Lindsay's Surprise Crush (4 page)

On Friday Nick was standing at her locker when she came to grab her social studies book after lunch. She blinked at him in surprise.

“Hi,” he said, his arms folded, his body blocking her locker.

“Hi,” she replied cautiously.

“How come you've been acting so unfriendly all the time?”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “Me?
I'm
unfriendly?”

He waited, scowling down at her.

She suddenly lost her ability to think clearly. Her brain was all muddled. The hall was noisy and crowded, and she was aware of several kids passing by and looking at them curiously.

“I'm not unfriendly,” she managed to stammer out weakly. “You're the one who doesn't answer texts.”

He looked at her in confusion. Then he rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah. You asked me about that the other day, too. Ellie took my phone and played games on it and the battery went dead. And then she lost the charger and we looked all over for it and then two days later my mom found it in Ellie's dollhouse.”

Now it was Lindsay's turn to cross her arms and frown at him. “I don't even know why I should believe you,” she said.

His face darkened. “What? Are you saying I'm
lying
about that?”

She shrugged. “Well, given your history . . .” She trailed off.

He looked at her, dumbfounded and hurt. Then he shook his head. “Whatever. I have to get to class,” he said, and strode away.

A lump rose in her throat. Why had she been so mean to him? This was Nick! She spun the dial on her locker, jerked open her stuck locker door, and grabbed her book, not sure if she was more furious at herself or at him. He deserved it, didn't he? She hoped he and Cassidy would get rained on at their tournament tomorrow and her cute window that she decorated for him would become one big blob of blue.

LINDSAY AWOKE GRADUALLY SATURDAY MORNING
to the delicious smells of bacon and toast and coffee. She didn't like the taste of coffee, but there was something so heavenly about the smell of it brewing, especially when it was a Saturday morning and you could lounge in bed. But what was that loud pattering sound?

She turned toward the window to see rain streaming down the pane. She glanced at the clock. Almost ten.
Hah.
She sat up. Nick and Cassidy must be drenched right about now. She smiled at the thought.

The door opened slowly and she saw her mother peer in.

“It's okay, Mom, I'm awake,” she said. “It smells good down there!”

Her mom came in and sat down on the bed. “Well, I have no lessons today,” she said, “because two of my
students are at the big soccer tournament, one is sick, and one is away for the weekend. With Matthew off at college now, I couldn't think what to do with myself with all my free time, so I made bacon! Better hurry down, though. Daddy is working his way through most of it.”

“So I guess we're not going apple picking with the Lopez-Diazes, huh,” said Lindsay, gesturing toward the rain outside.

“Oh, right, forgot to tell you,” said her mom. “We moved it to tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be clear, and we wanted Nick to be able to join us. And Marissa and Alberto wanted to watch him play today, anyway, now that he's the starting goalkeeper.”

Lindsay groaned. She was going to spend a whole day with Nick, after the kind-of, sort-of fight they'd had yesterday?

Her mom put a hand on her leg over the coverlet. “Are you guys still having a tough time?” she asked, looking worried.

“No, everything's fine with Nick,” said Lindsay. It seemed to be a reflex she and all her friends had developed once they got to middle school—to tell their parents everything was fine, no matter how not fine things
actually were. “It's just that I have a big project that's due next Friday, so I need to work on it this weekend.”

“Well, today's a perfect rainy day to do it!” said her mother brightly. “And you can practice double time for your lesson, too!” She stood up and flicked the covers off Lindsay. “Rise and shine, darlin'!”

Lindsay spent the rest of the morning sorting through the pictures on her mom's computer, trying to decide which ones to include from her childhood for her All About Me project. Practically every decent shot was of her and Nick together. Every birthday, every vacation, everything she could possibly talk about during her presentation seemed to involve Nick. And no wonder. Marissa was practically her second mother. When Lindsay's parents had to go out of town when Lindsay's grandmother broke her hip a couple of years ago, Lindsay and her brother, Matthew, had stayed with the Lopez-Diazes for a whole week. They'd carpooled everywhere ever since she and Nick were in car seats together. How was she going to give this presentation without mentioning Nick a million times? Nick, who was barely even her friend anymore. Nick, who now appeared to be the most popular boy in the school. Nick, who may well be a big, fat, stuck-up jerk.

