At First Sight (5 page)

“Chairman Meow was just saying hi,” I said. But I scooped up the cat and deposited him on the floor with a yowl of protest. His yowl, not mine. While I was down there, I retrieved my spoon.

Mom paused to peer at my breakfast on her way to the coffee pot. “What's that you're eating? Cereal? There's still some leftover
nasi lemak
in the fridge, you know.”

“I know. It's starting to look kind of gross, especially this early in the morning. Cornflakes are just fine.”

I should probably mention that my family is a little weird about food. My parents are really into exploring ethnic cuisines. They try to test out a new one at least two weeks out of every month, with the other weeks featuring what they call “reruns”—returns to favorite cuisines we've tried in the past. This week it was Malaysian food, last week it was Turkish, and next week might find us sampling the unique delicacies of Finland or Sri Lanka or maybe Mars, if my parents could find a cookbook or some recipes on the Internet. Because of this, plain old American cereal was pretty much
an exotic treat in our house, and I was lucky if Dad remembered to stop at the regular supermarket to buy stuff like OJ and bread on his way home from shopping at whatever specialty market he was hitting up that week. Britt always brought her own snacks when she came to sleep over.

My mom checked her watch. “Crap,” she muttered. “I'm going to miss the train if I don't get out of here.”

Just then my dad zoomed in. He zooms everywhere; he has tons of energy, even at the advanced age of forty-four. I guess that's how he survives his job as a middle school social studies teacher over in the next district. He's even more hyper than most of his students.

“Has anyone seen those papers I was grading last night?” he asked breathlessly, doing his best to tie his tie while circling the kitchen like some kind of whirling dervish. “I was supposed to be at school five minutes ago, and I can't find them anywhere!” He paused to cock one eye down at the tie, which looked sort of like a kite tail that had been caught in a windmill. “Dang it! Lauren, why'd I ever let you convince me to start wearing these things?”

“Because clip-on ties should be banished from polite society.” I stepped over and pushed his hands away. “Here, I'll do it.”

Within seconds I had the tie—a super-cool Sovereign Beck I'd given him for his last birthday—properly tied and looking jaunty with the shirt I'd also picked out for him. If only he'd let me talk him into shaving off his messy sideburns, neatening his beetle brows, and touching up his gray, he'd actually be looking pretty swank.

“Did you check on top of the breakfront?” Mom asked him. “I think I remember you sticking them up there to keep them away from the cat.”

His eyes lit up. “You're a genius, Liz!” he cried. Pausing just long enough to plant a lip-smacking kiss on her forehead, he zipped out of the room.

Mom chuckled as she wiped Dad's drool off her face. For some reason that brought me back to my earlier train of thought.

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “I know you and Dad met in college. But how long was it before you knew he was the one?”

“The one what?” Mom had turned away to pour coffee into a commuter cup. She sounded kind of preoccupied.

“The One,” I said again. “You know. The one for you. The guy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”

She capped her cup and shot me a surprised look. No wonder. It wasn't the kind of question I normally asked over breakfast. Or anytime, really.

“Oh, I don't know,” she said with a chuckle. “I guess it was when he got my car running again when it broke down right before an important internship interview.”

“Got them!” Dad raced back in waving a messy sheaf of papers over his head.

“Good.” Mom checked her watch, then grabbed her coffee cup. “I'm out of here. Lauren, maybe your father can give you a more thorough answer to your question.”

“What question?” Dad asked as Mom gave him a peck on the cheek and rushed out the back door.

“I was just asking how you two knew you were meant for each other,” I said. “Romantically, I mean. How soon after you met, that kind of thing.”

“I think she fell for me the first time I fixed that beater car of hers.” Dad guffawed at his own joke as I rolled my eyes. However they'd met, the two of them were a match
made in heaven, that was for sure. At least when it came to their lame sense of humor.

Soon Dad hurried off to work too, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Well, not quite alone. I turned back to my cereal to find Meow Tse Tung purring blissfully as he lapped the last of the milk out of my bowl.

