by Kasie West
“Not you, just your stomach.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wish you would’ve confided in me more. Let me help out more.”
She gives a halfhearted laugh. “More? Caymen, you did more than I had the right to ask for.”
I stare at the IV needle in her arm. It’s surrounded by purple bruising.
“The store is . . .”
“In big trouble? Yeah, I know.”
“I’m working on alternative options. Maybe an online store is the way to go. But, Caymen, this is my responsibility. Not yours. I thought I’d leave it to you at one point, but it’s not your passion, is it?”
I laugh then put my forehead on the bed beside her. “I only tried so hard because I knew how important it was to you.”
She pats my head. “You are an amazing daughter. You do a lot of things just for me, don’t you?”
“That’s what family does.”
“Caymen, if you want to meet him you have every right to.”
My eyes snap to hers. “What? Who?”
“Your father. It’s up to you. You won’t hurt me.”
I nod. I’m still not sure what I want with my dad, but it feels good to have the choice.
“So if the doll store isn’t your dream, what is?”
“College. Science major.”
“Perfect.”
“Xander’s here. In the hall.”
“I knew he’d be back. How could someone stay away from you for long? Bring him in. I have an apology to make.”
I smile. The firm grip my mother has on my hand helps me remember how strong she is. I squeeze back then step out into the hall.
“Is she okay?”
I hug Xander, nuzzling my face into his neck. “How can I feel so perfectly happy when my mom is in the hospital and the doll store is in trouble?”
“Because you know everything is going to be okay. This is like the calm after the storm. Everything has settled, and even though it left destruction in its wake, you know the worst is over.”
“Nice analogy.”
“Thanks.”
“You ready for your after-the-storm talk with my mom?”
“For some reason I’m not as confident as I was the first time I met her.”
“You’ll do fine. All moms like you, remember?”
He bends his knees, wraps his arms around my waist, and stands up, lifting me off the floor, my toes brushing the tile. “As long as her daughter loves me I can face anything.”
“Even redrum? Because after this we’re going to your house to watch The Shining.”
“Now that my future is hotels, is that really a good idea?” I can feel his smile against my cheek.
“Don’t worry, you can cover your eyes. I won’t make fun of you . . . too much.”
Acknowledgments
I never thought I could write contemporary. I’ve always loved to read it—I devour contemporary books like I eat my mom’s chocolate chip cookies. (Which, in case that simile wasn’t clear, are the best cookies in the world and have to be eaten at least three in one sitting along with two spoonfuls of the raw dough. Yes, I feel sick afterward; no, I can’t help it. So this is a very accurate comparison.) But I never dared write it. Or at least never dared show anyone my attempts at writing it. So I want to thank my friends Candice Kennington, Jenn Johansson, Natalie Whipple, and Renee Collins for telling me that contemporary is “my thing.” They encouraged me, helped me past my insecurities, and cheered me to the finish line. I love you girls.
I wouldn’t be writing at all if it weren’t for my husband, Jared, who supports me in all I do. And should I tell the world that this is his favorite book of mine? I think that embarrasses him because he is, well . . . a man. And he thinks that liking this book makes him sound slightly less manly. But him loving this book makes me love him that much more. I also have the best kids in the world—Hannah, Autumn, Abby, and Donavan. They make me laugh every day. And laughing is my favorite.
Of course, I have to thank my agent, Michelle Wolfson, for her support and mad skills. I feel lucky that I consider my agent not only the best at her job but also a great friend. And speaking of being the best at her job, I adore my editor, Sarah Landis. She is so smart and makes me seem so much smarter than I am. I’d also like to thank MaryAnn Zissimos and Alice Jerman for all their help. And along with these ladies, I’m lucky to have such an awesome team at HarperTeen. Thank you so much for all you do.
I’d like to thank all the readers of Pivot Point. Your emails and reviews made me smile on a daily basis. I really appreciate the support. I’d also like to thank the Thirteeners for getting me through this last year. You girls are awesome and so are your books.
And speaking of readers, I have some readers to thank. These readers helped me through the different stages of my journey—from the early readers who braved my very first manuscripts to the later readers who helped me revise: Stephanie Ryan, Heather Garza, Rachel DeWoody, Rachel Braithwaite, Melissa Braithwaite, Sara Raasch, Michelle Davidson-Argyle, Misti Hamel, Julie Nelson, Nicki Broby, Jenny Weech, Linda Cassidy-Lewis, Tricia Sutton, Ed Defranco, David Shireman, Jessica Lester, Gayle Taylor, Brianne Seamons, Elizabeth Minnick, Heather Hague, Brooke Shepard, and Candace Mecham. (I’m sorry if I missed anyone. I’m sure I did.)
Teachers are awesome and I had some of the best. I especially want to thank Gayle Taylor and Jana Rigby, my English teachers who saw something special in me and always encouraged me to read/write out of my comfort zone.
