My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters (19 page)

January 1. I'm going to write every day.

July 19. He kissed me! My first real kiss, not counting Spin the Bottle with icky Ian Lear. He took me on the most romantic picnic and it was like
Wuthering Heights
or something with the wind and all his dark hair blowing around, and his toes touched my toes. And he thought I smelled like cake. And then he leaned over and put his soft lips against mine and ... am I in love? To be continued?

"Why are you smiling?" Megan asked. "Is there someone?"

"Not exactly." I scooped up a bite of ice cream that I didn't even want. "What?"

Hannah and Megan stared at me.

"Don't even tell me Tyler's not gay and you guys are now an item." Megan's eyes narrowed. "That would give me major issues."

"No, of course not."

"Is it Jose's friend, with the fabulous body?" Hannah asked.

"No." I clacked the spoon against my teeth. "He doesn't even have my phone number."

"But he always pays a ton of attention to you."

"Only when I'm the only girl around." Jocks don't date big-nosed klutzes.

Hannah tapped her sticky spoon on my knee. "You've got to tell me, Jory."

"Yeah, tell us." Megan tapped her spoon on my knee too.

"I don't know if it's really anything." I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face. "But there's this guy where I deliver cakes—"

"Not Gold Dust West Stalker guy?" Hannah shrieked. "You're totally losing it, Jory. Too, too desperate."

"No. Give me a break, Hannah." I leaned back against the windshield. "I'm not saying anything more."

"All right. Let me ask one question," Megan said. "Have I ever met him?"

I nodded and bit down on my spoon too hard; it broke in my mouth. I hopped off the car and ran to the garbage can across the parking lot. Hannah and Megan followed me, so I ran to the little merry-go-round and spun myself. Megan spun the merry-go-round so hard that I had to hold on tight. I started laughing and laughing.

"Jacob from Calc?" Megan called out guesses—all completely gorgeous, popular guys from school. "James Wick? Michael Patricks?" Guys who
never
noticed me.

"Oh-oh," Hannah said. "Blond guy from AP English."

"I'm not
in
AP English," I said.

"Oh, yeah. He's
my
alternative-to-Alex fantasy." Hannah giggled. "I know! Is it that Great-Legs Guy from Finn's soccer team?"

"You like Luke?" Megan stopped the merry-go-round. "You stole Luke from his little pink-sprinkle-cupcake girl?"

"They were doughnuts. And no."

My head and stomach felt almost as dizzy as they had after I'd left Gideon in San Rafael Park and drove back to pick up Katie. That whole afternoon I kept making mistakes and giggling to the point that Katie nearly sent me home early because I was driving her to distraction while she frosted a wedding cake that was shaped like a roll of paper towels. But I begged her to let me stay. I needed the money. On my next payday, I'd be about halfway to my new nose.

"But he did flirt with you the other day, before you maimed him. And his little girlfriend was nowhere around." Megan gave me the Look. "Are you telling the truth?"

The merry-go-round finally slowed to a stop. "Don't you think I'd tell you if I'd snagged a guy like Luke?" I felt a little disloyal. "He's got, like, the whole package, even more than Tyler."

Megan stared at me, hands on her waist. "So what? He's not a whole-package guy?"

"That's not what I meant." I'm sure my cheeks glowed brighter than the moon peeking over the trees. "He's just not the kind of guy I usually go for, I guess."

"Come on. Tell us!" Hannah gripped the merry-go-round. "Or I'll spin you again."

"Please don't. We don't need another vomiting incident." Sprinklers kicked on across the park, separating us from Hannah's car. "I'll tell you, but you can't get all weird about it."

Hannah clapped her hands together and plopped down next to me, swinging the merry-go-round side to side. "Juicy details,
s'il vous plaît.
"

"His name is Gideon and he works at the Jewel Café. I mean, his mom owns it, and he just transferred to Reno. I never saw him there, but he was at that frat party, you know, playing his violin."

Hannah gasped. "You like the guy with the big nose! The one that you said made you laugh because he had, like, glowing toes?" Hannah paused. "And didn't he get all mad at you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You should've seen his face, Jor." Hannah pursed her lips. "He's totally missing the humor vibe."

I picked at a fleck of peeling paint on the merry-go-round, not wanting to think about that awful frat party.