She felt sorry for herself for a minute. Then she thought about it. It wasn't like she was a total loser. She was pretty well-liked, she realized, when she thought about it objectively. But she wasn't in the popularity stratosphere like Cassidy Sinclair. And most kids at school didn't have any idea that Lindsay and Nick were so close. The two of them revolved in such different circles—he in the jock crowd, she in the smart-popular set. It wasn't like they walked around school holding hands, like they used to do in nursery school.

She was really nervous about her presentation. She hated public speaking. Public
anything
. And of course Cassidy would be sitting right there in homeroom, listening to her whole presentation and probably making fun of her for living in the past. And Nick. She cringed. What would Nick be thinking as she showed adorable baby pictures of him in front of everybody?

“Aw, look at this one!” said her mom, who had wandered in and was leaning over her shoulder, peering at the pictures on the screen. “That is soooo adorable.”

It was a picture of her and Nick, aged about one and a half, in a bathtub together. They were both splashing the water by slapping the surface of it with their hands, and they were laughing their heads off. You couldn't see
anything, but you knew they were naked.

“Mom. If I show that picture, I might as well join the witness protection program and disappear,” she said. She couldn't explain to her mom how hard this project was turning out to be. She just wouldn't understand. It had been a million years since her mother had been in middle school.

“Marissa has been telling me the girls are calling and texting Nick nonstop,” said her mother. “Think of that! Little Nicky!” She shook her head. “Hard to believe.”

Lindsay felt the same stupid lump rise in her throat. It was like a golf ball had lodged there on a semipermanent basis. “Yeah, little Nicky,” she echoed. “Well, I think I have enough pictures now,” she said. “Thanks, Mom. Guess I should go practice.”

Lindsay's mom got the hint. She really was an awesome mom, when you got right down to it. “Okay, honey,” she said, kissing Lindsay on the top of her head.

Lindsay headed for the piano and sat down on the bench, staring at her scale book. How was she going to do this All About Me project and not seem like a pathetic Nick worshipper, like half the girls in the seventh grade? She so wasn't like those girls. She really
knew
him. She'd
cared about him before he became the cutest, most popular boy at school.

Her fingers began moving slowly up the keyboard, playing the B-flat major scale. Two octaves up, two octaves back down, then ending with the chords and arpeggios. She knew the exercise so well, she didn't have to think about what her fingers were doing. Her social life, though—that was different. Why did it have to be so complicated?

SUNDAY MORNING DAWNED BRIGHT AND SUNNY.
Lindsay was awakened early by a bird
cheep-cheep-cheeping
on a branch right outside her window.

“Stupid bird,” she grumbled, glaring at the clock, which read 7:17 a.m. “It's September. Weren't you supposed to fly south by this time?”

She rose, showered, and then faced the issue of what to wear for apple picking with Nick. Casual, of course. But how nice should she really look? How much did she care? He'd obviously seen her a million times when she was not looking her best. But that was before. Back when they were kids. Things were different now. She cared how she looked around him. She was confused again. Why did she care? Wasn't she still angry at him?

An hour later, after she'd tried on about seven different outfit combinations, her dad knocked on the door.

“Linz! Up and at 'em! What are you doing—crocheting yourself a new sweater? We're out the door in twenty minutes and you need to eat something!”

“Five minutes!” she called, her voice muffled from inside her closet, where she was on hands and knees searching for shoes.

Half an hour later, she appeared in the kitchen. Her father frowned and tapped his foot. “Here,” he said. “I toasted you a bagel.” He stared at her outfit. “Aren't you a little dressed up for apple picking, honey?”

Her mother strode over and put an arm around her. “She looks beautiful,” she said quickly. “Now let's go.”

