“Nice to meet you, Daniella,” I say. Not.
“So how does this work?” she says. “You find Jen, and then I get to, what, go to heaven or something?”
“Not really,” I say. I set my latte on the little table next to my chair and start pulling the braids out of my hair. They’re super-cute, but I don’t think they’re appropriate for a study date. I need to go for something a little more . . . flirty. French braid? No, too serious. Swingy ponytail? No, too sporty. Hmmm. I wish I’d brought my curling iron to school. I keep asking my dad for one of those cute little battery-powered ones that you can bring everywhere, but he’s says it’s an unnecessary expense. I think he’s afraid I’ll spend all my time doing my hair and never get to class on time.
“Then how does it work?” Daniella demands.
“You have to tell me who this Jen person is, where she is, what you want me to tell her, that sort of thing. Then I do it and you move on.” I shrug. “To where, I have no idea.”
“But—”
The door to the English office opens, and Mr. Jacobi is standing there. “Hi, Mr. Jacobi,” I say happily.
“Kendall!” he says. “What are you doing in here?” He looks around suspiciously, like maybe I’m trying to change my grade or something, which is ridiculous, since English is my best subject.
“Just studying.” I wave the red notebook in his face.
“Well,” he says, “it’s highly inappropriate, you being in here. Mrs. D’Amico would—”
“Mrs. D’Amico said I could,” I tell him. “I’ve been doing it since the beginning of the year. What are you doing here?” I ask. “I didn’t know math teachers were allowed to hang out in the English office.”
“He’s cute,” Daniella says, walking toward Mr. Jacobi. “In one of those weird hipster kind of ways.” She’s looking at him. “Although, he should really shave. Scruffiness is so last year.” She wrinkles her nose at Mr. Jacobi’s apparent lack of fashion sense.
“Math teachers are allowed to hang out wherever they want,” Mr. Jacobi says, looking all indignant. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I had a question for Mrs. D’Amico about next month’s assembly.”
“He’s crushing on Mrs. D’Amico!” Daniella says. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Mrs. D’Amico is seventy-five.
The bell rings then, and I gather up my stuff. “Time to go!” I say to Mr. Jacobi. “And don’t worry about my quiz grade. Brandon and I are going to stay after school and study.”
I check my watch on the way out of the office. Perfect. Just enough time to head to the girls’ bathroom and fix my hair into something tousled and flirty and cute. I turn around and look down the hall to see if Daniella’s following me. But she’s gone.
• • •
My trip to the bathroom turns out to be a complete and total disaster, so I have to go looking for Ellie. When I finally find her at her locker, I fling myself toward her and scream, “My hair is a disaster!”
She sighs and grabs her book bag. “Your hair,” she says, “is not a disaster.”
“Come,” I say. I drag her into the bathroom, where I reach into my bag and pull out my special butterfly clips. “Start putting these all over my hair,” I say. I flip open my green notebook and point to a page. “Like that girl.”
“Oooh, cute,” Ellie says. She starts clipping them all up and down my hair. That’s one of the things I love about Ellie. She gets that I need a different hairstyle for my different moods. “I love these clips.”
“Made them myself,” I say proudly. “Butterfly rings, ten for a dollar, so I bought a bunch, ripped off the ring part, and then hot-glued them onto a clip.”
“Brill!”
“Thanks.”
“So it turns out I really like Kyle,” Ellie says after a few minutes of clipping. “I just decided last period.”
“Wow,” I say. “How’d you come to that conclusion?” I’m not rattled by this news. Ellie crushes on a different boy pretty much every week, so the fact that she’s decided to like Kyle isn’t really that noteworthy, since by Friday she’ll probably like someone else.
“Well, I remembered this one time when I overheard him saying that he liked watching that show Scandals and Secrets? And you know that’s my fave show. Also, I like the way he’s always eating licorice.” She blushes.
“You already know his fave show and that he likes to eat licorice? Hasn’t he only been here for, like, a month?”
