Peyton crossed the room and lowered herself onto the chair. She frowned. “This chair isn’t very comfortable,” she remarked.
“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”
“I didn’t think it really mattered.”
“Well, you have to have a comfortable chair in your room,” Peyton said impatiently. She sounded almost angry again. “With the amount of reading you do. And you should really have a desk in here, too, where you can study. Where do you do your homework?”
“Right here, usually,” I said, patting the bed. I felt like I’d passed into some sort of alternate reality. When had Peyton ever cared about my comfort? Or where I studied? Mostly, she seemed happy—well, not
happy
, but less mean and twitchy—if I just stayed out of her way.
“We’ll order you a desk,” Peyton said with finality.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Can I ask a question?”
Peyton’s nostrils flared. “All right,” she said.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you suddenly so interested in painting my room and ordering furniture? I’ve been living here for almost a year, and you’ve never shown any interest in whether I have a comfortable place to read or study before,” I said.
Red spots flamed high on Peyton’s cheeks, and her mouth pursed even tighter. She and I had always lived by a code of sorts: While we didn’t like each other, we also didn’t talk about it. True, she put in her little digs now and again, and I did a lot of eye rolling and sighing. But we’d never addressed our enmity outright.
Peyton pursed her lips, and for a moment, I thought she was going to refuse to answer. But then she finally sighed and said, “Richard told me that you’re considering moving to London. To live with your mother.”
I nodded. “That’s right. I was.”
Peyton seemed to be struggling for the right words. I waited patiently, my hands folded on my lap.
“It’s no secret that you and I have never been close,” Peyton began.
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay,” I said.
“But I love your father very much. And it’s important to him that you—as his daughter—are welcome in our home,” Peyton said. She swallowed. “I think that maybe, perhaps I haven’t made you feel as welcome here as I could have.”
That was the understatement of the year, I thought.
“I want to change that. I’d like you to stay here with us. If you want to,” Peyton said. She looked like she’d just swallowed a porcupine.
I was getting the gist of what she was saying. She still didn’t particularly like me, and would probably be happier if I moved to London with Sadie. But she was worried that her relationship with my dad would suffer—or perhaps even permanently rupture—if she didn’t start making an effort with me.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’d like that.”
Peyton looked a little surprised by how quickly I was accepting her offer.
“So you’re not going to London?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
I could have sworn I saw a flash of disappointment cross her face.
“Well. Good, then,” Peyton said, rising to her feet. She glanced around. “Why don’t you think about what color you might want to paint your room?”
“I will,” I said.
Peyton departed. Shaking my head, I picked my book back up. I’d only just started reading again when my door banged open and Hannah rushed in. She’d gotten most of the silver out of her hair, although in a certain light, you could still see the odd sparkle or two. Her face was still eyebrow-free, which I was still getting used to.
“Is it true? You’re staying?” Hannah asked.
I nodded. “Yep,” I said.
Hannah beamed at me. “I still think you’re crazy. I’d totally go if I was you. But I’m so glad you’re staying here.”
“You are?”
Hannah nodded. “Yeah. I’ve gotten used to having you around.”
I thought back to how quiet the house had been when Hannah was in Manhattan visiting her dad. “I know what you mean,” I said.
“So when did you decide you were going to stay?” Hannah asked, flopping down on the end of my bed.
“You know, I’m not really sure,” I said. “It was after I found out Dex was going away to school. I kept wondering what would happen with us if I left, and then I’d worry because I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who wouldn’t go do something she wanted to do because of her boyfriend. But then once I found out he wasn’t going to be here, it was easier to make a decision.” I shrugged. “If I was in London, I could still come back here in the summer and for holidays, which is when Dex would be home, too. And so once I took him out of the equation, I was finally able to think about what I really wanted to do.”
“How did Orange Cove beat out London?” Hannah asked.
“I guess I don’t feel like I’ve done everything I need to do here before I leave. Does that make sense?” I asked.