"Wait!" Megan said. "Is this the same freak who was playing the violin outside the movies? Did you know the police almost arrested him for loitering? Tyler said he got kicked out of several schools and even spent time at Wittenberg for his crimes. And he
does
have a big nose." Megan scrunched her own (small) nose for emphasis.

They both pounded me with a whole bunch of questions, but I was stuck on "big nose." Never mind all the stuff they said about social outcast, orchestra geek, juvenile delinquent, total rebel (but not in a good way), questionable foot hygiene, and his leading me down the wrong path. I wanted to shout at them,
So
what
if he has a big nose? Are you afraid we might breed and have children with noses so big that when we all sneeze a small town floods?

Maybe they were right and dating a guy like Gideon
would
ruin me socially. We'd be the big-nosed freak outcasts. People would toss peanuts at us like we were elephants or something. Did I really like him anyway? He kissed
me,
right? I didn't kiss him. And I never even said I'd go on a date or anything. He tricked me, right?
Any
girl who feared dying a virgin would kiss any guy, if only to make it seem less likely that she'd die alone with a bottle of whiskey in a sad hotel room.

I didn't say much on the ride home. Hannah and Megan talked to me like mothers, saying things like "Please don't commit social suicide," "You have to keep your moral standards high," and "We're concerned about your judgment, that's all."

What about
your
judgment, Megan? You're the one who got drunk with a pervy coworker during lunch!
Hannah said that I'd "taken living in the moment way past too far." Megan worried that I was becoming "too desperate after too many unfulfilled boy-crazy years."

Maybe I was! Finding out that Finn had a better chance of snagging Tyler than I did had made me a little crazy. I was the one who had liked him for thirteen months, seven days ... Whatever. How did I know that I wasn't the one who had made him want to be gay? Even though I knew he was born that way. Maybe I was the exception, the one that drove boys into the arms of men, like those super-ultra-religious people claimed.

"Megan, have fun at your dad's," I called out as I jumped out of Hannah's car. "Good luck with your yoga thingy tomorrow, Hannah." I tried to sound cheerful even as tears fuzzed up my vision. "Bye, guys. Promise to e-mail, Meg. Call me, Han. Promise."

I flung the door open, kicked it shut and gave it—them—the finger before running into my room, screaming, and slamming my door so hard it shook the walls. I didn't even care that Finn and a bunch of his friends totally gawked at me from the family room.

I flopped on my bed and screamed into my pillows like a million jilted brides.
I hate Megan! I hate Hannah!
The sharp corner of an envelope pressed into my cheek. I sat and picked up a small blue envelope with the initial
J
on the front. When I opened it, that flowery incense smell from the Jewel Café burst out. I sniffed the envelope right as Finn opened the door. Without knocking!

"Okay, that was a little nutso," Finn said. "And I don't even
want
to know what you're doing to that envelope, but I promised the guy who delivered it that I'd make sure to tell you to open it tonight." Finn started to close the door. "He didn't say anything about making out with it, though."

"Get out!" I threw a pillow across the room.

"Okay, then." Finn closed the door. "Jor's going mental, Mom. Might want to get the straitjacket out again."

His violent-movie-watching pals guffawed.

"Finn," Mom scolded. "Be nice." Then she laughed.
Nice support, Mom.

There was no note in the envelope, only a bunch of beads. I poured them onto my bed and spread them with my fingers. Half of them were letters and the other half little pink flowers. I spent an hour putting the puzzle together, wishing I
had
been in AP English. With my heart beating so fast I thought it would jump out and dance around my room, I worked out: "Come to Bed Tuesday Night." Oh, my God! Burying my head in my pillow to hyperventilate, I found another little
a
bead tucked into a fold of my comforter. "Come to Bead Tuesday Night."

A few minutes later, after I calmed down a bit, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Luke sat on the sofa next to Finn, watching some total gore-fest movie.

Oh, God, no! Luke would probably spread the word that not only did Finn's sister have the biggest nose in Reno, but she was mentally unstable. Cupcake Girl would send me sweet little not-meaning-to-be-sexual-innuendoes notes in the mental hospital. Hannah and Megan would spend all their visits nodding at me with concerned looks on their faces. "You should've listened to us and not kissed a dork/freak/rebel," they'd say.

Hoping to avoid further embarrassment, I snuck out of the kitchen during a big action scene, holding my glass of water to my smoldering cheek.