“Yes,” she says, and her blush deepens. “Also, he keeps a picture of his dog taped to the inside of his math book. Which is adorable.”
“The dog’s adorable? Or the fact that he keeps a picture of it?”
“Both.”
I study my reflection in the mirror. My long light brown hair looks wavy and cute, and the butterfly clips glitter and sparkle under the bathroom lights. “I’m ready.”
“Are you going to really work on your math?” Ellie asks as we walk toward the library.
“Of course!” I say. “That’s the only reason Brandon agreed to hang out with me.”
Ellie nods, but she looks kind of disappointed. She probably wanted to do something a lot more fun. Ellie is one of those people who never has to study but still gets good grades. It’s totally unfair, but she never brags about it. “How come you never asked me to tutor you?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I hoped I’d be caught up by now.” We’re standing in front of the library, and we walk in, whooshing through the turnstiles.
“They’re over there,” Ellie says, pointing to the corner, where Brandon and Kyle are sitting, books strewn about in front of them.
“Okay,” I say, more to myself than to Ellie. “Now, be cool.”
“Hey,” Kyle says as we approach. “We thought it would be more fun to study at the mall. You girls in?” He slams his book shut and slides it into his bag.
It’s such an absurd thing to say that at first I think he has to be joking. “Study at the mall? Ha!” I almost add, “Kyle, you’re such a kidder,” but decide that would be going too far, since I hardly know him.
“Seriously,” Kyle says. “They have free Wi-Fi in the food court, and we can get smoothies and spread out our stuff. It doesn’t get busy there until, like, six.” He pulls a piece of licorice out of his bag and pops it into his mouth, then pulls out another piece and offers it to Ellie.
“Thanks,” she says shyly, and takes it. Kyle smiles at her. He has a very nice smile. I turn to Ellie, waiting for her to back me up about this whole mall thing. But instead she takes a bite of licorice, then turns to me and says, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s crazy,” I say. “I mean, how are we even going to get to the mall? Unless one of us turned sixteen since sixth period, I’d assume that none of us can drive yet.” I laugh again, hoping they’ll all see how completely ridiculous they’re being. I mean, I love the mall, but I don’t love getting in trouble.
“We take the city bus,” Kyle says. “It picks us up right outside of school, and it drops us off at the front entrance of the mall.” He sounds like he thinks it’s crazy that I don’t know this. Which kind of makes sense, because you’d think that a girl my age who’s so into accessories would know the bus routes to the mall.
“What do you think?” Ellie asks again. Which isn’t that cool, since she’s kind of leaving it up to me to say no. The thing about Ellie is that even though she can be shy, she’s also pretty adventurous. She likes to be out and about, doing things. And since she didn’t really need to study in the first place, going to the mall probably sounds super-fun to her.
“Sure,” I say, even though what I really think is that if my dad finds out, he’s going to kill me. Taking the bus to the mall? He definitely wouldn’t be pleased. Although . . . he is always encouraging me to hang out after school and make new friends. He gets worried sometimes that I rely on Ellie too much. Of course, if he knew I was going with boys, he probably wouldn’t be happy, but friends are
friends, right? To be concerned about the gender of my friends would be pretty sexist.
“Cool,” Kyle says, and before I know it, we’re out of the library and on the street.
Chapter
3
“Are you sure this is okay?” Ellie asks once we’re outside and the boys are a few feet ahead of us. Okay, more than a few feet. More like a hundred feet or so. Which doesn’t make sense for a couple of reasons, one of which is that they said the bus stop was right outside the school, which obviously isn’t true, and the other is that we’re supposed to be together. So why are they walking so far ahead of us?
“Not really,” I say. I texted my dad earlier to tell him I was staying after school to study. And I guess I didn’t specifically say I’d be in the library, but still. I don’t like lying to my dad. My dad is very cool.
“Should we call it off?” Ellie bites her lip and looks nervous.
“Bus!” Kyle screams from up ahead as a big blue and white bus comes whipping around the corner.
