Emma Jean Lazarus Fell in Love (10 page)

What possible reason would he have for including her in a family celebration?

“He must know that Laura is such a big fan,” Colleen suggested.

“But it makes no sense,” Emma-Jean said.

“And it means Laura has to miss the Spring Fling,” Kaitlin said.

“It does?” Emma-Jean said.

“Yes,” Colleen said. “It's the same night!”

Of course it was. Mr. Johannsen had told her that.

“And everyone knows Laura is obsessed with Carl Johannsen,” Kaitlin added.

Colleen nodded. “She'd do anything to meet him, so I guess . . .”

Colleen and Kaitlin continued to speculate about Laura, but Emma-Jean was no longer listening.

Because she understood exactly why her friend Mr. Johannsen had invited Laura to his party.

And indeed he had.

She stood very still, marveling at the afternoon's surprising twists and turns, at the unpredictable forces at work in the William Gladstone universe. She looked at Colleen, who stood close to Kaitlin, her cheeks flushed with excitement as they chattered about Laura.

And suddenly Emma-Jean was struck by an idea, an idea so stunning and simple she couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought of it before. Her heart began to pound, and this time she knew exactly what it meant.

“I must go now,” she said to Colleen and Kaitlin, rushing past them with barely a wave.

There was someone she needed to speak to without delay.

E
mma-Jean finally found Will Keeler in the empty cafeteria. He was kneeling in front of the vending machine, his entire arm stuck up through the machine's front slot.

“Are you caught?” said Emma-Jean, alarmed.

“Nah,” Will said. “The machine ate my dollar. I just want my barbequed chips.”

Emma-Jean took a dollar bill from her schoolbag and fed it into the machine, punching in the correct code so that the desired bag dropped into Will's hand.

Will stood up. “Thanks,” he said, ripping open the bag as he began to walk away. “See you later.”

“Wait,” Emma-Jean said. “I need to speak to you.”

“Okay,” Will said, tossing a chip into his mouth.

“Do you recall that I solved your problem with Mr. Petrowski and the missing chocolates?” Emma-Jean asked.

“Yeah,” Will said. “You saved my butt.”

“Do you recall what you said afterward?” Emma-Jean said.

Will chewed, his eyes thoughtful. “Thanks?” he said.

“Yes,” Emma-Jean said. “But you also said that you owed me.”

“Oh yeah,” said Will. “I do. You really helped me out.”

“Well, now there is something important you could do for me,” said Emma-Jean.

“Okay,” Will said. “Sure.”

“Of course you are aware of the Spring Fling,” Emma-Jean said.

Will appeared to get a chip stuck in his throat. He coughed and then swallowed hard.

“I would like to ask you,” Emma-Jean continued, “if you are willing to go with—”

“No I can't,” Will said quickly. “I hate dances, and I already told Laura I couldn't go, so I can't just show up with someone else.”

“Laura Gilroy asked you to the Spring Fling?” Emma-Jean said with surprise.

“Like a month ago.”

Emma-Jean shook her head, marveling anew at Laura's cunning.

“That is very interesting,” she said.

Of course Laura would not publicize the details of her rejection, and she must have known that Will was too gallant to broadcast the truth. Emma-Jean tried to imagine the look on Laura's face when he declined her invitation. Had she pleaded with him? Had she rushed to the girls' room to cry as some other girls did when they were dejected?

Surprisingly, this image brought no satisfaction to Emma-Jean. She felt a tinge of pity for Laura, though it came and went quickly.

In any case, she would keep this information to herself.

“Laura is no longer concerned about the Spring Fling,” Emma-Jean said. “As you might have heard, she has another engagement that night. And so you are now free to attend.”

Will's eyes moved searchingly around the room, as they did when Ms. Wright called on him to define a vocabulary word.

“Well, I guess I could do that,” he said, “if that's what you really want me to do.”

“You would be doing me a great favor if you would go with Colleen Pomerantz.”

Will's eyes became very large.

“You don't . . . Colleen?” he said.

“She is a fine person,” Emma-Jean said, “and a suitable companion for you. You are fortunate to have this opportunity.”

“Really? Colleen wants to go with me?” Will said incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“I have not asked her specifically,” Emma-Jean said.

“Then how do you know?” he said.

“Because I believe any girl in the seventh grade would be pleased to attend with you.”

A pink flush appeared on Will's ruddy cheeks.

But then he smiled. “Nancy Freakin' Drew,” he said. “Always working some angle.”

“So you are willing to go with Colleen?”

“Sure, yeah, Colleen,” he said. “Wow. That's pretty cool.”

“Very good,” Emma-Jean said.

Will crumpled up his bag of chips and tossed it across two tables into the garbage can.

He stepped up and put his hand on Emma-Jean's head, ruffling her hair.

“You really are a good kid,” he said.

Emma-Jean nodded, relieved that Will was so amenable to her proposal.

And it was at that moment that Emma-Jean made an unexpected discovery:

Her crush on Will Keeler was over.

Though she was standing very close to Will, her heart was not fluttering. She felt none of the jittery agitation that had gripped her over the past two days whenever Will was nearby. What excitement she felt right now was for Colleen, her kind and generous friend, who would be most pleased to discover this surprising turn of events.

