Violin music filled the air when I opened the door of the café, but it didn't sound like a recording. Large tables covered with small boxes of beads crowded the whole room; beads hung on strings along one wall, and more boxes of beads cluttered floor-to-ceiling shelves along another wall; and overgrown houseplants crowded every corner, giving the place a real earthy jungle smell. A striped orange cat came and wrapped itself around my ankles, meowing.
I looked around, but I didn't see anyone.
"Hello?" I called out. "Delivery!" I tried to sound official. Should I go out and lock the van so that my other cakes didn't get stolen? How long would it take them to melt in this heat?
The violin music stopped.
"Hello?" I called out again.
"Just a minute," a deep voice answered. A guy my age came through a swinging door hidden near some shelves. He was tall and thin—a mass of dark curly hair clouded around his pale face. He had huge brown eyes, full lips, and a big, wide nose. I suddenly felt really stupid standing there holding a cake box, even though it was my job.
"How did you know it was my birthday?" he said. "This is so sweet of you. Are you going to sing, too?"
"It's not a—This is fourteen-oh-five, right?" I looked down at his bare feet sticking out from under the frayed bottoms of his faded jeans. Curly little black hairs grew on top of his big toes. He wiggled his toes as if he knew I was staring at them. I looked up to see his deep brown eyes looking straight into me like he could read my mind.
"I'm just messing with you." His fingers brushed against mine as he took the cake box from me. "Come on, I'll show you where to go." I followed him back through the swinging door, which he held open for me. He wore a black T-shirt but it looked faded compared to his hair.
"Don't stare at my ass," he said just as I was totally staring at the way his butt fit perfectly into his jeans.
"I—I—"
"Only kidding." He laughed. We walked through a big empty room with long tables. Plants hung near the windows. A gray and white cat snoozed along the top of a faded old sofa. Paintings hung on the walls with little price tags next to them. I tried to look at anything and everything besides his butt.
"Oh, Mother dearest," he called as we entered a small 1950s-looking kitchen. "Your delicious pastries have arrived."
A woman with long gray and brown hair, wearing a peasant skirt, a fitted shirt, and several beaded necklaces, came into the room.
"You must be Katie's new girl." She squeezed my hand. "I'm Helen." She lifted the lid of the cake box and inhaled dramatically. "Isn't Katie fabulous? Her baking inspired me to do this whole little café experiment. I simply had to have an excuse to buy her cakes more than twice a year for birthdays. So voilà: the Jewel Café."
"Helen is living out all of her passions at once: confections, jewelry, and art." He put his arm around his mom. "Crazy little lady. How many cats do we have now?" He leaned down and kissed her on top of her head. In front of me! I couldn't imagine Finn doing that to Mom.
"Oh, Gideon. Stop it." She pushed him away. "Go help this girl—what's your name, dear?"
"Jory."
"Go help Jory with the other cakes."
"Yes, ma'am." He did a deep servant bow that made his mom laugh. I waited for Gideon to lead the way, but he motioned for me to go first.
"For the record, we have four cats, not forty," Helen called after us.
"It's my turn to check out your ass," he whispered. "Fair is fair."
I surprised myself by turning around and walking backward, looking him straight in the eye. I guess I figured since he was in the Super Schnozz club, he could handle my nose. Or maybe I wanted to look into those big eyes of his. He was so bold—so different from other guys. Even older guys like Zane Zimmerman.
"Watch out for the—"
I bumped into the edge of a table in the front room, jabbing my hip with a sharp blast of pain. A box of beads fell and clattered onto the hardwood floor, rolling in every direction.
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry." I got down on my knees to scoop the little heart-shaped beads back into the bin. Gideon crawled around with me.
"No apologies necessary. You've made a boring morning quite interesting." He dropped a few beads into my hand. "And you have a great ass."
I sat on the floor and just looked at him. Amazed. Did he actually expect me to say something? Megan would've given him the you're-sexually-harassing-me evil eye. Hannah would have giggled, batted her eyelashes, and said, Thanks, you too. I just sat there. On my butt. Hiding it.
"That was what we guys call a compliment," he said.
My cheeks felt as warm as fresh-baked cherry pie. "I better go get those other cakes."
