Authors: Hailey Abbott
Abby clenched her jaw. This argument was making her ill. She hated when adults acted so
adult
, like there were certain feelings a person could only have over age thirty, and anyone younger just couldn’t comprehend. Abby was trying to help and her mother was dismissing her like she was eight. Meanwhile she was the one getting in a fight over pigs in blankets.
Abby took a deep breath. Part of her wanted to protest, but more of her wanted her mom to stop crying.
Act like an adult here, Abby,
she told herself.
Someone
needs to.
“Anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so,” her mother said. “But thanks for asking.”
“Okay,” Abby said, turning around slowly. “See you in the morning?”
“Sure, honey.”
Abby walked out, feeling numb. Forget dinner— suddenly she’d lost her appetite. When she got upstairs, she glanced out the back window and saw her father sitting on one of the stone benches, hanging his head.
“I’m never getting married,” Abby muttered. “Never ever ever.”
She was about to open the door to her room when she heard Tucker’s voice, once again coming from the bathroom. Abby froze. She remembered her talk with Noah, about how confronting Tucker was the best option. But now that she was home and he was here, her usual fear of the fight overcame her. So she needed more information? Well, here was her chance to get some.
“Yes! Yes I’ll be there. I can’t wait!” Tucker said as Abby inched toward the door. “No . . . No, Carol doesn’t suspect a thing.”
Abby squeezed her hands into fists.
“Yes. I’ll bring the wine,” Tucker said. “See you then.”
The cell phone beeped as if it was being shut off and Abby ran back to the steps to fake like she was just coming up the stairs. Tucker opened the door to the bathroom, saw her and paused. He had guilt written all over his face.
“Hi,” he said, recovering quickly. She saw him slip his cell into his pocket. He wiped his palms on his pants, as if they were sweaty. Oh, he was so busted! “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Abby said.
Just do it! Just call him out!
Abby screamed in her head. But she found that she could barely even look him in the eye. As if
she
were the guilty party. What was wrong with her?
“You?” she asked.
“Fine!” he said brightly.
“Great!”
She walked by him into her room and slammed the door, fighting for her breath. Screw talking to Tucker. He was obviously guilty. All she had to do was get tangible proof and this whole wedding thing would be history. Her parents would go back to being normal and Carol could stay home and hopefully get her job back. No more separation anxiety, no more fighting about finger foods.
Abby was going to single-handedly save her family from self-destructing. All she had to do was figure out how.
Carol and Tucker’s Engagement Gifts
Mom and Dad: China set of Carol’s choice (TBD)
Tucker’s mom: Two cut crystal vases (hideous)
Tucker’s dad and stepmom: Two ceramic vases (ultra-hideous)
Great-aunt Peggy: Trifle bowl (Huh?)
Aunt Lori: Sandwich maker (Grilled cheese! Sweet!)
Mr. and Mrs. Luther Cox: Silver tea set (Is this 1789?)
Mr. and Mrs. Mark Brandeis: Silver tea set (Maybe it’s a Colorado thing.)
Mr. and Mrs. Randy Parker: Silver tea set (Okay, where’s the hidden camera?)
Tessa: Leather photo album (She hasn’t completely lost her mind.)
Missy: Cut-crystal frame (She has.)
Andrew (Tucker’s brother): DVD player (Wait. Was I supposed to get them something?)
• 9 •
You May Now Kiss the Bride
This is not my life, Abby thought as she slumped down in her desk chair on Sunday afternoon. She crossed her arms over her chest and twisted her mouth into a sour pucker. She didn’t even want to think about the scrimmage going on down at the park right now, but her legs would not listen. They bounced up and down maniacally like they knew they were missing out.
Next weekend,
Abby thought.
Maybe
next
weekend
I’ll actually get to play again.
Carol had typed up the list of songs for Abby to burn on the hundred blank CDs that sat on her floor. Abby had suggested a few songs that were, oh, recorded in their lifetime, but Carol was adamant. She wanted this to be a CD that all the guests would enjoy. Even Tucker’s grandparents.
“How about ‘It’s the End of the World As We Know It’?” Abby muttered to herself.
Downstairs, a door slammed and Abby flinched. Her parents had been slamming things all morning— doors, cabinets, the occasional window. It was making Abby very tense and very uncomfortable. She was not used to her parents arguing. She wasn’t even used to them disagreeing. When were they going to make up?
