Authors: Tamara Summers
“Well, maybe Yo-Yo Guy is more mature
than Patrick,” Sofia says. “He’s way hotter, for starters. Maybe he can handle Paris’s sniping.”
“Wait’ll you see the bridesmaid dresses Vicky has picked out for us,” I say. “You won’t want to bring a plus one either. Hey,
are
you bringing someone?”
Sofia turns a really unusual shade of pink that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen on her before. “Maybe,” she says. “Mom! Hi!”
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Mom says to her, taking the cupcake boxes from my arms. “I thought I’d have to run this whole thing by myself.”
“Nice,” I say. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I mean all of you, thank goodness you’re
all
here,” she says lamely, but it’s okay. Sofia’s my favorite, too. I think she’s everyone’s favorite.
We follow Mom over to one of the tables, which appears to be covered in maybe five lace tablecloths, one on top of the other. The table next to it already has three presents on it—probably from Alex, Mom, and Carolina. Ms. Trapelo doesn’t have to give Vicky a present, especially
since she can’t even stay for the shower (she has another wedding to run today), but she always treats her clients like they’re family. While Mom starts arranging the cupcakes on a plate, chattering about the guest list, Sofia adds her gift bag to the pile, looks at the three presents, and then looks back at me.
I roll my eyes and knock myself on the head.
She taps her nose, pulls a pen out of her purse, and scribbles something on the card attached to the bag. I lean over and see that she’s added
AND JACK
below
WITH LOVE FROM SOFIA
.
“Are you sure?” I mouth. Mom hasn’t noticed any of this. She’s still explaining to us which of Vicky’s friends will be at the shower, as if we’ll actually (a) remember and (b) want to talk to them.
“Of course,” Sofia whispers. “No worries. Although if you’d like to chip in twenty bucks later, that’d be okay—starving college student and all.” She smiles.
“You bet. Thanks, Sofia.” Whew. I even have
twenty bucks, since I’ve been working two evenings a week all year at the ice cream parlor in town. You know what really helps a person fit into a bridesmaid dress? Not free ice cream, that’s for sure. With Sofia off at college and my parents traveling half the time, it’s a good way to keep busy and stay away from Paris, who has this strange notion that she’s supposed to be “minding” me while Mom and Dad travel. At least until something more exciting comes up and she decides to disappear too, which happens pretty often. It’s weird having the house to myself after years of it being full of sisters. I guess as much as I complain about it, I like having people around, and the ice cream parlor is always busy, even in the winter.
By two o’clock, there’s still no sign of Paris. Sofia and I are not exactly shocked. But Victoria arrives right on schedule and does a pretty good job of pretending to be surprised. And there are plenty of Victoria-esque girls there: a few of the other teachers and a couple of parents from the elementary school where she teaches art, her
team of role-playing friends, plus some long-haired leftover flower children that she befriended at a Renaissance festival. They all love the scones and the teacups and the cup-cakes, and they demand long, detailed descriptions of her dress (I’ll give you a hint: lace, lace, lace, and more lace).
We start with opening the presents, which takes FOREVER. It probably wouldn’t be so bad except I can’t have scones or tea while it’s happening, because I’m supposed to be writing down everything Vicky is getting and who it’s from. Alex is doing this, too, but she insists I do it as well so we can check each other’s afterwards to ensure it’s all correct. I think Alex sent a thank-you note for the wrong thing to someone at her bridal shower, which, by the way: Paris’s fault, since this was her job then. Why anyone would put Paris in charge of anything is a mystery, but of course, that was our first wedding, and we’ve all learned a lot since then.
Okay, mainly we’ve learned not to ask Paris to do anything important. But seriously, it
makes a big difference.
Sofia and Sydney, meanwhile, make a hat out of all the ribbons, which Vicky has to wear at the end. I make a mental note: Not only will I not be having a wedding, I will definitely not be having a bridal shower. Shapeless lemon yellow sundresses: fine. Big goofy ribbon hats: NO.
