Wrong. “Yes, you’re going out with Carter the quarterback!” she said. “You two are so cute together.”
I found this highly doubtful. To figure out what had actually happened, I played along. “And I can tell you really like Max.”
“He is so hot,” she confirmed.
No argument there. But he was more than just hot to me. He was hot and hilarious, the perfect guy. Carter was not. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about that. “See, here’s the thing, Addison,” I said slowly enough for her to understand. “Carter didn’t ask me out.” In fact, if I never saw or heard from Carter again, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She could go out with Max once, and I would try to forget the whole funny conversation with him had ever happened.
“Yes, Carter did ask you out.” Addison nodded, as if that would be enough to convince me.
“He did? Where was I when this happened, and what did I say?”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, we’re all four going out together.”
I ran my hand back through my hair. Or tried, but my fingers got caught in the back-combing I’d used to make my ponytails look more rock-and-roll. I put my hand down with a frustrated sigh. “Who says we’re all four going out together?”
“I say. My mother would never let me go out with a boy without having you there. Especially when she didn’t grow up with his parents.”
Addison was, in general, full of shit. But she was not making this up. Bad things had happened in her family. Her mom had divorced her dad, with good reason, and now her mom kept a tight rein on the four kids. I would have guessed that’s what had pushed Addison into becoming the biggest flirt in school, except she had been like that already.
The one way Addison could go anywhere she wanted was if she took me along. It was a running joke between us. She would ask her mom if she could go to a concert. Her mom would say no before the words got out of Addison’s mouth. Then Addison would add that I was going. Addison’s mom would tell her to have a good time and ask her if she needed any money. We had plans to test how far we could push this by having Addison tell her mom we were going to visit her boyfriend in prison, but we hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
The thing was, Addison’s mom wanted Addison to hang out with me because I was rich, and my mom was in charge of the elite circles of Atlanta society that Addison’s mom wanted so badly to join. My mom didn’t mind me hanging out with Addison because her mom was always willing to invite me over, which got me out of my mom’s way. Addison and I had become best friends in fifth grade without any say in the matter at all.
“Addison,” I said, “Max wants to go out with you, but Carter doesn’t want to go out with me. I’m not dating Carter just because you say so.”
“Max says so too. He says the Dolly Paranoids are playing in a concert hall at Little Five Points, and he can drive us all down there.”
“What! You’re kidding!”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “You’ve heard of the Dolly Paranoids?”
“Yes, they’re awesome!” Now I was excited about this date—even if it was with Carter. “Album 88 plays them a lot.” Addison was so square, she probably hadn’t heard of the indie rock radio station at Georgia State, either. “The Dolly Paranoids are sort of a country speed-metal band.”
“Max thinks they’re awesome too,” she said doubtfully. “Carter didn’t seem too thrilled.”
I couldn’t picture Carter being thrilled about anything.
“We’ve already decided Carter will pick me up because he lives closer to me,” she said, “and Max will pick you up because he lives closer to you. We’ll meet in the middle and drive down together. It’s a done deal.”
Wait a minute—Max was picking me up instead of Carter? I’d have to make small talk with the guy who’d chosen Addison over me? I was not excited about the date anymore. “It can’t be a done deal when you didn’t even tell me about it!”
“I’m telling you now.” She paused. “You don’t like Carter?”
“Sure, I like him fine,” I lied.
“Then why won’t you go out with us?” she whined. “Are you afraid you’ll say something dumb in front of Max again?”
I felt my cheeks turn hot, which made me angry at myself. Now Addison would think she’d guessed right, when she hadn’t. I was reluctant to go, but not because I would embarrass myself. I wasn’t even feeling very jealous. I’d liked Max a lot, but the fact that he’d asked Addison out lowered my opinion of him. Which didn’t say a whole lot for my friendship with Addison, but there it was.
No, I didn’t want to go because I was tired of being Addison’s chaperone. She was a teenager having all the fun, and I was a million years old.
“Please, Gemma.” Addison poked out her bottom lip.
Had she said . . . please? To me? She must have been delirious from the milkshake sugar rush.
“This will be my first chance to go on an actual date,” she said.
Right. It was always about her. I wasn’t doing it this time. Not anymore. I opened my mouth to protest.
She saw she was losing me and added quickly, “Your first chance too. Your first date ever will be with a gorgeous blond hunk who’s the quarterback of the rival football team! What do you think Robert and the rest of the trumpets will say to that?”
Robert and the rest of the trumpets would make some very funny, very lewd jokes about it. And if meaty Carter found out what they’d said about me and showed up at school to defend me, they would run hide in the girls’ bathroom. What sweet revenge for the way Robert had treated me!
“Okay,” I said. “Sure. I’ll go out with Carter.” I felt like I was jumping off the high dive as I said it. Granted, I hadn’t been off the high dive since I was little, but I remembered that feeling: a burst of carefree energy, a sense of complete freedom, followed by an ache in the pit of my stomach as I looked down and realized what I’d done.
“Great! I’ll go tell the guys.” She flounced away without bothering to say Thank you, Gemma, or I owe you one, Gemma, or Next time we both like the same boy, you can have him, Gemma.
