We Can Work It Out

  When no one answered, Bruce took a nervous step back. While all eyes on the table were on me to make a decision, my own eyes quickly swept the cafeteria. It was partly to see if there was a better place for him to sit and also to see if anybody else had noticed our predicament. There were a few people studying the table. At the jocks-and-cheerleaders-only table, Ryan’s boorish best friend, Todd, was nudging their friend Brian, pointing out Bruce. Todd’s cocky laughter sealed Bruce’s fate.

  “Of course.” I began to make room for him. “Come sit between me and Tracy.”

  “Cheers,” he said gratefully. “I appreciate it. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  The group continued its silent study of our guest, which in turn made him self-conscious again. He hardly looked up as he played with his sandwich.

  “So …” I said, racking my brain for small talk. “How was your day so far?”

  “It was good.” He took a bite but still refused to look up, which was wise since all eyes were on him.

  I gave a warning look to the group, and a few resumed their conversations. “Well, I’ll take you to Spanish after lunch, and then we have World History, so you’re stuck with me for a bit.”

  “Sounds great.” He looked to his other side. “How was your morning, Tracy?”

  She took a long sip of her soda. “It was school. So do you miss your pet koala back home?”

  I could see the back of his neck turning a light shade of crimson. “Um, no. Koalas are an endangered species. We have them in sanctuaries for the most part.”

  “Really?” Her lips turned up into a smirk. “Are you related to any hobbits, then?”

  “Ah, those movies were filmed in New Zealand …”

  I jumped in. “She’s only teasing.” It was unclear whether he genuinely didn’t realize this, or if Tracy made him nervous because he was smitten. I was really hoping for the latter. It wasn’t that I wanted Tracy to date, but it was about time someone liked her. And if that someone was the hot foreign exchange student, even better.

  Tracy went back to talking with Morgan. Luckily, Diane was across from Bruce, so the three of us carried on a discussion about Australia, the US, and McKinley High, and avoided the very large elephant in the room: the Club.

  Later, as we gradually began to disperse, I headed back to my locker to get my books. When I turned the corner, Ryan was shaking his head at me.

  “What?” I asked, although I already knew where this was going.

  “So” — he twirled a piece of my hair around his finger — “I see what it takes to get an invite to your lunch table: an accent.”

  I swiped his hand away. “What was I supposed to do? It was so awkward.”

  He laughed. “Oh, really?”

  “Thanks for inviting him to sit with you guys,” I replied dryly.

  He folded his arms. “So you’d rather have him sit with Todd?”

  He had a valid point.

  Bruce was going to meet Todd in Spanish class, so I knew I had to tell him about the Club before he got some demented version of the story from Todd Chesney.

  Todd and I used to get along. He was your typical playful jock who walked around like his only care in the world was scoring on and off the court. He had dated practically every girl in our class, and he’d set his sights on me right as I formed the Club. He did not take rejection well. As the Club took off, he harbored a lot of resentment toward me, which ended up in an altercation between us after what had been an otherwise insanely fun karaoke night. While he had since apologized for his drunken behavior, things hadn’t been the same between us. And I doubted they ever would.

  Bruce met up with me as I was walking toward class. “Hey, sorry about lunch,” he said.

  “There’s no need to apologize.” Which was the truth.

  He looked around the hallway. “I felt like I was intruding. But I saw a big table of girls, and what guy wouldn’t want to sit there?”

  “Yeah, so there’s something you should know.” I figured now was the best time to tell him, but I never knew exactly what to say. So there was this guy I’d been in love with since I was a kid and he broke my heart. I decided to form The Lonely Hearts Club and stop dating for the rest of my high school existence. Then others joined, a revolution took over the school, egos were bruised, fights were had, and in the end we decided that guys are okay to date as long as they aren’t jerks.

  Maybe it was that simple?

  I gave him the brief history, then said, “Originally, we sort of swore off dating; you know, boys are stupid and all that.”

