Beyond Clueless (11 page)

And so on and so forth. At various times, Felix was a narcoleptic cab driver, a televangelist, a brain surgeon, and a burning tree. Derek was a drug addict, a screaming toddler, and half of a horse—luckily, the front half. I was a hyper poodle, a bitchy cheerleader, and an ice sculptor (clever, no?). You know, par for the course. And, actually, it was a great way for me to shake all my nervousness and spastic demeanor around Felix. So it felt as if barely any time had gone by when Sister Mary Alice clapped her hands and said
we were moving on to another exercise. I just happened to end up standing next to Felix.

And that’s when it happened.

That was the moment he leaned in close and breathed into my ear: “I have to tell you . . . you’re really beautiful.”

No one had yelled anything, but I couldn’t have been more frozen.

O
h, boy.

You know how it feels when someone is watching you? Like, I mean,
really watching
you? I don’t remember a thing from the rest of the callback audition, except that Felix kept his eyes on me the whole time.

And . . . I liked it.

I mean, that perfectly formed human being was paying attention to—no, he was
transfixed by
—ridiculous, dorky me. We didn’t know each other beyond exchanging a few words, but all of a sudden I couldn’t focus on anyone else, and he was completely focused on me.

This had obviously never happened to me before, so I had zero idea of how to deal with it. Luckily, when rehersal ended, there was no natural opportunity to talk more, so we each drifted our separate ways.

Oh, God—what if we didn’t get cast in the play?

Oh, who was I kidding? He was a shoo-in. But what if I didn’t get a part? Would I ever see him again?

If we
did
both get parts . . . what would I say the next time I saw him, at the first rehearsal? What was he doing
right now
? Did he live with that old lady from the mall, presumably his grandmother? What was the rest of his family like?
Was he considering out-of-state colleges? How did his hair smell? What would we name our firstborn?

I know, I know, I’m a crazy person. But these were the kinds of questions I was asking myself all throughout the next day at school.

Xiang demanded the lowdown, every little detail, at lunch, and together we pondered all the different potential outcomes of this new Felix bombshell. I was obviously really excited that this gorgeous guy—a
junior
, no less—thought I was beautiful and had said it to me, but . . . now what?

Or was I just being crazy over a simple, harmless compliment?

Not when I thought about the way he looked at me, no.

Unfortunately, I think the Felix discussion only made Xiang more unsettled, since she had the orchestra audition after school, and Parker was definitely coming. She was determined to take Kirby’s advice about starting a covert romance, parents be damned. In a way, we were in the same boat—we both knew our guys were sort of interested, but . . . what was the next step? We decided she would come over to my house for a “study session” later on to recap on whatever happened after school.

And, frankly, it was nice to have my own romantic drama—at last!

As an added bonus, this whole Felix thing was a welcome distraction from my nervousness over the results of the callback audition. Jenny had said that the final cast list would be posted “in the next couple of days,” so I spent all
day wrapped up in my own anticipation, not really seeing or hearing anything around me (unless it pertained to Felix, of course). And you can bet your bottom dollar that I was frantically checking my inbox between every one of my classes.

And about every 3.5 seconds once I got home.

My mom was out, but Dad was cooking up a storm in the kitchen. I brought my laptop in and opened it up at the counter island with a heavy, dramatic sigh.

“Hey, what’s shakin’?” he asked, chopping away.

I pulled my hair back and held it with one fist in a ponytail. “They’re supposed to post the cast list any moment now. Is there any way I can add a noise alert to my inbox, so I can stop staring at the screen?” I wiggled my way onto one of the counter stools.

“Um . . . not that I know of. Maybe check under Settings. Is there a particular role you’re hoping to get?”

“No, not really. I mean, a
big
role would be nice, but since I’m only a freshman, I’m not expecting much. I just hope I get in. And my friends, too,” I added, thinking of a certain, brand-new, older,
hottie
friend.

“Well, you’ll definitely get cast—don’t you worry,” he said, adding onions to the saucepan. “And if you don’t get cast, it’s not the end of the world.”

Easy for him to say!

“Oh, you got my voice mail earlier that Xiang is coming over for dinner, right?” I asked, momentarily mesmerized by the hissing and popping coming from the stove.

“Not a problem. We got lots of beans and peppers in our local-farms box this week, so there will be chili aplenty—in fact, I’m hoping we have lots of leftovers. It always tastes better the next day, when all the juices have really settled in. It gets thicker when it cools, you know, and that gives it the perfect texture for . . .”

Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I turned back to my screen and opened up a search engine. I typed in
Felix Peroni
and waded through a bunch of stuff on some Argentinian viola player.

Then I came across the public listing for his Facebook profile.

It was definitely my Felix in the picture, even though he had cropped it weirdly, so it only showed the top half of his head. The page showed a few of his friends, and spiky-haired Matt Brezinski was one of them. I couldn’t access any real info, though, since we hadn’t “friended” each other. Would it be weird if I suddenly sent him a friend request? I mean, we hit it off at callbacks, so . . . not weird, right?

My dad tapped a glass with his spoon, and the ringing brought me back into reality. I realized I must have spaced out for quite a while, actually. “What, may I ask, is so interesting that you can’t answer a simple question?”

Caught! “Oh, um, nothing—”

And then, as they say, I was saved by the bell.

“Oh! That must be Xiang.” I slapped my laptop shut and sprinted to the front door.

“Salutations, my beatific broccolini!” Jimmy threw himself
upon me, smothering me in a hug, while Oliver slinked inside behind him.