We each carried another cake back into the kitchen. His mom had left to go organize something out back, and Gideon leaned against the kitchen sink. "You go to Reno?"
"About to start senior year." I tilted my head up and down like one of the World Cup bobbleheads Finn had collected back in fourth grade.
"Thought so." He kept looking right at me. "You hang out with Megan Moore. Pretty girl. Smart as hell. A little—"
"Intimidating?"
Gideon did a cute little shrug thing.
I'd had this conversation before. He obviously had a huge crush on Megan. Probably wanted to use me to get closer to her. No guy ever asked Megan to do anything without checking with me or Hannah to make sure she wouldn't cause a ginormous scene, like she had the time Jonah Swenson asked her to homecoming in sophomore year (she had thought it was a prank).
"So, how do you know Megan?"
"I 'transferred' to Reno High a few weeks ago." He made air quotes around the word transferred. "After a little 'incident.'" Air quotes. "With the school paper at McQueen."
"You're the guy who hijacked the senior quotes and made fun of everyone?"
"I like to think I made everything accurate."
"They kicked you out for that?"
"I like to think that my talents could be better used elsewhere."
I smiled at him for a few seconds before remembering my delivery van and the flowers wilting in the heat. "I gotta go. More deliveries and stuff."
"I will await next Wednesday with bated breath, my lady." He bowed and kissed my hand. "Nice meeting you, Jory."
I looked down at his feet and mumbled, "Yeah."
His lips felt soft on my hand. But what a weirdo!
"Interesting foot fetish thing you've got going on," he said.
Chapter Seven
WOOSTER GUYS AND GREASY FRIES
I set the tray of miniature tiered wedding cakes in front of the taste-testing couple. Groom Guy chose the chocolate buttercream, tenderly feeding it to Beloved Bride as she made noises like on late-night premium cable.
I stammered something about letting them sample the other flavors in private and escaped to the kitchen to call Megan again. I'd left messages all afternoon about the Rodeo Carnival—we'd gone together every year since ninth grade, when Hannah had gotten her back brace off and could ride roller coasters again.
"Please pick up."
Megan answered just as the couple started kissing each other's frosted fingertips.
"Uh. Yeah. Rodeo C-carnival," I stammered, not really hearing Megan until she said Tyler's name, something about a movie and just the two of them.
"But—tradition." Engaged Couple morphed into Tyler and Megan look-alikes, groping the cakes, each other. I saw it: first a movie, then senior prom, followed by cake testing and a summer wedding. Sad, virginal me would deliver and set up the cake.
"Tyler and I have to see it tonight. It's a legal thriller and the main character totally looks like Barnes!" Barnes? I snapped out of my miserable fantasy of Megan and Tyler's wedding. Groom Guy faked a cake smash in the face but then popped the sample into his own mouth, making Beloved Bride giggle until her face turned pink like the frosting roses. Megan rambled on about Tyler and lawyers or something.
"Fine. Go to the movie." I snapped my phone shut, forced a suga
ry smile, and went out to check on the happiest couple on earth (until Tyler and Megan usurped the title).
Three hours later, overcompensating, cheerful Hannah and mopey me walked around the Rodeo Carnival. Hard rock blasted through the air, along with the rattle of the rickety carnival roller coaster and its shrieking riders. I did not want to be at the stupid Rodeo Carnival. I wanted to be at home, suffering. Megan knows how much I like Tyler! How could she let him take her to the movies? On a real date! Wasn't that like one of the unbreakable rules of friendship?
Traitor!
"You're thinking about it," Hannah said. "I can tell by the way you've scrunched up your nose."
The last thing I need: a major nose-highlighting quirk whenever I freak out. I should just go live in a convent with a bunch of nuns. I already have the chastity thing down.
"I don't know why you aren't mad. You're the one who started the tradition, so she's completely letting you down too," I said.
Hannah took a deep breath, straightening her spine. "Sure I'm a little disappointed—" A frown flickered across her face. "Okay, more than a little, but Jory, we've got to try to live in the moment. And tonight we're here to find us some real live cowboys!" Hannah's gaze followed an older guy built solid as a stallion. "Or cowmen."
