Complete Nothing (12 page)

“Everything sucks,” she replied plainly. “I think we need to step up our plan. Just gossiping about me and some fictional guy isn’t going to do it. You said you found someone?”

Keegan Traylor’s flirtatious smile flashed through my mind. “I did.”

“Good. I want to meet him.”

She turned to look back at the senior section. At Peter’s table, specifically. The buxom girl from the pep rally rehearsal was kicked back in the chair next to his, her legs propped up on his lap while she did some kind of ritual with his hand. Massaging his palm? Cracking his knuckles? Counting his digits? It was impossible to tell, but whatever it was, it was clear by the hungry look on his face that it was totally turning him on.

“Jealousy is definitely a powerful thing,” Claudia said, looking green.

I kicked the arrow that my own jealousy had conjured farther under the table and clenched my teeth at the sound of Darla’s flirtatious laugh. “You have no idea.”

“This is crazy,” I said to True, resting my “injured” leg atop the coffee table in front of us. It was covered with magazines for every audience, from
Vanity Fair
to
Highlights
to
Men’s Fitness
. “I can’t fake an injury.”

“Why not? People do it every day,” True replied. “Now pucker.”

She’d already teased and fluffed my hair, applied more mascara to my lashes than I normally wore for a recital, and dotted my cheeks with berry-shaded blush. Now she was coming at me, wielding a pink lip-gloss wand like a sword.

“Yes, but what am I going to say?” I asked when she was done touching up my lips. I used my phone to take a picture of myself. I looked like a baby-faced prostitute. I hoped this Keegan person hadn’t told True that this was the look he was into. I wasn’t sure I could replicate it on my own, let alone get up the guts to leave the house like this. Or make it past my mother without getting grounded.

Keegan Traylor. His name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. True had told me the basics—that he was hot and he went to St. Joe’s, but I didn’t know anyone at St. Joe’s. It was a boys’
school, and as far as I knew, no one from there had ever joined my dance studio, so why would I?

“You’re a dancer, right?” she said, capping the lip gloss and tossing it into my leather bag. “Tell him you felt something pop in your ankle at your last rehearsal. He’ll check you out and tell you you’re fine and then we’re out of here.”

“And how am I going to get alone time with his son?” I asked, glancing nervously at the woman behind the glass doors. She had teeny bifocals and a pig nose and kept looking over at us like she suspected something. Maybe because I was the only minor in the waiting room without an adult. Or because True was performing a rom-com-worthy makeover in her waiting room.

“Don’t worry,” True replied with a wave of her hand. “It’s taken care of.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Claudia Catalfo?”

We both looked up.

“That’s him,” True whispered, turning away from me to hide behind her hair.

“No. Way,” I said.

“Yes way,” she replied.

The single most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen stood at the corner separating the waiting room from the exam rooms. He was tall and broad-shouldered with perfect posture and was wearing a light-blue polo shirt with a white doctor’s jacket over it, which brought out the incredible cocoa-and-milk color of his skin. He looked like he’d just stepped off the set of some hot new medical drama. Emphasis on the “hot.” If Peter ever saw me with this guy, he’d eat his heart out.

“Nice work,” I said under my breath, feeling disloyal for my thoughts.

“I know,” she sang.

But then, it wasn’t disloyal. Peter and I were no longer together. At least, not for the moment. And he had a sophomore giving him lap dances in the middle of pep rally practice, not to mention what had gone on in the cafeteria. Every time I thought about the way that girl had just draped herself across him this afternoon, I wanted to kick something.

“Claudia Catalfo?” he said again.

“Go!” True whispered.

I got up, and she kicked my foot. Right. I was supposed to be in pain here. I limped toward Keegan Traylor, and he smiled at me. I swear my knees almost buckled. No one should be allowed to be that good-looking in real life. It simply wasn’t fair to the rest of us normal humans.

“Claudia?” he said.

“Yes?” I breathed.

“I’m Keegan,” he said. “Right this way.”

He led me down a carpeted hallway and into exam room two. A man who had to be his father was sitting on a rolling stool near the counter, clicking through pages on a laptop. He looked up, smiling, when we entered. Yep. Same perfect teeth. Same friendly brown eyes.

