Lipstick Apology (15 page)

“Hi,” Owen said. “Thanks for letting me borrow Emily for the day. I hope we can do it again soon.” He smiled his thousand-w att smile, rubbed my arm, then waved goodbye as he shut the door.

“OH MY GOD,” Trent said, dropping his Scrabble tile on the floor. “That is one fine-looking boy. He's so polished and groomed for his age—dashing in a soap-opera-handsome kind of way.” He started fanning himself. “Whew, good for you, tiger. Am I sweating? I think I'm sweating. Was that Owen?”

I nodded.

“I knew it was him, I just knew it,” Trent said.

“So,” Jolie said, “what did you guys do all day, before the, ah, trip to One If by Land, Two If by Sea?”

I recounted our day's events and was glad Jolie hadn't made a big deal of my freak-out call from the restaurant bathroom.

Jolie
was
looking at me intently, though, rolling the letter
S
tile between her fingers. I noticed her freckles were showing and she looked young sitting there on her living room floor with Trent. “Would your mom let you go out with this guy—spend all day with him?” Her eyes darted back and forth between me and Trent.

“It wasn't a big deal—just a fun day together,” I explained.

“Seriously,” Trent added. “It's not like she's jumping into bed with him; didn't you see, he didn't even give her a kiss goodbye.” He turned toward me. “Why was that, hon, do you need a mint?”

Maybe it's because I had pigeon breath,
I thought.

Jolie dropped her
S
tile on the ground. “Can we please not say things like
jump into bed
?”

Trent rolled his eyes. “Jump into the new millennium, Jo. She's sixteen! Turn on the TV—tits and ass everywhere.”

“Can we
please
not say
tits and ass
!” Jolie clenched her teeth.

Trent shooed his hand at Jolie. “Get some medication and chill.” He looked back down at the Scrabble board. “Look! That was a triple word score! I'm beating you so bad.”

I walked down the hall toward my room with Trent's words buzzing in my ears.
He didn't even kiss her goodbye.

KISS, KISS, KISS.
I wrote the words in the condensation on the bathroom mirror with my finger the next morning.
Why didn't Owen kiss me?
I was so confused. Did I even want him to kiss me? After his flirtatious behavior with the waitress, maybe he
was
just a player. I thought back to the car ride when he looked at me with those green eyes and told me I was perfect. I didn't care if he was a player or not, I wanted him to kiss me!

I wiped my hand in a circle and stared into the mirror. Even with my wet hair slicked back, I didn't look too awful. Not hideous, anyway. I had decent eyes and a small, unobtrusive nose. My face was not the problem, I decided. Clearly, Owen had been repulsed by my body. LACK of body, actually. I bet from the moment he wrapped his arm around my bony ribs he thought,
If I wanted a scrawny companion, I could have picked up a stray dog at the rescue mission.
I looked over my shoulder and wondered how much butt implants would cost.

My cell phone rang in my bedroom. I grabbed a robe and raced to get it.

“So,” Lindsey said. “What happened? Did you tell the skanky waitress to leave your guy alone?” So she'd gotten my text the night before.

“Before or after Owen asked for her number?”

“WHAT?”

I replayed the night's end. When I got to the part about Owen waving goodbye without a kiss, Lindsey groaned.

“I know,” I said. “That can't be good, right?”

I heard a clicking noise, like Lindsey was tapping a pen on her desk. “Well, maybe he's taking a new approach.”

“Huh?”

“When Owen dated Cecilia Rallins, I think they pretty much jumped right to it, if you know what I mean. But come on, Cecilia is easier access than an East Village dive bar. Plus, they only went out for like a month. I think he really likes you—the Statue of Liberty, the restaurant—it's all so romantic.”

“Cecilia Rallins? Owen dated Cecilia Rallins?” I panicked. An image of her hunter green polo stretching over her DD-size chest flashed in my mind. “Oh my God. First the busty waitress, now this. Obviously, I'm not his type. I mean, Cecilia Rallins? Come on! I heard for a fact that she has her bras custom made.”

