chapter seven
“Now,” Lexi says. “Remember that Bailey is totally mean, and you shouldn’t be taken in by her, even for a second. Okay, Ryan?”
“Okay,” he says. He sounds confident. I peek over at him out of the corner of my eye. Long eyelashes, dark jeans. He’s wearing a red Quiksilver T-shirt under a plain brown zip-up sweatshirt. New sneakers (but not too new—they’re slightly dirty, like he’s been out playing sports or something), and a silver chain around his neck complete the look. Lexi was right—he’s pretty cute. Exactly what I need to let Bailey know I’m a force to be reckoned with.
“This is going to be really fun.” Lexi leans over the seat and holds out the bag of popcorn that she’s been munching on. “Want some?”
“No thanks,” I say. My stomach is turning, I’m so nervous. I can’t even think about eating. Ryan/Greg takes a big handful and munches on it noisily. Hmm. He’s not the neatest eater. I should probably keep him away from the snack table.
“Alexis, is that popcorn?” Mrs. Cortland asks. “You know you’re not supposed to be eating popcorn with your braces.”
“It’s not popcorn,” Lexi lies. “Is it, Devi?”
“No,” I mumble. Lexi’s mom glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“I like your sweater, Devon,” she says. “Thank you,” I say. Wow. Lexi’s mom is actually being nice to me.
“DKNY, right? Last season?”
“Yeah.” So much for her being nice. Greg/Ryan must notice the look on my face, because he does something totally weird. He reaches over and squeezes my hand! Right there in the car, like it’s the most natural thing in the world! And then he leans over and whispers into my ear, “Ahh, don’t let her get to you. She can be a bit much, but she has a good heart.” Then he squeezes my hand again, and returns to the other side of the car.
Ohmigod. Ohmigod, ohmigod. Squeezing my hand? Is that cheating? Am I cheating on Luke? Is Greg/Ryan going to start taking his role a little too far? I eye him warily.
“Now, you two should get to know each other,” Lexi rambles on from the front seat, obviously oblivious to the fact that very scandalous hand-squeezing is going on back here. “So that there’s no confusion when we get to the party.”
My hand feels hot. I look down at it, almost expecting it to be red, with big black letters that say CHEATER LIAR. But it looks exactly the same. I take a deep breath. No big deal. He just squeezed my hand. There’s nothing wrong with that. I squeeze Mel’s hand all the time. Well, not really. But if I did, it wouldn’t be cheating. It would just be one friend, squeezing another friend’s hand.
“So, uh, Greg,” I say, wiping my hand on my jeans. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Lexi, looking satisfied, turns back toward the front of the car and starts talking to her mom about how many calories are in a bag of popcorn. If Mrs. Cortland is wondering what sort of plan Lexi and I have cooked up, she doesn’t show it. She doesn’t seem interested in the least.
“Two brothers,” Greg/Ryan says. “Tim and Kyle.”
Tim and Kyle. Right. I can remember that. Easy peasy. Although . . .
“Actually,” I say. “It might be better if we didn’t use your real life.”
“What do you mean?” he asks. He’s looking right into my eyes, and it makes me a little nervous after all the crazy hand squeezing that was going on.
“Well, I might not be able to remember everything you tell me,” I say. “But if I just make it up . . .”
“Right,” he says. “If you just make it up, then it won’t matter. Good idea.”
“Exactly,” I breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, Devon, I think. This is going to be easy. You just have to get through this party, and then send Greg/Ryan on his way. “Also, you have to remember that your name is Ryan. I mean, Greg.” Shoot. This is already getting confusing.
“Of course,” he says. He leans back in his seat, looking as cool as a cucumber. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s not his social future that’s on the line. Oh, why, oh, why am I always getting myself into these messes?
“Oh, and remember that we dated this summer, and that we met because—”
“Devon,” he says, looking me straight in the eye again. “Just relax.” And then he squeezes my hand again.
“Now, make sure you act happy,” Lexi says. She’s clattering up the pathway to Bailey Barelli’s house, her high shoes making noises on the cobblestone walk. I’m rushing to keep up with her, in my mom’s boots.
