Mrs. Jonas looked straight at me. I couldn’t hold her gaze. Instead, I blinked up at Lydia. Her face was frozen in shock.
Slowly she sank into her seat. In a tiny voice she whimpered, “Ashley started it.”
Mrs. Jonas said, between clenched teeth, “The movie’s off. Just get busy and clean out your desks. And I don’t want to hear
another word out of anybody the rest of the morning.”
All I could do was shake my head. Lydia didn’t get it. But I did. I felt Ashley’s pain.
Suddenly Lydia jumped up and raced to the rest-room. The door hadn’t shut all the way before we heard her sobbing. I guess
she did get it.
After “the Ashley incident” the bees in my belly turned to wax. Even though I expected us to be spending the last day of sixth
grade on suspension, or expelled from Montrose Middle School, it didn’t happen. Ashley never came back to class. And she must
not have reported us, either, because Mr. Krupps didn’t break down the door in a rage.
By lunchtime I figured out why we were still in school. Ashley couldn’t go to her father, not with incriminating evidence
in her purse. Cigarettes were bad enough. I doubted Mr. Krupps knew about her diet pills and Slim-Fast, either.
Poor Ashley. All this time I thought she was oblivious to her weight; that it never bothered her, the way she just threw it
around. If things were different, if we weren’t such mortal enemies, we might’ve been able to talk. There’s an invisible bond
between those of us forced to live fat in a skinny-is-the-only-thing-beautiful world.
I don’t know if it was just because I was feeling sorry for Ashley or what, but I wasn’t convinced she was involved in the
thefts. The secret stash in her purse wasn’t stolen money or merchandise. Just secrets. Ashley was a liar, a snot, and a cheater,
but I’d never known her to be a thief.
Which sure made Max’s shoes gleam brighter in the light of day. Almost as bright as my earrings and necklace. As hard as I
tried, I couldn’t stop suspecting Max and Kevin. Where did Max get the money for those shoes? Where did she get the money
for a new CD player? It was apparent from her ramshackle house that she didn’t live in the lap of luxury.
Kevin, on the other hand, might. He’d have to be rich to afford to buy me such expensive presents. Maybe he lived in a mansion
with a pool and servants. Maybe his parents were forcing him to go to public school so that he could mix with the lower classes.
It almost made me want to cancel tonight. Almost. But now I felt compelled to go, to see his house. Because even though it
could change everything, it was time to learn the truth.
I
managed to squeeze into my white jeans with an inch or two to spare, but I still looked like an albino rhino. My hair chose
tonight of all nights to revolt against styling gel. It fell in curly clumps to my shoulders. “Maybe a hat,” I thought aloud.
As I scrounged through my closet for my old Brownie beret, Dad called down the hall, “Jenny, he’s here.”
I squealed. Six forty-five on the button. Not only was Kevin a prime suspect, he was punctual. With one final swipe at my
hair in the mirror, I stumbled blindly out the door.
Mom had Kevin skewered to the La-Z-Boy, while she and Dad grilled him from the sofa. “What do your parents do for a living?”
Mom asked.
Vanessa stood in the doorway, sucking on a clarinet reed. She rolled her eyes at me.
Really.
I had to rescue him. “Kevin doesn’t have parents,” I said, motioning him to get up and follow me to the front door. Which
he did, at rocket speed. “He’s from Venus.”
Dad said, “I thought men were from Mars, women were from Venus.”
Mom whapped him. Smiling at Kevin, she said, “Sit down. Stay awhile. You, too, Jenny.” She patted the cushion next to her.
“What’s the hurry?”
She had to ask?
Mom quizzed Kevin about school and hobbies and sports, while I died a slow, agonizing death. Dad was worse. He just sat and
stared at Kevin, studying him like he was bacteria under a microscope.
Mom said, “What’s your phone number, Kevin? I might give your mom a call.”
He rattled off his number so fast, Mom had to ask again. When she told Dad to get her a pencil so she could write it down,
that was my cue. I got up, grabbed Kevin’s sleeve, and yanked him out the door, slamming it so hard the house shook.
“Sorry about that,” I told Kevin as I hustled him up the block. “Five more minutes and you would’ve been strip-searched.”
He laughed and elbowed me.
I added, “Are your parents that weird?”
“Weirder,” he said. “It’s just my mom, though. My dad’s gone.”
“Gone where?” I asked.
“Who knows?” he answered. “He forgot to write.”
