She's So Dead to Us (24 page)

“Whatever. I’m over this conversation,” Shannen said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She turned around and grabbed Faith’s hand, speed walking down the street. Hammond and I looked at one another, sighed, and followed. All I could think about for the rest of the night was the look on Mr. Ryan’s face when he’d seen Faith. He looked scared. Like he was watching his life pass before his eyes. I knew the feeling. I’d seen Ally’s dad. I knew right where he was. Where he worked, where he lived.

The question was, what the hell was I going to do about it?

Quinn twirled across the stage in a sequined pink leotard and huge, graceful tutu, her arms perfectly turned, her hair perfectly bunned, her feet perfectly pointed. Everyone in the audience applauded as she finished her circuit, my mom more enthusiastically than anyone. I checked my watch and sighed. When was this thing going to be over already?

My mother looked at me and clucked her tongue. But what did she expect? I’d never been a dancer, I’d never been remotely interested in dance, and yet here I was, sitting through a three-hour-long dance recital just so I could catch Quinn in one group number and one solo? Was this really how she thought I wanted to spend my Saturday? I couldn’t even believe this was where
she
wanted to be right now. But she’d said that Quinn had asked her personally to come, and she couldn’t turn her down. I guess the two of them were getting closer or something. Which of course completely wigged me out. I mean, it was sad that Quinn’s mother had passed away and all, and I’m sure it was nice for her to have a mom-type figure here watching her performance. But why did it have to be
my
mom?

Okay, that was selfish and immature. But still. I didn’t like where this was headed. It felt way too blended-family If I wasn’t step-freaked before, I definitely was now.

Of course, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. Annie was working. David was still avoiding me. Marshall and the guys from the basketball team were going to a Knicks game tonight and spending the day in the city. And Jake was not an option. Today was his birthday. I’d texted him to wish him a happy birthday that morning, but so far, no reply. He’d probably gotten his license and a brand-new car and was now out with Hammond and the twins and Shannen doing something Crestie. Something I couldn’t be a part of.

As soon as the lights came up at intermission, I was out of my seat. The vending machines were calling my name. If I was going to make it through the second half of this thing, I was going to need caffeine. And sugar. Preferably in the form of chocolate.

“What is with your attitude today, Ally?” my mom asked, coming up behind me as I popped the top on an ice-cold can of Coke.

“Sorry. I just . . . why am I here again?” I asked.

My mother sighed and leaned back against the light blue cinder block wall. The recital was being held at some regional school a half hour from home, and I wondered if every school in North America had some kind of cinder block wall somewhere within its structure.

“You’re here to support Quinn,” she said.

“Right! Right.” I took a slug of my soda. “And why am I supporting Quinn again?”

“Ally,” my mom said in a warning tone.

I stepped away from the soda machine so the shaggy-haired skater dude behind me could get his fix—solidarity, brother—and stood next to her.

“What? I’m serious. Quinn and I aren’t even friends. She doesn’t care if I’m here or not.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point,” my mother said. “Gray and I were hoping we could all hang out so you two could get to know each other better.”

A knot tightened in my chest. That sounded ominous. “Why?”

“Because, hon. Gray and I have been dating for six months now,” she said. “It would be nice if we could all feel comfortable getting together. It would just make things . . . easier.”

Yeah. For you. But what about me? And what if my dad ever came back? What was she going to do if he walked in on some cozy family tableau of us and the Nathansons playing Scrabble in front of the fire?

Not that the condo had a fireplace, but still.

“So? What do you say? Can you give me one Saturday?” my mother asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I straightened up when I saw Gray looking for us in the noisy crowd. “There’s your main squeeze now.”

She shook her head at me, then waved her hand to summon him. Gray saw us and started to cut through the milling parents and dance teachers and siblings. At least he was wearing a button-down shirt buttoned up all the way today. No chest hair to be seen. I took a big swallow of soda as he approached.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, giving my mom a kiss as he joined us. I looked away. “Enjoying the show so far?”

“Yeah. It’s great,” I said flatly. “She’s a natural.”

My phone suddenly vibrated. My heart leapt into my throat, and I yanked the phone out of my jacket pocket. It was a text from Jake.

Thnx 4 bday wish. Sry been out w rents all day.

I smiled and texted back.

No prob. Get ur license?

Yep. Am official driver.

“She acts, too,” Gray was saying proudly. “In fact, next weekend I’m taking her down to Long Beach Island so she can audition for this local theater group. If she gets the part we’ll be living down there all summer.”

Suddenly I was feeling very perky. Between Jake getting back to me and this, my “attitude” was doing a complete 180. “Really? That’s great. You have a house at the shore?” Which you will be moving to? For eight to twelve whole weeks? Sayonara, dude! So much for spending quality time together. I don’t know why I was surprised. Every Crestie family had a house on LBI. We’d even had one, before. This was the best news ever.

“Yep. Quinn can’t wait to get down there,” he said, putting his arm around my mother. “In fact, I was thinking . . . if we do end up relocating for the summer, maybe you two would like to come with.”

I nearly dropped my phone. My mother looked at me hopefully. Clearly this was something they had already discussed.

“What do you think, Ally? A whole summer at the beach?” my mother said brightly.

Um, I thought it sounded like my own personal version of hell. Living with Gray and Quinn like we were a family? Would I have to share a room with the little sugarplum fairy? And would my mother be sharing a room with Gray? Vomit.