“No,” Hannah said. “Not even a little bit. I think you’re crazy to give up London. I bet the shopping there is to die for.” She sighed longingly, thinking of a whole city full of stores, but then looked up sharply. “Not that I want you to change your mind or anything.”
“It’s okay. I won’t. I’ve already told my mom,” I said.
“How did she take it?”
“Sadie was disappointed, but she understood. She’s only going to stay there for another year, and then she’ll move back, so she’ll be here for my senior year,” I said. “Or, at least, that’s what she says now. You never really know with Sadie.”
Hannah wrapped her arms around her bent legs, pulling them into her chest. “I’m officially done with modeling. I called my agency this morning and told them,” she said, abruptly changing the subject.
“The eyebrow thing?” I asked sympathetically.
“Well, there’s that. But I’m serious—I really do think I’d be an amazing relationship counselor. I want to focus on that instead. Look at the success I had with my mom and your dad. I saved their marriage.”
“Wait, what success?” I asked, trying to figure out what Hannah had done exactly.
“I’m the one who convinced them to go to marriage therapy, aren’t I?” Hannah said. “And then there’s you and Dex. I totally got the two of you talking again. And then there’s Charlie and Finn.”
“But Charlie and Finn aren’t together. Your plan backfired,” I pointed out.
“No, it didn’t. It just hasn’t played all the way out yet. Trust me, they’re totally going to end up together all because of me,” Hannah said, with breathtaking confidence.
“Right now Finn is head over heels in love with Phoebe,” I said. “And Charlie’s dating Luke. Who she doesn’t even really like.”
“Actually, I think Luke’s growing on her,” Hannah said.
“Really? Well, even so, she and Finn are obviously not together.”
“They aren’t now. But they will be,” Hannah said. “And why are you pooh-poohing my dream?”
“I didn’t realize that getting Finn and Charlie together was your dream,” I said.
“Well, not just them. I meant more in the broader scheme of things.” Hannah suddenly gasped, covering her mouth dramatically with one hand.
“What?” I asked, startled.
“I totally know what I want to do! I’m going to be a matchmaker. Like that woman on TV who fixes up women with millionaires,” Hannah announced. “Wouldn’t that be perfect for me? You get to match people up and counsel them along the way. I could use all of my skills that way.”
“Actually, you know, I really could see you doing that,” I said truthfully. Knowing Hannah, she’d probably get her own reality television series, too. It would be called
Hannah’s Hotties
, or something like that.
“I’m going to totally start working on it now. There’s no reason why I can’t be a matchmaker at Orange Cove High, right?”
“Right,” I said, somewhat more doubtfully.
“Do you know of anyone who needs to be fixed up?”
“No,” I said.
“Hmm. It’s too bad you’re not single,” Hannah mused.
“Thanks a lot!” I said.
“I just meant you’d be a good first project. Not that you’ll need it. I’m sure you and Dex will stay together,” Hannah said.
I smiled, feeling the odd mixture of happiness and melancholy that had become common whenever I thought of Dex these days. What did the future hold for us? Was there any chance a long-distance relationship would work? I kept telling myself that there was no reason to dwell on it now, while Dex was still here with the remaining weeks of the summer stretching before us. But it’s hard to make yourself not think about something.
“We’ll see,” I said.
Chapter Thirty-two
I
was in the kitchen, foraging in the fridge for a snack—I’d already uncovered a box of Parmesan crackers in the cupboard, and now discovered some hummus—when I heard the front door open and my dad call out, “Miranda! Where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back. I closed the refrigerator door shut with one hip and put my snack on the counter.
“Can you come out here, please?” Dad said. He sounded excited.
“Coming,” I said, although I dipped one cracker in the hummus and stuffed it into my mouth before heading out to the foyer. My dad was standing there, his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. “What’s going on?”
“I have a surprise for you!”
This piqued my interest. “Really? What sort of surprise?”
“Close your eyes and I’ll show you,” Dad said.
