BFF* (46 page)

Steph could tell something was up because she said, “What?”

“Oh, nothing … except I'm going to a concert at the college tomorrow night … with Paul.”

“Who's Paul?” Steph asked.

I had to be careful since I'd never even hinted how I feel about him. “You know … Charles's tutor.”

“Wait!” Steph said, holding up her hand. “If you're going to a concert, that means you can't come to the carnival with us.” The Jaycees sponsor a weekend carnival every year. Steph and I always go.

“We could go Saturday, instead,” I suggested.

“Dad's taking Bruce and me to the city on Saturday,” Steph said.

“I'm sorry, but I can't miss this concert.”

“Are you telling us this is a date?” Alison asked.

“No, it's not a date,” I said, although in my mind it definitely is. “My parents would never let me go on a date with someone nine years older.”

“Why not?” Steph asked. “My mother's dating someone fifteen years
younger.”

“That's different,” I said.

“Maybe to you … not to me.”

“I don't know, Rachel,” Alison said. “It sure sounds like a date.”

I just smiled and kind of shrugged.

“Are you saying he already has a girlfriend?” Steph asked.

A girlfriend!
I thought. For the first time I realized I know almost nothing about Paul's personal life, except that his grandparents came from Portugal. But what if he does have a girlfriend? What if she meets us at the concert? Worse yet, what if …

“So does he … or what?” Steph said.

“I don't know.”

“Who cares if he does or he doesn't?” Alison told Steph. “Rachel is the one he's taking to the concert.” She turned to me and asked, “What are you going to wear?”

“Wear?” I said.

She jumped off the bed and scooped up an armload of
Sassy
magazines. “You have to think about these things, Rachel,” she said, dumping them in my lap.

A
fter dinner I cornered Mom and asked if I could borrow her black dress to wear to the concert. She and Dad have no idea this is anything more than a friendly invitation. Mom said, “That dress wouldn't be appropriate, Rachel.”

“But you wore it to a concert in New York … when you took Dad out for his birthday.”

“That was different,” Mom said. “That was a dress-up event.”

“But, Mom … this is at the college!”

“I know, honey … but college students wear jeans, not gowns. Call Tarren … she'll tell you.”

So I called Tarren and she said Mom was right. She also told me she'll be at the concert, with her Romantic Obstacle. “I'll look for you,” she said.

I
don't know how I got through the next day, our last full day of school. On the way out of math class
Jeremy Dragon said, “Hey, Macbeth … you going to the carnival tonight?”

“Not tonight,” I told him. “Tonight …” I hesitated. “Maybe tomorrow night,” I called. But I don't think he heard me because by then he was halfway down the hall with his friends.

I
spent most of the afternoon in the tub, daydreaming about the
romantic journey
I was about to take with Paul. When I finally got dressed, I chose a long summer skirt and my favorite tank top. It's pale green and has a matching cardigan sweater. I thought about borrowing Jessica's parrot earrings but I didn't want anyone in my family, including Jess, to grow suspicious. Anyway, Jess was at work. So I wore my silver earrings, instead. My only real dilemma was whether or not to use strawberry-flavored lip gloss. I decided to go for it.

At five-thirty, when I heard the front door slam, I looked out my window and watched as Charles and Dana took off hand in hand. Only then did I come downstairs.

“Oh, there you are,” Paul said, collecting his books. “I thought you'd forgotten.”

Forgotten? Was he serious? “No,” I said. “I just had a lot to do this afternoon.” I tossed my cardigan over one shoulder the way models do in magazines.

Paul was wearing a blue denim work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Mom and Tarren were right. The
slinky black dress wouldn't have been right. I followed him out of the house, locking the door behind me. His car was parked out front. It's an old two-door Toyota, either gray or brown—it's hard to tell since I've never seen it clean. On the inside it was even worse. The upholstery was ragged. His seat was covered with an old blanket and mine was held together with duct tape.

