Still, a Cleansing Ceremony seemed like a good idea, for mental health. Lina found Ramona in her room, gathering all the museum exhibits in a pile.
“Now that I look at the stuff, I realize it's nothing but trash,” Ramona said, dumping it in a metal waste basket. “It's time to get rid of it. It was attracting ants.”
Lina showed her Dan's final e-mail. Ramona read it and tossed it onto the pile in the basket. Then she took both of Lina's hands. “Close your eyes,” Ramona said.
Ramona closed her eyes.
“Daniel Shulman, we thank you for all you have given us,” Ramona said. “But now it is time to move on. You will always be our first love. May you find happiness with that pseudo-French twit.”
Lina opened one eye, and caught Ramona with both eyes open. She glared at Lina, who quickly shut hers again.
Ramona shook their hands over the pile three times. “Say it with me, Lina: Good-bye, good luck, good riddance.”
“Good-bye, good luck, good riddance,” Lina said.
“Okay. You can open your eyes.”
Lina opened her eyes. Ramona sprinkled some kind of pink powder on the trash. Then she lit a match and set it on fire. The trash can was tall enough to contain the small flames. It flared up for a minute, then slowly died down until it was out.
Ramona poked through the ashes. “The pizza crust didn't really burn,” she said. “But close enough. It's over. No more Dan. He's out of our lives.”
“Right.” Lina wasn't sure what to say or do next. She and Ramona were very different people; their bond had been their shared love for Dan. Would they grow apart now? Lina hoped not. She had come to rely on Ramona for a certain type of blunt kindness. “What do we do now?”
“Well, I'm not the kind of girl who can go shrine-free for very long,” Ramona said. She pulled out a huge poster of a Goth-metal rock star named Donald Death. His face was powdered white, with pointed black brows, heavy eyeliner, red lipstick, and those weird contact lenses that make you look like an alien. In one eye, at least; the other was hidden by a black patch.
“My next obsession: Deathzilla,” Ramona said. Deathzilla was the name of Donald Death's band. She tacked the poster up on the oriental screen that had once held shavings from Dan's pencil sharpener. “Join me?”
Lina shuddered at the leer on Donald's face. “A worthy idol. But not my type.”
Lina couldn't go home yet. She still felt that emptiness, and there was no way a quiet night with Ken and Sylvia in their spare, boxy house would fill it. No, this was a job for Mads and Holly.
She rode her bike straight to Mads' house. “Let's bake some cookies,” Mads said, leading Lina to the funky farmhouse-style kitchen. Captain Meow-Meow, Mads' Siamese cat, lounged on the wooden table. “The kitchen's off limits!” she shouted to the household in general.
“No fair!” Audrey yelled back.
“Deal with it,” Mads said. She sat Lina at the table and started bringing out bowls for mixing and butter for softening.
“I called Holly, but she was busy,” Mads reported. “Guess why?”
“Britta crisis?” Lina asked.
Mads nodded. “She didn't say what it was.”
“Britta's life is so dramatic, like an opera,” Lina said.
“Regular or soap?” Mads said.
“Either one,” Lina said. “But I was thinking of regular opera. Big emotions, lots of passion. Even when something bad happens, I bet she never feels empty.”
Mads gave her a funny look. “That's true. Anyway, Holly said she'd try to get here later.” Mads opened a bag of chocolate chips and started nibbling on them. “You look sad.”
“I know. It's just … Dan. Ramona has already moved on. But I feel stuck. I don't know what's wrong with me.”
“Nothing's wrong with you,” Mads said. “Ramona's the weirdo. You just feel things more deeply.”
“What about you? Did you tell Sean about Jane yet?”
“He won't listen to me.” She bit the tiny point off the top of a chip. “Why won't he listen to me, Lina? He makes me feel invisible. Or worse, beneath visibility. Like an ant on the sidewalk—you could see it if you looked, but you don't bother, so you step on it without realizing what you're doing.”
“It's not you, Mads,” Lina said. “He likes you, in his own way. He just doesn't see much beyond himself.”