“She's dumb as dirt,” Lindsey said. “I'm pretty sure she has a tutor for home ec”

“Darlington teaches home ec?”

“Whatever, you get my point. Don't worry about her. Plus, I'm sure if Owen knew all about your football star ex-boyfriend in Pennsylvania, he'd feel insecure too.”

I sighed. “Maybe.”

“So what are you doing today?” Lindsey asked. “Do you want to go shopping and take your mind off this?”

“I was supposed to meet with Anthony to finish our chem report that's due tomorrow, but I'm not sure if that's going to happen,” I said vaguely.

“Why?” Lindsey asked.

“Well.” I took a breath. “Last week we sort of had a little . . . disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Oh,” I said, “I messed up our chem project. I kind of spazzed out. I mean, it was totally my fault. I probably should just call him, apologize and get it over with.”

“Or you could forget about chemistry and shop with me.”

As much as I would have loved to avoid the discussion with Anthony, I told Lindsey I really needed to straighten things out with him. At least that was one issue I might have the ability to solve. Unlike my mother's apology, which seemed so unattainable.

“Well, good luck,” Lindsey said, and we hung up.

I stared at the phone, afraid to speak to Anthony after the way he avoided me in class. I chickened out and texted.

I tried for a solid hour to work on the chemistry lab but couldn't concentrate. I looked at the clock on the wall and started to panic. Still no word from Anthony. In my entire academic history, I had never failed to complete an assignment before. I decided I needed a change of location. So I gathered up my books and headed outside. I still hadn't quite figured out the subway system, so I took a cab to the New York Public Library.

As I entered under the towering stone archways, I instantly felt smarter, convinced I could complete the chemistry assignment on my own. I found a seat in the Rose Reading Room and laid out my books. I looked around. Boy, it was pretty fancy for a library. The ceiling was painted with clouds, and crystal chandeliers glowed like something you would see in a ballroom.
Ballroom—how romantic.
I tapped my foot and wondered why Owen hadn't kissed me. Or complimented me on my haircut. Or called me.

My cell phone rang and snapped me out of my daydream. It took me a few minutes to find the phone in my bag and the ring echoed through the immense room. An old lady at the table across from me glared in my direction. I gave her an apologetic shrug.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, it's Anthony.”

My heart started to race. “Um, Anthony, I want to say—”

Anthony cut me off. “I know what you're going to say. I said some things that upset you. I should never have accused you of not wanting to understand the apology. But then I thought you were okay, but my mom always says,
Girls may act like they're okay, but if you hurt their feelings, they're NOT okay.
So you obviously were NOT OKAY. But I didn't know that you were not okay, and I'm sorry. I know you overreacted, and I know you're probably embarrassed. When I said you were a little crazy, boy, I didn't know the half of it. But you felt comfortable enough to talk to me about your parents, and of course I'm happy about that. So we don't need to make a big deal out of the whole
smashing ofthe beaker thing
. I'll admit, I was a little upset, but after rethinking it, I'll just let it go. And if you gain some respect for me for being so awesome, well, I'm good with that.”

I smiled. “Actually, I was just going to tell you that you left some of your chewed-up pencils at my house.”

“Oh.”

“I'm just kidding!” I laughed, and with the vast twenty-foot ceiling, my honking laughter echoed for what seemed like miles. Hundreds of eyes scolded me.

“I'm
really
sorry,” I said to Anthony, lowering my voice and leaning over the heavy wooden table. “You must think I'm a nutcase.”

“Well, I've known that all along,” he said, laughing.

I relaxed. “I guess just talking about . . . you know, all of it . . . the memories . . .” I took a deep breath.

“You don't have to explain anything to me,” Anthony said.

“I just keep wondering if maybe you're right. I actually did try and search for some clues.” I doodled on a blank page of my notebook.

“What did you do?” Anthony asked.

“Just searched the Internet, but I didn't come up with much. I don't know if I can handle trying again.”

He thought for a moment. “You'll do what you need to, when you're ready.”