Which pretty much ended that line of questioning. As we turned onto Yancy Street, a warm finger snaked into my hand. Then
another. Then all of Kevin’s fingers laced through mine. The bees were reborn. They ripped through my stomach and swarmed
up my spine.
We didn’t talk the rest of the way. We didn’t have to.
Hugh and Prairie were just getting out of the car when Kevin and I reached his house. This was his house? Surely they’d gotten
the address wrong. It was nowhere near a mansion; not even a whole house. More like a duplex; two units glued together by
a garage.
This didn’t seal his guilt. I mean, the Rooney mansion could be undergoing major renovation. Right? This could be temporary
housing.
A lady rushed out the door of the duplex and said, “Oh, Kevin, good, you’re home. Listen, your aunt Rachel called and wants
me to go out with her for a drink.” She tousled his hair.
He smoothed it back into place before mumbling introductions. His mom scanned me from head to foot. By the shock in her eyes,
I could tell she wasn’t bowled over by my beauty. She punched the garage-door opener and said, “I don’t know when I’ll be
back. Behave yourselves.”
“Oh, you bet,” Kevin said under his breath while squeezing my hand.
My stomach lurched. And it wasn’t all from thrill. This could be the shortest date in history. What if my mother really called?
Could Kevin do an imitation of his mom? Could I? And the more worrisome question: What if Mom didn’t call? My stomach fluttered
again.
“Make yourselves at home.” Kevin motioned us through the door. He kicked an overflowing laundry basket aside. “It’s kinda
messy.”
Kinda? Pots and pans were piled high in the kitchen sink. Dirty dishes covered the counters—I assumed there were counters
under there. It made me appreciate my dad’s housekeeping skills.
“The movies are under the TV.” Kevin pointed. “What does everyone want on their pizza? Besides anchovies.” He winked at me.
I couldn’t help it; I swooned.
“I don’t care,” Prairie said.
“Cheese,” Hugh said.
“Duh.” Kevin widened his eyes. I sucked in a smile. “Jen?” he said.
I loved the way he said, “Jen.”
“Anything but anchovies,” I answered.
“You got it.” He followed the phone cord through a mess of papers on the table. While he called in our order, I wandered over
to help pick out a movie.
As Hugh started through the stack, Prairie pulled me aside. “Look what Hugh g-gave me,” she said. Her fingers spread out in
front of my face. On her left hand was a ring. I think it was a ring, even though it was rectangular and odd.
I bent down for a closer look.
“It’s an old computer chip,” Prairie explained. “Hugh made it himself.” She traced her fingers over it tenderly.
“So, is the wedding going to go live on the Internet?” I asked.
“Jenny.” Prairie pushed me playfully and blushed.
“Okay, I’ve narrowed it down to three movies,” Hugh said.
This should be good, I thought.
He carried the tapes over to the sofa and sat. Prairie sat beside him. Kevin was still on the phone, on hold, so I sank in
next to Prairie. Sank doesn’t begin to describe it. The sofa was soft as a featherbed. In fact, it might’ve been a featherbed.
There was a pillow at one end and a crumpled blanket at the other. A thought suddenly occurred to me. What if this is Kevin’s
bed? Oh, my God. I might actually be sitting on Kevin’s bed.
Hugh said,
“Halloween: H20.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said.
“No way,” Prairie countered. “I hate scary movies.”
Kevin appeared out of the sea of laundry and sat down beside me. Right beside me. And he kept sinking and sinking until we
were both almost horizontal. I scrambled to right myself.
“Okay, how about
Terminator II?”
Hugh said.
“That’s the best one,” Kevin said.
“It’s t-too violent,” Prairie said. “What’s the third choice?”
“Armageddon,”
Hugh said.
Prairie’s eyes lit up. “That’s my favorite movie.”
Destruction of the world isn’t violent?
Kevin said, “Here, I’ll put it in.” He got up, causing me to slide into the sinkhole he’d vacated. As Kevin switched on the
VCR and stuck in the tape, Hugh asked, “How much is the pizza?” He dug in his pants pocket for his wallet.
“Forget it,” Kevin said. “My treat.”
“Really?” Hugh poked his glasses up his nose. “Gee, thanks.”
“No problem,” Kevin said. He grabbed the remote control and pressed Start.
Hugh asked, “What’d you do, rob a bank?” He cracked himself up.
Kevin didn’t answer. The FBI warning scrolled onto the TV screen as the hairs on my neck stood at attention.