Slam! Stomp . . . stomp . . . stomp. Slam!
“All right, that’s it. I’m out,” Abby said to her empty room. She grabbed her bag and keys and headed for the van, her adrenaline pumping. At least there was no Sunday wedding this week. That would have been the icing on the cake.
“Abby!”
She whirled around, her heart in her throat. There was Becky sitting on one of the lattice benches in front of the house, surrounded by papers and magazines. She was uncharacteristically dressed down in jeans and a Boston College sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. There was no makeup in sight.
“What are you doing here? There’s no wedding today,” Abby said.
“I know. I’m just . . .” Becky wrung her hands together and looked around at her things.
“Becky? What’s wrong?” Abby asked.
“It’s . . . your parents,” Becky said. “I think they’re a little . . . confused.”
Tell me about it,
Abby thought. “What do you mean?” she asked, sitting down next to Becky.
“Well, they keep giving me things to do for Carol’s wedding and at first I was psyched, you know, to have the responsibility? But now—well, just look.”
Becky handed Abby a few papers. As Abby looked them over, her stomach twisted into tighter and tighter knots. In her dad’s handwriting was a note to call Candyland and Candy Corner to price out various candy stands. There was a page from
Brides
magazine showing a flavored tea station, with a Post-it attached. On it her mom had written, “Love this!” Her dad had written a list of flowers to order—all red roses and gerbera daisies and other crimson varieties. Her mother had given Becky a list of whites—orchids, lilies and the like.
“It’s like they’re not even talking to each other about what they’re giving me,” Becky said hopelessly. “What am I supposed to do with all this?”
Abby sighed and leaned back. Becky had hit the nail right on the head—her parents weren’t talking to each other. Unless making banging noises counted as talking, which it didn’t.
“Becky, listen, it’s Sunday. Just . . . go home, put all of this in a drawer or something and relax,” Abby told her. “Don’t let my insane parents stress you out. We’ll figure out a plan. I swear.”
Becky’s whole face brightened and she grabbed Abby into a hug. “Thank you!” she said. “Thank you so much! I was starting to think I was just going to have to quit or something.”
“No! Don’t do that!” Abby blurted out, pulling back. If Becky quit, her parents would be left high and dry—especially if she made it to Italy next year. “We’ll talk about it next week, okay? In the meantime, just keep yessing both of them. Got it?”
“Got it,” Becky said with a smile.
It looked like someone was going to have to take charge of this wedding before it got completely out of hand. Unfortunately Abby seemed like the only one sane enough to do it.
I can’t believe I’m doing this,
Abby thought as she pulled the van onto Main Street.
I’ve become one of those
freaky stalker girls.
Instead of heading for Van Merck as Abby had originally intended, she found herself making her way downtown toward the bakery. She paused at the stop sign diagonally across from Spencer’s. There were a couple of cars in the strip mall parking lot, but most of the stores had already closed. A few of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling were still lit, casting a dim glow over the huge wedding cake in the window. A shadow crossed in front of the door and Abby held her breath.
“It’s probably just Mr. Spencer,” she told herself, breathing deeply to calm her pounding heart.
Just then the lights inside flicked off and the front door of the bakery opened. Out walked Noah and two other guys, all wearing Red Sox paraphernalia. Abby felt a sudden panic. If Noah saw her she’d look like such a stalker. But there was no way they weren’t going to see her. Her big, white, marshmallow van was just too much of an eyesore.
She was just getting ready to make a sharp right when at that very moment a car horn honked long and loud. Abby glanced in the rearview mirror. There was a truck idling behind her and the red-faced driver was making some unsavory gestures in her direction. Her eyes darted toward the bakery and Noah looked right at her. He smiled and waved and Abby now had no choice. She made a left into the parking lot, braking to the soundtrack of shouting and swearing from the truck driver.
Shakily, Abby put the van into park as Noah walked over to her window. She rolled it down.
“Wow. That guy was not happy,” Noah said, leaning his arms on her windowsill. He looked ridiculously cute in his faded jeans, white Red Sox jersey and backward baseball cap. A few shocks of dark hair curled up around the band and were flattened down behind his ears.