Finally, I feel so lucky to have an amazing family that has been nothing but supportive. My mom is the best example to me of what a strong woman is. My brothers, Jared and Spencer, and my sisters, Heather and Stephanie, have always rooted for me. Thanks, guys. And some of my favorite people in the world are my in-laws. I’m so glad I married into such a great family. Phew, that’s a lot of cool people. I’m a lucky girl.
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Chapter 1
In some part of my brain, probably the logical part that seemed to be missing at the moment, I knew I should let go and walk away, maintain some of my dignity. Instead, I gripped his waist more securely by wrapping my arms around him and pressed my cheek against his chest. Logic was definitely not ruling my brain right now. Desperation was. And even though I knew desperation wasn’t attractive, I couldn’t help myself.
He sighed, releasing some air, which allowed me to tighten my hold even more. Isn’t that how boa constrictors kill their prey? Not even this thought made me let go.
“Gia, I’m sorry.”
“Then don’t do this. And if you have to, can’t it wait two hours?”
“The fact that you said that makes me know it can’t. You only care about your friends seeing me.”
“That’s not true.” Okay, so it was kinda true. But only because of Jules. She’d infiltrated our group a year ago and ever so slowly tried to turn my best friends against me. Her latest claim was that I’d been lying about having a boyfriend for the last two months. So yes, I wanted my friends to see that I had not been lying. That it was she who was trying to divide our group in half. She who was at least one quarter evil. Not me.
That wasn’t the only reason I’d wanted Bradley to come tonight. I had really liked him before he decided to break up with me in the parking lot at prom. But now that he’d pulled out the jerk card, I just needed him to walk inside, prove that he existed, maybe punch Jules in the gut for me, and then walk out. Was that too much to ask? Plus, hello, this was my senior prom. He was really going to make me walk alone into my senior prom, where I would possibly be crowned royalty tonight?
“That’s not all I care about. . . .” My voice cracked even though I was trying not to show weakness. Well, aside from the whole clinging-to-him-like-a-static-filled-sock thing.
“It’s all you care about and you confirmed it
tonight when you saw me and the first thing you said was ‘My friends are going to die.’ Really, Gia? That’s the first thing you say when you see me after two weeks?”
My mind raced back. Was that really what I had said or was he making things up now to try to make himself feel better? He did look really good. And yes, I did want my friends to see just how good he looked. Could he blame me for that?
“And the whole way over here you were trying to plan how we were going to walk in. You told me exactly how to look at you.”
“So I’m slightly controlling. You knew that about me.”
“Slightly?”
A car pulled into the empty space across from where I was squeezing the life out of my boyfriend . . . my ex-boyfriend. A couple climbed out of the backseat. I didn’t recognize either of them.
“Gia.” Bradley pried my hands apart and stepped back. “I have to go. It’s a long drive home.”
He did at least look sincerely sorry.
I crossed my arms, finally finding a little dignity far too late. “Fine. Go.”
“You should go inside anyway. You look amazing.”
“Can you just cuss me out and walk away or something? I don’t need to think you’re sweet after all this.” He was sweet and the thought that my desperation to keep him here was about more than just my friends was battling to take over my emotions. I pushed it back. I did not want him to know he’d really hurt me.
He smiled his playful smile then raised his voice. “I never want to talk to you again. You’re a shallow, self-centered snob and you deserve to walk in there alone!”
Why did that sound so convincing? I kept up our little charade. “I hate you, jerk!”
He blew me a kiss and I smiled. I watched him until he got in the car and left. My smile slipped off my face as my stomach tightened. Guess he was assuming I’d find a ride home. Thank goodness all my friends were inside . . . waiting for me to show up with the guy I’d bragged about for the last two months. I growled, trying to turn my hurt into anger, and leaned up against the tailgate of a red truck. That’s when I caught the eye of a guy sitting in the driver’s seat of the car across from me. I quickly straightened up from my slumped position—not even a stranger got to see me looking weak—and he dropped his gaze.
What was some guy doing sitting in his car? He lifted a book and began to read. He was reading? Sitting in the parking lot at prom and reading? Then it hit me: the couple that had climbed out of the backseat. He was dropping someone off. A younger sister or brother, maybe.
I assessed him while he read. I couldn’t see much but he wasn’t bad to look at. Brown hair, olive skin. He could’ve even been tall—his head was higher than the headrest—but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t my type at all—hair a little too shaggy, on the thin side, glasses—but he’d have to do. I walked to his window. He was reading some geography book or something about the world in eighty days. I tapped on his window and he slowly looked up. It took him even longer to roll down the window.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.”
“Do you go here?” If he went to school here and I just hadn’t met him before, this wouldn’t work. Because odds were people would know him.
“What?”
“Do you go to school here?”
“No. We just moved here, but I’m finishing out the year at my old school.”
Even better. They were new to the area. “You’re here dropping off your brother?”
“Sister.”
“Perfect.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You get to be my date.”
“Uh . . .” His mouth opened but that’s all that came out.