Luke raised his eyebrows. Twice. "Hey, Jory," he said with a chuckle.

Forget the mental hospital. Call the convent. Now.

I changed clothes about a million times on Tuesday night. I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard to be the new girlfriend or something, but I wanted to look very kissable. Did that mean snug jeans or a short skirt? Tank top or clever T-shirt? Gideon wore T-shirts from his favorite bands. All I had was an old Hannah Montana tee that I kept for sentimental reasons. Maybe I needed to listen to more serious music. I ran out to the family room and swiped one of Dad's classical CDs. Maybe that would get me in the mood. The whining strings and lumbering horns, however, just made me want to wear black and toss myself into a grave. Picked the wrong CD, I guess. I turned the radio on and set it to my favorite pop station. Love songs should get me in the mood, right?

After trying on nearly all of my clothes and tossing them in a heap on my bed, I skulked down the hall to Finn's room.

"Tight jeans or a miniskirt?" I asked.

"And the segue to this would be—"

"Please tell me. What makes you notice a girl?" The humiliation. Finn looked up from the book he was reading and stared at me.

Finn waggled his tongue. "Go naked. That'll get some attention."

"Oh, grow up." I slammed his door. "Thought I could ask a simple question without being totally humiliated!"

"Miniskirt with a tight shirt," Finn yelled through the door. "Show off your best
ass
-ets. Get it?" He laughed at his own pathetic joke. "That's no jug." More laughter.

What was I thinking, asking a fifteen-year-old, even if he did have far more extensive dating experience? Finn got asked to the senior prom last year as a freshman. He ended up hanging out with Zane Zimmerman and his date. Scary thought that keeps me awake at 3:17
A.M.
: having to take my own brother to senior prom
and
having to make sure I asked him before someone else did.

I shimmied into a swirly-girlie miniskirt and put on my "Who Needs Boys?" T-shirt. Didn't want to appear desperate. Even though I totally was. I should've been wearing a "Kiss Me Now Before You Change Your Mind" T-shirt. Would he even kiss me?

After combing my hair for the tenth time and adding a little splash of eau de something from my mom's bathroom, I ran out to grab Mom's keys.

"Where are you going?" Mom stirred a pot of beet soup on the stove. A week of binging had suddenly morphed into the Cleansing Soup Diet (day 2). I had kind of liked the cool smoothie-esque blended-fruit breakfast soup.

"I'm trying out that jewelry-making class down, you know, where I deliver cakes on Wednesdays."

Could she totally tell that I was far more interested in kissing than beading? I tried to calm down and not look so eager, but I kept flapping my hands around while I talked.

"You know I'm trying to find my passion and all this summer, and—"

"Wait! Is it the Jewel Café? I've heard about that place! One of my coworkers ate lunch there and then Cynthia Simons mentioned it at book club. Maybe I'll join you." Mom turned off the burner. Bad sign. "Today's Tuesday, isn't it? I think this is exactly the class Cynthia's in. Wouldn't that be great?" Mom smoothed her hair.

"Oh, Mom. I'm really late." Nose growing. I pressed my thumb against the tip of my nose.

"Nonsense. Do you know you always touch your nose when you fib?" Mom smiled. "You've been doing it for years." She shrugged. "How fun to do a mother-daughter bonding thing! Don't look so worried. Oh, God. What do I have to wear that still fits?"

Mom ran into her bedroom to put on her face and find something presentable to wear. Finn wandered out to the family room, munching on a power bar.

"Mother-daughter night? Bummer. Guess what that means for me, though."

"What?"

Finn stood in front of me with his perfectly tan legs, the right kind of wavy, blond hair, and blue eyes. No wonder every girl in Reno walked by our house.

"Pizza. Possibly a little alone time with Em." He blew me a kiss. "Thanks, Sis."

"Whatever."

Finn was on the verge of having an ultimate boy night. Cute girl, pizza, home alone. And I was about to show up to my not-really-a-date-right?
with my mother!
Gideon would never want to kiss, talk, or even acknowledge my existence again after a night in the presence of the desperate-to-live-on-Cutting-Horse-Circle Leah Michaels. Maybe I should pretend to get sick. Or run away and become some desperate homeless person in San Francisco who gets trapped in the illicit world of drugs (not sex, because no one will want me) and some TV station will do an exposé on me:
Mother-Daughter Bonding: More Dangerous Than You Think!