Can True Love Survive High School? (12 page)

Put that out of your mind,
Mads told herself.
You have a mission to accomplish.
And if she accomplished it, it would get Jane back for the mean comment.

“Speaking of Jane—” Mads began, but at that moment a gang of boys trooped back from the lacrosse field, dangling their helmets from their sticks.

“Sean!” one of them called, and soon Sean and Mads were surrounded by five sweaty lacrosse players. “Dude, when are you going to quit splashing in the pool like a sissy and play a real sport?”

“Sissy?” Sean poked the guy's shoulder pads. “Look at you, helmet, pads…. Yo u can't step on the field until your mommy says it's safe to play.”

The guys all laughed.

“It's better than wearing a thong,” another guy said.

Sean snatched his wet Speedo out of his backpack and aimed it at the guy like a slingshot. “Watch it or you'll get it right in the face,” he joked.

“Hey, don't wave that thing at me.” The boys backed up, hands in the air, laughing. Then they marched toward the gym locker room. Sean twirled the bathing suit around his finger like a six-shooter and dropped it in his pack.

“All right, kid, I gotta go,” he said, starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Why was it so hard to talk to him? He couldn't seem to keep his mind on one thing. “This won't take long. I saw something at rehearsal that—”

The swim center doors burst open and three girls, green-haired from too much chlorine, tripped down the steps, chattering and laughing. Sean turned his head toward them. Mads tried to ignore them. She should have known better.

“Hey, Sean.” The girls slowed their pace, walking past Sean and Mads as if on display.

Sean grinned. “Hey, girls. Good practice?”

“Excellent practice,” one of the girls said. “Shaved two-tenths of a second off my hundred-meter freestyle.”

“All right,” Sean said. “Coach says I need a little work on my breaststroke. Maybe one of you could tutor me?”

The girls giggled. Mads rolled her eyes at his lame joke. How could he be wasting his time flirting with these floozies when his relationship with Jane was in deep trouble? Maybe this was why Jane was restless. Mads was beginning to sympathize with her.

“Sean, you're terrible.” The girls waved coquettishly as they ambled away. Mads could tell they were all very aware of how they were walking, in case Sean was watching them. And he was.

When they'd rounded the corner out of sight Sean said, “Okay, time to head home—”

“Sean, stop.” Mads grabbed him by the wrist, surprised at her own boldness. He must have been surprised, too, because she'd finally gotten his attention. “Listen to me. At rehearsal the other day I—I saw Jane, backstage, and she was
kissing—
”

“Jane!” Sean's face lit up. Mads turned and saw Jane walking toward them.

“There you are,” she said.

“See ya, kid,” Sean said. He yanked his wrist out of Mads' grip and walked away from her. Right in the middle of a sentence. Even after she had said the word “kissing.” Didn't that interest him? “I saw Jane, and she was kissing …” Who? Another boy? Mads' mother? An orangutan? Didn't he want to know? Had he heard a word she'd said? Did he ever listen to her?

He grabbed Jane, kissed her, and said, “Way to surprise me.”

“I was driving by and I thought I'd give you a ride, if you were still here,” Jane said. She waved at Mads. “Hi, Madison! See you at rehearsal later!”

The two of them walked off arm in arm. Mads stood alone on the path between the swim center and the main school building, crushed.

What was it with Sean? Why did he always act as if she were invisible?

She fumed about Sean and Jane all the way home. Later that night, in her room, she came to a decision.

That's it,
she thought. Sean didn't want to listen to her? She'd make him pay attention. And she knew the perfect way.

El Diario

Today's blind items: What bookish junior is head-over-heels in love for the very first time with a dashing college student?

What sophomore girl went totally yellular in the lunch room yesterday, screaming at her father so loud on her cell that the whole room could hear? Think of seasons, back to school, leaves falling, certain blog that's
atomically
popular …

I saved the best for last. What leggy blonde is cheating on her sexy swimmer boyfriend? Here's a clue.

The answer rhymes with
pain.

17

Good-bye, Dan. Hello, Donald Death.

To: linaonme

From: your daily horoscope

HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: Welcome back to Planet Earth. It sucks, doesn't it?

