Drive Me Crazy (5 page)

Chapter Eight
Cassie

B
eing at the pool with Lana was more fun than I expected. I thought what she said about sometimes boys being better as friends was interesting, though Kendra Mack and Cheyenne Taylor certainly wouldn’t agree. Lana reminds me a little of the way Fiona used to be, actually, though Lana’s a lot quirkier around the edges. Still, I let myself envision some never-going-to-happen alterna-world where Fiona and I are friends again, and I get to introduce the two of them to each other. It almost feels nice.

Once we’re back in the room, I hit the bathroom to redo my hair and makeup. As I stand there with the blow-dryer, I almost wish I could tell Lana the truth about Cory
Baxter. Or at least say we broke up after the wedding, so I wouldn’t have to keep lying to her. Since I said that thing about him being at Kendra Mack’s pool party, though, I guess it’s too late. Besides, even though Cory hardly knows who I am, I can’t stand the idea of us breaking up, even in my head. He’s an impossible fantasy for me, but in Lana’s eyes Cory’s my boyfriend, and in spite of being complicated, it’s strangely pleasant to pretend with her it’s true.

I’m pulled from my dreaming two steps out of the bathroom when Lana bolts past and slams the door without even an “Excuse me.” For a second I feel bad about making her wait so long, but then I see what she’s done to the room. Her duffel bag gapes open on the armchair in the corner, and somehow she’s spilled half her belongings onto the floor next to it. The desk is cluttered with her phone, room key, some tissues, a bunch of change, a ChapStick, two smashed strawberry blossoms, some pebbles she must’ve picked up at the farm, a watch I hadn’t even noticed she was wearing, and about seven gum wrappers. On top of that are a scattering of postcards, three pens, and a sheet of stamps. In a matter of forty-five minutes she’s managed to
destroy
our room. Unbelievable.

She also apparently showers faster than anyone I know, because I haven’t even changed out of my robe before she’s stepping out in a pair of clean jeans and a ruffly green top
that’s actually cute. I’m about to tell her so when I see into the bathroom, where she’s flung her towel thoughtlessly over the shower rod, the mat is still on the floor instead of hung back over the tub edge, her swimsuit is dripping off the towel rack, and everything on the sink has gotten moved out of place. Ugh.

Calmly and deliberately I select my dinner outfit, making a point of zipping my suitcase back up and putting it in our giant closet. I turn on the light inside and shut the door behind me. I’d rather change in the closet than go back in that hideous bathroom.

Lana’s typing something into her phone when I come out, but as soon as she hears me she puts it back on the desk, facedown.

“You ready?” she says, trying to be casual, though I can tell she’s irritated for some reason. Like she has any reason to be irritated with me.

I’m looking even less forward to Howie’s stories and jokes at dinner if Lana’s going to be in a snit, but back in the company of our grandparents, she’s fine. Our reservations are at the fancy restaurant in the converted barn on the hotel grounds, which is a short walk through a vineyard. The sun is setting, and the sky is a beautiful salmon streak of pink. Howie and Lana hold hands and walk together
down the path. Nono falls into step with me behind them, and thoughts of Lana and everything else wash away. I finally have my Nono alone.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, linking her arm with mine. “I didn’t get to go on these kinds of adventures until I was—well, much older.”

“Why not?” I ask.

She pushes back her hair, making her wavy silver bob even prettier. “My parents were much more traditional and strict. In their world, there were things that proper people did, and things they didn’t. Especially girls. It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I realized there might be other ways of living. But I also understood I might have to do them without the family I was born to.”

“Was it on that trip with your mom?” I know that Nono, her sister, and my great-grandmother all went on a trip to Europe when Nono was sixteen and Aunt Jackie was eighteen. Nono’s talked about wanting to take Tom and me on a similar trip one day, “though with much more fun in it.”

She looks at me thoughtfully. “It was, actually. Or rather, right after that.”

“What happened?”

“A lot of things, I guess.”

I watch her face—how the taffy light makes her skin and eyes glow, even though she sounds a little sad.

“During the whole trip there were places outside our guided tour that I wanted to go,” she tells me. “I wanted to explore more of the neighborhoods—meet the real people, experience their food and music—but Mother felt it wasn’t appropriate for us to wander. She wanted us to be ‘cultured’ but was appalled by anything outside of what might be societally appropriate. Which meant, anything that wasn’t exactly like her. I got in a huge fight with Jackie about it when she took Mother’s side. Her response shocked me.

“I was given the whole lecture about the proper behavior for young ladies again and again. The same came from Father when we got home, only worse. I wasn’t allowed to attend events without Mother or Jacqueline after that.”

I try to imagine Nono doing anything “proper” and can’t.

“So that’s when you left?”

“I had to finish high school first. Up until the very day I received that diploma I played the role they wanted, though after that trip I knew no one was going to keep me from going on adventures and talking with all kinds of people in all kinds of places. Not even my beloved sister. It was a very difficult time for us for a long while.”

It’s as hard for me to imagine Nono and Aunt Jackie fighting as it is imagining Nono being proper. They seem like the best of friends. “How come?”

“Probably because I wanted to be me and she wanted me to be her, and we both wanted the other to be more the same. Once we started focusing on our differences, they were all we could see, for longer than either of us liked.”

It’s not exactly the same situation, but Fiona pops into my mind again. Even before the Diary Incident, we’d both gotten interested in different things.