Lindsay looked down at her outfit in a panic. Was she overdressed? She had on her new jeggings, her favorite red sweater, and her new boots. And she'd washed and blow-dried her hair. Her dad was right. She looked like she'd tried too hard. “I'm going to run upstairs and change,” she announced.

“No, you're not,” said her father, firmly propelling her toward the door. “We were supposed to be at their house ten minutes ago.”

With a sigh, Lindsay allowed herself to be guided out to the car. How would he react when he saw her? Would
he ignore her? Or would he pretend things were normal for the sake of their parents?

When they pulled into Nick's driveway five minutes later, everyone but Nick was outside. A cold fear clutched Lindsay's heart. Maybe he wasn't coming! She realized how disappointed she felt.

“Lindsay!” shrieked Nick's five-year-old half sister, Ellie, hurling herself into Lindsay's arms. “You look so pretty! And your hair smells all nice!”

“You certainly do look pretty, sweetie,” said Marissa, giving Lindsay a hug. “I haven't seen you all summer, and look how beautiful you've become! You could be a model!”

Lindsay flushed. Then she noticed her dad staring toward the house, and she looked up. Nick was emerging.

“Holy cow!” said Lindsay's dad. “He's grown a foot!”

“Not quite,” said Nick's stepdad, Alberto, grinning. “But probably at least seven inches. He's taller than I am now. And his feet are two sizes bigger than mine, so he's still growing!”

Now it was Nick's turn to scuff his foot awkwardly and go red around his ears. So far he hadn't even looked Lindsay's way. He had on jeans, a loose plaid flannel shirt,
and a baseball cap turned backward. It was a breathtaking sight.

Lindsay had to look away quickly, as though she'd been staring at the sun. How had she never noticed how his dark-brown hair curled around his ears? Or how his coffee-brown eyes had flecks of gold and green in them? Actually, she had noticed that, about ten years ago, and had remarked on it constantly to him, telling him how weird it was. But now it wasn't weird. It was awesome.

There was an awkward silence. To Lindsay it felt like it lasted a week. Then, fortunately, Ellie grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the minivan. “Let's go! Let's go!” she said. “I get to sit next to pretty Lindsay!”

There was more awkwardness after Lindsay got into the way back and Alberto put Ellie's booster seat in so that Ellie could sit next to her. Ellie climbed in and Lindsay helped click her seat belt.

Was Nick too tall for the way back? Would he sit in the middle seat? But without waiting to be asked, Nick clambered into the way back with Ellie and Lindsay and clicked in. His long legs were comically folded up, like a carpenter's ruler, but he didn't seem to mind.

“Are you guys going to take me on the hayride yes
please?” asked Ellie, oblivious to the strained energy between Lindsay and Nick.

“Sure,” said Lindsay with a smile. Out of the corner of her eye she could feel Nick steal a glance at her. Was he wondering why her hair was all done on a Sunday? Oh, she should have just put it in a ponytail. Awkward, awkward. She shouldn't have come. She should have feigned appendicitis.

Ellie began singing the songs she'd been learning in kindergarten, which eased some of the tension in the way back of the car. The grown-ups all chatted together farther up. Lindsay stared out of her window at the passing houses. They got to the end of Nick's street and turned down the road that headed out of town, toward the surrounding farms.

She tuned in to the grown-up conversation. The Lopez-Diazes were talking about the soccer tournament yesterday.

“Yes, we got soaked,” said Marissa ruefully, “but Nick played so well, considering the wet weather.”

“Rain is brutal for goalkeepers,” chimed in Alberto. “But our boy has good hands.”

Lindsay darted a glance at Nick's hands. He was
checking sports scores on his phone. He did have good hands, she was forced to agree.

“Nick's team won!” continued Marissa. “And I believe the girls' team came in second!”

“Tell them what else,” Alberto prodded his wife.

“Nick got MVP,” Marissa said proudly.

Lindsay could sense Nick squirming uncomfortably in his seat. He'd always hated being talked about.

“And another Central Falls middle schooler got MVP for the girls,” added Marissa. “Cassidy. What's her last name, Berto?”

“Sinclair,” Nick's stepfather replied. “She's a beautiful girl.”