“I don’t have to act happy,” I say. “I am happy.” Lie, lie, lie. Greg/Ryan grins at me, like he’s the reason I’m happy. Ugh. I do want him to seem like he likes me, but not so much that it’s weird. I already feel guilty for all the hand squeezing.
Maybe I should say something to him. Just a little something. Like, “Hey, Greg, you seem cool and all, but let’s not take this too far, you know?” But what if he gets mad? Besides, I’m sure it will be fine. I’m sure he’s going to be totally cool. Nothing bad’s going to happen. In fact, it’s going to be great. I plaster a huge smile on my face.
Lexi rings the doorbell.
Suddenly, my feet slip on Bailey’s front porch, and the heel of my boot bends to the side. Ouch. I right myself, but then the other boot gets a little off balance, and the next thing I know, my arms are flailing and I’m about to fall flat on my face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I screech, my arms spinning in circles as I try to keep my balance. I reach out and attempt to grab the wooden railing of the porch, but it’s too far away. The next thing I know, I feel strong arms around me from behind. Greg/Ryan has caught me.
Bailey Barelli chooses that moment to open the door, and when she does, she sees Lexi standing there, and me, splayed across her front porch and gazing up at Greg, who is holding me from behind.
“Oh, hi,” she says, grinning. “We were wondering if you two were ever going to get here.” From behind her, the sound of music and voices comes wafting out of the house. “You must be Greg,” she says. “Hi, I’m Bailey.” She giggles. “I’d offer you my hand, but you seem a little tied up.”
Greg smiles his perfect smile, and I disentangle myself from his grasp. But not before I look over Bailey’s shoulder into the house, and lock eyes with Luke.
Whatever. All Greg/Ryan did was catch me. I mean, I could have died if it weren’t for him. Slipping and falling can be totally serious. That’s how my grandma broke her hip. And one of my mom’s friends fell once and got a gaping head wound. So Luke should be happy that Greg/Ryan saved my life. And besides, with all the convert note passing that’s been going on lately, perhaps those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
Not that Luke’s said anything. But I can tell he’s kind of mad. He shook Greg/Ryan’s hand very quickly once we got into the house, and ever since then, he’s been glued to my side. Which is good, because Bailey is being super annoying, and trying to get everyone to dance. And when I say everyone, I mean Luke. She’s put on some fast music, and now she’s in the middle of her family room, dancing around like a crazy person. Every so often, she’ll go, “Come on, you guys, you have to dance with me!” And then she tries to pull on Luke’s hand, but he won’t go.
“So,” he says. We’re leaning back on the couch, and he has his arm around me. “Are you excited for the dance?”
“Super excited,” I say, watching Greg/Ryan out of the corner of my eye. He’s over in the corner with Lexi and Jared, and some girl from our science class. I’m hoping he won’t go for the chips that are sitting on the table, what with his messy eating habits and all. “Lexi and I are going shopping for stuff to wear. And do you want to ride over with them in the Hummer? Lexi has this whole thing planned. She’s kind of making a big deal about it.”
“Sure,” Luke says, smiling down at me. “So your mom’s cool with it then?”
“Welll,” I say, “not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean, exactly?”
“It means she said I could go to the dance, but I haven??
?t exactly told her I’m going with you.”
“Oh.” Luke shifts on the couch and looks straight ahead. In front of us, Bailey is doing some crazy dance move, all the while watching us out of the corner of her eye. She’s wearing a dark purple party dress with a flared bottom and a layer of dark purple glittery ribbing all around the bottom. She’s also wearing glittery purple eye shadow.
“Oh? Are you annoyed or something?”
“No,” Luke sighs. Okay then. “It’s just . . . I don’t understand what the big deal is about telling your family about me.”
“Nothing,” I say. “There is no big deal. Unless you count the fact that my mom would freak out if she knew you and I were together.”
“I don’t think she would,” Luke says.
I stare at him blankly. “Do you not remember when you came over to my house, and my mom caught you there and flipped out?”
“Your mom flipped out because you weren’t supposed to be having friends over while you were babysitting.”
“Nooo,” I say. “My mom flipped out because she is very strict. Ridiculously strict.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that maybe you should tell her. She might be okay with it, if you were honest from the start.” He pulls his arm out from around me, totally ruining my snuggling. I stare at him blankly. Are we having a fight? Is Luke giving me an ultimatum? Tell your parents or else?