“Hey, guys—to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“We have great news!” Jimmy grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the kitchen, Oliver still trailing behind.

My dad looked up from the stove when they walked in. “Oh, are there two more of you for dinner, then?”

“Oh, no, they—” I started, but Jimmy cut me off.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Mr. Sullivan, we’d love to stay!”

Excuse me? Jimmy hates my dad’s veggie food almost as much as I do! I mouthed, “Seriously?” at him, and he responded with a half shrug.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, Jimmy. Looks like we’ll have just enough with this chili. And for the thousandth time, call me Doug.” Ugh. I mentally hurled a Molotov cocktail at my dad. Sorry, but you’re a
dad
, not a
Doug
.

Hee, but I love that Jimmy still can’t bring himself to call him that, no matter how much my dad tries.

“And who is this?” My dad gave Oliver the paternal once-over, as if he was somehow telling Oliver to keep his hands off me. Oh, my clueless father.

“
This
is Oliver,” I said. I grabbed my laptop in one hand and Oliver’s hand in the other and dragged him (and therefore Jimmy) out of the kitchen. “Call us when Xiang comes!”

Up in my room, I tossed the laptop onto the desk and flopped onto my bed. Jimmy flung himself next to me, while Oliver perched carefully on a corner of the mattress, as if he
didn’t quite know what to do with himself in a girl’s bedroom.

“So. What’s the big news?” I asked.

Jimmy slapped two hands onto one knee. “Well. You know how we don’t spend enough time together now that you’re off at that nunnery, and Oliver and I didn’t make it to the callbacks?”

“That particular situation has not escaped my notice.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Bee-yatch, a simple ‘yes’ would be nice. Anyway, we’re going to join your play.”

“Um . . . have you murdered off the competition?”

He waved his arms over himself and Oliver, magician-style. “Nope. You are looking at two newly minted assistant stage managers.”

“Shut. Up.”

“No, really. Apparently, no one from your school signed up, so the stage manager let us do it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“Shut up.”

“OK, stop saying that.”

“Really?
Really
really? You guys are willing to deal with Jenny McCafferty just to spend more time with
me
?” My eyes went back and forth between Jimmy and Oliver like an Olympic Ping-Pong ball. They settled on Oliver.

“Well, you and Derek,” Oliver said. “He insisted we do
something
in the play, since he’s gonna have to be there.”

I gasped.
“The list!”

I physically launched myself toward my laptop on the desk. “They sent it out? Derek got a role?
I
got a role?” Oh, curse the distracting power of Facebook! I clicked on my inbox tab, and,
voilà
, there it was.

Maria Kilkenney—Witch, Kate O’Day—Cinderella, Felix Peroni—Wolf / Cinderella’s Prince, Derek Mylvaganam—Baker, Martha Sullivan—Little Red Riding Hood!

OMG!!

Just at that moment, my dad called us down to dinner because Xiang had arrived.

As we trudged down the stairs, I could not stop beaming, and a song started playing somewhere in the back of my head:
Felix and Marty, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G . . .

S
pill, sister,” I said the minute my bedroom door closed.

Xiang, Oliver, Jimmy, and I had retreated up to my room after dinner. My mom and dad were downstairs clearing the dishes (What? I had guests to entertain!), so we slipped upstairs to get the scoop on what, if anything, had happened between Xiang and Parker at their orchestra rehearsal.

“Yeah, but hurry, because my dad will be here to pick me up any minute,” said Oliver, checking his watch. “I can’t
wait
for my birthday in a couple of months,” he muttered.

“Oooh, then you’ll be our very own personal chauffeur!” I purred.

“I’ll take you anywhere and everywhere you wanna go,” he said, grinning in that way that really highlights his jawline.

“Hello? You wanna hear this or not?” Xiang barked at us.

“Yes! Yes! Do tell!”

Xiang’s eyes shone, and she looked like she was about to explode into a million pieces.

“It. Was.
Awesome
.”

We leaned forward, grinning stupidly with anticipation.

Xiang lowered her voice to a whisper. “We hooked up in one of the classrooms.”

Silence.

“Hooked up—you mean, kissed?” Jimmy finally said.

“Yeah . . . and a bit more than that,” she replied, grinning widely.

Jimmy swallowed hard, and Oliver looked a little green.

Me? I knew Xiang too well to fall for that. Xiang? Making out with some guy she barely knows? At our nun-run school? Please.

“Riiiiight. And now I suppose you’re pregnant with his baby,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Xiang sighed. “Well, not a possibility yet,” she said, “but I could totally see us going a lot further in the near future. I mean,
I
want to.”

She looked really serious. My disbelief started to fissure.

“Xiang. You’re kidding. I know you’re kidding.”

“Nope. We totally hit it off, and all the awkwardness just melted away. It just seemed so natural, the way we were talking and connecting, and then all of a sudden we were in this classroom, and . . .” She looked at each of us with that bright, shining expression she’d had all throughout dinner (now that I thought about it). “Well, you know.”

Oh, boy. She really wasn’t kidding.

“But . . . um, how . . . ,” I sputtered, by now completely bewildered. Shock doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling. I mean, I knew that some fifteen-year-olds supposedly start having sex, but somehow the idea just seemed really abstract and far away, something that happened to other people I didn’t
actually know
. Jimmy and Derek were probably
doing
stuff
, but he and I hadn’t ever talked about it. Oh, God—what
had
they done together?