Dear Larissa,

How are you? Hope things are great in India. I'm writing to explain why I haven't been e-mailing you so often lately— and will probably be in touch even less in the future. I've kind of fallen for someone. Someone I work with. We have to keep it quiet for now, until the end of the year. But since I'm leaving anyway, we're not too worried about getting caught.

I know you might be surprised, but after all, you and I have never met. We've never even spoken to each other. Though I have to say I fell for you, too, in a way. I wish things could have worked out between us. I was upset when you told me you were moving to India. It's so far away. But much as I treasure your friendship, I need a real live person to be with, in the flesh. I'm sure you understand. I've often had the feeling that you were involved with someone—or more than one person—during our correspondence. Maybe that's why you were a little reluctant to meet.

I'd still like to hear from you once in a while. Let me know when your first screenplay is produced! I'll go see the movie and be your biggest fan.

Love,
Beauregard

Lina got up from her computer, sighed, and flopped down on the bed. This kiss-off e-mail was the final straw. It was over. Really over.

In a way it was a relief. All the lying, the plotting, the scheming, the daydreaming—it took a lot of energy. And what did she ever get out of it? Nothing, really. But she felt sad, almost as if she'd lost a real boyfriend. There was a hole in her life now. Dan was gone. Lina wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

She printed out the e-mail, stuffed it in her bag, and rode her bike to Ramona's house. Ramona had invited her over for a Cleansing Ceremony. She had a shrine in her room called the Museum of Dan, filled with pictures of him, papers he'd graded, his used coffee cups, even a pizza crust he once threw away. Ramona and her friends used to perform love ceremonies at the shrine, hoping to make Dan fall for them. Proof, Lina thought, that all that stuff was crap.

Still, a Cleansing Ceremony seemed like a good idea, for mental health. Lina found Ramona in her room, gathering all the museum exhibits in a pile.

“Now that I look at the stuff, I realize it's nothing but trash,” Ramona said, dumping it in a metal waste basket. “It's time to get rid of it. It was attracting ants.”

Lina showed her Dan's final e-mail. Ramona read it and tossed it onto the pile in the basket. Then she took both of Lina's hands. “Close your eyes,” Ramona said.

Ramona closed her eyes.

“Daniel Shulman, we thank you for all you have given us,” Ramona said. “But now it is time to move on. You will always be our first love. May you find happiness with that pseudo-French twit.”

Lina opened one eye, and caught Ramona with both eyes open. She glared at Lina, who quickly shut hers again.

Ramona shook their hands over the pile three times. “Say it with me, Lina: Good-bye, good luck, good riddance.”

“Good-bye, good luck, good riddance,” Lina said.

“Okay. You can open your eyes.”

Lina opened her eyes. Ramona sprinkled some kind of pink powder on the trash. Then she lit a match and set it on fire. The trash can was tall enough to contain the small flames. It flared up for a minute, then slowly died down until it was out.

Ramona poked through the ashes. “The pizza crust didn't really burn,” she said. “But close enough. It's over. No more Dan. He's out of our lives.”

“Right.” Lina wasn't sure what to say or do next. She and Ramona were very different people; their bond had been their shared love for Dan. Would they grow apart now? Lina hoped not. She had come to rely on Ramona for a certain type of blunt kindness. “What do we do now?”

“Well, I'm not the kind of girl who can go shrine-free for very long,” Ramona said. She pulled out a huge poster of a Goth-metal rock star named Donald Death. His face was powdered white, with pointed black brows, heavy eyeliner, red lipstick, and those weird contact lenses that make you look like an alien. In one eye, at least; the other was hidden by a black patch.

“My next obsession: Deathzilla,” Ramona said. Deathzilla was the name of Donald Death's band. She tacked the poster up on the oriental screen that had once held shavings from Dan's pencil sharpener. “Join me?”

Lina shuddered at the leer on Donald's face. “A worthy idol. But not my type.”

Lina couldn't go home yet. She still felt that emptiness, and there was no way a quiet night with Ken and Sylvia in their spare, boxy house would fill it. No, this was a job for Mads and Holly.

She rode her bike straight to Mads' house. “Let's bake some cookies,” Mads said, leading Lina to the funky farmhouse-style kitchen. Captain Meow-Meow, Mads' Siamese cat, lounged on the wooden table. “The kitchen's off limits!” she shouted to the household in general.

“No fair!” Audrey yelled back.