“Hi, Claudia. I’m Dr. Traylor,” he said, taking his glasses off and tucking them into the breast pocket on his jacket. “This is my son, Keegan.”

“Nice to meet you both.”

“Keegan is a senior in high school and plans on doing premed next year at Princeton.”

“Princeton? Wow.” Hot and smart? Even more unfair. “That’s impressive. I’m applying there too.”

“Oh yeah?” Keegan said.

“Yeah. I’m top of my class at Lake Carmody,” I told him.

“He’s second in his class at St. Joe’s,” Dr. Traylor said with a smile. “You two should talk.”

“Maybe we should,” Keegan said, and held my gaze for a long (possibly admiring?) moment. “Luckily, the number one guy wants to go to Yale for hockey, so . . . Anyway, Princeton’s not a done deal,” he said modestly, then loud-whispered, “My dad just thinks it is.”

“I keep telling him I don’t know why he thinks my pride in his success is an embarrassment,” Dr. Traylor said, snapping on a pair of surgical gloves. “But on to the business at hand. Keegan’s been shadowing me for a few weeks, and we’d like him to sit in on your evaluation. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh. Sure,” I said. “No problem. It’s not even that bad of an injury,” I added, trying to preemptively cover. “But I have a big audition next week, so I just want to make sure it’s okay.”

At least that part wasn’t a lie. And my stomach flip-flopped just thinking about it. The Lafayette School of Dance. Giddy shivers. But right now, I had other things to focus on.

“Well, let’s take a look.” He rolled his stool closer to me. “Why don’t you have a seat on the table and tell us . . . how did you injure the area?”

I pushed myself up on the crinkly paper, feeling prickly and hot. I hated lying, especially when I knew for certain I’d get caught. The second this guy touched my ankle he was going to know I was faking it. He was an expert on the human body and could probably tell in an instant whether muscles or tendons or bones were intact. I glanced over at Keegan, who was watching me intently. He was sooooo beautiful. True was a genius.

“Well, I’m a dancer,” I said.

“Oh yeah? What kind?” Keegan asked.

“Ballet is my focus,” I said. “But I take jazz and modern, too.”

“Cool,” Keegan said.

“It is, indeed, cool,” his father put in. “So what happened, exactly?”

“Um . . . well, I . . .”

My mind went blank. They both stared at me as my face burned brighter and brighter. What was I doing here again? Why was I wasting their time? I glanced over at the doctor’s laptop, where the screen saver had started up, scrolling pictures of his children. An action shot of Keegan on the football field appeared, him pulled back in QB stance, ready to hurl the ball.

Holy crap. Keegan Traylor. Of course! He was the starting quarterback for St. Joseph’s football team. Peter had mentioned him a few times—his stats, how he was probably overrated, how everyone was always talking about him playing ball at an Ivy League school.

Peter would die if Keegan and I got together. He’d seriously die. True Olympia was my new hero.

“Were you at rehearsal or . . . ?” Dr. Traylor prompted.

“Sorry,” I said, looking at Keegan and feeling suddenly in awe. How could anybody be that good-looking, athletic,
and
smart? It seemed impossible. “Uh . . . yes. We were practicing leaps on Monday night, and when I came down on this foot I felt something pop behind my ankle.” I cleared my throat and imagined the back of my leg throbbing. Tried to convey the pain through my expression. But acting had never been my thing. “I thought I could just walk it off, but over the past two days it hasn’t gotten any better.”

“I see,” Dr. Traylor said. “Well, let’s take a look. Scoot back for me.”

I did, the paper crackling loudly, conspicuously, beneath me, my palms going slick with sweat. Dr. Traylor lifted my foot gently in his hands, and he and his son both leaned in for a better look. I hoped Keegan didn’t notice my battered toenails and the calluses covering my toes. Side effects of spending hours a week in toe shoes.

Where was True and her diversion? I couldn’t take this much longer.

“Okay, point your toe for me?” Dr. Traylor said.

Come on, True. What are you doing out there?

“Um, okay.”

I pointed my toe.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, pressing the tendon on the back of my leg.