“You make him sound like a jerk.”
Lina decided it was best not to say anything.
“I never understood why you liked Dan, either,” Mads said. She grinned and handed Lina a spoon and a bowl with a stick of butter in it. “Start mashing.”
Smushing and stirring and playing with dough cheered them both up, and soon the smell of baking cookies drew Audrey to the kitchen.
“Out,” Mads said.
“Can't I have a cookie?” Audrey asked.
“When they're ready,” Mads said. “We'll let you know. We'll get back to you. Out.”
Audrey sat down at the table. “See how she listens to me?” Mads said. “Nobody listens to me.”
“I think you're wrong about Jane and Damien,” Audrey said to Mads.
“How do you know about that?” Mads asked.
“I read it on your blog. El Diarrhea.”
“How could I be wrong?” Mads said. “Did you see them making out in the back of the theater today?”
“Yeah, but think about it,” Audrey said. “Damien plays Jane's boyfriend. They're trying to live their roles. It's the Method.”
Mads rolled her eyes. “Damien plays my boyfriend, too, and you don't see him sticking his tongue down my throat every five minutes.”
“That's because you're so hopeless even the Method can't save you,” Audrey said.
“Sean's sure to figure it out now,” Lina said. “Since you practically spelled it out for him on the blog.”
“If he reads it,” Mads said. “I just wish he could see that tall and blond and pretty and super-cool aren't everything. Short and dark-haired can be fun, too.”
“Why don't you just give it up?” Audrey said.
Mads tilted Audrey's chair forward and dumped her on the floor. “Leave. And just for that, you get no cookies.”
Audrey tossed her ponytail. “You haven't seen the last of Audrey Markowitz. I'll be back.”
Lina laughed. “Come on. You have to admit she's cute.”
“Only someone lucky enough to have zero siblings would say that,” Mads said.
While they waited for the cookies to bake, Lina noticed a different kind of emptiness in the room. Not the loss of Dan. Something else.
“Doesn't it feel weird to be doing stuff without Holly all the time?” she said to Mads.
“Yeah,” Mads said. “Do you think she likes Britta more than she likes us?”
“That's impossible,” Lina said.
“It kind of feels that way,” Mads said.
“To me it feels more like she's taking us for granted,” Lina said. “You know how Holly loves matchmaking. And Britta's got this storybook love thing going on, and Holly's all caught up in it—”
“It is amazing,” Mads said.
“It is, right?” Lina said. “So Holly doesn't have much time for us now.”
“I understand,” Mads said. “But still, I don't like being taken for granted.”
“Me, neither,” Lina said.
18
Britta Takes Othe Plunge
To: hollygolitely
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: You will face a test today, and this time you won't be able to cheat by scribbling the answers on your hand.
* * *
Holly sat in the front seat of her VW and watched Britta drive away. Britta was a mess. She kept talking about how she wished she could move to England with Ed. How horrible her life would be if she had to stay here without him. All the wonderful things he said to her … All the wonderful things he did for her….
Holly was exhausted. They'd tal
ked so long the waitress at Vineland had to kick them out so she could close up. It was almost midnight.
Holly was supposed to stop by Mads' house, but it was too late now. She started the car and let the engine idle while she called Mads on her cell phone.
“Where are you?” Mads asked. “Lina's here, but she has to go home in a minute.”
“I know, I'm sorry,” Holly said. “I couldn't get away. But I'll make it up to you. What if all three of us go to the movies tomorrow night to see Kiss Me, Stinky?”
“Um, Kiss Me, Stinky?” Mads said. Then she paused. Holly thought she heard Mads murmur something to someone in the room with her. Probably Lina.
“Can we see something else?” Mads said. “How about Rocket to Russia?”
“What? No,” Holly said. “We agreed. We all want to see Kiss Me, Stinky together. Right?”
Another pause. What was going on?
“Mads?”
“Holly, Lina and I already saw it,” Mads said.
Holly thought she must have heard wrong. “What?”
“We already saw it.”
“Without me? But we were going to see it together! We agreed!” Holly felt stung.
