Beyond Clueless (25 page)

My head was reeling. “Date? What date?”

Derek reddened. “The day he got his license?” He looked to Kirby for support. “At least, that’s what he called it.”

Looking out at Lake Erie, holding hands with Oliver, leaning into him. There was no kissing, but it was way . . . intimate. It
was
a date. A great one.

My first date.

“I mean, he was always coming up with reasons to see you,” Derek added. “The photo shoot, the Bollywood movie, the bowling trip, dinner at your house . . .”

Suddenly Xiang’s head poked in through the door. “You
OK in there? I’m having trouble holding off a whole bunch of guys from coming in. And they kinda have a point, since they
did
just sit through a three-hour show.”

“No, we’re done. I’m OK,” I said, raising myself up. Derek and Kirby didn’t object this time and, instead, helped me to my feet.

“Your parents are looking for you, by the way,” Xiang said after I passed her, unsteadily, at the doorway, and as five males urgently pushed their way into the bathroom. “Actually, I saw them looking for you before you fainted, so they don’t know anything about this.”

I paused and turned, touching Xiang lightly on the arm. “About yesterday . . .”

Her face tightened. “Whatever. Let’s just find your parents and get you home.”

But then she paused. “Not that you deserve to know this, but do you know what I heard earlier tonight? Oliver is totes in love with you! Didn’t you tell me he was gay?”

S
o, folks, that’s basically the story.

On Saturday morning I woke up a totally different human being. I was no longer a walking train wreck. Sunlight streaming onto my bed, I sat up to find that I had a whole new level of clarity about who I was, what I wanted, and what I was going to do. (Actually, it was more like 2:00
P.M.
; unconscious from the moment I made contact with my bed the night before, I’d slept for a solid fourteen hours.)

I walked downstairs to find my parents reading the paper in the kitchen.

“Well, well. Sleeping Beauty awakes,” said my dad.

“And I feel a million times better,” I said cheerily, opening the cupboards and digging around, hoping to find cereal that didn’t look like it came directly from a grain silo.

My parents exchanged a surprised look:
She speaks!

“Could one of you guys please drive me to Jerry Hall a little early today?” I asked. “I want to get there by four. But before that, I need to go over to Jimmy’s. Oh, and I’ll ride my bike over to Xiang’s, too.”

My mother folded up her newspaper and put it down on the counter. “So you’ve patched things up with her?”

“Well, I hope to, anyway.” I could tell my parents were
walking on eggshells, trying to keep me from sliding back into silent mode.

I settled on a box of organic granola-y stuff.

But my dad couldn’t resist treading further: “So, ah, how are things with Oliver?”

I spun around, wide-eyed. “How did you know about
that
?”

My dad chuckled. “Look, we may be old fogies, but it doesn’t take magical powers to see that the boy is smitten with you.”

Oh, my God. The shame! Even
my parents
knew! I thought back to that horrible night weeks ago, when my parents had set up The Rules.

The Boy Rules.

The
Oliver
Rules.

My shoulders slumped. Oh, geez. I’d gotten it all wrong, hadn’t I? Maybe my parents couldn’t care less about Jimmy and Derek.

“Well, to be honest, things with Oliver are not great,” I said carefully, popping open the cardboard box of the granola stuff. “There was a lot of misunderstanding. On my part. About a lot of things.”

I ripped open the plastic bag inside the granola box. “It’s one thing I hope to patch up today.” I swept up the little granola bits that managed to get all over the counter. “Actually, there’s a long list.”

Then I grabbed a small handful of granola stuff and shoved it into my mouth.

Hmm, not bad!

“Martha! Use a bowl,” Mom scolded me, getting up and pulling a spoon from the drawer. “And get some milk or yogurt. You’re not an animal.”

“Fiiiiiine,” I mumbled, opening the fridge door.

“And get some orange juice,” said my dad, who was turning back to the paper. “You need vitamins. You’re looking too pale these days.”

“Yeah, yeah . . .”

As I put together a proper breakfast—brunch?—I realized that things at home were going to be OK. Not perfect, maybe, but definitely OK. And I can live with OK.

My long list was one line shorter.

The leaves were changing, and the air was chilly, making each breath prickle pleasingly as I crunched my way through the woods. The light was angled low, catching the leaves as they trembled in the breeze, igniting their colors.

Every few steps, I would stop by a tree, pull out my scissors, and snip off a gray, worn ribbon.

Then I’d pull out my roll and tie a new, fluorescent pink one in its place.

I heard approaching footsteps, twigs snapping.

“Hey.” Jimmy stood a few yards away.

“Hey,” I said.

“Oh, yeah, I was thinking it’s about time we got new ones,” he said, indicating my ribbons.

“Yeah,” I said, not quite sure what else to say.

“I mean,
we
don’t need them,” he continued, pushing some leaves into a mound with the side of his shoe. “But we might have to send other people on the trail.”

“Like Derek,” I said, and he looked up to meet my gaze.

“Or Oliver,” he said.

Our breaths came out in tiny puffs.

“Or Xiang, or Kirby,” I said.

Jimmy pulled an annoyed face. “
Hello
, I’m trying to create a moment here!” he whined, hand on hip. “Xiang and Kirby do not belong on that list. I like Derek, the way you like Oliver, and we’re supposed to be all meaningful and poetic about letting them into our lives,
as represented
by this trail.”

Oh, Jimmy.

“So just to be clear,” I said, “you knew the whole time that Oliver was straight?”

