Friday was a day I thought would never end. I had my first three-minute speech due in the class of the same name, and since I hate public speaking, this was not my idea of fun. Somehow I got through it with dignity intact. The teacher gave me the same nod he did the rest of the class, so I assumed I hadn’t bombed completely.
Michael and I ate lunch inside again, and Anne teased him about wanting to keep me to himself. He didn’t deny it; he only laughed and rolled his eyes at her.
“Of course I want her all to myself. We have a lot to talk about, stuff to catch up on. You,” he pointed at her. “I’ve known since we were in kindergarten. We’re talked out.”
Anne stuck out her tongue at him but winked at me behind his back. Michael shook his head in mock disapproval.
“Sorry about her. She’s always been incorrigible.”
Anne laughed. “He’s just still mad that I won the hamster care award in first grade.”
“Hey! I had that thing sewed up until you took Mr. Whiskers home and gave him a makeover.”
“See?” Anne looked at me triumphantly. “I rest my case.”
“Whatever.” Michael deliberately turned his back on her and addressed me. “So… would you be interested in coming out to the nursery tomorrow? I have to work in the morning, but I could pick you up at lunchtime, and you could spend the afternoon with me. I think you’ll like it… and my parents want to meet you.”
It had all sounded so promising until that last part.
“Why? Why do your parents want to meet me?” Panic drove my voice up several octaves.
Michael remained serenely calm as he took a bite of a huge lunchmeat sandwich. He regarded me with amused eyes as he chewed and swallowed.
Anne popped her head around his back. “Don’t worry, Tasmyn, Michael’s parents are the absolute best. I love them. His mom is so cool.”
I wasn’t worried about loving them. I was worried about them loving me.
Michael had already figured that out. “They want to meet you because I talk about you all the time at home. They’re curious. And they will adore you. Trust me.”
“You talk about me? All the time?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged. “I talk to my parents. I tell them things. If that makes me weird, well…” He spread out his hands in a take-it-or-leave-it gesture.
“That’s not what I mean. But what if they expect to meet the girl you’ve been talking about all week?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. “Now I’m confused. What are you talking about?”
I sighed, patiently and sadly. “What have you been telling them about me?”
Brow still furrowed, he considered. “Just…good stuff. The truth. I told them that you’re gorgeous, smart, friendly, kind… funny…”
I nodded knowingly. “I was afraid of that. See, now they’re going to expect me to be what you said. And just think of how disappointed they’re going to be when I turn out to be plain and ordinary.” I thought for a minute, biting my lip. “Of course, you’ve known me less than a week, so maybe they’ll realize that your descriptions weren’t exactly dependable.”
“I doubt it. They trust me.”
I blew out a breath. “Point taken. I’ll try to relax and be charming and gracious. What should I wear, though?”
“Why would that matter?”
Anne leaned around Michael again. Obviously she had been following the conversation more closely than I had thought. She shook her head and pointed at Michael. “He’s a male. He has no clue about these things. I can help you, though. If there’s room for me in Michael’s car today and if you don’t mind me inviting myself over, I’ll come home with you after school and we’ll put you all together.’
To say I didn’t mind would have been a gross understatement. One of my fondest dreams, borne out of dozens of teen novels and sitcoms, involved having a girlfriend come over to play dress up and make up. I had spent the majority of my teenage years doing that by myself, and the idea of living my fantasy was thrilling. I couldn’t even modulate my excitement as I answered her.
“Really? You’d do that?”
Anne laughed. “Of course. It’ll be fun.”
I could feel her anticipation. She was just as excited as I was, and that made me even happier. And Michael was looking at me with a combination of pride and smugness. I knew even without listening to him that he was glad I was making friends.
When I walked into History after lunch, I wasn’t thinking of much beyond my afternoon plans. Which could have explained why I found myself sprawled flat on my face, books scattered, between the desks.
Or it might have had something to do with the elegantly sandaled foot that was placed directly in my path.
My face burning with embarrassment, I struggled to my feet and pulled the closest books toward me. There was a low level of derisive laughter and a buzz I knew was the thought noise of my classmates. In her seat just behind me, Nell lounged, one foot crossed over the other, a small mocking smile playing on her lips.
“Really, Tasmyn,” she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear her, “you must be more careful. I see you on the floor more than I see you on your feet.”
The day before I had been able to play verbal war games with Nell, but today that power was lost. I glared at her in silent fury and sat down at my desk. Mr. Frame entered the room at that moment, and I was forgotten as he announced an impromptu Friday quiz.
“We’ve been talking about how the Civil War actually had its roots in the earliest days of our country. I want you to take just one of those causes and write me a one page essay on how that cause evolved to help bring about the war. You’ll have 30 minutes.” He looked around at the room of dismayed faces. “And people, I don’t think I need to say it, but no open books during this quiz.”
There were groans all over the room, but I had already pulled out a piece of notebook paper and begun writing. This was my type of quiz; I could express myself without worrying about ambiguously written multiple-choice questions.
I covered one page and half of another in about fifteen minutes and carried it to the front. Mr. Frame grinned at me. “You didn’t groan,” he observed to me in a low voice. “I think you were the only one.”
