Miss Taken (13 page)

Three strange but true scientific facts about
olfaction: 1.The nose can detect more than 10,000 different smells.
2. It is not your nose that smells but rather your brain. 3. Taste
is primarily smell, the tongue only being able to detect five
primary flavors: sweet, salty, bitter, sour and umami. Spicy foods
stimulate pain receptors, not taste buds.

Apparently boot-licking has a very short
shelf-life. The taste receptors in the tongue must act quickly to
tell a body that things like anger and hatred are not comestible
substances.

Kyle started ignoring me just like Ned. I
talked to Hannah about when she thought Ned might start planning on
crumbling. All she did was shrug.

“Go figure. He’s even dumber than he
looks.”

Since this was not exactly the type of
advice/encouragement I had been hoping for, I asked for her opinion
on a different issue. I told her about Mrs. Rochel and the
truffles.

Hannah pouted thoughtfully. “So she never
actually tasted them?”

I nodded the affirmative.

“I say you go with saying that it was
imitation extract.”

“Does that exist?”

“Oh yeah. My dad’s a bigtime baker.”

Her father is a plumber. My thoughts must
have betrayed themselves.

“It relaxes him. He bakes, like, every
weekend.”

I marveled again at how she was able to keep
that neat little figure of hers.

When Diana bypassed me without even a nod of
acknowledgment for a second time to eat with Kyle, my veneer of
impenetrability crumbled. I went to finish out the lunch period in
the library.

As I sat there with only dusty books for
company, I came to the conclusion that I really needed to talk to
someone about this mess. Miss Kindley was just the person for the
job. As if she had read my mind, there was a note waiting from her
in French class that she wanted to see me “sometime soon.”

Directly after class, I made a beeline for
her office, the first real smile on my face in many days. Her door
was shut. But I was so excited about the idea of having a
sympathetic ear that I almost forgot my manners and barged right
in. At the last second, I caught myself and peered through the
cutout in her door. I had no trouble recognizing that severe blonde
bun.

Sofagirl.

I pulled my face back from the window before
Miss Kindley noticed me. Sofagirl had some nerve intruding on my
time with the counselor. For heaven’s sake, what could she possibly
have to talk about that was more important than my boyfriend
problems?

I huffed off to struggle through wood shop on
my own now that some people were heartless enough not to want to
help me anymore.

Right after shop class, I tried to catch Miss
Kindley again, but someone else was taking up my seat. Had her
office suddenly become Grand Central Terminal or what?

The next morning, I went to see her first
thing to set up an appointment.

“Jane, I’m so happy you came. Unfortunately,
I have a meeting right now.”

I stomped my foot like a little kid who has
been told she can’t have candy for breakfast. Miss Kindley raised
her eyebrows at me. I had to explain. “Oh, it’s just I stopped by
yesterday - twice - and you were busy. And now today...”

Miss Kindley kneaded the bridge of her nose
and sighed. “I know, it seems like all I do is put out fires
lately. But listen -” She glanced down at her planner. “When do you
have lunch?” I told her. “Perfect. Do you mind spending it with
me?”

Would I mind giving up my lonely, pathetic
lunch to eat with the nicest person in this entire building and
possibly the whole world? I told her I didn’t have any prior
commitments.

The one thing I really didn’t want her to see
was what I had for lunch. Mom packed Marmite again. It’s kind of
stinky.

“What’s that you have?” she asked, unwrapping
a tuna salad sandwich. I was happy to see she had something even
stinkier than mine.

I told her. Then I had to explain what it
was.

“So you’re creative in the kitchen as
well.”

Miss Kindley and I used to talk fashion all
the time.

“Not really. My mom is more into cooking than
I am.”

“Oh,” Miss Kindley was looking at me oddly. A
little light went on.

Something told me we weren’t going to get to
my personal problems today.