"This is not a moment I want to live in." I watched a tattoo-covered carny ogle Hannah's yoga-enhanced curves, eyes roaming up her frilly cowgirl blouse and down her tight Wrangler's. I'd dressed like Hannah's city cousin: flouncy mini, layered tees, and vintage cupcake-pattern Vans. I had bought them with my first paycheck and saved the rest for el nose job. With a couple of hours of overtime, and minus taxes and Vans, I'd saved $314.65. In only one week!
Then again, what was the point if Tyler was falling for Megan? Right at this moment, Megan was probably whispering big words from her SAT prep course to her date, getting him all hot and horny: perspicacious, volition, antediluvian, sagacious, turncoat, tramp.
"I think you need some cotton candy." Hannah adjusted her cowboy hat and headed toward the concession stand. We stood in line behind a group of boys having a burping contest. Tyler would never act so crude! Stop. Don't think about him.
But why couldn't he like me?
Of course he likes Megan. Not only does she share his lawyerly ambition, she'd suddenly grown into the girl every college puts on the cover of its brochure: gleaming smile, shoulder-length dark hair, big blue eyes, no-nonsense style, and the cutest little perky nose. She and Tyler shared the same level of attractiveness. They matched, the way movie-star couples looked good together. If Tyler took me out, people would probably say that I must be really sweet, or, worse, that I must do something really sweet.
Hannah handed me a towering fluff ball of pink cotton candy. I pinched off an airy chunk and let it melt in my mouth to take away the salty taste of the tears I'd choked back.
"You're so cute!" Hannah swiped at a strand of cotton candy stuck on my cheek.
Cute! That's all anyone says about my looks. I'm cute the way those creepy Cabbage Patch dolls are cute, the way those little hairy trolls are cute. The way scruffy old dogs are cute, the way a newborn baby—all smooshed-looking and red—is cute. Even a kid who has just smeared grape jelly all over his face gets called cute. I don't want to be cute. I want to be beautiful. Or gorgeous, ravishing, exquisite, captivating, alluring, resplendent, radiant, or pulchritudinous.
Oh, God, Jory. How sad is it that you've looked up synonyms for beautiful in a thesaurus? And that's what you're thinking about at the Rodeo Carnival. I scanned the crowd for gorgeous cowboys but saw only whiny kids yanking on their parents' arms, begging for stuff.
"Oh, I love that ride!" Hannah pointed to a swaying pirate ship. "And look." She nodded to a group of guys wearing shorts and matching red Wooster High football shirts.
"They're not exactly cowboys, Han."
"They're the Wooster Colts." Hannah walked ahead of me. "Cowboys ride horses. Close enough."
"I don't know." The smell of hamburgers, gasoline fumes, cigarette smoke, and greasy fries mixed with all the loud music, bells, whistles, and screaming made my head ache. I wanted to go home, hide under my covers, and pretend I had a better life.
"Come on." Hannah grinned her dentist-for-a-daddy smile. "You need to meet someone new."
"Whatever." Megan was probably trying to revise and improve upon the movie's kissing scene with her date. What if they showed up at the carnival? How humiliating. I scanned the crowd but didn't see anyone even remotely as good-looking as Tyler. Or Megan, either.
We stood in line for the pirate ship behind the Wooster guys, who kept punching one another on the arms and making jokes about barfing. When they went to board the last row, Hannah pulled me over behind them.
"Mind if we join y'all?" She tilted her cowboy hat, acting like we were in southern Texas, not the Biggest Little City in northern Nevada.
"You can sit by me, little gal," a gorgeous Hispanic guy said.
Hannah winked at me as I squeezed between two big guys in the middle. The ride clanked and clunked ominously. Would Tyler even feel sad if I plummeted to my death? Or would he bring Megan to my funeral? Everyone would talk about how good they looked together.
"You know, she died a virgin," people would whisper. "It was the nose." Someone helpful would add, "She's in a better place." They'd all agree.
I tightened my grip on the safety bar.
"You from around here?" a guy in a baseball cap asked.
"Yup."
The other guy nodded toward Hannah. "So what's with the cowgirl getup?"
I shrugged.
"Jose's going to be disappointed," Baseball Cap said. "There goes his rodeo/ranch/cowgirl/horse fantasy." The other guy laughed and reached over my head to hit his friend on the arm. Major wafting pit odor.
Baseball Cap put his huge freckled hands on the bar next to mine. "Inside joke. Sorry."