I smiled back and replied in the same quiet tone. “I like this kind of quiz. I only hope I didn’t write too much.”
His eyes scanned the pages. “I’m looking forward to reading it.” He winked at me as I returned to my seat.
We only had time for our weekend assignment of reading by the time all the quizzes were completed and turned in. Trig went by relatively quickly, if painfully; I sensed my peppy teacher’s enthusiasm for my talent in Math was diminishing quickly.
By the time I made it to my locker, both Michael and Anne were waiting for me. “I’m hurrying,” I promised.
“Don’t worry. If I’m late for work, I’ll just blame you. That’ll make my parents’ expectation more realistic, right?”
I grimaced at him and ran my eyes over my books. I needed Trig and History; I’d already finished my English and French reading, and nothing was due in Speech or Chemistry.
Slamming my locker shut, I turned. “Okay, all set.”
Anne climbed into the back seat of the Mustang and flipped the seat back into position for me. “Are you sure you don’t want sit in the front?” I asked for the third time.
Michael sighed in exasperation. “Tasmyn, let her sit there. I want you next to me.” As he turned to back out, I glanced down at the gearshift. He followed my gaze. “I was thinking that maybe tomorrow afternoon we could work on your driving lesson. Lots of country roads out by us.”
Anne let out a squeal in the backseat. “Tas, you don’t drive?”
“I’ve never driven manual, only automatic,” I corrected.
“Oh, you’ll have fun,” she assured me. “My dad made me learn to drive on his truck. And Michael is probably a better teacher than my dad.”
We pulled up in front of my ho
use, and I slipped out, then moved the seat so Anne could exit. She started up to the porch. “I’ll just wait up here while you two say good-bye,” she said, looking at us meaningfully. “Make it snappy, Michael.”
I leaned back into the car. “Have fun at work.” I was still too new at this to initiate any physical contact.
Michael smiled at me. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he used the other to frame my face and leaned in to kiss me quickly. My heart thumped in response as I heard him think Wish I could stay… tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. I grinned back at him.
“Yup, tomorrow,” I whispered. He laughed before he stole one last kiss.
“Go,” he instructed. “Before Anne comes back and drags you out. See you tomorrow. Have fun!”
Other than the most obvious surprise—my special talent—I had been a fairly predictable child for my parents up until our move to King. But this last week had definitely tested my mother’s capacity for absorbing shock. I thought of this with some amusement when I went into her office, Anne trailing in my wake.
My mom was sitting at her drawing board, with several pages pinned up on the walls around her. She was completely caught up in her work and had barely noticed that I was even home.
“Mom,” I called from the doorway. “Can I interrupt for just a minute?”
“Sure,” she replied, still not looking up.
“We have company.”
That caught her attention. “What? Oh!” She had finally noticed Anne. “I’m sorry, I was just… in another world, I guess.”
“Mom, this is Anne Lewis. She sits at our lunch table, and she came home with me today to…” Suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked yet about my trip to the nursery tomorrow. “Michael asked if I’d go out to the nursery tomorrow, to meet his parents. And Anne offered to help me find what I should I wear.”
My mother looked at both of us skeptically. “You need help to figure out what to wear to a nursery?”
Anne jumped in here. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Vaughn. Tasmyn’s just worried about meeting Michael’s parents, and I’m here to calm her nerves.”
“Ah…” My mother nodded in understanding. “I see.”
“It is okay if I go tomorrow, isn’t it?” I asked.
“I think so. But I thought we had a date at the mall.”
“Oooh… I forgot about that.” I felt guilty for blowing off my mom and our planned trip. Then I thought of something. “Why couldn’t we get up early and go first thing? Michael’s not picking me up until lunchtime. We could be back by then.”
My mom laughed. “Okay, that sounds good. Do you girls want anything to eat or drink?” I noticed her eyes were straying to her board, anxious to get back to work.”
Anne answered for me. “Don’t worry about us. If we need anything, Tas will take care of it. I’m going to haul her off to her room now for some serious clothes talk, and we’ll let you get back to work. It was good meeting you!”
I led Anne into my room and was pleased to notice that she looked around approvingly.
“You’re lucky to have a room of your own! I’ve shared with my younger sister forever. One of the perks of being an only child, I guess.”
“I guess.” I looked around the room myself and thought of how often I had wished for a sibling of any kind. “I think you’re lucky to have the sister.”
Anne laughed and flopped onto my bed. “Okay, so the grass is always greener. Open up the closet and let’s get to work.”
For the next hour, I had more fun than I could remember having—maybe ever. Anne loved my closet, and I was impressed by her sense of style. We finally settled on a pair of dark denim capri pants, a pretty cotton shirt that was several steps up from a simple t-shirt but wasn’t too dressy, and a pair of flat, sturdy sandals. The shoes gave us the most trouble.
“You don’t want anything too good that could be ruined,” Anne explained to me. “After all, it’s a nursery. You’re going to be walking around in dirt. But you also can’t wear anything too dressed down with this outfit.”
We accessorized next, choosing a delicate gold and silver entwined chain for my neck, simple gold hoops for my ears, and a silver bangle bracelet.