“Deal with it,” Mads said. She sat Lina at the table and started bringing out bowls for mixing and butter for softening.

“I called Holly, but she was busy,” Mads reported. “Guess why?”

“Britta crisis?” Lina asked.

Mads nodded. “She didn't say what it was.”

“Britta's life is so dramatic, like an opera,” Lina said.

“Regular or soap?” Mads said.

“Either one,” Lina said. “But I was thinking of regular opera. Big emotions, lots of passion. Even when something bad happens, I bet she never feels empty.”

Mads gave her a funny look. “That's true. Anyway, Holly said she'd try to get here later.” Mads opened a bag of chocolate chips and started nibbling on them. “You look sad.”

“I know. It's just … Dan. Ramona has already moved on. But I feel stuck. I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Nothing's wrong with you,” Mads said. “Ramona's the weirdo. You just feel things more deeply.”

“What about you? Did you tell Sean about Jane yet?”

“He won't listen to me.” She bit the tiny point off the top of a chip. “Why won't he listen to me, Lina? He makes me feel invisible. Or worse, beneath visibility. Like an ant on the sidewalk—you could see it if you looked, but you don't bother, so you step on it without realizing what you're doing.”

“It's not you, Mads,” Lina said. “He likes you, in his own way. He just doesn't see much beyond himself.”

“You make him sound like a jerk.”

Lina decided it was best not to say anything.

“I never understood why you liked Dan, either,” Mads said. She grinned and handed Lina a spoon and a bowl with a stick of butter in it. “Start mashing.”

Smushing and stirring and playing with dough cheered them both up, and soon the smell of baking cookies drew Audrey to the kitchen.

“Out,” Mads said.

“Can't I have a cookie?” Audrey asked.

“When they're ready,” Mads said. “We'll let you know. We'll get back to you. Out.”

Audrey sat down at the table. “See how she listens to me?” Mads said. “Nobody listens to me.”

“I think you're wrong about Jane and Damien,” Audrey said to Mads.

“How do you know about that?” Mads asked.

“I read it on your blog.
El Diarrhea
.”

“How could I be wrong?” Mads said. “Did you see them making out in the back of the theater today?”

“Yeah, but think about it,” Audrey said. “Damien plays Jane's boyfriend. They're trying to
live
their roles. It's the Method.”

Mads rolled her eyes. “Damien plays my boyfriend, too, and you don't see him sticking his tongue down my throat every five minutes.”

“That's because you're so hopeless even the Method can't save you,” Audrey said.

“Sean's sure to figure it out now,” Lina said. “Since you practically spelled it out for him on the blog.”

“If he reads it,” Mads said. “I just wish he could see that tall and blond and pretty and super-cool aren't everything. Short and dark-haired can be fun, too.”

“Why don't you just give it up?” Audrey said.

Mads tilted Audrey's chair forward and dumped her on the floor. “Leave. And just for that, you get no cookies.”

Audrey tossed her ponytail. “You haven't seen the last of Audrey Markowitz. I'll be back.”

Lina laughed. “Come on. You have to admit she's cute.”

“Only someone lucky enough to have zero siblings would say that,” Mads said.

While they waited for the cookies to bake, Lina noticed a different kind of emptiness in the room. Not the loss of Dan. Something else.

“Doesn't it feel weird to be doing stuff without Holly all the time?” she said to Mads.

“Yeah,” Mads said. “Do you think she likes Britta more than she likes us?”

“That's impossible,” Lina said.

“It kind of feels that way,” Mads said.

“To me it feels more like she's taking us for granted,” Lina said. “You know how Holly loves matchmaking. And Britta's got this storybook love thing going on, and Holly's all caught up in it—”

“It
is
amazing,” Mads said.

“It is, right?” Lina said. “So Holly doesn't have much time for us now.”

“I understand,” Mads said. “But still, I don't like being taken for granted.”

“Me, neither,” Lina said.

18

Britta Takes Othe Plunge

To: hollygolitely

From: your daily horoscope

HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: You will face a test today, and this time you won't be able to cheat by scribbling the answers on your hand.

H
olly sat in the front seat of her VW and watched Britta drive away. Britta was a mess. She kept talking about how she wished she could move to England with Ed. How horrible her life would be if she had to stay here without him. All the wonderful things he said to her … All the wonderful things he did for her….