Most of the presents are lame flowery things from her registry or strange medieval-looking nightdresses. I’m pretty sure one of them involves chain mail, which almost makes me pity Kevin for a second. Sofia, of course, has picked out the perfect gift—it’s a long white silk negligee, but with just enough lace and frills to match Vicky’s taste while still being…you know, tasteful.
“OOOOOOOOOOH,” Vicky gasps. “Thank you, Sofia! Thank you, Jack! It’s beauuuuutiful!”
Sofia winks at me. I’m pretty sure I owe her more than twenty bucks for saving my butt like that.
After all the presents are opened, I’m hoping
I can grab something to eat, but the scones are all gone, and we’re not allowed to eat the cup-cakes until we’ve played the party games that Alex has painstakingly organized. The first one involves a list of questions that Alex secretly e-mailed to Vicky’s fiancé, Kevin.
Alex makes us all guess how many of the questions Vicky will answer the same way that Kevin did. I put “zero,” because I’m unromantic like that, and also because I know that whoever “wins” gets a “prize” of a cake knife and big goofy plate with a cake painted on it. I ask you, what is a seventeen-year-old supposed to do with something like that? Take it to college with me? It’d just end up in Mom’s pantry along with all the other dumb presents she refuses to throw away.
“All right,” Alex begins, looking pleased with herself. Her chin-length blond hair is combed perfectly straight today, and she’s wearing a baby blue pantsuit, which, despite matching Vicky’s wedding colors, still looks very chic on her. She holds up the sheet of paper with the
questions on it. “How many children are you and Kevin going to have?”
“Easy!” Vicky squeals. “Four!”
“That’s what he said, too,” Alex says with a hint of disapproval in her voice. She hides it well, but I spot the little shudder she gives. Alex is planning to postpone children until she’s made partner in her firm, and even then she’ll have one, which she’ll hand over to a nanny and see only at holidays and graduations.
“And what,” says Alex dramatically, probably imagining herself in a courtroom, “are you planning to call your children?”
“Ophelia, Drake, Desdemona, and Swann,” Vicky says promptly. I nearly spray tea all over the pink upholstery of the couch. Sofia clutches my arm, pinching me hard to stop me from giggling.
“Close,” Alex says. “All but one. Instead of Desdemona, he said Dragonella.”
Oh my God. Sofia’s shoulders start shaking, which doesn’t help. If I crack up now, Vicky will probably kick me out of the wedding. Actually,
that wouldn’t be so bad; more likely she’ll just make my bridesmaid dress worse, if that’s possible. I close my eyes and try to keep a straight face by remembering the presidents in order.
“Dragonella!” Vicky hollers in a very un-bride-like way. “That moron! He
knows
it’s Desdemona but he always gets it wrong!”
“Not everyone loves Shakespeare as much as you, sweetheart,” Mom says diplomatically.
“Well, he’s getting better,” Vicky says. “At least he’s stopped saying Salmonella.”
She says this without a trace of amusement. I literally have to grab the pillow next to me and stuff my face into it so I won’t howl with laughter.
“Jakarta, are you all right?” Mom asks.
“Oh, yes, she’s fine,” Sofia says, patting my shoulder. “She’s just overcome with emotion. Such a beautiful day. All so romantic. You know.” There’s a hysterical tremble in her voice so I know she’s fighting back giggles too.
“That’s so sweet!” Vicky says. “It
is
very romantic.”
“Hmmm,” says my mom, who knows me better than Vicky does.
“If you two were a famous couple from history or literature, who would you be?” Alex says.
“Oooooh,” Vicky says thoughtfully. “Well, obviously it’d be from Shakespeare, so…Romeo and Juliet?”
“He said Aragorn and Arwen,” Alex says with a puzzled expression. She also totally pronounces Aragorn wrong. “Did he make those up?”
“They’re from
Lord of the Rings
!” Vicky squeals. “Oh my God, he’s so right! That’s
so
romantic!”
Sofia and I roll our eyes at each other (discreetly).
Alex keeps going through the questions, and I have to admit I’m pleased that Vicky doesn’t get them all right. Too much thinking alike makes a couple really weird, in my opinion. Alexandria and Harvey, for instance, are really into politics and law and talking about current
events, but they have exactly the same opinion on everything, so their conversations end up being EVEN MORE BORING than you’d think they could possibly be—not that I ever have high hopes for conversations about politics and law and current events.