I was so glad to have consulted with Hannah
yesterday. Without missing a beat, I replied, “Oh, you mean the
truffles? Yeah, Mrs. Rochel got all bent out of shape about them. I
don’t know why. It was a total accident that they fell on the
floor. I cleaned it up, so there wasn’t any mess for the
janitor.”

Miss Kindley was watching me very closely so
I did a few long division problems in my head to keep my breathing
even.

“Dropping them on the floor was not the
issue. Mrs. Rochel said, and I have to admit I had a very hard time
believing her, that they reeked of alcohol.”

I blinked at her as I translated ounces into
grams and then liters. It helped me to put the right amount of
mystification into my voice when I said, “What? Oh, it’s imitation
extract. My mom bakes, like, all the time. It relaxes her.”

Thank you Hannah for that line too.

Miss Kindley smiled. “I knew there had to be
a reasonable explanation. It’s not in your character at all to do
something as egregious as that.” Apparently Miss Kindley does a
little dictionary-reading herself.

She laughed.

I had to solve several irrational square
roots before I could laugh along with her. I kept chewing the whole
grain bread to give my mouth something to do.

Once I had calmed down, though, it was kind
of funny that Mrs. Rochel wanted to stage an intervention for me,
just as I had wanted to do for M. Waddell.

My heart stopped again in French class when
M. Waddell asked me directly if I had spoken to Miss Kindley yet.
Seriously, I am going to need one of those artificial hearts if
this keeps up.

With an encouraging smile I told him that it
was all taken care of. For some reason, he didn’t look
reassured.

Strange but true scientific fact: 8% of human
males are color blind. 99% of the 8% are in fact only
color-impaired and can detect some hues.

Other than narrowly escaping permanent
expulsion for transporting and distributing alcohol in the school,
the only good thing that happened that day was that a new issue of
Sassy Classy came in the mail. Slim comfort, I know, but there was
an article in it about how color affects a person’s mood. I didn’t
know if Ned’s weak eye was color blind or not. Based on the way he
had been dressing lately, it was a good possibility. I still
figured it was worth a shot.

Having lost several days already, I didn’t
think this was the time to fool around. For maximum impact, I wore
a purple velvet vest for sophistication over my white tuxedo shirt
denoting innocence with red studs for love and a blue choker
indicating loyalty and tranquility.

I also went with rainbow toe socks and my
multicolored sweater, figuring that would cover the remaining
colors such as pink for romance and orange for optimism and
warmth.

Black was the color of choice for my pants
because, although black is considered to be serious and somber, it
is slimming and therefore has a mood-boosting effect on the
wearer.

At the last minute, I put a yellow flower of
optimism in my hair. I was certainly being optimistic by sticking
it in that rat’s nest, but I ran out of time after trying to get
the outfit exactly right.

I got plenty of second glances from people as
I made my way down the hall at school, but there was only one eye
that I was interested in catching.

Meliss cracked her gum loudly in my face and
said, “Who are you supposed to be, a psychedelic muppet?”

Even Diana gave me a few looks I would not
categorize as kind. All I have to say is, she had some nerve,
showing up in a pink ensemble, looking like a giant heart and I do
not mean a cute little thing a ten-year-old would draw. The top and
bottom halves didn’t even match. They were off by a half a tone if
not more.

All that effort, and Ned didn’t give me a
first glance, never mind a second. I guess that gimpy eye of his is
color blind.

When he utterly ignored me and then blew out
of class again, I had an actual pain in my chest that could only be
called heartache. Sign me up for one of those replacement ones.

Another day went by with no thawing on Ned’s
part. While Mrs. Dipsey was leading another “vision quest,” I came
up with action plan #2. At least art was not turning out to be a
total waste since it gave me the time to come up with action
plans.

I would demand Ned meet me for lunch. It was
C day and he owed me this much. After class, he tried to avoid me
first by talking to Mr. Hiro and then by pretty much running down
the hall, but I had on rubber-soled shoes and caught him.

Grabbing him firmly by the arm, I knocked his
books to the floor. He leaned down to pick them up without looking
at me once.