“Now, if you were Brea, I’d have to do a make-up consult,” Anne mused “But I like what you do—you always look good without being overdone.”
I was sitting on the floor with my knees drawn up, while Anne lay on her stomach on the bed, idly waving her feet.
“I have to confess, I’m a little bit of make-up and skin care junky,” I told her. “It’s my guilty pleasure.”
Anne leaned her hand toward me in high-five position. “Me, too! My mom is a hairdresser, so I get all the samples and fun stuff. I spent most of my Saturday nights in freshman year doing facials on myself and messing around with makeup.”
“I can’t imagine that. You must have had a waiting list for your Saturday nights.”
Anne twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Nah. I didn’t have a boyfriend at all until last year. Thank goodness for our lunch table crowd. We’ve been friends for so long, they kept me from being a total social outcast.”
I was really surprised. Anne was so pretty and vivacious that I assumed that she had always been popular. I knew she wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, but I had seen the admiring looks that several interested seniors threw her way.
“As a matter of fact,” she continued, “I really don’t deserve how well they treat me. I pretty much blew them off last year when I started dating Nick.”
I cast my mind around, trying to place Nick. Seeing my frown, Anne laughed joylessly. “No, you don’t know him. He graduated last May. Made me all kinds of promises, how we were going to stay close, stay together when he went off to Florida State. Then the second weekend he was there, he wrote me a Dear John email.”
The pain and hurt rolled off Anne in strong waves. My heart ached for her.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“Yeah, well… that’s how it goes, right? I should’ve seen him for what he was. All my friends did. Jim—” she was referring to another one of our lunch table crowd “—told me right off that Nick wasn’t good enough for me. He knew he was a user, he said. But I’d never had a boy pay attention to me the way Nick did, so I told Jim to mind his own business.
“They never said I told you so. When I came back this year, and I knew Brea had told them everything that had gone down with Nick, no one said anything. Michael punched me in the arm and asked when I was coming back out to the nursery, and Dan teased me about something…” She frowned a little, remembering. “Only Jim isn’t really the same anymore. He still kind of treats me… differently. I don’t know, maybe it’s just my guilty conscience!” She gave me a half smile.
“Everyone at the lunch table has been really nice to me. I don’t know them that well, but they’ve all been kind. I think it’s because of Michael.”
Anne smiled at me. “Maybe when he first brought you over, but I think they like you now for who you are. Even though it’s only been a few days, we can tell. Plus, Michael likes you. We’ve never seen him this way about a girl, ever. And believe me, there’s been plenty of opportunity.”
“Really?” I was quite curious about this.
“Oh, yes. Haven’t you noticed the glares you’ve been getting from a large segment of the senior girls? All these years they’ve been flattering him, following him around, making eyes at him… and you come in and have him in a day—with not that much effort.”
“Try no real effort,” I muttered.
“What was that?” Anne asked.
“Nothing. What about Nell Massler? Was she ever after Michael?”
Anne wrinkled her forehead, thinking. “No… not that I remember. Nell has always been sort of an anomaly, if you know what I mean. If everyone else was doing it or liked someone, Nell didn’t. She’s definitely more of a leader than a follower. And she’s a major pain in the neck,” she added. “None of us can really stand
her. She surrounds herself with girls who think she’s amazing, and every now and again she chooses some boy to date. It never lasts, but it gives her someone to take her to dances or whatever. Last year it was Kyle Dannon. He stuck with her longer than most of them. Then she got all involved in that chemistry club stuff and the new teacher, and she dropped Kyle because he said the teacher gave him the creeps.”
Ah. Some pieces were beginning to fall into place for me. It wasn’t a surprise that Nell and Ms. Lacusta were pals—or at least that Nell saw things that way. It fit with the vibes I’d gotten from both of them in class.
“Well, I don’t think I have to worry about Nell in that way. She hates me. I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything to her.”
Anne nodded. “Nell’s always been that way. If she takes a dislike to someone, it’s not pretty. And sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason as to why she doesn’t like a person. She used to target girls in elementary school and junior high—and it was ugly.” She shuddered slightly. “She never bothered with any of us—we were older, we didn’t much care—but the girls in her own class and below—oooh. I used to feel so sorry for them.” She looked at me with a mix of sympathy and compassion. “I hope she gets tired of picking on you soon. I’d tell you to just ignore her, but the normal stuff never seems to work with Nell. There’s a girl in your class—Amber Cole—Nell started harassing her in grade school and never stopped.
“I’d love to see someone stand up to her,” she finished, looking at me hopefully.
I laughed without much humor. “I don’t think it’s going to be me,” I told her. “My mind doesn’t move as fast as hers does. And you’re right—she’s nasty.” I shared my tripping story from History.
“That’s classic Nell,” Anne said. “And it’ll escalate until she finds someone else or gets bored.”
“I’m hoping for the boredom,” I replied, standing to stretch. “I think my mom has chocolate chip cookies she made yesterday in the kitchen. Are you interested?”
“Chocolate? Cookies? I’m in,” Anne rolled off the bed to stand. “I shouldn’t. I can’t carry it like you can—they’ll show on my hips in five minutes. But who cares? You only live once.”