Grumbling to myself, I finished my text message to my mom and hit send.
With heavy feet, I dragged myself back to the table. Hoping they’d finished eating so we wouldn’t have to carry on our awkward conversation any longer—at least not for another week, hooray!—I stood next to Carter. If anybody expected me to throw myself in his lap, they were going to be disappointed.
Nope, nobody seemed to expect this. Neither Carter nor Max looked up at me. Addison chatted away animatedly even though nobody seemed to be paying attention. When she saw me, she said, “Speak of the devil!”
Oh God. I did not even want to know what she meant by that. I smiled glamorously. The majorette grin was coming in handy lately for both of us.
“Ready to go?” Max smiled, too, as he asked this, but he sounded about half as happy as he had before I left the table. Depressed that he’d made a date with Addison, probably. Served him right.
“Yes!” Addison and I said in unison. Addison was enthusiastic. I was faking it like the Best Majorette Ever. She gave me a playful little slap on the face for saying the same thing she’d said at the same time. Her reaction would have been kind of cute if I had not been about to strangle her.
Thankfully, it was another short walk from the Varsity to the MARTA station. The sidewalk was crowded with rush hour pedestrians—Georgia Tech students with backpacks and businesspeople who worked in the skyscrapers. Small talk was impossible while we were surrounded. As we descended the stairs into the station, a train was waiting. I thought we would catch it and be spared more small talk, but noooo! Just as we reached the platform, the doors closed and the train pulled away.
Dejectedly, I sat down on a concrete bench set into a wall covered in a bright tile mural. Max and Addison talked as they walked toward me. Carter lagged behind. If models in men’s fashion magazines were supposed to look buff and sullen, he had a job waiting for him in c
ase this quarterback thing didn’t work out.
To my surprise, Max sat beside me on the bench. Addison sat beside him. Even though there was space on my other side, Carter sat beside her.
Well, of course. Carter didn’t want to go out with me. Both Carter and Max wanted to go out with Addison. Max had been hooked from the first flirt, and now Carter had gotten on board. I often felt like the odd chick out when Addison tried to land a guy, but this time I wasn’t even the third wheel. I was the fourth wheel. On our “date,” I would end up watching as both guys fought over her, like they were contestants on one of those dating shows, and I was someone hired to clean the set.
“You don’t seem happy,” Max whispered.
I turned to find him unexpectedly close. Staring into his dark eyes, I didn’t realize for a full five seconds that he’d been whispering to me.
I couldn’t admit I’d been pouting that Addison always got the guy. Or guys. So I nodded toward the tile mural behind us, which depicted pastureland in primary colors with billowing clouds in the blue sky. “I was puzzling over the ironic decor.”
He laughed. “I can just see the caption on the public service announcement: ‘See this beautiful scene? We razed the field to give you this MARTA station.’”
I played along. “‘And see how we have improved the bucolic landscape with clouds of smog?’”
Now that I was enjoying the small talk, of course a train screeched into the station. It was full enough at rush hour that we all got separated for a moment, with Addison grabbing the only empty seat and the rest of us hanging on to the poles. I gripped my baton bag, made myself as small as possible in the crowd, and tried not to lose my balance while both boys and fifty onlookers could see.
Several stops later, as the train slid into Carter and Addison’s station, Addison jumped up. She gave Max a hard hug, which seemed to startle him. He almost let go of his pole. “See you next Friday!” she sang. She turned to me. “I’ll call you!”
“Okay,” I sang back, hoping she heard the sarcasm. Addison never called me to chat. She called when she needed something.
“Keep your nose clean,” she added, touching the tip of her nose, before she disappeared through the door.
Carter gave me a curt nod. “See ya.”
I nodded back. I can’t wait.
As the doors shut behind them, I swung around my pole, into the nearest empty seat. The train had cleared out. There was lots of space now. The people in my neighborhood did not use public transportation.
Max sat right beside me, dragging his football bag with him. I moved my baton bag to one side so it didn’t poke him in the thigh. I looked out the far window of the train so I didn’t say something else stupid and give away how fast my heart raced at how close he was. We spent a short stint below ground. The lights flashing by on the tunnel wall were the only indicators that we were moving. Then we climbed into the sunset, with the skyscrapers of Buckhead peeking above the trees and coming closer.
“You didn’t really think you’d ruined my mojo, did you?”
I jumped a little at the sound of his voice.
“You looked worried,” he said. “Carter was kidding.”
Max was so cute. But he’d asked Addison out, so I knew he wasn’t flirting with me. Max and I were friends. I could relax. RELAX, GEMMA.
I loosened my shoulders against the back of the seat and raised my eyebrows skeptically. “So you don’t really wear the same underwear every game?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
“And you’re not worried that a chick from the opposing team said you would get your ass kicked?”
He laughed. “Well, okay, but I don’t want you to feel bad about it. You didn’t know I have a problem. And you’re from the opposing team, after all. You should be glad if I lose my mojo.”
“I watched you at camp, Max.” This was hard for me to do, but I held his gaze, even as the MARTA rumbled over a connection in the track and rocked back and forth. I messaged to him that I thought I’d seen him watching me.