Kevin plopped down beside me again and fast-forwarded through the previews. When the movie credits appeared, Kevin got up
and switched off the lights. On the other side of me, Prairie snuggled close to Hugh.
Kevin’s leg landed right next to mine. He took a deep breath. My breath was stuck somewhere between my lungs and lips. Out
of my peripheral vision, I saw Hugh’s arm slide around Prairie’s shoulders. He leaned over and kissed her.
Kevin said in my ear, “I just got pepperoni.”
I jumped a mile. The reflection from the TV flickered over Kevin’s face. His adorable, smiling face. I smiled back. “Great,”
I said. “I’m starving.” And to prove it, my stomach rumbled.
“Me, too.” Kevin stretched his arms over his head. One of them cruised across my shoulders.
My bones went brittle. Don’t ask me why; I’d been waiting for this moment all my life. Not that Kevin could feel my bones
under all my layers of blubber, but I tried to relax. When I’m nervous though, my impulses take over. I blurted, “So, is this
Mrs. Jonas’s treat or Ms. Milner’s?”
Kevin’s arm dropped back behind me. “What do you mean by that?” he said.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. Oh, God. Did I really say that?
Suddenly the overhead light flashed on. Kevin faced me. “Did you just accuse me of stealing the money?”
“No.” I looked aghast. “Kevin, no. Of course not.” I gulped. “But, uh… did you?”
“Jenny!” Prairie barked at me.
“What?” I turned to her. “I didn’t say he did. I’m just asking.”
Kevin folded his arms. “Do you think I did?”
My eyes met his. His very intense eyes, holding mine in a vise grip. “No.” I hope not, I managed to keep to myself. “I just…”
My mouth tasted like bee vomit. Involuntarily, my fingers traced across the links of my necklace. “It’s just that right after
the money got stolen, you gave me these presents. I mean, it was pure coincidence. First Mrs. Jonas’s money and the earrings.
Then Ms. Milner’s money and the necklace. Weird.” I laughed. It sounded strangled, which it was.
All the warmth in Kevin’s eyes faded away. My life went with it. An explosion from the TV rocked the living room. Kevin raised
his arm to flick off the TV with the remote control. Just then the doorbell buzzed.
Beside me, Prairie said, “Jenny, how could you?”
“I—”
The whooshing of the door cut me off. Kevin snarled at the pizza guy, “You must have the wrong house.” He shut the door in
his face. Then he turned to us and said, “The party’s over.”
Dear Fat Fink Forget About Food You Stupid Idiot Diary
,
He hates me, he hates me, he hates me. I’m gonna eat some worms
.
I threw my food diary across the bedroom, where it landed with a splat over my fat white jeans. I let out a wail that could
be heard in Vail.
Good thing Mom, Dad, and Vanessa weren’t back from family fun night. They weren’t here to see me stumble home alone in the
dark and almost bust my bed frame when I flung myself on it so hard.
Even if Kevin would’ve walked me home, the look on his face after I accused him of stealing the money was enough to make me
flee for my life. With one stupid remark, I’d managed to destroy any future we might’ve had together.
When the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. I’d never felt so miserable in my life. All my diet days added together couldn’t
come close to the feeling of emptiness I had inside me right now. My one chance at love, flushed down the toilet.
Through my sobbing I heard someone enter the house. Yes, I thought. Good. An ax murderer. Counting the footsteps in the hall—four,
five, six—I quickly axed the ax murder scene. Blood makes me queasy.
A soft knock sounded on my door. “Jenny?” Mom whispered softly. “Are you home?”
I yanked my comforter up to my chin. A streak of light shone through a crack in the door and I shut my eyes. From the hallway,
Mom said, “She’s here. Thank God. She’s asleep.”
I wish. And thank God for what? I’ll be here the rest of my life, I thought. I’m never getting up. How can I ever show my
face in public? Even Prairie had pierced my heart with a look that killed. And after Kevin tells everyone what a snake I am…
Why did I have to ask him? Why did I have to know?
“Jenny?” Another sliver of light cut across my bed. I clutched my covers tighter. The light expanded before a body bounced
on the bed. “How’d it go, Jen? I know you’re not asleep.” Vanessa shook my arm.
“Go away,” I snarled.
She climbed over my lifeless carcass. “Tell me everything that happened,” she said to my half-covered face.
“Nothing happened,” I grumbled.