The boys start running, and Brandon turns around to yell, “Come on!” but neither one of them comes back for us. My heart sinks, because I was hoping Brandon was the type who’d be chivalrous and walk with me. Or at least act like he cared if I got on the bus.
Ellie and I look at each other, and then we start running, which really sucks because I hate running and also because the bus has to stop and wait, and when we finally get on, everyone’s looking at us. The bus is full of people, and you can tell they’re annoyed that we’ve held them up for even one second.
I plop into a seat next to Brandon, suddenly feeling very, very cranky.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “The next one doesn’t come for another forty-five minutes, and I thought I should go ahead so that I could hold it for you guys.” He reaches into his pocket and hands me his gloves. “Here,” he says. “It’s cold out.”
It is unseasonably cold for October, but suddenly I feel very hot. Still . . . I want to wear those gloves. Badly. So I slip my fingers in and wiggle them around. The gloves are too big for me, but somehow they feel right. Yay! Brandon is chivalrous after all!
“Thanks,” I say, acting like it’s no big deal and that I wear boys’ gloves all the time.
I look over to where Ellie is sitting across from us, next to Kyle. She’s got a very calm look on her face as she watches the whole thing with the gloves, which is a giveaway that she’s freaking out inside. Ellie is very good at hiding her emotions.
The mall is actually pretty close to our school, but just far away enough not to be within walking distance, so we’re there in what seems like two minutes. I haven’t even gotten the chance to say anything to Brandon. Seriously, nothing.
We’ve just both been sitting here, not saying anything. It’s kind of awkward, honestly, but the longer the silence goes on, the harder it is to break. It’s like I need to come up with the perfect thing to say to him, and when I can’t, I can’t say anything. I mean, who wants to break the silence with some ridiculous comment?
God, I really do not know how to flirt. It’s probably because I don’t have a mom. Aren’t moms supposed to teach you how to flirt? Or are they supposed to not want you to flirt because it means you’re growing up too soon and all that other stuff that parents get all freaked out about?
The bus opens its doors and spits us out right onto the sidewalk in front of the mall.
“I want to get a new hat,” Kyle says. He hands Ellie another piece of licorice without even asking if she wants it. Apparently those two are already so cozy that they’re sharing food like it’s nothing.
“What kind of hat?” Ellie asks.
“Baseball.”
“Yeah, but what team?”
“Yanks.”
Ellie wrinkles up her nose. “The Sox are so much better this year.” Ellie knows all about sports. You’d think I would too, since I live with my dad, but who has time for sports with all these ghosts bothering me? Honestly, that’s one of the reasons I’ve never gotten involved in any extracurriculars. No time. That’s definitely going to have to change when I get into high school, though. How am I going to get into a good college with no after-school activities?
“Let’s sit here!” I say, pointing to an empty table in the middle of the food court. It’s right near a Coffee Bean, which is fab. I need a pick-me-up.
“First we need to get my hat,” Kyle says.
I sigh. How is shopping for a hat with Kyle going to get me closer to Brandon? But I obviously can’t say that, and so we all traipse into Lids.
“Yo, these hats are penny,” Kyle says, looking them over.
I have no idea what “penny” means, but I try to stay in the spirit of things. I pick up a pink knitted Bruins hat and pull it down onto my head. Very cute. I could totally style my hair around this in a bunch of different ways. I pull it off and check the price tag, trying not to think about how many other people tried it on before me. It’s $29.95? Wow. That’s a little bit ridiculous. I put it back on the shelf. I can probably find the same one at Target for five dollars.
“You should get that,” a voice says, and I jump. Daniella. Right there, in the hat store with me.
“Go away,” I whisper. “Can’t you see I’m on a date?”
“You think this is a date?” she says. “This is not a date, unless you call being pulled along on Kyle’s shopping trip a date.”