Vicky and Kevin seem like they have that one-brain syndrome sometimes, too, but I think she’s a lot smarter than he is (I mean, Salmonella?). And at least they have some different interests—she’s in a book club and takes jewelry-making classes, while he’s on a fencing team (seriously) and claims to be designing the world’s most complicated board game with his best man. Something about dragons and wizards, I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear.
Sydney and Marco, on the other hand, argue constantly, but at least they’re fun to listen to.
After the questionnaire game—which, by the way, Sydney wins, so have fun with that cake plate, sis—we are
still
not allowed to eat cupcakes, because first we have to divide up into teams, pick someone to be our model, and make
wedding dresses out of toilet paper and safety pins.
The good news: Sofia is on my team.
The bad news: So is Vicky’s maid of honor, Lucille. Who seriously thinks I’m, like, nine years old, or something.
“Ooooh, let’s have Jackie be our model!” she chirps. “Won’t that be fun for you, sweetie?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I try to demur. “I think you’d be a much better model.”
“Puh-
lease
!” she exclaims. “
I
am like a fashion
mogul
over here. I could so
totally
be on
Project Runway
. We definitely need my skills on the
design
side.” This woman, by the way, is wearing bright purple leggings under a long flowery dress with a Peter Pan collar. Enough said.
“Besides,” one of the others points out, “you’re the smallest. The toilet paper will go further that way.” She’s wearing a tag that says: “Hi! I’m
Mindy
! I know Vicky from
my son is in her art class
!”
This is why I am wrapped in yards and yards
of toilet paper, completely trapped, when Paris sweeps in to make her grand announcement.
It happens just after Mom bustles over to us, blinking nervously. “I
wish
I knew where your sister was,” she says. “If she were here, we’d have even teams. This is
so
like Paris.”
“Did somebody say my name?” a voice hollers from the doorway right behind us. Paris is standing there with her arms up in a “Ta da!” pose, her bright red hair clashing furiously with the pink wallpaper, her nose ring glittering in the lamplight. It’s a little suspicious. If it wouldn’t be too unsisterly of me, I’d suspect she’d been standing outside the doorway this whole time, waiting for someone to say her name so she could make a truly dramatic entrance.
“I’m heeeeeeeeeeeee-re!” Paris singsongs.
“The party may now begin!”
Vicky is turning pink. If she weren’t also swathed in long strands of toilet paper, I think she might have stormed over and shoved Paris back out the door.
“My party began
two hours
ago,” she says
icily. I can’t exactly blame her. Paris has a way of sucking all the limelight in the room over to her corner. You’d think Vicky’s bridal shower would be the one occasion where Vicky could be center stage instead, but I’m afraid that’s not to be.
“I’m sorry, Vicky dear,” Paris trills. “But I have
such
exciting news, I just couldn’t
wait
to share it with everyone.”
Uh-oh
. “This bodes ill,” Sofia whispers to me.
“Paris, couldn’t you save your news until after Vicky’s shower?” Mom tries, but Paris steamrolls right over her the way she always does.
“I want you all to meet…Jiro!” she says, and stands back with a flourish.
“EEEEEEEEEEEE!” Lucille shrieks. “There’s a BOY! A BOY at the bridal shower! That’s not allowed! Get him out, get him out!”
For once, I find myself agreeing with Lucille. I mean, I am still wrapped in toilet paper. And there aren’t enough cupcakes for an extra guest. Oh, and? The guy standing sheepishly behind Paris, bowing and nodding, is, like, s
molderingly
good-looking. I am not kidding. He’s like that guy Jin on
Lost
to the power of a hundred. I’m a little bit shocked that this guy and Sexy Yo-Yo Guy can be within twenty miles of each other without setting the world on fire.
“Paris…” Mom says weakly.
Jiro smiles a million-watt smile, bows again, and says something in Chinese. (Or maybe Taiwanese? Japanese? How would I know?)
“Jiro is from Taiwan. He’s a model,” Paris announces proudly. “And we…are getting married!”