“Slightly messy, huh?” Paul asked as we headed for the highway.

Until then I hadn't realized I'd been cleaning things up, folding papers and collecting gum wrappers and tucking them all into the side pocket of my door.

“No, it's fine. I'm just …” I almost said
compulsively neat
but caught myself in time and changed it to, “a natural helper.”

When we stopped at a red light, Paul glanced my way and said, “I like that color on you, Rachel.”

Which color? My tank top … my lip gloss? I didn't ask. I just said, “Thank you.” Could he tell how fast my heart was beating? Did he know the palms of my hands were sweaty and I felt like either laughing or crying? I only hoped I could control myself. I stared straight ahead, grateful the drive to the college takes just fifteen minutes. “Do you by any chance know my cousin, Tarren Babcock?” I asked, trying to make small talk. “She's an education major.”

“I don't think so,” he said.

“She'll probably be at the concert.”

“Is she a music lover like you?”

Lover! He said the word
lover
to me! I felt myself blush. “No,” I said. “She's more into obstacles.” I began to fan my face with my hand.

“Obstacles?” He laughed, as if I'd meant to be funny.

“Yes.” I tried to laugh, too, but it came out more like a squeak.

“What kind of obstacles?”

“All kinds,” I said. He seemed to think this was funnier yet. I wish I had never mentioned Tarren's name. How was I supposed to get out of this? Tell a joke, I thought. One of those jokes the dentist told me. But I couldn't remember any of the punch lines. I was totally hopeless!

“She sounds like someone I'd like to know,” Paul said.

“Who?” I asked.

“Your cousin.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” I told him. I didn't add that he and Tarren would have absolutely nothing in common.

When we got to the college, we parked in a big field, then walked up a hill to a yellow-and-white-striped tent. There were rows of folding chairs set up inside and people were already taking seats. A girl handed us programs as we entered, and I followed Paul down the aisle to a pair of seats in the middle.
I knew I could easily be mistaken for a college student and for once I was glad. It's not just my height that makes me look older. It's my body. Mom says she was an early bloomer, too. She says in a few years my emotional maturity will catch up with my physical maturity. But I think it already has.

Outside the tent groups of students were settling on blankets on the lawn. I wished we could sit out there, too. It seemed much more romantic, even though the sun was still shining. If only the concert began at nine instead of six-thirty!

I read my program carefully. This was the last in a series performed by visiting musicians. Tonight it was the Connecticut Valley Chamber Players, with an all-Mozart program.

When the concert began, Paul closed his eyes. A lot of people close their eyes when they're listening to music. It helps them concentrate on what they are hearing. But I couldn't tell if Paul was concentrating or sleeping. Maybe he isn't getting enough sleep at night. Maybe he needs vitamins. I looked over at his hands, which were relaxed in his lap. They looked strong, manly. I imagined them touching my face, my hair. But then I began to feel very warm and had to use my program to fan myself.

The group of fifteen musicians played in different combinations for thirty-five minutes, took a short break, played for another half hour, then performed
two encores. Paul applauded enthusiastically. He said, “Fantastic, aren't they?”

“Outstanding!” I agreed, even though they weren't.

Just as we were about to head back to Paul's car, I heard someone calling my name. “Ra … chel!” I knew it was Tarren even before I turned and saw her. She was already weaving her way through the tent to us.

“Hi …” she said, joining us.

“Hi,” I answered. She looked very pretty. Her hair hung to her shoulders and she was wearing a low-cut sundress, showing off more than necessary.

“Well …” she said, giving me a nudge in the side. “Aren't you going to introduce us?”

I really didn't want to introduce Tarren to Paul. I didn't want anyone reminding him that I am just thirteen. But there was no way to get out of it, so I said, “Paul Medeiros, this is my cousin, Tarren Babcock.” I spoke very fast and hoped Tarren wouldn't ask any questions.