When I got to school, Britt was waiting for me at my locker. “I found him!” she shrieked as soon as she saw me coming. She raced toward me, waving BBB over her head. “OMG, I totally found him! I told you I'd do it! It took me a little longer than I thought, but hey, I'm not a miracle worker or anything.”

I blinked. “Found who? Oh!” My morning fog cleared instantly as I caught on. Yeah, I'm a little slow before nine a.m. “Wait. Really?”

“I've been scouring Facebook all week, focusing on people from the schools that were on the trip,” Britt explained. “I figured your mystery guy would turn up on somebody's feed sooner or later. And I'm pretty sure I finally figured out who he might be!”

“Might?” My mind was churning. I wasn't sure what to think.

She looked proud of herself. “I told you I'd be careful and not embarrass you, right? So instead of following up, I figured I'd let you check it out for yourself. I actually found him on that guy Tommo's wall—turns out they go to the same school. Here, see for yourself. His name's Riley.”

“Riley,” I murmured, nodding. The name fit him. Riley.

I took BBB and looked at her tiny screen. Britt had it open to her Facebook wall.

“Tommo reposted an entry from his wall,” Britt explained. “Riley's, I mean. Trying to help spread the word, I guess.”

“Spread the word?” I stared at her, suddenly suspicious. “Wait, you didn't tell that Tommo guy about me or—”

“No, chill out! That's not what I mean. Here.” She grabbed BBB back and scrolled down a bit.

Then she handed the BlackBerry back to me, pointing. I gasped.

“That's him!” I exclaimed when I saw the profile photo beside the entry she'd indicated.

Pinging was happening all over the
place. The photo was miniscule, but that didn't matter. I recognized him instantly. Riley. The guy from the planetarium.

“Read what he wrote!” Britt was jigging and twitching like a monkey on speed.

It was a challenge to tear my gaze away from that picture to look at the text beside it. I could hardly believe Britt had actually found him.

“‘Searching for a certain girl,'” I read aloud. “‘I met you in the planetarium during the class trip this week and can't stop thinking about you. But I never got your name, your school, or even a good look at you …'”

There was more, but I had to stop for a second to process this. I stared at Britt, blinking rapidly.

“Wait,” I said. “He's talking about
me
, right?”

“Right!” She started jumping up and down in earnest now. Unable to control her glee, she flung her arms around me and we both started dancing around right there in the crowded school hallway. Missy McManus, the most annoying teacher's pet in the entire school, gave us a disapproving look as she swished past. Chaz Markus
paused just long enough to whistle and call out something crude about Britt's anatomy. Everyone else ignored us. The entire school is pretty much used to Britt's exuberance.

My heart was pounding and my throat was dry. I felt excited, nervous, and weirded out all at the same time. This was big. Huge, in fact. I wasn't sure I was ready to handle it.

Finally we stopped dancing. Then I read the rest of the entry:

Searching for a certain girl: I met you in the planetarium during the class trip this week and can't stop thinking about you. But I never got your name, your school, or even a good look at you. You fell into my arms and told me that we've got to stop meeting like this, but I can't stop thinking about how we met. I keep humming the song I wrote about you, and it's driving my friends crazy. So if you're The One, and you want to talk about the Beast and have some of your favorite squid for breakfast, please get in touch … and maybe we can stop meeting like that, and meet for real.

“Wow,” I said, stunned. “He wrote a
song. About meeting me.”

“Isn't that super amazingly awesome and cool?” Britt exclaimed, clutching my arm so hard it hurt. “This has got to be the most romantic thing that's ever happened in real life!”

I wanted to respond to that, to tease her about putting my love life ahead of her many conquests. But I couldn't focus on that.

“I have to write back,” I said. “I should friend him and, you know, write something. I guess.”

The very idea was daunting. Luckily, I was saved by the bell. Literally. The late bell jangled overhead, reminding me that I was supposed to be in homeroom.

“Oops.” Britt grabbed BBB back and stuffed her in her bag. “Let's pick this up later. If I'm late to homeroom one more time this year, Old Lady Watson is going to expel me.”