“I know,” Mads said. “We called you but you were with Britta. We needed cheering up that night and it was the perfect thing—”
Holly almost felt like crying. “I can't believe you went without me.”
“I'm sorry,” Mads said. “But you're never free. You're always doing something with Britta.”
“You don't understand,” Holly said. “Britta is in a terrible situation. She really needs me!”
“We need you, too,” Mads said.
Holly felt a pang of guilt. She didn't know what to say to that. Had she been neglecting her best friends?
“Lina has to get going,” Mads said. “We'll talk to you tomorrow.”
She hung up. Holly shifted the car into drive and headed for home through the dark, quiet streets of Carlton Bay. She tried to be angry with them—How could they have gone without me? But it didn't last. She knew Mads and Lina were right. She'd been neglecting them. And Rob, too. She'd dropped everything to live Britta's big love story with her. It was just that Holly had never been through anything like that, never had anything like that herself. Mads and Lina had their dramatic crushes, their huge ups and downs that depended on what Dan or Sean had said or done that moment. But Britta's love was real.
Holly parked in the driveway and walked slowly along the landscaped path to the house. She opened the door and found Jen waiting for her. “Thank god you're home!” Jen said. “Britta's not with you?”
“No,” Holly said. “We went to Vineland, and then she went home.”
“No, she didn't,” Jen said. “Peggy Fowler just called to talk to Britta. Britta told her she was spending the night here.”
“She did?” Uh-oh. Why didn't Britta warn her? Should she make up a lie to cover for her?
“Peggy wants you to call her right away,” Jen said.
Oh, no, Holly thought, crossing the room to the kitchen phone. She had a bad feeling about this.
“Britta's not with you?” Peggy Fowler cried. “Where could she be?”
“Well, I'm not sure—” Holly said.
“Holly, we're frantic,” Peggy Fowler said. “She told us she was spending the night with you! She lied to us!” She choked back a sob. “She's been acting so strangely lately. Please, Holly. It's after midnight and we have no idea where she could be. Do you know anything? Did she say anything to you?”
Oh my god, Holly thought as the truth dawned on her. She's done it! She ran away to marry Ed! Holly couldn't help admiring Britta. She wasn't all talk—she was willing to do whatever it took to be with the guy she loved. But the admiration faded to worry, then fear, then panic. Britta had eloped! This was for real. No turning back.
“Holly, we're desperate,” Peggy said. “We're so worried about her! She spends so much time with you. You must have some idea where she could be.”
Holly did have an idea. But I promised Britta I wouldn't tell, Holly thought, stalling for time. How can I betray her?
Peggy started crying. “She's in some kind of trouble, I just know it. Please, Holly. Help me.”
The desperation in Peggy's voice scared Holly. Peggy was terrified. Her daughter had disappeared. Holly knew Britta was probably not in any physical danger. But she was taking a huge step. It would have major consequences, and Holly knew, from talking to her, that Britta hadn't really thought it through. She didn't know what she was getting into. She was blinded by love.
She'd promised not to tell the Fowlers that Britta planned to get married. But they were so worried. As far as they knew, Britta could be dead. Holly couldn't let them think that when it wasn't true. It was too mean.
Holly had no choice. She had to tell the Fowlers what was going on.
She took a deep breath. “I think I know where you can find her,” Holly said. “There's an empty house near the beach, on Sandhill Road. With a ‘For Sale’ sign out front. She and Ed go there. It's their secret hideaway.”
“Why? Why would she be there at this hour?” Peggy asked.
Holly swallowed. “Well, they might be planning to elope.”
“What?” Peggy screamed. “She's going to marry that boy?”
“I could be wrong—” Holly said, but she knew she wasn't.
“Gordon, get the car!” Peggy yelled. She hung up on Holly without saying good-bye.
“Britta Fowler?” Jen gave a throaty chuckle. “Britta Fowler wants to elope? With a boy?”
“It's not funny, Jen,” Holly said.
“Come on, honey,” Jen said. “Miss Future Harvard? The girl who studied all the time and never had a date? You have to admit—”
“It's not funny to her,” Holly said. “She's serious about it.”