Mom actually faints. One moment she is gaping at Paris, and the next she is lying on the floor moaning softly.
“Mom!” we all cry. Sofia gets to her first, of course. I am in the midst of a moral quandary: leap to Mom’s aid, or preserve the integrity of the toilet-paper dress? I mean, is the bridal shower going to continue? Are we still going to finish the game? Is Lucille going to stab me with a safety pin if I jump off my stepstool pedestal and tear my dress?
By the time these thoughts have floundered through my head, Mom is surrounded by Sofia, Alex, Sydney, Paris, and Vicky anyway. As
usual, there is no need for me, so I stay perched right where I am, trying to look inconspicuous.
“Look what you did!” Vicky yells at Paris.
“I didn’t do anything!” Paris yells back.
“You ruined everything! You deliberately ruined my shower! You…you selfish wench!” (Victoria is, um, not so much with the swearing.)
“
Me
, selfish?” Paris shouts. “I’m in
love
! Why can’t you be happy for me, huh? Haven’t I been supportive of
your
stupid wedding?”
“I knew it!” Vicky screams back. “I knew you were jealous of me! Well, this is priceless, Paris. I should have known you’d pull a stunt like this!”
“A stunt like what?” Paris is really having fun now. She would be the perfect candidate for one of those yelling-yelling-drama-drama reality shows. She did try out for
The Real World
once, but I think she scared the producers too much for them to cast her. THAT should tell you something.
“Forcing some random guy to marry you just so you can steal my thunder! Does he even speak
English
, Paris?”
From the fixed smile on poor Jiro’s face, I’m guessing the answer to that question might be no.
“We don’t have to speak the same language to know we’re in love!” Paris hollers.
“Would you both shut up?” Alex snaps.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“We need a wet washcloth,” Sydney says briskly. “And we should keep her head elevated.” Sofia jumps up and runs off to the bathroom.
“Smelling salts!” Vicky suggests frantically, drawing on the vast medical expertise she’s picked up from reading too much Charles Dickens. She’ll probably recommend leeches next.
“Or a cupcake,” I offer. “I bet a cupcake would help.” Nobody hears me.
Sofia runs back in with wet paper towels, which Sydney uses to dab Mom’s forehead and temples.
“I’m all right,” Mom says, blinking and sitting up. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”
“Jeez, Mom,” Paris says. “I know he’s hot, but even I didn’t faint the first time I saw him.”
She grins in what she thinks is a charming way.
“Get out,” Victoria snarls at Paris. “I want you
out
of my bridal shower.”
“You can’t throw me out!” Paris cries. “I’m one of your bridesmaids!”
Vicky stands up with an expression that for some reason makes me think of Voldemort in those Harry Potter movies. “Not anymore, you’re not,” she says coldly.
All of her friends gasp in horror. Throwing a bridesmaid out of the wedding party! How scandalous!
“But Vicky,” Lucille whispers, “don’t you have six groomsmen? Won’t that make the numbers uneven? Think of the asymmetrical photographs!”
“I don’t care,” Vicky says, and everyone gasps again.
“Victoria, sweetheart, let’s think about this,” Mom says, trying to pull her down on one of the couches. Vicky tugs her hand free.
“No!” she snaps. “Paris is always spoiling everything! I won’t let her ruin my wedding,
too. Come on, Lucille.”
Vicky tosses her hair back and storms out the front door, right past Jiro without even glancing at him, and that takes fortitude, because did I mention he’s hot? It’s a very dramatic moment, only slightly marred by the long ribbons of toilet paper that are still wrapped around her arms and torso. Lucille squeaks with excitement and scuttles after her, and most of Vicky’s friends file out after them, chattering loudly.
“Wait!” I cry. “Don’t forget your favors! Take candles, take candles!” A few of them actually hear me and snatch candles from the table by the door, but I can see we’re going to have a giant stack of them left that Mom will have to store somewhere in our house for, probably, ever. Hurrah.
“FINE!” Paris yells after Vicky. “I didn’t want to be in your STUPID WEDDING ANYWAY! And you DEFINITELY WON’T GET TO BE IN MINE! WHICH WILL BE WAY BETTER THAN YOURS! SO THERE!”