“We got over it, eventually,” Nono goes on. “You do with the people you really love. When we came back home, though, I knew I couldn’t survive the limited life my family had in mind for me and started widening my horizons. Sneaking to cafés and poetry readings, meeting new people. Hearing a friend’s stories about California and the communal life there is what eventually got me on a bus out West.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say, squeezing Nono around the waist. There’s more to say, maybe, but we’ve arrived at the barn.

Nono squeezes me back. “I am too.”

As soon as we’re seated at the table, Lana and Howie immediately flip to the backs of their menus, oohing and aahing about chocolate mousse, caramel custard, and apple-praline tart. I can’t help wishing they weren’t here and that this trip was one whole adventure Nono and I could have to ourselves.

“They like to eat dessert first,” Nono tells me, grinning.

“Well,” I say, stiffening my spine, “I plan on eating like a normal person.”

“Suit yourself,” Nono says before choosing the house-made lemon sorbet.

I have to lift my menu up high so Lana and Howie won’t see me glowering at them behind it.

Chapter Nine
Lana

E
ven though Grandma Tess said at dinner last night that we don’t need to meet for breakfast this morning until nine, Cassie’s alarm blares off at seven a.m., like it would if we were in school. I ignore it as best I can and burrow deeper into my pile of fluffy pillows while she tiptoes into the bathroom.

The next time I open my eyes it’s 7:34. Cassie is still in the shower. I lie in the big bed awhile, wondering what kind of mood she’s going to be in when she comes out. When we got back to the room after dinner, all Cassie wanted to do was get in her pajamas and watch TV. I had really been looking forward to sharing more secrets, but I guessed we still had all week for that. Even though I didn’t
really know any of the characters on her show, it did end up being funny, and on top of laughing with her, it felt really good to have a cousin who could help me learn about all the coolest things for once.

I just wish she weren’t so unpredictable. And such a bathroom hog. I don’t think I could spend that much time getting ready in the morning even if I was Marie Antoinette.

Right now, though, I really need to get in there myself, and it isn’t for my hair. Probably I should just knock, but somehow I’m afraid Cassie’ll come up with some other rule if I don’t wait for her to finish. As a distraction, I pick my outfit for the day, but dressing only takes about two minutes. Like yesterday, I keep thinking she’s going to come out any second, and that makes my need to go even worse.

I move to the desk and pick up my phone, perching in the leather-seated chair and crossing my legs, tight. I know if I call Mom or Dad it might be hard to disconnect as soon as Cassie’s done, so I text them instead, saying good morning and that I’ll call them later in the afternoon. Almost immediately two chimes ring in, both of them wishing me a happy day, but I don’t read on, because the bathroom door finally opens. I dash past Cassie to take care of my business, mad and embarrassed that this is the second time this has happened, but not sure what to do about it.

Cassie’s full-on scowling when I come out. Her bed is made as perfectly as it was when we first arrived, and she’s sitting on its edge, changing things from that beaded purse I liked last night into a sturdier leather one with a buckled strap. More like she’s slinging things from one purse to another, making frustrated little sighs as she does it.

I wait to see if she’ll say anything, but then finally I just ask, “What’s the matter?” Annoying Question or not, I’d rather not have to guess.

“You have to ask me?” She holds her hands out to encompass the room.

I look around. The room is gorgeous, and luxurious—even better with the morning sunshine pouring in. The flowers from Grandma Tess are so pretty, and—

“This room is a pigsty,” she says. “Staying with you is worse than staying with my brother.”

Hot shame shoots into my cheeks, making me snap without thinking. “I’d rather live with a messy roommate than one who hogs the bathroom all morning and doesn’t seem to care what anyone else out here might need.”

Cassie squares her shoulders. “I get up early so that you can sleep later while I get ready. If you think about it, it’s me being more polite. And besides, if you really need to go, you can knock. If you’re too timid to ask for what you need, that’s not my fault.”

That Cassie’s using the same calm, talking-down tone Mom gets when she’s mad only makes it burn even more. “It
is
your fault if you can’t think about anyone but yourself all the time,” I say.

Her coolness suddenly evaporates. “I’ll spell it out for you, then, since you can’t grasp the basics on your own: Rule Number Four? Knock If You Need To!”

I try to copy Cassie’s mean tone to hide how shaky I feel. “Fine, I’ll knock. And I’ll be neater with my things if it bothers you so much.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Like you’d know how.”

It disappoints me to the core that we’re fighting after not even a whole day. But more than being disappointed, I’m also mad.

“You can hate me for saying so if you want to, Cassie, but you’re not the only one on this trip.” Confronting her is scary, but I keep my voice strong. “Grandma Tess and Grandpa Howe will be here for breakfast in about three seconds, and we need to make their trip nice. You may not like me very much, but Rule Number Five needs to be: In Front of the Grandparents, We Act Like Friends.”

She’s not looking at me, only staring into both her purses to make sure everything’s been transferred from one to the other. Finally she leans back on her hands, looks at the ceiling, and says, “Fine.”

I wait for her to say something more and also for my heart to calm down, but she sits there, doing nothing, all the way until my pulse is a little more normal.

“Good, then,” I say finally.

I turn my back to her and pull the sheets and covers up on my bed. I straighten the comforter and each pillow just so, even though we’re checking out, and someone will be changing the sheets anyway. I do it as fussily as I can, and almost make myself laugh with the prissy look I put on my face. Fortunately, right then there’s a knock at the door and Grandma Tess chirps, “Good morning!”

Without acknowledging each other in any way, Cassie and I singsong, in perfect harmony, “Good morning!” right back.