Authors: Heather Demetrios
Mer is holding court on top of the coffee table, a copy of
The Vagina Monologues
in one hand, a bottle of cheap wine in the other.
“So, some of you may know that I’m auditioning for NYU next month.” Everyone cheers, and she shakes her hips. “So I’d like to practice one of my monologues, because it’s my birthday and that means you all have to listen to me. Am I right?”
Cue drunken
hell yeah
s from the kids sprawled on the couches.
Mer catches sight of Patrick and me, and a diabolical grin spreads across her face. Her cheeks are too red, and her eyes have an unnatural brightness.
“Chloe Baker and Patrick Sheldon! This one’s for you. It’s called ‘Because He Liked to Look at It.’”
I give her a not-so-subtle look of death and pull Patrick toward the kitchen, my face redder than Lex’s hooker stilettos.
“She’s wasted,” I mutter. I can’t even look at him. “Sorry. Mer’s—”
“Bohemian Drama Girl?” he says. He seems more amused than anything. Still, I’m going to kill Mer the first chance I get.
“Right. She’s definitely dramatic.”
We’re standing close, in a little corner off the kitchen, and I’m getting distracted by the way his hair hangs into his eyes. I need to stop staring at him and think of something to say so that I can drown out Mer’s impromptu performance. I wish she’d done Ophelia.
“So … how long have you been working at Spin?”
“About a year. I’m saving up for a post-graduation trip.”
“That’s awesome.” Someone turns up the music, and I have to shout. “Where are you going?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know yet.”
“I’m dying to go on a road trip. My brother and I have talked about it, but…”
Now that’s not going to happen. Not with being recognizable again.
He cocks his head to the side. “But…?”
I shrug. “Who knows? June’s far away.” Cue subject change. “You have bio with Benny, right?”
“Yeah. We’re lab partners.” He bumps my shoulder with his in a friendly way. “He talks about you all the time.”
I groan inwardly. My brother as matchmaker. “Good stuff, I hope.”
His eyes never leave mine. “Definitely.” Then again, maybe I don’t mind Benny talking me up. “Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”
I choke on my soda. “Sorry,” I cough, “wrong way.” I think of the thirteen framed photos on the mantel in my living room. “Uh, yeah, a couple. Hey, do you know what the homework was for Schwartz’s class? I didn’t get a chance to, er, write it down yesterday.”
“What with the hasty exit.”
“Right.”
Someone pushes against me and, for just a moment, I grab onto Patrick’s arm to keep my balance. Best two seconds of my life. He looks down at me, and everything gets all effervescent and fluttery, and he has the most amazing lips, they’re perfectly shaped, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to—
I let go of his arm, but he’s still looking at me with this we-have-a-secret smile. After a few more seconds, he says, “What were we talking— Oh, yeah. Homework.” He runs a hand through his hair, like he’s clearing his head. “It’s a current events report and—Chloe?”
I don’t move, I don’t even breathe. All I can do is stare at the camera that has materialized behind Patrick. They found me.
Patrick turns around, then looks back at me, confusion etched in his face. I barely register him. I’m a deer in headlights that’s got a few seconds to live. I have to warn Benny. But just when I’m about to run to the backyard, the camera moves past me and I see that it isn’t MetaReel after all—it’s just Simon from the AV club.
“Yay! Simon’s here,” shouts Mer. “Guys, he’s getting footage for the senior video. So make love to the camera!”
I’m an idiot. I try to shake off the panic that is threatening to show Patrick and half the senior class what a madwoman I am. It probably only takes a few seconds for me to ball it up and hurl it somewhere deep inside me, but it feels like forever. Finally, I put my Coke on the counter behind me and look up at Patrick.
“Sorry,” I say. “I, uh, was just thinking about—never mind. I actually have to go, but, um … yeah. I’ll see you?”
My escape plan is lame.
I start to walk away, but Patrick grabs my arm. His hand is warm, and for a second all I can think is
he’s touching me
.
“Chloe. Did I say something or—”
I shake my head, mortified and freaked out. I can feel … can feel the panic attack creeping up on me, like some Navy Seal hit squad with camo paint on their faces and night vision binoculars. “No! God, Patrick, no. I’m just tired and, you know, curfew.…” I roll my eyes like,
ugh, parents
. “Sorry. I better get Benny—”
“Wait.” He pulls out his cell. “What’s your number?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but then I remember what Chuck said about our phones. “Um. I’m actually getting a new number, so … maybe, could I have yours?”
“Okay, hold up.”
He grabs a pen out of his pocket and an old receipt and writes his number on the back. Then he folds it, reaches for my hand, puts it on my palm, and closes my fingers over it. I wonder if his skin is tingling as much as mine.
“I really want you to call me. Will you?”
I stare at the paper and nod. “Yeah.”
“And I don’t want to do the whole wait-a-few-days game.” He smiles. “Maybe if you’re up for it, we can do something tomorrow.”
I think Patrick Sheldon just asked me out on a date. I forget all about the impossibility of him and me and grin, wishing I hadn’t made up that dumb excuse about having to go home.
“Yeah, that’d be … great.”
“Excellent. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”
“Okay.”
I stand there for a minute, certain I must be levitating, I’m so freaking high on this boy. Then I push through the crowd, gripping his number. I look behind me, but all I see is his back heading toward the door. He’d come to the party only for me.
SEASON 17, EPISODE 7
(The One with Spearmint Gum)
On Monday, Benny and I get to school way before the first bell. MetaReel’s not allowed on campus, so I actually wake up early just to hang out in the Taft parking lot. The first episode doesn’t air for three more weeks, but I already feel tense, every muscle in my body poised to run at the sight of the paparazzi. Even though they haven’t released our photos, MetaReel is already promoting the show; on our way to school, we passed a new billboard that has a picture of thirteen stick figures with two bigger ones off to the side. It says, THEY’RE BACK, with the MetaReel logo in the corner. It would only take a little bit of detective work and a couple of gossipy MetaReel employees for the media to know where we are.