“What are you typing? Come on, let me see!” Britt said.

“I don't know. Everything I write sounds so lame.” I hit the delete button, then glanced over my shoulder at Britt. She
was sitting on the edge of my bed, tickling Chairman Meow, who was sprawled out on his back beside her, purring like a maniac.

I'd had a yearbook meeting during lunch that day, and Britt and I didn't have the same study hall. So we'd decided to head to my house after school so she could be there for moral support while I wrote to Riley.

Unfortunately, once I'd sat down at my desk in front of my laptop, found Riley again, and clicked on Add as Friend, I'd realized I had no idea what to say to him. The little Add a Personal Message box blinked impatiently at me, once again as blank as the proverbial slate.

“What?” Britt blinked impatiently at me too. “Why aren't you typing? The sooner you write back, the sooner you get to start your fabulous new romance with Mr. Cutie Pie.” She tickled Meow under the chin, which made him yawn and stretch.

“I just don't know what to say that doesn't make me sound like a total dork.” I sighed, closing my eyes to avoid that taunting blank box. “Nothing I try seems right.”

“How about this: ‘Meeting you was out of this world' …” She paused and grinned, waggling her eyebrows like Groucho Marx.
“Get it? You know, because you met at the planetarium? Cute, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Get real. I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

“Okay, okay, give me a minute. I'm just getting warmed up.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with one manicured finger. “How about, ‘Greetings from The One. Are you The One for me? Let's see if One and One make Two of a Kind.'”

“Are you kidding me?” I shook my head. “So totally not me.”

She frowned. “Come on, you've got to write something! Oh! I know.” She sat up so fast she startled Meow, who leaped to his feet and dashed away, almost bonking himself into the wall as he jumped down off the bed. “How about, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue; I'll be your One, if you'll be my Two.'”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Maybe not. But it's cute and catchy and sort of romantic.” Britt pursed her lips. “Well, actually, now that you mention it, maybe it's a little corny.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.” She giggled. “But guys eat that kind of crap up.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe when
you
say it,” I said. “Especially if you happen to be fluttering your eyelashes and giving them that
hello, big boy
look of yours at the same time.” I shook my head, glancing back at the blinking cursor on the screen. “Anyway. I think we may be trying too hard here. I'm just trying to let this guy know I'm out here, not wow him with my mad poetry skillz.”

“It doesn't have to be poetry,” Britt said. “Just something fun and clever to catch his attention.”

I didn't answer, instead quickly typing a few lines:
Hi there! I'm the girl from the planetarium. My name is Lauren, and I thought you seemed really cool, too. Write back if you want to chat more.

“There,” I said, sitting back from the keyboard and shooting Britt a look that dared her to argue that my note was too boring and straightforward. “That should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” To her credit, Britt didn't say anything else as she scanned the lines. But she definitely looked dubious.

I took a deep breath, nodded, then hit the Send Request button. “Why play games?” I said, feeling a shiver of nervousness as I saw the message blink away into cyberspace.
“If those sparks—or whatever they were—really were some kind of hint that this
guy and I are right for each other, he should be fine with the real me. If not, then oh well.”

Britt shrugged. “I guess you're right. Come on, I'll give you a mani-pedi while you wait to hear back from him. Your nails look like hell.”

“No they don't.” I held out my hands to check. “Hmm. Okay, maybe they do.”

Britt rolled over and grabbed a bottle of pink polish off my bedside table. “You'll want to look your best when you meet Mr. Right.”

It was only a few minutes before my e-mail beeped to let me know I had a new message. I jumped a little at the sound. So did Chairman Meow. He'd returned to his spot on the bed by now, but the tiny little beep sent him bolting back under the bed. Crazy cat.

“What's with him?” Britt said, staring after him.

I didn't respond. I'd just clicked over to my inbox, carefully avoiding getting wet polish on the keyboard. My heart jumped when I saw that the new message was from
Facebook. Riley had accepted my friend request.