Alex and Sydney are on either side of Mom
on the couch, fanning her with gift cards. Sofia is practically wringing her hands; she can’t stand it when people fight, which makes you wonder how she survived living with Paris for so long. Paris stomps over to Jiro, grabs his face, and kisses him hard. He blinks a few times in astonishment, then has the grace to look embarrassed.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” Paris announces. “I love Jiro, and I’m going to marry him. In three months. On the beach. And it’s going to be the best wedding
ever
.”
“Oh, shut up, Paris,” Alex snaps. “Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself?”
“Girls,” Mom says weakly.
“Seriously!” Sydney chimes in. “Do you know how much work we all put into this? God, Paris!” As far as I know, the “work” Sydney put in was picking up the cupcakes, which if you ask me, doesn’t compare to wrapping stupid candles for no reason all night long, or addressing and stuffing shower invitations, or helping Mom buy tablecloths and flower arrangements. Honestly,
it’s a miracle I’m not flunking my junior year, considering how much time I spend on my sisters’ weddings instead of on homework.
Not that I’m complaining, of course. Yaaaaaay weddings. Go true love, woo.
“Oh, where is Carolina when you need her?” Mom says helplessly. Which isn’t really fair, because usually Carolina is right here when we need her, but she does have other weddings to run now and then.
“Carolina!” Paris says. “I love her! She can plan my wedding, too. I’m sure she’ll find it way more fun than planning Vicky’s boring extravaganza.”
“We should check on Victoria,” Mom says, trying to stand up.
“I’ll go,” Sydney says, pushing Mom firmly back down. “She’s probably gone back to her apartment. I’ll make sure she’s all right.”
“Thank you, Sydney,” Mom says.
“Make sure
Vicky’s
all right!” Paris shrills loudly as Sydney trots out of the room and down the hall. “Doesn’t anyone care about
me
? Doesn’t anyone want to
congratulate
me on my
fantastic
news? Doesn’t anyone even want to say hi to Jiro, who’s going to be a
member
of this
family
soon?”
Jiro hears his name and smiles again. I do feel sorry for him, so I wave, and he waves back.
“I think you care about yourself enough for everyone,” Alex snaps. “Come on, Mom, I’m taking you home.”
“But—” Mom protests. “The presents…the favors…the mess…” It is a giant mess in here. There’s wrapping paper everywhere, piles of boxes, plates with half-eaten scones, and teacups scattered on all the tables. Not to mention discarded mountains of toilet paper all over the place.
“It’s okay,” Alex says soothingly to Mom.
“Jack will take care of it.” She shoots me a look full of daggers before I can object.
“I
would
like to lie down,” Mom says. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Jakarta?”
They all look at me, standing up on the stepstool with toilet paper wrapped tightly around my legs and hips and draped across my
shoulders. I think Lucille was going for some kind of mermaid look.
I force a smile. “No, that’s totally fine. Go ahead, Mom, I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’ll stay and help,” Sofia says loyally. Have I mentioned that I love her?
Alex supports Mom to her feet. At the door, Mom pauses and holds her hand out to Jiro. “It’s—it’s very nice to meet you,” she says kindly. No matter how flustered she gets, her maternal instincts always win.
He says something in Taiwanese with a little bow, pressing her hand in his. She smiles and answers in his language, which makes him smile broadly.
“What did you say?” Paris asks.
“He said we have a charming family,” Mom says. (Alex snorts.) “And I wished him luck. He’s going to need it.”
“What does
that
mean?” Paris snaps.
“We’ll talk about this at home,” Mom says sternly. “Without subjecting this poor boy to any more squabbles. I’ll see you there in half an
hour.” She points at Paris, and then lets Alex escort her out the door.
Now it’s only me, Sofia, Paris, and poor Jiro left amidst the wreckage of the shower.
“Sofia?” I say. “A little help?” She comes over and starts unpinning me.