“Do you live close? Because you can’t go in there in jeans and a T-shirt. Especially one with a telephone booth on it.”
His eyes flickered to his shirt and then back to me. “A telephone booth? Seriously?”
“Do you at least have some dark pants and a button-down shirt? Maybe a tie? A teal tie would be awesome to match me but I’m not holding my breath about that.” I tilted my head. He really didn’t look like my type. My friends would know this. “And do you happen to own contacts and some hair product?”
“I’m just going to roll up my window now.”
“No. Please.” I put my hand on top. Had I ever had a night where I felt so desperate? “My boyfriend just broke up with me. I’m sure you saw. And I really don’t want to walk into my senior prom alone. Plus my friends didn’t think he existed. Long story, but I need you to be him. Two hours. That’s all I’m asking for. Besides, you’re just sitting here anyway waiting for your sister.” Crap. His sister. Was she going to yell his name across the gym and ruin this for me? We’d just have to avoid her. Or let her in on the secret. I hadn’t decided yet. “It will be way more fun than sitting in a parking lot.”
He was still looking at me like I was crazy. I felt crazy. “You want me to pretend to be Captain America?” He pointed toward the street.
I was confused at first but then realized that’s what he was calling Bradley, whose build was on the beefy side. “They’ve never met him, so they have no idea what he looks like. Besides you’re . . .” I gestured toward him without finishing the sentence. I tried to think of a different superhero to compare him to but nothing came to mind. I wasn’t well versed in superheroes. Were there some who were on the thinner side? Spiderman? That didn’t seem like a compliment.
He just sat there, staring at me, waiting for me to finish the sentence.
“I can pay you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure there are services for that. Maybe you can try calling 1-800-HOOKERS or something?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that came with it. “You know that number well?”
He let out a single laugh.
“Fine. If you feel weird about taking money, I’ll owe you.”
“Owe me what?”
“I don’t know. . . . If you’re ever in need of a fake date, I’ll be there for you.”
“I’m not exactly in the habit of requiring fake dates.”
“Well, fine. I’m glad you can get a real date whenever you want, but I can’t. Well, I mean, I usually can, but obviously not right now in the middle of an empty parking lot.” Was I going to have to pull out some fake tears to get me a fake date?
“Fine.”
“Fine?” I was surprised even though I’d really hoped he’d say yes.
“Yes. I live six blocks from here. I’ll go change into something more prom worthy.” He rolled up the window while muttering something about how he didn’t believe he was going along with this. Then he drove away.
I stood there for five minutes wondering if that was just his way of getting out of this whole thing. He probably texted his sister and told her just to call when she needed a ride home. And if he only lived six blocks away, why was he waiting in the parking lot anyway? Shouldn’t he have driven home and waited there?
I pulled out my phone and checked Instagram and Twitter to make sure Bradley hadn’t said anything about our breakup. There was nothing. It didn’t surprise me; Bradley wasn’t online that much. Another reason Jules thought I’d made him up. I sent off a tweet about how prom was going to rock and then tucked my phone back into my clutch that matched my dress perfectly.
Another ten minutes passed and I was sure he wasn’t coming back now. I started thinking of all the excuses I was going to give my friends when I got inside. He got sick. He had to study for finals for his college classes on Monday . . . because he’s in college.
I sighed. This was pathetic. The truth. I needed to tell the truth. He broke up with me in the parking lot. My eyes stung with tears over that thought. Bradley broke up with me in a parking lot. I’d screwed up and lost him and now I might lose more than just him. Would this be the final piece of evidence my friends needed to believe the claims Jules had made? I knew the look I’d get from Jules right away when I told the truth. It would be the yeah-right-he
-doesn’t-exist look. The look she gave me every time I mentioned Bradley. It was the look that always made me tell more stories. Too bad I’d told so many that even my other friends had started to question his existence.
We’d met in a café at UCLA when we were there for a film festival my older brother was involved with. Alone in the café, Bradley had thought I was a student there. I didn’t correct him because I was actually going to be a student there next year. I’d just gotten my early acceptance that very weekend so I had been feeling quite collegiate. We’d exchanged phone numbers and texted for a while. And what started off as mere attraction became more. He told stupid jokes and knew so much about so many places from all his traveling. He was interesting. A couple of weeks later, I came clean about my age. By that time, we liked each other. The main problem was that I lived three hours from UCLA. So he’d only come up a couple of times in the two months we’d been dating and hadn’t met my friends. And now, it was over.
I threw back my shoulders and faced the gym doors. I didn’t need a date, real or otherwise. My friends liked me regardless of who I was or wasn’t with. Even as I thought it, I wished for it to be true. I couldn’t lose my boyfriend and my friends all in one night. I needed them in my life. As I started to walk, headlights cast my shadow on the asphalt in front of me. I turned as the car and lights went off.
The guy stepped out. “Were you going to go in there without me after all that begging?”
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Photo by Stephanie Ryan Photography