  He nodded. “As a boy, I get it.”

  “But then we rethought things a bit.”

  “I figured, since you have a boyfriend.”

  “Yes.” I paused before we entered class. “So we have some rules. We hang out on Saturday nights, have meetings at lunch, and do a lot of events together, basic we are girls, hear us roar type things.” I silently cursed myself for speaking so flippantly about the Club to him. We were much more than that. I shouldn’t have felt the need to downplay it.

  “Sounds cool,” he said. “It’s for girls only, then?”

  “Yeah, afraid so.”

  He looked thoughtful. “You know, girls aren’t the only ones who’ve had their hearts broken.”

  I didn’t have a response. I knew that was true, but I also wasn’t prepared to open up the Club further. Adding boys to anything always brought on trouble.

  I motioned for him to enter the classroom. Before I even had a chance to introduce him to our teacher, Todd came barreling in.

  “Well, well.” His arrogant smirk instantly infuriated me. “Are you going to introduce me to your new member, Penny? Who’s the fellow lesbo?”

  Standard Todd. Anytime a girl joined the Club or turned him down for a date, he automatically assumed that she was a lesbian. Because why else would a girl not want to deal with his crap? Further proof that he was a complete and total moron.

  “Just ignore him,” I said to Bruce.

  But Bruce refused to let Todd get the better of him. “Hey, mate, I’m Bruce — the guy who managed to sit with loads of amazing ladies at lunch today. See ya around.” He walked away, leaving Todd without a proper comeback. Bruce went to introduce himself to our teacher while I made my way to my seat, which was unfortunately still next to Todd. The alphabetical system could be as much a curse as a blessing.

  Todd sat down and turned his back to me, which was what we did now. Still, he made no effort to keep his voice down when he said to another jock, “I guess British dudes would rather hang out with lesbians than real men. Loser.”

  Todd never inconvenienced himself with facts.

  I knew that Ryan and Todd had been friends since they’d played in Little League. We were from a small town, and you kind of become friends with whoever was on your team or on your block. Still, listening to the crap spewing from Todd’s mouth, I was thinking that maybe it was time for Ryan to be given a reminder that, unlike family, you can choose your friends.

  WHILE MY BIRTHDAY DIDN’T FALL ON Christmas or New Year’s Eve, I could sympathize with people who had to share their birthday with a big holiday. Because in the Bloom household, February 7 wasn’t only my birthday, it was the anniversary of the Beatles’ arrival in the United States.

  For years my sisters and I believed my mom refused to push so I’d be born on my parents’ favorite day of the year. That might sound crazy, but my Beatles-obsessed parents had named their three daughters after Beatles songs: Lucy (in the Sky with Diamonds), (Lovely) Rita, and Penny Lane. (Thank goodness they stopped at three, or I might’ve had a poor little sister named Eleanor Rigby.)

  While my parents’ love of the Beatles had passed down to me, my sisters were more resistant.

  “You’re being so stubborn, Lucy!” Mom said into the phone, gesturing wildly to my father, who was on the other line.

  “Now, Luce,” Dad began, “promise us that you’ll think about it.”

  Mom glared
at him. I kept my head down while I finished washing the dishes from dinner.

  Lucy’s upcoming wedding was making everyone tense. This particular argument wasn’t about the usual wedding-related things like seating charts, food, or flowers. No, this fight was over my parents’ insistence that a Beatles song be used for Lucy and Pete’s first dance. The current compromise was that Dad and Lucy would have their father-daughter dance to “In My Life,” which would’ve satisfied most people.

  My parents, however, were not most people.

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Mom groaned. “Remember who’s paying for this wedding!”

  I sat down at the kitchen table and flipped through the RSVPs, recognizing a mixture of family and friends. The names that didn’t register were all from the East Coast, where Lucy’s future husband was from.

  “Well, I guess we’ll talk about this when you’re home next weekend,” Mom said with a sigh.