“She's serious about everything,” Jen said. “Anyway, honey, I'm glad you told the Fowlers. You did the right thing. She must be out of her mind.”
A few minutes later, Curt came home, having been out late entertaining clients. Or something. The three of them sat at the kitchen table drinking decaf and waiting for news of Britta. Holly started to get nervous. What if she was wrong? What if Britta hadn't eloped? What if something terrible—something truly terrible—had happened to her instead?
After a couple hours of waiting, the phone finally rang. Holly answered it.
“We found her, Holly,” Peggy said. “Right where you said she would be. They were going to get married in the morning.”
“Is she okay?”
“We've got her home safe now. Thank you for your help, Holly. She's very upset.”
Holly felt all mixed up—relieved and guilty at the same time. She was glad Britta was okay. But Holly had betrayed her trust. And she never thought she'd do that to a friend.
“Someday Britta will thank us,” Peggy said. “You did the right thing, Holly.”
I hope so, Holly thought. I really do.
19
The Pain in Rain
To: mad4u
From: your daily horoscope
HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: You want trouble? You got it!
* * *
Mads, you scooped me,” Autumn Nelson said in the hallway at school. “I had no idea Rain was cheating on Caleb!”
“What?” Mads glanced at Stephen, who was heading to lunch with her, to see if this made any more sense to him than it did to her. He shrugged and shook his head. “Going to lunch?” Autumn asked. “Let's walk and talk.” She marched alongside Mads and Stephen as they walked through the hall. “What I want to know is, how did you catch her? And who is the other guy?”
“Um—” Mads had been waiting all morning for the fallout from her blind gossip item about Sean and Jane to bear fruit. But Jane didn't go to RSAGE—she was in college—and Mads hadn't seen Sean around anywhere. Autumn seemed to be talking about something that happened in a parallel universe. A girl cheating on her boyfriend, yes. Bu
t who were Caleb and Rain?
“Everybody's talking about it,” Autumn said. “We're just waiting for the two of them to implode. So tell me, who is it? Is it Mo?”
“Um, Autumn? What are you talking about?” Mads asked. They reached the lunchroom and hesitated at the threshold. Autumn and Mads didn't usually sit together, and the rigid code of the lunchroom was rarely breached. Mads didn't want to sit with her, anyway. She wanted to have a nice quiet lunch with Stephen.
Autumn waved to her friends across the room, as if to say “Be there in a minute.” “Hello?” she said to Mads. “You wrote it? On your blog? El Diarrhea?”
Mads flinched. “Funny, that's what my sister calls it, too.”
“You said a swimmer's girlfriend was cheating on him and she's blond and her name rhymes with ‘pain,’” Autumn said. “Who else could it be?”
Mads hadn't thought of that. Now that Autumn mentioned it, there was a swimmer named Caleb on the team, and there was a blond girl in the senior class named Rain Something-or-other. But Mads had no idea they were going out. And she'd also said the swimmer's girlfriend was leggy, and Mads wouldn't exactly call Rain leggy. Unless leggy could describe short, powerful soccer-type legs, which was what Rain had.
While Mads thought all this through, Stephen said, “I'll go save us a spot at the table,” and went with his bag lunch to their usual place.
“Autumn, I hardly know them,” Mads said. “Caleb and Rain, I mean. I—”
“Autumn!” Rebecca Hulse screeched across the lunchroom. “Get over here!”
Autumn sighed. “She's such a bitch. All right, we'll talk later.” She hurried over to her table. Mads joined Stephen at theirs.
“This is about that blind item on your blog, isn't it,” Stephen said.
“You read it?” Mads had kind of hoped he'd skip that part.
“Of course,” Stephen said. “I check the Dating Game every day for new entries. It's my guide to the inner workings of your mind.”
“Really?” Mads was both flattered and horrified. El Diario did reflect some of the inner workings of her mind—the silliest. “I wouldn't take that stuff too seriously, you know. I mean, I'm writing for an audience. It's not a true reflection of my personality—”