“WELL,” Paris says dramatically. “I NEVER.” She flounces over to the cupcake table, seizes an enormous cupcake covered in pink icing, and flops down on the couch. “Come here, Jiro,” she says, patting the couch beside her. He obediently follows her over and sits down, then holds her cupcake wrapper while she stuffs the whole thing in her mouth.
“So, Paris,” Sofia says, “um…where did you guys meet?”
“New York,” Paris says around a mouthful of crumbs. “Remember that modeling shoot I went to? With Marc, who paid me to take some of the photographs and help with the costuming? Ha—when I saw Jiro, I was like, I know
exactly
what he should wear…nothing! Right? Am I right?” She pats Jiro’s shoulder proudly, like he’s one of
her brassy metal sculptures. Boy, I’m glad he has no idea what she’s saying.
“New York?” I say. “Wasn’t that only, like, two months ago?”
“Yup.” Paris throws her arms around him. “It was love at first sight. We’ve been in Miami for the last week—he had a shoot down there—and one night I guess he realized how much he loves me and he just…proposed!”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know he proposed?” Sofia takes out the last safety pin and I jump off the stepstool in a cloud of toilet paper, shaking myself free. Sofia digs a trash bag out from under one of the tables and starts to fill it, but I head for the cupcake table first. No way am I doing this without a cupcake, especially since I haven’t eaten anything at all yet today. At least there is one (and only one) upside to Paris crashing the shower like this: Now there are a ton of leftover cupcakes.
“Whatever,” Paris says. “I could tell. Trust
me, Jack, if you ever fall in love, you’ll see what it’s like. We don’t need words to understand each other.”
I perch on the table, peel the wrapper off a chocolate cupcake, and study Jiro. I wonder if he has any idea what’s going on, or if he’s going to wake up one morning in August, get stuffed into a tuxedo, and find himself on a beach reciting vows in a foreign language. I wonder if Paris’s wedding day will turn into a wacky chase scene. That would be sort of fitting.
“Is this a green card thing?” Sofia asks. “I mean, do you have to get married so quickly because he needs to stay in the country?”
“No,” Paris says, looking offended. “We’re getting married ‘so quickly’ because we
love
each other! Not that I expect you guys to understand that. But no, there’s no green card thing. Jiro was born in the States, so he’s a citizen, even though he grew up in Taiwan. Right, Jiro? American citizen?” she says loudly and slowly.
“Ah, yes,” he says, nodding agreeably. “American.” Man, his teeth are ridiculously straight.
I finish my cupcake and help Sofia clean up. Paris, of course, stays right where she is. She lies down in Jiro’s lap, and he starts running his fingers through her short hair.
“So, three months from now?” I say. “That’s your plan?”
“Yup,” Paris says. “In August, on the beach. And you two are going to be my only bridesmaids, so there.”
“What?” I say, horrified. “Why? I mean…yay?”
“Because you two are the only ones who’ve supported me in this,” Paris says. I give Sofia a look that says,
We have? How were we stupid enough to do that?
“Obviously Vicky and Alex and Sydney are too selfish to be happy for me, but here you guys are, being nice, like always. We don’t need anyone else, right, girls? It’ll be awesome, just the three of us. Screw the older sisters. Hags.”
Well, that’s awesome. Thanks a lot, toilet paper game. If I hadn’t been stuck here, maybe I could have stormed out with the others, and then I wouldn’t have to be one of Paris’s bridesmaids.
Paris grabs another cupcake and murmurs sweet nothings at Jiro while she feeds it to him. I follow Sofia to the far corner of the room, where we start taking down the banner.
“Wow, we’re so
lucky
,” Sofia whispers sarcastically.
“Remind me to be more negative in the future,” I mutter to Sofia.
“Oh, no,” Sofia says, catching my arm. “This doesn’t mean—you’re not still going to stick to your vow, are you?”
“Um, I totally am,” I say. “Please, are you kidding me? Paris’s wedding is going to be the most insane of all of them. No
way
am I going to date in the middle of all that! I can wait until August.”
“But what about faboo dreamy Yo-Yo Guy?” Sofia says. “What if he can’t wait until August?”
“
C’est la vie,
” I say. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.”
But I was wrong. I did see him again, much sooner than I thought…and in the most unexpected place.