“Okay?” I said. I closed my eyes and held out my hand.
I was expecting my dad to put whatever the surprise was in my hands. But instead, he took my hand in his and led me forward.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see. Keep your eyes closed.”
I heard the front door open again, and then felt the blast of hot air hit me as my dad led me outside.
“Keep coming, keep coming. Watch out, there’s a step right there. Good. Now just a few more steps, and . . . open your eyes!”
I opened my eyes, and blinked in the dazzling summer sunshine. There, parked in the driveway in front of the beach house, was the ugliest car I had ever seen. It wasn’t just yellow. It was the most obnoxious shade of neon, glow-in-the-dark yellow I had ever seen. Even worse, someone had, rather inexpertly, painted black racing stripes down the sides and hood. I wondered who it belonged to.
“Ta-da,” Dad announced.
“Ta-da?” I asked.
“I bought you a car!”
“Wait. This car?” I asked, pointing at the yellow monstrosity.
“Do you love it?” he asked. “I thought the color was pretty. And you’ll never lose it in the parking lot.”
This was undoubtedly true. “Wow, thanks,” I said, struggling to sound enthusiastic while simultaneously picturing Felicity Morgan’s glee when she saw me drive into the Geek High parking lot in this car.
“I know it’s not as nice as Hannah’s car, but . . . well . . . ,” Dad said, his voice trailing off.
Peyton had bought Hannah a silver Lexus SUV for her birthday. And even though, okay, yes, of course I’d prefer her car to this one—who wouldn’t?—I wasn’t about to let my dad know that. I knew there was no way he could afford such an over-the-top, extravagant gift. And I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, especially when he was so excited by his gift. And any car—even an ugly yellow one—was better than having to bike it everywhere.
“I love it,” I said firmly.
My dad’s face cleared. “You do? Good,” he said, clearly relieved. “I thought that since you were going to be staying here, instead of going to London, you needed your own car to get around.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, hugging him. My dad smelled like he had since I was a little girl—a combination of peppermint and lemon-scented aftershave. My heart gave a sentimental squeeze.
“Do you want to take it for a spin?” he asked, dangling the car keys from one hand. I took them from him. The key chain had a ratty-looking stuffed dolphin attached to it, the metal key ring impaling the dolphin through its gray head.
“Sure,” I said, opening up the door.
The car was upholstered in dirty gray fabric, and there were long grease stains on the floor mat. A pine tree room deodorizer—piña colada scent—hung from the rearview mirror.
“The radio doesn’t work,” Dad said through the window. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I don’t like the idea of you driving around with music blasting so loud, you can’t hear anything.”
“Dad!” I said. “You have no faith in me.”
“Of course I do. If I didn’t have faith in you, I wouldn’t have given you a car. Start her up.”
I turned the keys in the ignition. There was a thumping sound, and then the engine roared to life.
“The engine sounds great, doesn’t it?” Dad said happily.
I thought it sounded a bit like an old lawn mower. “Sure,” I said, shouting to be heard over the roar. “It’s kind of loud, though, isn’t it?”
“That just means it has a powerful engine,” Dad said. I was fairly sure he had no idea what he was talking about, but what was the worst that could happen? Other than the car exploding, or breaking down by the side of the highway late at night.
I waved good-bye and with a jerky start, drove the hideous yellow car—
my
hideous yellow car, I reminded myself, and an ugly car was better than no car at all—out of the driveway. Underneath the perfume of faux piña colada, there was another, stronger smell. What was that? I wondered. It was like an unpleasant combination of body odor, fast-food grease, and cigarette smoke. I rolled down the windows. Maybe it just needed airing out.
I drove to Grounded, parked, and headed inside. Charlie had said she’d be there, working on some sketches, and to meet her if I could. I saw her immediately, sitting at a corner table with Finn. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was interrupting them. But Charlie smiled when she saw me and waved me over.
“Hi,” I said, sitting down next to Charlie.