  I did my best to contain the amused expression surfacing on my face. At some point, my parents had to realize that while their wedding had included only Beatles music, posters, and groomsmen’s outfits similar to the ones the Beatles wore during their famous Ed Sullivan Show debut performance, most other people would show some restraint.

  Mom collapsed on the chair next to me after hanging up the phone. “Now, Penny Lane, you’d better not give us any fuss over your birthday. You know the drill.”

  I quickly agreed because I did know better. The traditional “Happy Birthday” song has never been sung in the Bloom house. I doubt my parents even know the words. No, the only Dave-and-Becky-Bloom-endorsed song for birthday celebrations was the Beatles’ “Birthday.” And as much as it annoyed Rita and Lucy, I absolutely loved it.

  “So what’s the plan, kiddo?” Dad asked as he sat down across from me, a stack of new RSVPs in hand.

  “Well, my birthday’s on a Saturday this year, so the Club will be over. I figured we could do a cake. I don’t really need anything special.” Which was true — all I needed was the Club.

  “What about Ryan?”

  “He’s taking me out to lunch.” I’d debated asking him along that night, but I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. Plus, I wasn’t going to bend the rules for my benefit, even if it was my birthday.

  “That sounds like a fun day,” Dad answered. “Ryan’s coming to the wedding, right?”

  I looked up at my dad. I hadn’t even thought about that. Ryan and I had only been dating for four weeks, and the wedding wasn’t for another six.

  Before I had a chance to respond, my dad lit up and said, “Ah, here’s the Taylors’ RSVP.”

  I instantly felt sick to my stomach. I had forgotten that the Taylors were invited, and I was pretty sure my parents weren’t going to exclude Nate, the jackass son who’d stomped on my heart.

  Mom looked down at the guest list. “They’re coming, right?”

  I realized I was holding my breath.

  Dad looked down at their response. “Yep, two chicken and one beef.”

  Our dads were best friends, so I had known our paths would eventually have to cross. But I didn’t want it to be at such an important family event.

  Actually, I didn’t want it to be under any circumstance.

  “Ah, Dad?” I finally found my voice. “Ryan is coming to the wedding.”

  “That’s great, Penny Lane!” He winked at me as Mom added his name to the list.

  Yes, it was great.

  I knew I could handle myself around Nate — I had proven that at Thanksgiving, when I’d finally told him off.

  But it was always good to have backup.

  The second I mentioned the wedding to Ryan, I realized how silly I’d been for not inviting him sooner.

  He was still excited when we arrived for our double date Friday night with Morgan and Tyson.

  “It’s just so public,” he teased. “Does this mean you’re going to allow me to dance with you? In front of people?” He opened his jaw in playful exasperation.

  “You are aware that I can take back that invitation at any time,” I reminded him.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me,” I dared.

  “Okay, I won’t press my luck.”

  “Smart move.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it easy on you tonight. Prepare to be schooled.” Ryan then began doing what I could only assume was the running man, with arms and legs flailing everywhere.

  It was dorky, yet totally endearing.

  “Yes, well, I guess you showed me.” I held up my hands and waved them exaggeratedly. “I’m so nervous.”

  Ryan stopped dancing. “Just remember this next week.”

  “What’s next week?”

  He looked at me like I should have known what he was talking about. “We’re going to that indoor mini-golf place with my sister. On Wednesday.”

  “Oh, no.” I felt horrible. “I completely forgot. I agreed to try out that new Chinese restaurant with a few of the girls.”

  “Okay,” he said with measured understanding. “How about next weekend sometime? Clearly not on Saturday night.”

  “Sure.” Then I realized what next weekend was. “Wait, Lucy’s home next weekend. We have family stuff, and then she’s meeting the Club.”

  “Oh,” he said flatly, no longer hiding his disappointment. “Well, I’d really like to meet her, too, if there’s time.”

  I started going over next weekend’s schedule in my head, but there was something wedding- or Club-related pretty much every second.