I look around. Kyle is wrapping a tape measure around his head and saying, “I need to know my hat size. It can’t be too small or too big, I don’t want to have to bring this hat back!” The salesgirl is looking at him warily, and then Kyle whips the tape measure off his head and starts flailing it all around like it’s a lasso.
Ellie is looking at him with disdain, and I already know what that means. She’s over her crush. Brandon is in the corner, looking at a rack of key chains.
“It is a date,” I say to Daniella, “and I can’t be bothered with you right now, so if you want me to help you, come back later.” I don’t want to sound mean, but the last thing I want is for Daniella to start messing with my love life. She obviously doesn’t care, though, because she follows me.
“Don’t be so scared of Brandon,” she says. “He’s just a boy.”
“I’m not scared of him!” I say. She looks at me skeptically. So to prove it I march right over to Brandon. I tap him on the shoulder. “Hey,” I say when he turns around, “want to go wait in the food court?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. That was wayyy too forward, especially for a girl like me who doesn’t know how to flirt. I mean, I asked him to study. That was a miracle in and of itself.
“Uh, sure,” he says, looking flustered. He puts the key chain he’s holding back on the rack, and I turn around and mouth to Ellie, “OMG!” She just smiles and waves me away.
• • •
When we get to the food court, Brandon and I sit down at a big round table and spread out our books.
“Um, do you want a coffee or a soda or something?” I ask. “I’m going to go up to the coffee cart.”
“I’m good,” he says, pulling a Gatorade out of his bag.
I order my coffee, and when I get back to the table, Brandon has opened our books to the page our homework’s on. I check my watch. Three fifteen. I have to get back to the school by five thirty, since that’s when my dad is picking me up.
“When’s the next bus back?” I ask Brandon, trying to sound all casual, like I’m the type of girl who just takes off to the mall without letting her dad know and doesn’t freak out about it.
“Bus back to where?”
“School.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Usually our parents just pick us up here.”
“Oh.” I try not to start hyperventilating.
Daniella, who was suspiciously absent while I was getting my coffee, is suddenly sitting next to me. “You are so in trouble,” she says. “How are you going to get back to the school by five thirty?
Your dad is going to be sooo mad.”
She doesn’t even know my dad, so obviously she’s just saying it to make me freak out. And it must show on my face, because Brandon says, “Do you need a ride home?”
“No,” I say. “It’s not a big deal. My dad was going to pick me up at school, but I can just call him and tell him to pick me up here instead.” Not.
“You’ll probably get grounded,” Daniella says cheerfully. She’s on the floor now, doing a split. What a show-off!
“It’s no problem,” Brandon says. “My dad can bring you home. You live near the Windsor Cemetery, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Right in front of it, actually. How’d you know?”
“Um, I’ve been to the cemetery a lot,” he says, looking embarrassed. “Sometimes I see you outside with your dad.”
“You have a cemetery in your front yard?” Daniella says. “Well, that explains a lot.”
I want to tell her that no, it doesn’t. I have no idea if the cemetery even means anything. My dad lives in the same house I do, has for even longer than I have, and he can’t see ghosts. Well, as far as I know, anyway.
“So,” I say to Brandon. “Should we get started?” I figure if we do a little studying, I won’t technically be lying to my dad. At least, not that much. But what I really want to do is ask Brandon why he’s always at the cemetery. I’m pretty sure that would be prying, though. It is only our first date. We’ll have plenty of time to get into serious conversations later.
“Sure,” Brandon says. “Just let me text my dad and let him know you need a ride.”
But before we can even open a book, something totally horrible happens. Well, two things, actually. First Daniella starts screaming. I mean, she has a screechy voice anyway, but this is, like, a whole other level.
“Who,” she shrieks, “is that?”
I follow her gaze over to the other side of the food court, where a teenage boy is holding hands with a girl with short red hair. I don’t say anything. I can’t, since (a) Brandon’s right there, and (b) I have no clue who those people are. So Daniella just keeps on ranting. “I’ll tell you who that is,” she says. “That is Trevor Santini. But who that girl is, I don’t know.”