Plus, Hammond spent the entire summer down there. And Chloe and Faith and the Idiot Twins. If they all still had their houses after what my father had done.

But then . . . did Jake’s family have a house down there? It made sense. They went to Sunday night dinners. They belonged to the country club. Jake’s mom was clearly a joiner. Had she gone so far as to buy in to the LBI market so she could summer with the other Cresties? Who knew? But even if he didn’t have a house down there, he’d definitely be visiting Hammond. Everyone always brought down friends to stay for the weekends or even for full weeks at a time.

“I think . . .”

My mother’s eyes were sort of pleading. And I’d just promised to drop the attitude. And suddenly I was having visions of me and Jake hanging out on the beach, going waterskiing on the bay, sharing a seat on the Ferris wheel at Fantasy Island. . . . There was something magical about the idea. About summer. About being away from home, away from here. Even though some of his friends would be around, there was that idea that anything could happen. That all the rules could be broken. Because it was summer.

“I think it sounds great,” I said.

“Yeah?” My mother seemed surprised.

“Yeah,” I said. The lights in the lobby started to flash, signaling the beginning of the second act. “Come on. Let’s go before someone takes our seats.”

I saw my mom and Gray exchange a happy look as I walked in ahead of them, and my stomach turned, but less violently than usual. Yes, I was going to have to deal with them being all coupley all summer. And probably having Quinn all up in my grill trying to give me girly makeovers and drag me off to Sur La Plage for daily shopping sprees. But there would also be Jake.

And lots of possibility.

I blew out the candles on my cake. Actually it was two cakes. One was shaped like a one, the other like a seven. Every year it was the same. My mother baked a cake in the shape of the number of the birthday and bought exactly that many balloons. Every year we took a family picture with the cake and the balloons, and every year that picture was framed and nailed to the wall in my mom’s craft room by the following afternoon. There was one wall for mine, one wall for Jonah’s. Every year it was the same, and every year she acted like it was all insanely exciting.

But it was her thing, so I went with it. Besides, between my multiple groundings and all the tension about grades and SATs lately, it seemed like a good idea to just chill.

“Did you make a good wish?” my mother asked, squeezing my shoulders from behind.

“Yeah,” I replied. I hadn’t made a wish since I was ten.

She plucked the candles from the cake, and my father moved in with the cake cutter. He hacked off a huge chunk and slapped it on a plate for Jonah.

“Looks like we’re going to have a lot of leftovers,” he said.

“I don’t know why you didn’t want to invite your friends over, Jake,” my mother put in as my father jammed the knife into the cake. I smirked, wondering what his plastic surgery patients—the ones who trusted their faces and thighs and boobs to his delicate hands—would think if they could see him going to town on this cake.

“I just didn’t feel like it,” I said. Then, because my mother looked stricken, I added, “I just wanted to hang out with you guys.”

That immediately cheered her up. What I didn’t tell her was that I had a plan for tonight. A birthday present to give myself. And it didn’t involve my friends.

“Here you go, Jake.” My father handed me a piece of cake. I wasn’t remotely hungry.

“What about presents?” I asked. There was no pile of wrapped gifts at the end of the table like there usually was. We all knew I was getting a car. That’s what Crestie kids got on their seventeenth birthdays. It wasn’t like I was going to pout if I didn’t get one, but I knew my mother well enough to know that if everyone else on the Crest was going to be getting a car, she would be physically unable to buck the trend. I’d been hinting about wanting a Jeep Wrangler for months. Now I was curious to see if my parents had gotten me what I wanted, or if my mother had decided that a Jeep wasn’t upscale enough for her son to be driving around town.

“Presents?” My dad looked at my mom with a fake frown. “Did we get him any presents this year, Linda?”

“Not that I can recall, Ted,” she said. “I feel just horrible. How can we have spaced on such a thing?”

“You guys,” I said as Jonah snorted a laugh. “Come on.”

“I know. Why don’t you take these and go to the mall?” my father suggested. He tossed me a set of keys. “Get yourself something good.”

The Jeep logo stared up at me from the key chain.

“Shut up,” I said.

My parents grinned. I dropped my cake and ran out the front door. Sitting in the driveway was an army green Jeep Wrangler with a removable hard top. It was so clean it shone under the full moon.

“Happy birthday, kid,” my dad said, ruffling my hair.

I ducked away but then hugged him. Then my mom. “Thanks guys. This is insane. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Take her for a spin,” my dad said.

“I’m coming!” Jonah announced.

“No. No way,” I said, stopping him as he tried to get into the passenger seat.

“Come on!” he protested.

“I’ll take you out tomorrow, Jonah, I swear,” I said.

“Mom!” he whined.

“Jonah, it’s his birthday,” my mother said. “He told you he’d drive you around tomorrow.”

Jonah’s head drooped, and he moped back into the house. “Fine. But I’m eating all your cake.”

“Go crazy, dude,” I replied. “Thanks, guys,” I said again. Then I jumped into the car and shoved the key into the ignition. The rev of the engine rattled my lungs, and my fingertips sizzled. It was official. I was free. I could go out whenever I wanted to. Drive to the mall. Drive to the shore. Drive anywhere I wanted and take along, or not take along, whomever I wanted.