“I think I could take him,” Abby joked back.
“So . . . what’re you doing here?” Noah asked. “I know you didn’t stop by to see me.”
Abby’s heart thumped. Was she imagining it or was there something semihopeful in his eyes? Like maybe he was
hoping
she was stopping by just to see him. Abby glanced over at his friends, who were loitering by a Jeep Cherokee, watching her.
“I—uh—I left my jacket at the store this morning,” she lied. “I just came back for it.”
“Oh . . . well, are you doing anything right now?” Noah asked.
“No!” Abby answered, instantly regretting how overexcited she sounded.
Noah smiled and leaned a little closer to the door— a little closer to her. Was he flirting? It felt to Abby like he might be flirting. Either that or she was just imagining it because all she could think about was grabbing him and kissing him.
“Cuz we have an extra ticket for the Red Sox game,” he said. “You want to come?”
“They’re playing the Yankees,” Abby said, her jaw dropping slightly. “They’re playing the Yankees and you have an extra ticket and you want me to come? What happened to the guy with the other ticket? Did he get hit by a bus or something?”
“I take that as a yes,” Noah said with a laugh. He opened her van door.
“Hell yeah, it’s a yes.” Abby grabbed her keys, hopped out and locked the van. “How the heck do you have an extra ticket to a Red Sox–Yankees game?” she asked as she headed for the SUV. Already she was pulling out her cell to call home and tell them not to expect her for dinner. Not that anyone would even notice.
And I get to avoid it for a whole night!
Abby thought. To go to a Red Sox–Yankees game with Noah, no less. Noah who just might have been flirting with her. Driving into town was the best move she had ever made.
“Don’t you want to go get your jacket?” Noah asked, behind her.
Abby turned around. He was still standing by the front of the van, his shoulder turned toward Sports Expert. Abby noticed that Barb had already turned the front lights off. She was sure her boss was still in the back, going over inventory, but Noah didn’t need to know that.
“Oh! I totally spaced. Barb already went home,” she said, adding a laugh for effect.
Noah just gave her a look. A look that told her he didn’t believe a word she was saying.
“You’re certifiable, you know that don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Abby replied, her cheeks flushing crimson. “I’m aware.”
“Let’s go, Sox! Let’s go, Sox! Let’s go, Sox!”
Abby chanted happily as she looked out the window of Ryan’s Cherokee. It had been an awesome game. The Red Sox had kicked Yankee butt, winning 12–3 and shutting down what could have been an eighth-inning comeback with a killer double play. Abby, Noah, and his friends Ryan and Dakar had been cheering and chanting all the way home.
“This girl is good luck,” Dakar said. “We should take her to all the games. Screw Alex.”
“Yeah, screw Alex!” Ryan agreed. They drove by a car with a Red Sox flag attached to its window and Ryan honked the horn. The kids in the backseat shouted and waved.
“I’m all for it,” Abby said. “What do we have to do to make this Alex guy disappear?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Ryan said, glancing in the rearview. “He missed today because he was ball-and-chaining it. A few more weeks with that girl and he’ll be fully housebroken.”
“Whipped, huh?” Abby said.
“Totally,” Dakar replied.
“Come on, guys. Emma’s not that bad,” Noah said, smiling at Abby.
“Not that bad!” Dakar and Ryan said in unison.
“She threw out
all of his Red Sox gear,
” Dakar cried.
“And makes him wear pastel-colored polo shirts!” Ryan piped in.
“My God, man. Maybe you need to be replaced, too!” Dakar added, laughing.
“I just like to rile them up,” Noah whispered to Abby.
Abby laughed and looked out the window again. The game had been exactly what she needed. Shouting at the top of her lungs, eating plenty of junk food, spending quality time with not only Noah, but with two guys who probably hated weddings as much as she did. It was a perfect night.
“Well, here you go,” Ryan said, pulling into the strip mall parking lot. He turned around in his seat and offered his hand. “Abby, it was a pleasure.”
“Thanks,” Abby said, shaking his hand.
“Until next time,” Dakar said.
“Thanks for driving, Ry,” Noah said, climbing out of the car. He knocked fists with Ryan through the open window and then the Cherokee drove away. They stood there for a moment in silence and finally Abby sighed. She definitely didn’t want this night to end.