Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye (9 page)

Rob came out from behind his printer. “Need any help loading the papers?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks—in just a minute.” First I had to talk with Jack. I found him standing next to a board with the current issue laid out and pinned up. I leaned in and whispered, “I think there’s been some kind of e-mail error. I haven’t been getting the forwards.”

“Forwards?” he asked in a rather loud voice. He looked distracted. I spotted the reason right away. The current issue had a few typos. He frowned, took out a highlighter, and marked them. I was glad my name was not on any of those bylines.

“For the Asking for Trouble column,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “If I’m going to have time to choose the questions and then write up my answers, I’ll need to have them soon. You want the copy by next Tuesday, right?”

“Ah, yes, right,” Jack said. “Sorry about that. I’ll check on it later this morning.”

I turned around, and as I did, I saw Rob standing very close behind me. He met my eyes. They betrayed nothing, but I wondered if he’d been there awhile and heard our conversation.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep.” Together we stuffed my green-swirled designer bag with papers. “Going to the May Day Ball?” he asked.

I looked up, hopeful. He wasn’t really my idea of Prince Charming, but he was a nice guy, and he’d been a good friend to me since I’d joined the newspaper staff. Truth be told, I suspected he was the person who had delivered my anonymous box of chocolates at Valentine’s Day. After all, he often did have chocolate in his printing office. And he’d been awfully sweet to me.

“No, I’m not . . . yet,” I said. “You?”

He nodded. “I have a girlfriend at another school. She’s coming here for the dance. I’ll go to her school’s Autumn Leaves Ball.”

I kept a bright smile on my face—I really did.
Happy thoughts.
“That’s great,” I said. “Natalie has assigned me to choose some couples to feature in the paper. Maybe I could get your picture?”

“Thanks, Savvy.” Rob grinned. “Dahlia would love that. It might make her even appreciate the newspaper life a bit more.” He gave me a quick, friendly hug and helped me finish loading the papers.

I dutifully delivered the papers. That’s right, that’s me. Always the fairy godmother, never Cinderella.

In first period, Brian’s and Hazelle’s moony eyes were annoying me, so I pulled out my list instead. Only one name was left.

Chapter 18

Louanne attacked me as soon as I got in the front door. “Isn’t today the day your paper comes out? Did you bring a copy home for me?” She tugged one of the straps of my green bag, trying to part the folds and peer inside.

“Hold on, cowgirl,” I said. “I’ve got one in here someplace. But let me catch my breath.” Even Growl was eyeing her with curiosity. “So what’s the big deal with the paper?”

“I told you,” she said not very convincingly. “We’re sisters. I’m interested in your stuff, just like you’re interested in my stuff, like dog shows.”

I wasn’t sure how she came by that misunderstanding about my liking dog shows, but I let her hang on to it. I threw my messenger bag in the corner, careful not to hit my new UGGs, waiting patiently for their debut the next morning. “So when can I paint your nails?” I asked.

She took both hands and put them around her throat, pretending to choke herself. “Never. But it
was
nice of you to offer to come to the dog show with me this weekend. Thanks, Savvy.”

“Anything for you, kid.” I handed her the WA 
Times
.

She took the paper and ran upstairs, Growl galloping after her, his low-slung belly shaving the carpet.

“You’re going to have to lay off the treats if you’re going to do dog shows,” I called after him. As if he cared.

I headed into the kitchen and pulled out the box of Weetabix. I hadn’t even put milk in the bowl yet when Louanne slunk back downstairs. “What’s with you? You look like someone pushed you off the bus four stops early.”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Want to play a game?” I hated to see her so down. Usually a rousing game of Monopoly or Scrabble would cheer her up.

“No thanks,” she said.

“Want to talk about animals?” I asked. “You know, a lot of my friends have two pets—Penny, Hazelle, and Ashley each have two dogs. Maybe you should ask Mom and Dad for a friend for Giggle.”

At that, she practically stumbled over the sofa in an effort to get away from me. “Gotta go do my homework. Bye.” She bolted from the room again, Giggle wheezing after her.

I headed upstairs and plopped my homework on my dresser. I stared at
Voilà! C’est la France!
and decided I’d better catch up on my French homework later that night. I looked at the pile in the corner—a tossed salad of clothes that I didn’t like anymore, that were not very flattering, that were the wrong color, that I didn’t want to fold and hoped my mother would rewash and fold for me. Then I looked at my guitar.

Only thirteen days till the April Fools show,
I thought. I wondered if Rhys would ask about it again. He might be a little interested in Christianity. Maybe. And this could be the event that helped him see that Christians were normal and fun. I’d better pick my song soon and e-mail it to Joe for his approval.

For some reason, though, I just couldn’t get up the desire to play the guitar right then. I watched BBC on the telly, and then it was dinnertime. Here’s how the conversation went:

Dad: “This tomato soup is very good, dear—especially on a rainy night. Are you starting to think about planting your garden?”

Mom: “I’d love to get my hands on the patch out back—I just don’t know, though. The property is Aunt Maude’s, not mine, and we’d have to dig out so many weeds.”

Me: “We can help you weed it, Mom. I’m sure Aunt Maude would be glad to have it all cleared out and prettied up.”

Louanne: “I feel sick! Please excuse me!” And she ran from the table, leaving her napkin to flutter to the floor.

Dad looked at Mom and then at me. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know,” Mom said. “She’s been acting strange lately. I’ve asked her if everything is okay at school, and she says yes. But she seems to be teary a lot. Savvy, do you know what’s up?”

I chewed and swallowed the last rubbery nub of tangy English Cheshire cheese from the bottom of my soup bowl before answering. “Nope. I noticed it too. I’ll see if I can find out.”

Chapter 19

Late that night, after Louanne was snoozing, Growl curled in a nest of blankets at the foot of her bed. The tinny sounds of late-night telly came from behind my parents’ bedroom door, and I sat cross-legged on the floor of my own room. My shiny rosewood guitar—the one big item I was allowed to bring to London from Seattle—sat next to me, quietly, comfortably, like the old, faithful friend it was. I looked through my sheet music. Usually a particular song would call to me from the dotted black staccato of notes bursting on a page. I could hear the music in my head as I read it, begging to be let out. But not now.

I stood and looked out my window. It still got cold at night, and condensation beaded up in the corners of my old-fashioned glass panes. When enough droplets gathered together, they joined strength and coursed down the glass like a teardrop. I watched them for a minute, then looked out on the neighborhood below.