I put my foot on top of his books. For a
second, it looked like he was considering leaving them there and
walking away.

“Ned,” I said in my most commanding Robin
Jane voice. “We have to talk. Lunch. The courtyard. Be there.”

Then I helped him gather his books, but he
still wouldn’t look at me.

My heart, oh, my heart. Did you know the wait
for one of those replacement ones is hundreds of people long?
Doesn’t seem like a very practical solution if you ask me.

It was cold and a little damp, in other
words, not the best day to be out in the courtyard. So I blame it
on the weather that I was pacing back and forth. I had spent the
entire morning reviewing my argument, ignoring all attempts made at
teaching me something. Screwing this up was not an option.

As I reviewed my main points and walked up
and down for the fiftieth time, it hit me that Ned should have been
here by now.

Activate Full Panic Mode (FPM).

My action plan would only work if Ned
provided minimal cooperation by showing up.

I tried to remember his schedule, but it was
all a jumble in my head. Did he have gym today? No, or else he
would have it now. Was it really C day or had I missed a day
somewhere? At some point I began flapping my arms because my
fingers were starting to feel tingly with the cold.

I may have even been mumbling Ned’s schedule
aloud when a voice behind me said, “Are you okay?”

I jumped three feet in the air. That’s what
it felt like anyway.

Perhaps I should make more of an effort to
ramp up my adrenaline output with the basketball unit we have
coming up in gym.

Strange but true scientific fact: A person
does not need a stomach to live. In fact, she could lose a lung, a
kidney, her spleen, 75% of her liver, 80% of her intestines, and
virtually all of the organs of the pelvic region and keep on
ticking.

This is all very interesting, but the only
organ that concerns me right now is my heart.

“Ned!” I cried in genuine happiness and
relief. “You came!” I held my arms out.

Ned crossed his. I chose to believe it was to
keep himself warm.

“Yeah.” He considered me with pursed lips. “I
wasn’t going to.”

My stomach sank down about level with my
knees. “You weren’t?”

He shook his head at the ground.

“Why not?” My voice cracked. Action plan #2
was not off to a good start. I was supposed to be posing
hard-hitting questions and combining them with irrefutable
assertions in order to bowl him over with charming persuasion that
would send him right back into my welcoming arms.

Ned shrugged and kicked the frozen ground. He
looked like he was thinking about leaving right now. I wasted no
further time waiting for him to begin.

“Ned, I-”

Ned spoke at the same time. Since his voice
is deeper, he won.

“You’re always so gung-ho about that Kyle
kid. ‘Kyle said this.’ Kyle’s from Borneo.’ Then, the deal at your
locker...I just figured it was your way of breaking up with
me.”

My knees felt weaker and weaker as his
explanation went on, perhaps because my stomach was weighing them
down. At the end of his speech, I sank down into a squatting
position and only just saved the butt of my pants from getting
muddy.

He was right. I had been too gushy about Kyle
and never once thought about how it sounded.

But the second half was despicable. I would
never break up with someone like that. Not that I had ever had
anyone to break up with before, but I feel certain Robin Jane’s
moral code would never allow it.

“Ned, I would never break up with you like
that. I would just tell you,” I said, with what I hoped was an
utter sincere, loving and loyal gaze since my coat was plain black
and did not communicate these noble ideas.

Ned stared back at me with a look that said
that these honorable feelings were not coming across. “So is that
what you are telling me now?”

“No!” I yelled. I jumped to my feet but
almost fell over because they had frozen from squatting for so
long.

Ned grabbed my arm and I was not too proud
not to take advantage of it. I tried to snuggle in close to him but
he held me firmly away.

My stomach dropped for the second time in two
minutes but I pretended it didn’t bother me at all that my first
boyfriend ever was acting totally immune to my charms. I
straightened up, cleared my throat and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He was so coldly polite, it
just about killed me.

“Ned,” I said, losing all pretense of calm.
“Please believe me. I did not ask Kyle to kiss me in front of
you.”