My eyes hungrily scan the familiar school buildings, and I feel a pang of—this is going to sound so strange, but it’s the only way I know how to explain it—I feel a pang of
homesickness
. More than any place in my life, Taft has been mine, uncorrupted by the pervy camera eyes and the crew and my parents and my million siblings. Before this weekend, I had actually started to feel
normal
. It was delicious. But now I’m already saying good-bye. Soon, every moment will take on significance. It’s going to be a month of lasts. There will be a last class, of course, but also a last opening of my locker, a last caf lunch, a last trip to the weird world of camaraderie in the girls’ bathroom …
Benny’s voice punches into my reverie. “Penny for your broody thoughts?”
“Leave me alone. I’m busy wallowing in self-pity,” I say.
“Thought as much.” He tries to make his voice sound light, but I can hear the nervous energy underneath it.
We press our fingers against the heater, watching the student body sleepily make its way into the parking lot.
“Where’s Matt?” I finally ask, taking a sip of my extra-scalding mocha. Usually they meet up during our Starbucks run, but today Benny had insisted on the drive-thru.
“Freaking.”
I curl up on my side and take in the dark circles under Benny’s eyes.
“But you’re still together,” I say gently. Part of me is jealous—I haven’t been able to tell anyone about this crap, but Benny not only has someone, he has a significant someone.
“For now,” Benny says. “But when it all starts really happening … I mean, I’d be fine if people found out I’m gay, but if the Vultures go after Matt…”
I nod. The cultlike megachurch where Matt’s family goes is most definitely not supportive of the Benny and Matt persuasion. Case in point: his pastor had recently said that God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.
“Subject change: what did Sheldon have to say when you called him on Sunday?” he asks. I hadn’t mentioned anything about a date, just that Patrick had given me his number.
I was really hoping to avoid this conversation. “I didn’t call him.”
I jump as Benny shouts, “
What?
”
“I couldn’t! All I have is my MetaReel cell. I can’t call Patrick on a bugged phone! I tried to leave the house, like, five times to get to that old payphone they have at the gas station, but Chuck kept making us redo all those shots.”
And, okay, I psyched myself out. The more my attempts to call Patrick failed, the more certain I became that this was a sign from the universe. It’s not meant to be.
“Tell me you contacted him in some way,” Benny says.
I shake my head.
“E-mail?” Benny asks.
Another shake.
“Text?”
Nope.
“Smoke signals?”
I sigh. “I like him too much to lead him on, Bens. It wouldn’t make sense if I was all of a sudden like, Oh hey, I can’t ever see you, but I like you, too.”
“So write each other love letters! He’s old-school—I bet he only listens to vinyl and shit like that.”
I start tearing at the sleeve of my Starbucks cup, just to give my hands something to do.
“Benny. Even if he doesn’t care about our crazy-ass family, I could never go on a date with him—I’m not interested in inviting Chuck and the rest of the crew along to dinner and a movie. So there’s no point in leading him on.”
He shakes his head. “Seventeen and never been kissed.”
I shove him. “Low blow, Benton™ Baker.” I drain my mocha and put it back in the cup holder. “This will be a moot point after the show airs.”
“Why?”
“No more Taft High,” I say. “It’ll be homeschooling until we can get the heck out of Mom and Kirk’s house.” Kirk had converted the garage into a classroom, complete with whiteboard and projector. From nine to two every day, the Baker School for Children on Home Arrest is in session.
I throw some faux sparkle into my voice. “I can’t wait to have one of the Hulks try to teach me Spanish. On the plus side, I bet we’ll get to do art projects with pipe cleaners and fingerpaint.”
The Hulks are these two ladies who teach my brothers and sisters five days a week, so named because they’re both over six feet tall.
Benny’s eyes widen. “Did Mom seriously say we’d have to quit Taft?”
“No.” I shrug. “But I can’t imagine coming here after the show airs. That would be, I don’t know, suicide.”
Benny’s face darkens. “Not funny, Chlo.”
Right. Season thirteen, episode nineteen, “The One Where I Get My Stomach Pumped.” I kiss my fingers and place them against his forehead.
“You know what I mean,” I say. I’m not interested in hanging around Taft once my family’s dirty laundry starts airing every Tuesday at eight and streams 24/7.
We both jump as someone raps on the back windshield. Tessa waves, and I start to open my door, but Benny puts a hand on my arm.
“You’ve got to make it right with Patrick. I won’t live with lovesick Chloe for one more second. He wants you. Just … go for it, already.”
I point to a handsome boy across the parking lot, a young Taye Diggs in a football jersey. Benny was right—Matt looks freaked. “You first,” I say.
Benny follows my finger and sighs. “See you later.”
As I get out, Tessa practically pounces on me. “Aghhhhhh!”
“Aghhhh.” Tessa ignores my mocking tone, probably taking it for embarrassment. She knows I hate being the center of attention, which is fine because she and Mer are always happy to take on that burden.
“What did he say? Did he confess his undying love? Did he say he has wet dreams about you?”
“Eww! God, Tessa, it’s like seven thirty in the morning. Can this line of questioning wait until I’ve digested my breakfast?”
“You eat coffee for breakfast. Now, spill,” she says.
This was one of three things I was dreading today. The other two were running into Patrick (shocker) and going to Schwartz’s class.
“There’s nothing to spill. I was busy, so I didn’t have time to … call him.”
“What?”