“If I were honest from the start? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he says. But he’s not looking at me. What the heck is going on here?
“Hey, babe,” Greg/Ryan says, appearing in front of us. He’s holding two plastic cups of soda, and he hands me one. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
I take one of the cups. “Thanks,” I say. I take a sip of the soda. Eww. Sprite. I don’t like Sprite. I prefer to keep my soft drinks limited to those in the cola family, thank you very much.
Luke notices the face I’m making, and he looks into my cup. “Sprite?” he says, frowning. “You hate Sprite.”
“It’s a, uh, a private joke,” I say. I smile and take another sip. It’s not that bad. I’m getting used to it. Mmm. Nice, sparkling lemon-lime flavor.
“A private joke?” Luke looks dubious.
“Yeah, see, we used to make our own soda over the summer,” I say, laughing. I telegraph to Greg with my eyes that he better laugh, too. He figures it out and lets out a good chuckle.
“Yeah, and Devon used to always love the lemonlime I made her, she said it was the best soda she’d ever tasted because it was made with love.”
Oh, geez. Not the thing to say, Greg/Ryan. But I just smile and take another sip of my soda. Luke looks like maybe he’s about to reach over and wring Greg/Ryan’s neck.
“Oh, hi, guys,” Kim says, sauntering up to us. “I see you got here early.” She’s wearing a tight black miniskirt over red and black patterned tights, and a red lacy shirt. Her hair is swept up into an updo. She looks absolutely fabulous.
And anyway, we were actually twenty minutes late. But leave it to Kim to be thirty minutes late, making us look like the losers who showed up early. “And you must be Greg.” She holds out her hand, and Greg/Ryan goes to shake it. But at the last second, she moves it toward his mouth, and basically forces him to kiss her hand. Eww.
“What’s everyone doing? Dancing?” She looks at Greg/Ryan, then leans in close to him. Probably so he can smell her perfume. “Do you want to dance?”
I try to telegraph to him that no, this is not a good idea, but this time, he doesn’t seem to get the message. I’m not sure if he thinks I want him to dance with Kim, or if he’s just taken in by how cute she is. Probably the cute thing. She takes his hand and leads him off, and then Luke looks at me.
“Well, that was pretty obvious,” he says.
“You thought so, too?” I say. “I mean, obviously she just wanted to dance with him to make me jealous. I mean, look at those two.” In the middle of Bailey Barelli’s family room, Bailey and Kim are now both dancing with Greg. He’s actually a pretty good dancer.
“I wasn’t talking about them,” Luke says, looking grim.
“What were you talking about?” Please don’t say it’s obvious I never met Greg until this morning, please don’t say it’s obvious I . . .
“That Greg still likes you.” Um. Uh-oh.
“What? No, I mean, that’s absolutely ridiculous. We’re just friends.”
“Friends who call each other ‘babe’? Devon, I saw him holding you when Bailey opened the front door.”
“What? No, I was about to fall.” I hold up my crazy boots to illustrate the point. “See? I’m wearing completely ridiculous and inappropriate boots that I stole from my mother.”
At that moment, Mel comes wandering into Bailey’s family room, looking confused.
“There you are!” she says when she spots me. “I’ve been ringing the doorbell forever, but no one came. So finally I just walked in.”
“I guess no one could hear it with all the music going on.” Mel looks out onto the dance floor, where Bailey and Kim are basically doing a pole dance around Greg.
“Is that Greg?” Mel sounds doubtful.
“Yup,” I say. “That’s Greg. My ex-boyfriend. Who I’m totally over.” I raise my voice a little so that Luke will be sure to hear. “And who’s obviously totally over me, since he’s out there dancing with two other girls.”
“Oh, please,” Luke scoffs. “It’s obvious that he’s dancing with them just to make you jealous.” He drains the rest of the soda that’s in his cup. “I’m going to get another drink,” he says. “Do you want anything?”
“No,” I say. “I’m good.” I take a sip of my Sprite.
“Right,” he says, walking off.
