Mia the Melodramatic (12 page)

I wiped my brow. This was better than therapy! I yanked the microphone from its stand and yelled into it, “
My brother’s named Chris and he’s a pain. He has only half a brain. My parents are strict, their rules come first, and sometimes they make me eat bratwurst. I don’t like curfews, and I hate being grounded, especially when it’s unfounded. I want some freedom, but they say no. I wish they would let me go!”

After Eric wailed out a guitar solo, I pounded my fist in the air and shouted,
“For my job, I play a clown, but I don’t let that get me down. I’m not an actor and I’m not a star, but I dress up to buy a car. I sang tonight so this band got paid, and know we’re not up to grade. My name is Mia and I’m not meek, thanks for listening as I speak!”

Eric squealed out a last note and I yelled, “Thank you for coming. Der Flinger is up next!”

The audience cheered—either because they liked me or were glad I was finished—and I bowed hastily, hoping to escape before they changed their minds and strung me up by my white Keds.

Eric scooped me into his arms for a giant hug. “You were great, Mia!”

I swelled with pride. Maybe I’d finally found my calling—punk rock goddess, or pseudo-rapper.

“Yeah, dude. Excellent song,” Nolan said as he emerged from behind his drums.

I blushed. “You really liked it?”

“Yeah,” Nolan replied. “You helped me finish my crossword puzzle. I was stuck on number 26 down: a food Wisconsinites eat. The answer is bratwurst. Thanks a lot, Mia—you rock.”

My joy evaporated quicker than water on a hot sidewalk, which,
of course, is the story of my life. I scream out a punk rock song and all anybody hears is some food that goes better with polka music.

T
he next morning, I had to assume my Rice Krispies were snap, crackle, and popping because all I could hear was the pulsating beat of the music from the night before. I knew I shouldn’t have sat next to the speaker when Der Flinger performed. But for the satisfaction I got from seeing Stephanie’s face when I jumped off the stage still holding Eric’s hand last night, I’d gladly suffer temporary deafness every morning for the rest of my life.

Smiling at the memory, I flipped to the funnies page and saw my mom motioning to me.

“What?” I yelled.

She mumbled something, and I pointed to my ears. “I can’t hear you. My ears are ringing from the music last night.”

“You have an e-mail,” she shouted. “It’s from Kim.”

“Kim? I don’t know anybody named Kim.”

“Tim!” she screamed. “I said Tim sent you an e-mail!”

“Tim sent me an e-mail?” I jumped out of my seat. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

I ran into the living room. I couldn’t wait to respond to Tim’s message and tell him all about last night. Of course, I’d leave out the part in which I played Eric’s girlfriend. But the rest of it would blow his mind. He’d never believe I was the lead singer for a punk band!

I logged onto the computer and frowned when I saw the subject line of Tim’s e-mail. What was Tim sorry about? I clicked on his message.

Felicity? Was this some kind of joke? My eyes skipped to the next line.

I stared at the screen in disbelief. I had to be the biggest idiot who ever lived! How could I have been so stupid to let Tim play me for such a fool? I should’ve trusted my gut. For the past three weeks, I knew something was going on with Tim and Felicity, but I let him convince me there wasn’t. I was a schmuck for trusting him! Tim was a dirty rotten scum sucker and I should never have let him dupe me into dating him in the first place! God only knows how many other
times he’d cheated on me. Five, ten, twenty, a hundred?

My lips twitched at the thought of Tim’s mouth touching the lips of so many others, and I viciously rubbed my mouth on the back of my hand to scrub away the germs Tim’s philandering had foisted upon me. I’d just scraped off the top layer of skin from my lips when the phone rang. I yanked it off the receiver. “What?” I snapped.

“From the tone of your voice, I guess you got the e-mail,” Tim said sheepishly.

I glared at the phone so hard I was surprised it didn’t melt. “Yeah, I did.”

“Mia, I’m so sorry. I meant to send that e-mail to Felicity. But I was so tired when I wrote it last night that I accidentally sent it to you instead. I didn’t even notice my mistake until this morning.”

“I think Freud said, ‘There’s no such thing as an unconscious mistake.’”

“I think Carl Jung said that.”

“Who cares who said it?” I screamed. “You cheated on me!”

“That’s
technically
true,” Tim replied. “But what I had with Felicity didn’t mean anything. You’re the one I like.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing your feelings, then.” I struggled for breath. “I mean, if you liked me so much, how could you have done this to me? I totally trusted you!”

“And that’s why I broke up with Felicity,” Tim said. “Or at least I tried to break up with her. But since you got the e-mail instead of her, I guess I haven’t really broken up with—”

“Shut up!” I screamed, hyperventilating. “For once in your life, just shut up!”

Gasping for breath, I set the phone down and started practicing the Pranayama breathing techniques I’d learned during a yoga unit last year in P.E. Forcing myself to inhale and exhale, I finally caught my breath. When I’d calmed down enough to speak, I picked up the phone.

“Hello? Hello?” Tim said. “Is anyone there?”