He nodded, giggling. “I still can’t believe you got that wrong! Right after we did the whole photo-shoot thing at the playground, you said he was super-cute, so I brought him around to your house—”

“What? Wait, you were thinking about me and him together . . . as early as
then
?”

“—but then you ended up making out with Felix at the first rehearsal, so I didn’t think you were interested. At all.”

“I can’t even . . .” I shrugged helplessly. “But when did you figure out that I was Oliver’s crush?”

“Derek told me while you were off driving around with Oliver on his birthday.” Jimmy looked skyward and sighed.
“I
may or may not
have been complaining to Derek that you were getting all buddy-buddy with Oliver . . . and Derek couldn’t help himself; he told me. He was about to
explode
from having to keep it secret.”

As the Queen of Unkept Secrets, I couldn’t really fault him.

“Anyway,” he continued, “Derek figured that since you guys were on an actual date, it wasn’t secret anymore.”

“But you didn’t say anything to me?”

“Well, I thought
you knew
it was a date and that you had decided to stop seeing Felix! It seemed like you had everything under control. You weren’t exactly giving me updates on anything.”

No, it’s true: I wasn’t telling him much at all. I sighed heavily and clumped over to a fallen tree trunk to sit. Jimmy walked over to join me, sidling right up next to me for warmth.

“Marty, Marty, Marty . . . ” Jimmy’s breath had the crisp eucalyptus smell of cough drops.

“You silly, stupid succotash,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Yes, my ridiculous Rapunzel,” he said, patting my leg.

Oooh, good one.

After a minute of just sitting there and listening to the soft rattle of leaves in the breeze, Jimmy spoke again: “You know, a minute ago, you didn’t correct me.”

I lifted my head. “I didn’t?”

“So you
do
like Oliver.”

Ding-dong!

Click-click
.

Creeeak
.

This time it was Xiang’s mother who answered the door, and she broke into a wide smile.

“Oh, Martha!” she said. “You sang so beautifully last night.”

I lowered my head, giving her my best “Aww, shucks” smile. “Thanks. Is Xiang home?”

“Yes, upstairs. Her bedroom is right at the top.”

This was the first time I’d ever actually been inside Xiang’s house, since she always wanted to leave it. I climbed up the thick-carpeted steps and knocked on the first paneled door.

I heard an annoyed
“What?”
and then the door flew open.

“Oh. Marty. Um, hi,” Xiang said, clearly caught off guard.

“May I come in?”

She paused for a second, then nodded, and I slowly walked in. Her bedroom was immaculate, all tasteful dark furniture and cream-colored walls, with a music stand set up in a corner. There was no sign that anyone under the age of thirty lived there.

“I can’t believe I haven’t been here before,” I breathed admiringly.

“Yeah. Well,” Xiang said, clearly uncertain how she should handle the situation—me.

“So the past couple days have been pretty intense, huh?” I said, stalling. Apologies don’t come naturally to me.

She merely looked at me, not showing any emotion.

“OK, I’ll just say it,” I finally said. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Still no reaction.

“You were being a really good friend, and I . . . wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

More silence.

“Right. Look, I’m happy for you and Parker, and I was probably a little jealous that you seem to be totally happy and in control of everything, while I’m just . . . a mess.”

I ran my finger along her polished desktop as a few more seconds ticked by. “And I’ve been really self-absorbed. I get that. And that’s probably how I got into this whole mess in the first place.”

Her window had a view of the sidewalk, where an old man shuffled along. “You were right that I wasn’t ready to . . . do stuff . . . with Felix. And I’m sure you’ve heard about what a total jerk he is. But that still doesn’t excuse anything. I shouldn’t have sworn at you, and I should have just—”

“OK, can you shut up already?” I looked up to see her grinning at me, arms folded. “I’m just giving you a hard time! Jesus, everyone goes crazy a little sometimes. No big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal,” I said, relieved by her sudden transformation.

“Well, whatever, not to me,” she replied dismissively. “I knew you were just going bonkers temporarily. But let’s not do that again, OK?”

“Promise,” I said.

“And now comes the fun part.” She squinted and steepled her hands, drumming her fingertips.

“What do we do about Felix?”

I suppose you’re thinking we planned an elaborate act of revenge against Felix. Drugged him, shaved his curly locks, and tattooed BITCH on his forehead, perhaps? Or arranged for something sharp and heavy to fall on him during the final performance?

Nope. I figured that doing anything would just have gotten us into trouble and made it seem like I cared. And I honestly
didn’t
care; in fact, the only emotion I could muster in regard to him was relief. OK, maybe a touch of revulsion, too. His poor girlfriend.

I’d had enough drama. Plus, revenge would have been totally beneath the new me. (And I don’t know
anything
about a recent anonymous e-mail to Holy Name’s Jill Cavanaugh. Nope, nothing at all.)

To tell you the truth, not really retaliating was probably the best revenge of all. All throughout the last performance of the show, Felix was clearly paranoid that I had something planned. I had never seen him so insecure, painstakingly avoiding me and looking at me with abject terror, like I was pointing a loaded weapon at him. (Which, btw, really messed up the whole Big Bad Wolf/Little Red Riding Hood dynamic in the first act).

Of course, word had gotten around to the whole cast and crew about his girlfriend and his fight with Oliver, so no one
would speak to him, not even Jenny McCafferty. Everyone was being extra nice to me, too, although they may have just been worried that I would spew chunks at any moment.