  “What about the following week?” I offered, even though I knew how lame that sounded.

  “Since I’m dating such a popular girl, I’ll take what I can get.” He laced his fingers through mine, and we walked into the arcade, where Morgan and Tyson were already playing skee-ball.

  While some people assumed that The Lonely Hearts Club allowed dating solely so I could go out with Ryan, it was actually because of Morgan and Tyson. While I was in my “all guys are evil” phase, Tyson was assigned to be my biology lab partner. At first I let his long black hair and rocker attire paint him in my mind as a shallow guy who only cared about his band. But the more I got to know him, the more I realized what a sensitive and brilliant musician he was. When he let me know that he had a crush on Morgan (who’d had a crush on him since freshman year), I realized it wasn’t fair to let my bad experiences cost Morgan and Tyson their happiness.

  Watching them laughing and playfully trash-talking, I knew the change to the Club had been for the best. It also didn’t hurt that I got to go out with Ryan.

  Morgan had one last skee-ball remaining. She stretched out her arms, put her long black hair up in a ponytail, and grabbed the ball. “And now, Two-Time Skee-Ball Champion Morgan Stephens needs only twenty points to win the game. Can she do it?”

  She paused dramatically before rolling the ball up the ramp, where it landed perfectly in the fifty-point hole. Tyson groaned, while Morgan took the tickets from both of their machines. “I believe these belong to me.”

  Tyson’s disappointment quickly faded as he pulled Morgan in close for a kiss.

  “Good job!” I gave Morgan a high five. “These boys need to be shown how it’s done.”

  “Are you willing to take on the champion?” she dared me.

  “Please.” I took out my quarters and slid them into the machine. “Challenge accepted.”

  Morgan and I played three rounds, and she kept her winning streak intact, her ticket pile growing by the minute.

  “So can I talk to you for a second?” she said when we were done. Her gaze wandered over to the corner where Ryan and Tyson were shooting hoops for prizes.

  “Of course.” Her tone made me worried.

  Morgan hesitated, nervously playing with her leather cuff bracelet. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about taking the next step with Tyson — you know.”

  It took me a second to realize what she was taking about. In a way I did know. It wa
s Nate’s continual pressure on me to take that next step that had led to the demise of our relationship, or at least to the revelation that he was a cheating snake.

  “Okay.” I prodded her to continue. I didn’t feel like I could contribute much since I had zero experience when it came to actual sex, but it was clear that Morgan needed to talk.

  “I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but he’s a senior. I don’t want to wait until he leaves. And I also didn’t want to be a big cliché and do it after Prom. I don’t know.”

  “Well …” I tried to stall since I had no idea what to say next. “I guess … if you’re not sure, you should probably wait until you are.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. I do know that I want it to be special. I don’t want to make this a Club issue or anything, but I wonder if there’s someone I should talk to?”

  “I know that Amy has … experience.” The fact that I couldn’t say “lost her virginity” or “had sex” out loud made it clear that I was not the right person to have this important conversation with. “But if I remember correctly, it wasn’t that great. I’m sure someone else has done it with better results; that information wasn’t exactly on the Club’s registration form.”

  “It wasn’t? That’s a shame.” She laughed. “Well, I really appreciate you listening.”

  “Of course, anytime. You know that.” Even if I was completely inadequate on the subject.

  “So what about you?”

  I responded with my most mature “Huh?”

  “Have you and Ryan talked about … ?” She let the thought hang in the air.

  “No!” I said with a little too much horror. The way I was handling this conversation made it painfully clear that I wasn’t ready to take that next step. I tried to fight the memories of Nate’s betrayal as they surfaced. I could still practically hear the echoes of Nate and that girl’s cruel laughter when I caught them.

  Of course this now had me wondering if Ryan was considering it. I knew he and Diane had planned to do it, but never went through with it.

  “Hey!” Tyson came over to us, followed by Ryan, who was clutching a stack of tickets. “What are you two talking about?”