His brows dipped briefly, like he wondered what I was getting at.
“You don’t miss,” I told him.
He said just as seriously, “No, I don’t.”
I opened my hands. “Then why are you worried?”
A little movement in his cheek told me he’d been clenching his jaw. Finally he said, “I have to make every goal.”
I nodded. “Because there’s tension between you and Carter.” Understatement of the year.
“There’s tension between you and Addison, too,” he said. “You seem like an unlikely pair. Are you friends because you’re both majorettes?”
I took a breath, considering how to answer truthfully without prompting Addison to kill me. “When we were ten, I was pudgy.” Might as well admit it, now that Addison had blown my cover. “Self-conscious. And Addison—”
Had a big mouth. Was mean and spiteful. Did not have many friends. Any true explanation I could have given him would get me in trouble with her. So I said, “Our mothers were majorettes together in high school.”
“Really!” Max said.
“Yeah.”
“Best friends?”
I had wondered this myself. “You know, I’m not sure how close they were.” My mom planned a lot of balls for charity, where the movers and shakers in Atlanta could see and be seen, but she wasn’t outgoing. She spent most of her time by herself.
“Anyway,” I said, “our parents got divorced at about the same time.” I stopped myself there. Addison wouldn’t want me telling her date the uglier parts of her family background. So I left out that her dad had gone to trial for making a lot of questionable investments. At least he didn’t go to jail, but a huge chunk of their money was gone.
“Our moms threw us together in majorette class,” I said. “The nice thing about having a friend forced on you is, you’re never alone.”
“Yep.” Max nodded as if he really understood what I meant. “So nowadays, when the two of you aren’t getting along, you remember how you were able to talk to each other about your family problems back then. When you look at her, what you’re really seeing is the girl you became friends with in the first place, and it’s harder to get mad at her.”
“Yyyyeah,” I said slowly. This seemed sort of right. Addison and I had never talked about our family problems, as far as I remembered. We had never talked about much of anything. But I had spent the night at her house a lot during that turmoil, and I had enjoyed how loud and crazy it was with her older sister and younger brothers. She’d spent some nights at my house, and she’d probably enjoyed the silence that I hated so much. I had walked with her across the school yard while mean boys had yelled insults about her father’s mug shot in the newspaper, and she had walked with me when boys said my red skirt was as big as a caboose.
“How about you and Carter?” I asked. “Are you friends because of football?” I doubted this, since football seemed to be a sore subject between them.
“We both moved to town when we were nine,” he said. “I guess we found each other because we both were different. I was from California, and I’m Japanese, as you can see.” He moved his hand down his body, presenting himself, ta-da. “And Carter’s parents adopted him from Russia.”
“Russia!” I exclaimed. “Like, the country?”
“No, Russia, Ohio.”
I deserved that. Russia, like, the country? Good Lord. I’d made a clueless comment of Addison-esque proportions.
But Max seemed to like that. He’d asked her out, after all.
Then I second-guessed what Max had meant. Maybe he was serious. “Carter is from Russia, Ohio?”
Max rolled his eyes. “There’s no Russia, Ohio.”
That ticked me off. I was not as stupid as he seemed to think I was. “I’ll bet there is.” I unzipped my baton bag, pulled my phone from the side compartment, and got online. “Ha! It’s thirty-four miles north of Dayton.” I turned to him.
Again, he was cl
oser than I expected, his face near my shoulder, leaning over to see my phone.
“You’re speechless,” I noted. “Probably for the first time all week.”
He smiled more broadly and watched me.
We eyed each other so long that I was sure he was looking right through me and could tell how hard I’d fallen for my best friend’s date.
I laughed nervously. “Carter’s from Russia?” I repeated. “He doesn’t have an accent.”
“Yes, he does,” Max said. “You’re not listening. It’s a lot more subtle now than when he was nine, though. The kids at school made fun of him.”
I winced, feeling sorry for nine-year-old Carter. “That’s terrible.”
“It was terrible when they made faces at me, too.” With his fingers, Max lifted the outside corners of his eyes.
“Yep. It was terrible when my bra was two cup sizes bigger, and boys called me Gemma Van Cleavage.”
I almost slapped my hand over my mouth. I could not believe I had said that to him. The problem with pretending to be extroverted was that once I started, there was no telling what would come out of my mouth.
But Max only laughed. “Yep.” Then he eyed me again. “So, listen.” At the last second, his gaze faltered. He looked down at his shorts and picked at a frayed spot on the hem. “What did Addison mean when she told you to keep your nose clean?”
Sure, I would tell him. I was taking a lot of perverse pleasure in making him realize he had chosen the wrong girl. I said without missing a beat, “She meant that I’d better not try to steal you from her.”
5
“You’d better not steal me from Addison?” Max repeated, sounding confused.
“Yes, and she’d better not steal Carter from me, either.” I pretended to ponder the possibility, as if such a misfortune would be very grave indeed. Then I laughed it off like I’d convinced myself I was being ridiculous. Dearest Addison would not steal my boyfriend!