but we wouldn’t want to give poor Prince Charming a heart attack, now would we?” He laughs. “You have three minutes to get dressed, or I’m coming back in here. And I will carry you out of the house in that lovely outfit, if I have to. So don’t even think about going back to bed.” He grabs the hair brush from my nightstand and tosses it to me. “And you might want to do something with your hair.”

  A quick glance in the mirror confirms that I’m rocking a total bed head. My hair is completely mashed flat on one side and sticking out at all angles on the other. Perfect.

  “Well, if you’re only going to give me three minutes, then get out, because natural beauty like mine usually takes at least three and a half.” I grab my pillow from the floor and hurl it at his retreating back.

  As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, I race to the closet and grab my hot pink sweats and a grey t-shirt that says “I’m Not Really Wicked, I Just Act That Way” across the front in large, shiny, hot pink letters. I pull my clothes on and grab clean socks out of my drawer. Then, I dig my grey sneakers out of my closet and toss them, with my socks, the hair brush, and a couple of hairbands, into a bag. Dropping the bag on my bed on the way past, I run to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

  I still have foam all over my lips and a toothbrush sticking out of my mouth when the bathroom door swings open.

  “Dave!” I spit and quickly rinse my mouth. “Oh, my gorgonzola, I’m in the bathroom! Hello? Boundaries, please.”

  He arches one eyebrow. “If you weren’t decent, you would have locked the door. I’ve seen teeth before. Yours aren’t that shocking.” He grabs me around the waist and tosses me over his shoulder, carrying me out of the bathroom and through my bedroom. “You’ve had three minutes. Time’s up,” he says.

  “Wait! My shoes.” I point to the bag on the end of my bed and kick my feet. He grabs it and carries me down the hall. Laina sits in the living room, laughing at me, and she doesn’t lift a finger to help as Dave carries me outside. I shiver as soon as we hit the cool morning air. “Seriously? I don’t even get to grab my coat?”

  Dave sighs and turns back toward the house.

  Laina meets us at the door with my jacket in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other. “Thanks, traitor,” I say, snatching them both from her. “I’m so getting even for this.”

  She laughs. “I guess you shouldn’t have stayed up so late talking to Nick last night. You knew you had play practice this morning.”

  She is so dead to me.

  I stuff my feet into my socks and sneakers as Dave pulls away from the house. Then, I brush my hair and twist it up into a neat bun.

  When my stomach grumbles, I remember the breakfast burrito and take a giant bite. Laina managed to put together the perfect ratio of eggs and cheese, with just enough salsa for flavor, but not enough that it’s likely to drip and ruin my outfit. Not that the perfect burrito is enough to make me forgive her, but it’s a start. At least I won’t starve my way through the morning.

  “You went out with Nick last night?”

  I can hear the forced casualness in Dave’s voice, and I know he’s dying to pump me for more information. But I’m not about to give him the satisfaction. I smile and take another bite. After the way he barged in on me, he doesn’t deserve to hear the details. Besides, we didn’t even go out. Nick called and we talked for, like, ten minutes about our non-prom plans.

  “Must’ve been a heck of a night, if you couldn’t even manage to drag your butt out of bed this morning.” His smile is totally forced, and there’s no mistaking the angry edge to his voice.

  “So? It’s not like my social life has anything to do with you.” He doesn’t have any right to be jealous. We’re not together and if he was at all interested, he would have asked me to prom, instead of blowing me off for his friends.

  “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t have agreed to be in the play if you’re not going to take it seriously. There are a lot of people counting on you.”

  “Ugh. What’s your deal today? You know I’ve been working my butt off for this play.” I point to the clock in the dashboard. “It’s only eight thirty-five, and I know it doesn’t take twenty-five minutes to get to the theater. Especially not on a Saturday morning, when anyone with half a brain is still in bed. Is there some special reason that we need to be there so freaking early?”

  “I didn’t want to be late.”

  “As if we’ve ever been late to a single rehearsal. I bet Mrs. Mason isn’t even there yet, and we’ll have to sit in an empty parking lot until she shows up.” I take another bite of my burrito and glare at him while I chew. “I totally had time to take a shower and do my makeup. And to find something decent to wear. I didn’t even get to grab my lunch before you so rudely carried me out of the house, and now I’m going to starve to death halfway through the day.”

  “No problem. I’ll take you out.” Dave shakes his head. “And I happen to recall a certain someone explaining to me last week that she always takes her shower at night before going to bed, so that she can have extra time to sleep in. I didn’t make you miss a thing.”

  “Okay, so maybe I didn’t need to shower, but what about my makeup? What about my outfit? You didn’t even give me time to brush my hair.”

  “You brushed it in the car,” he says. “And you would have worn it in a bun anyway. You always do for rehearsals.”

  I look out the window. “I look like a total slob.”

  Dave pulls into the totally empty parking lot and into a space next to the door. He turns off the car and slides around in his seat unti
l he’s facing me. “I think you’re beautiful. Even in sweats and a t-shirt, and with no makeup.” His lips curl up into the same smug, little smirk he wore when he pulled me out of bed and dumped me on my butt. “If he needs the makeup and fancy, designer clothes to see how beautiful you are, then maybe you deserve something a little better than a charming prince.”

  “Seriously?” I shake my head. “How many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing going on between us? Jarod and I are not together. We’re friends. I have tons of friends, and I talk to at least one of them every single day. So you can drop the jealous boyfriend act. Because, guess what, Dave? You’re not my boyfriend either.”

  Mrs. Mason pulls into the parking lot, and I jump out of the car to follow her into the theater. I can hear Dave scrambling after me, but I don’t have time for jealous, wannabe boyfriends. I have an intense choreography rehearsal that’s supposed to start in less than fifteen minutes.

  ***

  By the time we break for lunch, I’m starving, and all I can think of is the delicious food I so carefully packed last night before I went to bed. A turkey, bacon and avocado sandwich, pita chips and hummus, cheese puffs, celery sticks, chocolate-covered jelly beans, a bottle of flavored water and a giant bag of Oreos … all packed neatly into the Disney Princesses lunch bag I used to take to school when I was little. And it’s still sitting on the top shelf of my refrigerator, all cold and lonely.

  Dave waves at me from backstage, but I pretend not to see him. He thinks Jarod will only notice me if I’m all perfect and beautiful, but he’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it.

  I saunter over to where Jarod is chatting with the duke and Cinderella.

  “Hey, Jar. What’s up?”

  He smiles and pulls me into a giant hug. “Hi, gorgeous.”

  Take that, Dave!