A tall man with thinning hair came up to Tarren then, put his hand on her naked back and handed her a paper cup. “They didn't have lime spritzers,” he told her. “Just plain seltzer.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling up at him. That's when it hit me! This man, who looked as old as Dad, who wasn't even good-looking, at least not to me, was Tarren's Romantic Obstacle! She took a sip of seltzer,
then introduced us. “Rachel, Paul … I'd like you to meet Professor Benjamin Byram.” She said his name proudly, then gave me a meaningful smile. I'm not sure if I smiled back or not. I felt weird, knowing this man and Tarren were involved in
that
way.

Paul shook hands with Tarren's Obstacle. “I was in your class two years ago,” he said. “Paul Medeiros.”

“Of course,” Professor Byram said. “I remember …” But I could tell he didn't. And so could Paul.

A small, pretty woman with lots of pale curly hair came up to the Romantic Obstacle then and linked her arm through his. “Sweetie …” he said, clearly surprised. “I thought you said you couldn't make it tonight.”

“Well,” she told him, “the meeting didn't last as long as I thought, and it was such a beautiful evening I asked the sitter to stay.”

Tarren looked stricken—the way my father had the night Charles called him a wimp. “This is my wife, Francesca Hammond,” the Obstacle said to all of us.

Francesca beamed at Paul. “Paul Medeiros! How good to see you. Where've you been hiding?”

“You two know each other?” the Obstacle asked his wife.

“Well, of course,” Francesca said. “Paul is one of my prize students.”

Tarren looked like she was about to be sick. She'd
turned a kind of grayish color, and one hand went to her throat. I don't think anyone noticed but me.

Francesca and Paul went right on talking. “I hear you've accepted a job teaching in Westport,” she said.

“Yes,” Paul said.

“That's wonderful! Come in next week and we'll have lunch. I want to hear all about it.” Then she turned to her husband and said, “Darling, the baby-sitter …”

The Obstacle checked his watch and said, “Got to run. Nice to see you again, Paul. Glad to meet you, Rachel.” He turned to Tarren and held out his hand to shake hers. “If I don't see you again, have a wonderful summer. It's been a pleasure having you in my class.”

He had to pull back his hand because Tarren wouldn't let go. Then he and his wife walked away, arm in arm.

Tarren watched them for a minute, then burst into tears.

“What?” Paul asked.

Tarren just shook her head and tried to stifle her sobs by covering her mouth with her hand.

I patted her back.

“Don't tell me …” Paul said. “Another of Professor Byram's conquests.”

Tarren looked at him. “Conquests?” she managed to ask.

Paul put his arm around her waist. “Come on,” he said to me. “Your cousin needs some cheering up.”

Tarren leaned against Paul as he led her to his car. I got in back, by myself.
She
sat up front, next to him.

W
e went to a diner and took a booth, where Tarren cried and Paul passed her napkins from the dispenser so she could blow her nose. When she shivered in her sundress in the air-conditioning, I handed her my sweater. She pulled it around her shoulders. Paul dropped a couple of coins into the jukebox on the wall and selected four songs, all hard rock, which totally shocked me. Slowly Tarren began to recover. She felt hungry, she said, and she and Paul smiled at each other, then ordered hamburgers and fries while I sipped a peppermint tea.

“He was never right for me,” Tarren cooed to Paul over the apple pie and ice cream they shared for dessert. “I know that now.”

“You were wasted on him!” Paul told her.

“It was like … I couldn't help myself,” Tarren said to him. They spoke as if I weren't there, as if I were invisible. I hate being treated that way!

On the drive home I think they were holding hands. But I didn't care anymore. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to be alone in my room.

Finally we pulled up in front of my house. I leaned
forward and thanked Paul for taking me to the concert.

“My pleasure,” he said.

“See you, Rachel,” Tarren said as I got out of the car.

At the last minute I leaned back in through her window and said, “Give Roddy a kiss for me.”

I knew she hadn't had the chance to tell Paul she was divorced, with a baby. Well, too bad!