The ship started swinging back and forth slowly, higher and higher. At first I loved the fluttery feeling in my stomach because it reminded me of how I felt when I saw you know who. Before. Or when that Gideon guy kissed my hand. (So bizarre!)
"Raise your arms!" Baseball Cap lifted his arms high. The dropping force of the ship pressed my face into his stinky, wet armpits. Again the ship went higher. Again the arms rose. Hannah giggled, but I tried to focus on the stars in the sky. I imagined smelling cold, empty air, drifting weightless into outer space. Just when I didn't think I could take it anymore, the ride slowed down.
"You okay?" Baseball Cap asked. "You look a little peaked."
"Peaked?" The other guy laughed.
"It's something my mom says."
"Oh, little Tommy looks peaked."
"Don't call me that." Tommy smacked the guy on the arm. He looked back at me. "Let me buy you a soda or something. Maybe it'll settle your stomach."
He may have been deodorant challenged, but he seemed like a nice-enough guy, and an icy soda sounded good.
"Nurse Tommy knows how to settle a wee little tummy," the other guy said in a baby voice.
Tommy cuffed the guy in the head. "I'm trying to impress the lady," he said. "Forgive my idiot friend." He put his hand out to me. "Nice to meet you, I'm Tom. And the idiot is Luis."
"Jory."
He shook my hand with a strong, firm, but not bone-crushing grip. He had gazillions of brownish freckles on his pale arms, but he also had impressive muscles on those arms, and green eyes in the middle of the gazillions of freckles on his face, as well as an ordinary, proportional nose. "Let me guess." He bit his lower lip and looked me up and down, nodding. "Reno High."
"Yeah." I looked at his red and white sneakers with dirty laces.
Luis jumped at the bait. "So, I guess you're spending the summer by the pool, tanning. Or maybe up at your quote-unquote 'cabin' at the Lake."
"No, I'm working."
"Some cushy job Daddy got you at his company?" Luis asked.
"I drive a delivery van." I looked at Tom for his reactio
n.
"Very unexpected." He nodded. "Let's go get that soda."
Hannah sat on José's lap sharing a cup of Idaho Spud fries while I sat between Tom and Luis sipping a cherry Coke. Tom had thought my blood sugar might be a little low after I'd explained how I'd skipped out on day 9 of the Peanut Butter Diet.
"Tilt-A-Whirl, anyone?" Hannah jumped up.
"I call the middle," Luis said.
"I'm game." José took Hannah's hand.
"I don't know." Just sitting still made me feel like I might vomit.
"We'll sit this one out," Tom said.
Did he like me or was he also feeling kind of sick? We sat there not really saying anything while I finished my soda. A good-looking cowboy walked by wearing brand-new jeans, an enormous silver belt buckle, shiny boots, and a crisp, new-looking Stetson. A group of tween girls swung around to follow him. Exactly like the gaggle of sophomores always following Finn. And Tyler.
"Those guys look so sharp," Tom said. "You ever been to the rodeo?"
"Just the carnival." I forced myself to look at Tom's face, but he looked straight ahead.
"You should go sometime. They're impressive athletes. And it won't upset your stomach." He smiled at me. "Come on. Let's walk around."
We wandered over to the midway where a bunch of kids gathered around a big guy throwing darts at balloons attached to posters. Pop. Pop. Pop. His sleazy-looking girlfriend squealed, "Win the one with the Ferrari, baby." I imagined Megan hanging all over Tyler like that.
Tom fanned his arm out like a game-show hostess. "Okay, pick your prize."
"You're kidding, right?" He actually wanted to try to win something for me?
"I haven't invested ten years of allowance money in midway games for nothing."
I glanced around at the stuffed cartoon characters, cheap-looking teddy bears, beer glasses, and raunchy posters. "That one!" I pointed at the Throw the Baseball in the Lion's Mouth game. Big stuffed snakes hung all around the booth, like a made in China jungle.
"Very unexpected," Tom said again. "The girl with cupcakes on her shoes likes snakes." He walked over and paid ten bucks for ten balls. "I have to warn you. Baseball's never been my game." He straightened his shirt, nodded at me, and threw the first ball. The ball smacked the lion's tail.
My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters Page 5