“I’m here,” I said in a steely tone. “So, tell me. How many times were you with that—that girl?”

“Mia, you don’t want to know that.”

“Don’t tell me what I
want
to know!” I said through clenched teeth. “Just tell me. How long has this thing been going on?”

Tim paused. “Well, you remember that party Felicity had?”

“You mean the party she had when you first got to Maine?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You’re telling me it only took you two days to move on to someone else?”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Mia,” Tim said. “It’s just that Felicity was here and you weren’t...”

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” I said, choking back the sobs that were threatening to escape from my throat. “Don’t you know how much I liked you?”

“And I like you. That’s why I wanted to break up with Felicity before I did anything to hurt you—”

“Before you hurt me?” I spat. “Didn’t you think it would hurt me when I found out the guy who I spent every day with for the past seven months had cheated on me after he was gone for 48 hours?”

“But I didn’t think you’d find out.”

“That’s perfect,” I said, bile filling my throat. “So, you’re not just a cheat, you’re also a liar.”

“Not technically a liar. More like an omitter.”

“So, what else have you lied—oh, sorry—I mean
omitted
to tell me?”

“Um, that I really don’t like your coconut macaroon cookies? I’m just not a big fan of coconut, but I never told you because I didn’t want to hurt your—”

“Don’t you dare try and make jokes at a time like this!”

“I’m sorry,” Tim replied. “It’s just there’s so much hostility in the air. I was trying to lighten things up a bit.”

“Well, you’re not going to weasel out of this conversation,” I said,
pacing the floor. “I need to know. How many
other
girls have there been?”

“You mean after you and I started dating?” Tim asked. “You have to be joking. When would I have had time to see someone else?”

“I don’t know. You seemed to have time to cheat on me with what’s her name.”

“That’s because you weren’t here,” Tim explained. “And I missed you so much. But now I realize what a big mistake I made with Felicity, and when I get back to Iowa, you and I can go back to the way things were.”

“You’re making another joke, right?” I gripped the phone even tighter. “You honestly think I would keep seeing you after this?”

“Well... yeah.” Tim hesitated. “I said I was sorry.”

“Well, I’m sorry, too,” I said. “I’m sorry I wasted seven months of my life dating you, and I’m sorry I spent my summer reading your stupid e-mails about your stupid winch and your stupid rudder. But at least I won’t have to waste one more second on you, because we’re through!” I shouted, punching the off button on the phone so hard I broke the only decent nail I had left.

Hacking off the rest of my nail with my teeth, I spat it on the floor just as my mom walked into the room.

“Mia, that’s so gross—” She stopped when she saw the look on my face. “What’s wrong? Who was that on the phone?”

“Tim,” I squeaked as the realization of what had just happened hit me like a left hook. My knees buckled and I slid onto the floor. “We broke up.”

“Oh, honey,” she cooed as she sat down on the floor beside me and gathered me into her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

I laid my head down on her chest and sobbed. “Me, too.”

“Y
ou’re a pathetic waste of space,” Chris said the following afternoon as he walked into my room and turned down my radio.

“Turn that back up,” I mumbled as I stuck a spoonful of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream into my mouth. “I made a request and the DJ said he’d be getting to it sometime today.”

Chris looked at the dial. “What are you even listening to?”

“Why do you care?” I asked, rubbing at the snot running down my face.

“Because flies are swarming our house, trying to get to the sap coming from your radio.”

“If you must know, this station is playing dedications all weekend for listeners who have loved and lost. Now get out of here, so I can revel in other people’s pain.”

“Have you even showered this weekend?” Chris asked, wrinkling his nose. “Because I’ve seen decomposed bodies on TV crime shows that look better than you.”

I set my tub of ice cream on my bedside table and crawled back under my covers. “Leave me alone. I don’t feel good.”

“Is this drama all because Tim broke up with you?”

“
I
broke up with
him,
” I replied from under my covers.

“Then why are you the one lying in bed listening to a bunch of crappy love songs?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” I sniffled, wiping a tear with my bed
sheet and wondering how I had any tears left.
Cripes
! I’d cried so much during the past thirty-six hours, I needed to be hooked to an IV for dehydration.

“Do you think Tim’s sitting around his grandparents’ house moping?” Chris said. “No way. He’s probably out right now mashing with that Felicity chick he dumped you for.”

“I told you,
I
dumped
him
!
”
I threw my covers back and glared at him. “Now, leave me alone!”

“Hey, if you want to listen to sloppy-sweet slow songs while having a pity party for yourself, feel free,” Chris said, shaking his head as he walked out of my room. “But the Mia I know would never let Tim get the better of her.”

Chris left and I pulled my sheet back over me. Then I flipped onto my side and curled my knees up to my chest, hoping to stop the ache gnawing at my heart. But no matter how many positions I tried, I couldn’t stop Chris’s words from running through my head. I couldn’t believe the imbecile might actually be right for once. I mean, why should I waste away, feeling sorry for myself, while Tim was out playing “find the tonsils” with Felicity?