“Not . . . well, maybe a little. I—”

A door slammed out in the lobby, followed by a ridiculous crash. It sounded like a car had smashed through the wall or something. I gripped the table at my sides as Keegan and his dad looked at each other, alarmed. Someone was shouting and there were other random noises. Papers fluttering, a loud bang, people talking urgently.

“Dr. Traylor! Dr. Traylor! We need you out here!”

Both Keegan and his dad started for the door, but his father put a hand on his chest.

“Stay here. Let me see what’s up.” He looked at me. “I’ll be right back, Miss Catalfo.”

A nurse appeared just outside the doorway. “Dr. Traylor, there’s a young man in a wheelchair who appears to be in some distress.”

A young man in a wheelchair. Had True roped her friend Heath into helping us out today? If so, I could kiss them both.

The furrow in Dr. Traylor’s brow deepened. “Bring him to exam room one.”

Keegan peeked down the hall as his father and the nurse disappeared. I heard yet another slam and then he came back into the exam area, leaving the door open. Voices chattered in the next room, but the words were too muffled to hear. I tried to figure out if one of them was Heath’s until I realized I’d never actually heard him speak. He was pretty new at school—even newer than True—and we didn’t exactly hang out with the same crowd.

“Wow,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the most exciting it’s ever gotten around here,” Keegan replied. “I feel like I’m working in an ER.”

I laughed. This was my moment. It was time to try to snag Keegan Traylor. But this was not my strong point either—the flirting thing. It didn’t come naturally to me like it did for some people, and it wasn’t as if I’d had to wheedle my way into Peter’s heart. He’d simply come up to me and asked me out.

My heart ached right now, just thinking about that day. Finding Peter waiting outside the dressing room. How awkward and handsome he’d looked in that sport coat and tie. The way my heart had fallen all over itself when he’d looked at me and I’d realized that he was, in fact, there for me.

Tears suddenly prickled my eyes. I coughed and looked down at my feet.

“Are you okay?” Keegan asked, gently touching my arm.

I glanced at his hand. If I wanted Peter back, Keegan was my ticket. I just had to go for it.

Confidence,
I told myself.
Pretend you’re about to go onstage for your solo. Lift your chin, elongate your spine, and dance.

“Fine,” I said, straightening my posture. “Just a little tickle in my throat. So, do you like working for your dad?”

“It’s not bad. I get to take whatever I want out of the vending
machine in the break room, I can roll in ten minutes late and no one cares.” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. I couldn’t help noticing how the fabric of his jacket sleeves strained as his muscles bulged. “I get to meet pretty dancers,” he said in a leading way.

A warm blush spread across my cheeks. The silence dragged out for a long minute. I knew I should say something flirtatious back, but what? I thought of that waitress at Pizza City. That sophomore chick who had basically melded her body with Peter’s this afternoon. Liza Verdanos. Even my sister, Casey. What would any of them say? It came to me in a flash, and I opened my mouth before I could lose my nerve.

“Well, when I came here I didn’t expect to hang out with the doctor’s hot son.”

My words hung in the air, and for a split second I was sure I’d gone too far, said the wrong thing, totally turned him off. But then he smiled.

“We should hang out sometime,” he said, pulling his phone from the pocket of his chinos and handing it to me. His attitude oozed confidence, like he knew there was no way I was going to say no. “Let me get your number.”

I was trembling so violently I could barely enter the info, but somehow I got through it. Then Keegan lifted the phone to take my picture, and I couldn’t wipe the proud smile off my face.

I’d done it. I’d flirted successfully, and now I was going to go out with a guy who was guaranteed to make Peter jealous. Step one of True’s brilliant plan was complete.

“Would you like to declare a major?” I read out loud.

Were they effing kidding? Declare a major? Now? Who knew what the hell they wanted to do for a job when they were seventeen? Not me. I didn’t know what I wanted to do tomorrow, forget the rest of my life. I rubbed my forehead with the heels of my hands, my eyes crossing. Part of me wanted to shove these applications into a drawer and deal with them tomorrow, but I couldn’t. My mom had told me I wasn’t allowed to come out of my room until I’d finished at least two of them. I groaned and looked at my cell.

Claudia. She would know how to fill these things out. If I hadn’t broken up with her, she’d be here right now. Or as soon as her rehearsal ended. I reached for the phone and brought up her name. My thumb hovered over the call button.