“No, wait, actually, I mean I’d like a Coke!” I yell after him. But he doesn’t hear me. Either that, or he just doesn’t want to listen. Mel and I watch as he walks over to the table where the drinks are, pours himself a cup of soda, and then starts talking to Lexi and Jared. He doesn’t seem like he’s in too much of a hurry to get back over to me.
“Wow,” Mel says. “What did I miss?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say. “It’s a complete and total disaster.” I sit back down on the couch, and Mel slides down next to me. For the first time, I notice Mel’s all dressed up. And not in the going-to-a-party-at-Bailey-Barelli’s kind of way, but more of a going-to-church-and-or-my-grandma’s-house kind of way. She’s wearing a long black dress and black flats, and her hair is pulled back into a neat bun. “Why are you all dressed up?” I asked her.
“I just felt like it,” Mel says, looking down at the floor. I frown. Lexi and I offered to give Mel a ride over here with us, but she turned it down, saying that her mom would drive her. It seemed a little weird at the time, but I was so consumed with what was going to happen at the party, that I didn’t really think too much about it. But now it seems very weird.
“Okay,” I say, crossing my arms. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” She tries to look innocent, but I’m not buying it. Her eyes flutter over to the soda table. “Do they have iced tea over there? I could really use a drink.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” I say. I stand up, grab her hand, and march her into the hallway outside of Bailey’s family room. The walls there are covered with pictures of Bailey and her sister. Bailey on a beach, Bailey in second grade, Bailey, Bailey, Bailey. I resist the urge to study some of the group shots up close, to see if Luke is in any of them. “Spill.”
“There’s nothing going on,” she says. Her eyes are darting around nervously, like she’s some kind of animal that I have cornered.
“I don’t believe you,” I challenge. “You’ve been acting weird for the past week. There was that paper that fell out of your locker, and how you didn’t want me and Lexi to stay for dinner, and how you didn’t want to ride over here with us.” She doesn’t say anything, and just bites her lip. “And then when you do
show up, you’re dressed like you’ve been . . . I dunno, at some kind of college interview or something.” I expect her to laugh, but a look of panic flashes across her face.
“That’s crazy.” She forces a laugh.
“Is it?”
She slides down the wall and collapses into a heap on the floor of Bailey Barelli’s front hallway. Her dress makes a pool around her knees, and she looks like she’s floating in a sea of black skirt.
“What is it?” I ask. I try to get down next to her, but my jeans won’t really let me. So I settle for crouching, but that doesn’t really work either, because of my boots. Finally, I give up and just plop down on my butt, sprawling out next to her.
And then I notice that Mel is crying. A big tear slides down her cheek and lands on the floor.
“What is it?” I repeat. “Mel, what’s wrong?” Then I realize I’ve never seen Mel wear all black before. “Were you . . . were you at a funeral?” Mel is very close to her Grandma Purvis, her dad’s mom. Maybe she’s been sick or something, and Mel didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want me to worry. And now I’ve made her come all the way out here to stupid Bailey Barelli’s house, so that she could provide moral support because of my stupid fake boyfriend situation. I should be ashamed of myself.
“No,” Mel says. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “No one died.”
Oh. Phew. “Then what is it? Does it have to do with Dylan? What did that jerk do? I swear to God I’ll—”
“No,” Mel says. “It’s not Dylan.” Oh. Right. Why would Dylan make Mel dress all in black? Unless she was in mourning for him or something. But that’s ridiculous. Obviously I’m not a very good guesser. So I decide to just wait. I mean, Mel will tell me, right? And if she doesn’t want to, then I have to respect that. I’ll be hurt, of course, but a girl has to have some—
“Private school,” Mel whispers. She looks up at me, her eyes watery, like two dark pools.
“Private school? Ooh,” I say, nodding. “Does this have anything to do with those two girls who live down the street from you?” There are these two totally obnoxious girls who live a few doors down from Mel—I can never remember their names, Cyn and Win, or something. They’re twins. Anyway, they go to private school and are super snotty. Sometimes they make fun of Mel, and one time, when we were in fourth grade, they wrote “Mel Smells” on her driveway in chalk. Super mature, that Cyn and Win. “Are they giving you a hard time again? Don’t worry about it, we’ll get Lexi to come over and talk to them.” Lexi’s very tough. Most people are scared of her, especially when she gets really angry.