I sighed. “So what do we do about the lab report?”

“It's already done. I've printed a copy for you.”

“What? I WOULD have done it!!” I insisted.

The grumpy lady held her finger up to her lips.
Ssshhhhh!

“Yeah, right,” Anthony said, laughing.

I bent my head closer to the table and whispered, “I spent all weekend reviewing my notes and I'm all caught up. I know EXACTLY what's going on with the molecular weight calculation thingy. I'm totally up to speed.”

“I have no doubt,” he said sarcastically.

“Well, I'll do the next report. You can take the week off, I swear.”

“Look,” Anthony said. “Just promise me: no more hissy fits, no more destruction of property, and I'll be there next Sunday.”

“Deal,” I said, and we hung up.

As I clicked the phone off, it rang again immediately. This time the whole table next to me snickered. I hit the talk button and heard Georgia on the other end.

“So,” she said. “I totally figured out why Owen didn't kiss you.”

“Okay, why?” I whispered.

“I was watching my TiVo'd episode of
Rhapsody in Rio
when suddenly, it hit me. This is exactly like the story line from last summer when Luis was falling for June—”

I cut her off. “Georgia, we are both white. This is not a
he's afraid to cross racial boundaries
thing.”

The woman at the table next to me sighed loudly and collected her things to leave.

“Well, if you'd LET ME FINISH,” Georgia shouted. “Once Luis and June decided to date, Luis was afraid to let June get close enough to see the scar above his lip from cleft palate surgery.”

“Oh, jeez,” I said. There was a clear lack of comprehension here. “First of all, Owen has NOT had cleft palate surgery. In fact, he probably doesn't have a single scar anywhere on his body. He's
flawless.
The only reason he didn't kiss me is either A—he suddenly recognized that I am completely unworthy of his godliness and affection . . .”

I heard giggles from behind me.

“Not true,” Georgia said.

“Or B—he thinks I'm totally inexperienced and is afraid I'll be a bad, messy kisser.” More laughter around me. “Or C—he thinks I'm a complete prude. Neither of which is a very good option.”

“Although not that far off . . .” Georgia said.

“That's REALLY nice,” I said. A girl walked up to me and handed me a slip of paper that said,
D—he's just not that into you.
I scowled at her and balled the paper up.

“I'm just kidding. Chill out.” Georgia laughed. “He's obviously attracted to you or he wouldn't have taken you out.”

“Yeah, but he didn't even compliment me on my hair! I had like eight inches taken off and he barely noticed.”

“On
Rhapsody in Rio
, Selena got a nose job, a lip job, a boob job, and a tummy tuck and Ricardo asked her if she took a nap because she looked so well rested. Guys are oblivious.”

“I guess. So, I talked to Anthony and mended things.”

“Good for you. I knew there was an ounce of maturity in you.”

“Get this,” I said. “He did the lab report for me. Even after I freaked out and everything.”

“What do you mean, HE DID THE LAB REPORT? You're NOT SERIOUSLY considering handing in someone else's work as your own, are you? Haven't you heard of plagiarism? Oh my God. You could get kicked out of every college before you even get accepted.”

“I'm not plagiarizing!” I shouted. Twenty heads turned in my direction.

A grungy student from across the table growled, “Library, dude, library.”

I lowered my voice and cupped the phone. “We're lab partners. We did most of the work together . . . He just, you know, tweaked it a bit.” I tossed my books into my backpack, holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder.

“Uh huh. Because we all know how good you are with those chemistry calculations.”

“We're
partners
! Whatever. I just thought it was cool of him.” I got up to leave and people clapped, actually
clapped.

“I suppose, if you disregard the whole dishonesty thing, it was a nice gesture, considering you flipped out and destroyed your compound,” Georgia said.

“Well, now that the whole Anthony fiasco is over, I can really focus on Owen. I mean, why would he show up at my apartment if he wasn't attracted to me?”

“Ugh! Give it up! Paralysis by analysis!” Georgia shouted.