She leaned closer to Will to confirm that her crush had subsided completely. She was close enough to see the flecks of violet in his bright blue eyes. And yet she felt utterly calm.

There was no doubt. Her crush was over. Will was certainly an honorable person. But it was very clear to her now that they were not well suited for each other.

“What's the matter?” Will asked.

“Not a thing,” said Emma-Jean with satisfaction and just the slightest wisp of disappointment. “Everything is as it should be.”

I
t always amazed Colleen, how your world could break apart into a thousand pieces, like a plate you dropped while emptying the dishwasher. And then somehow everything was put together again, and you couldn't even see the cracks or the glue. It hadn't taken long to make things right with Kaitlin. There was no huge talk, just a look and some tears and about a hundred hugs and they were back to normal. And with the news about Laura and Carl Johannsen, nobody was thinking about Colleen and her secret admirer. The whole thing was forgotten. Which was fine with Colleen.

Colleen and Kaitlin called their moms and said they were walking into town to get ice cream.

“We need to celebrate,” Colleen had said.

“What are we celebrating?” Kaitlin asked.

Colleen wondered. She wasn't going to the Spring Fling. She had no secret admirer.

Colleen shrugged. “Just everything!” she said, and of course Kaitlin understood exactly what she meant and gave her another big hug.

Kaitlin needed to use the girls' room before their walk into town. Colleen was waiting for her when Will came jogging up to her.

“Hey Collcakes,” he said.

He was so sweet!

She wondered how he felt about Laura and Carl Johannsen. He didn't look too upset. He looked pretty happy, actually. And then it hit Colleen . . . Will wasn't going to the Spring Fling with Laura! And so now . . .

Without even thinking, Colleen grabbed Will's hand and blurted out, “Will you go to the Spring Fling with Emma-Jean?”

Will stared at her, and then he started to laugh.

“That's a good one,” he said.

“What's so funny?” Colleen demanded.

Maybe Will wasn't sweet! Maybe he was mean and awful!

“Emma-Jean is a great person,” Colleen said, crossing her arms.

Will stopped laughing. “I know that,” he said.

“So go with her to the dance!” Colleen said, bouncing up and down. This was so exciting! See?
Anything
was possible!

“Emma-Jean doesn't want to go with me,” Will said.

“Yes she does,” Colleen said. “She totally does!”

Will shook his head. “No, I just talked to her.”

“You did?” Colleen said. That was strange. Was Will making this up?

“She uh, she said I should go with someone else.”

What was Will talking about? Did he think that Colleen was stupid? Did he think she didn't know Emma-Jean at all?

“Really,” Colleen said, raising her chin and looking right at Will. “Who?”

Will smiled a little. “You.”

Colleen blinked.

“What?”

“She said we were . . . what did she say? Oh yeah . . . suitable.”

Oh gosh. Will couldn't have thought of that on his own. Only Emma-Jean would use that word.

What had Emma-Jean done? Did she really think that Will Keeler would go to the Spring Fling with
Colleen?
Even Emma-Jean should know better than that! Was she trying to ruin Colleen's life again?

She couldn't look at Will. This was so embarrassing!

Didn't Emma-Jean ever learn?

But then she felt Will's hand on her shoulder, strong and soft at the same time.

And Colleen peeked up. Will was looking right into her eyes, looking at her in a way that nobody had ever looked at her before, not her mom or her friends or Piggy or even her boy. Colleen looked right back.

“Do you want to go with me, Colleen?” Will said in the most serious voice she'd ever heard. “Because I really want to go with you.”

Colleen just stood there with her mouth wide open in shock. The roof of the school seemed to open over their heads, so that the sun was shining down on both of them. And her bird flew over, with all of his friends. And they were all singing together. . .

O
ver the next two weeks, Emma-Jean's friends focused on their preparations for the Spring Fling. They pored over fashion magazines at lunch and debated the merits of different hairstyles and nail polish hues. Kaitlin went to the doctor and had her wart removed. The slumber party was rescheduled for the weekend after the dance.

“And I have the best idea ever,” Colleen said. “We'll do it at your house, Emma-Jean! That way your bird won't be lonely.”

Emma-Jean agreed that it was an inspired solution, and she and Vikram had started working on a dinner menu that would go well with chocolate fondue.

She was pondering this and other pleasant matters on a warm Thursday afternoon when Vikram appeared at her door carrying a large box festooned with Indian postage stamps.

“It's from my mother,” he said. “There is something in here for you.”

Vikram placed the box on Emma-Jean's desk and took out a flat rectangular package wrapped in tissue. There was a short note taped to the top, written in Mrs. Adwani's distinctive dancing Hindi lettering.

It took Emma-Jean just a few minutes to decipher the words.

Emma-Jean unwrapped the package and discovered a seemingly endless bolt of bright orange silk edged with delicate crystal beads.

“It's very striking,” Emma-Jean said, holding the fabric to her cheek. It was as soft as Henri. “Though I am not going to a dance.”

“One day you will,” Vikram said.

Emma-Jean nodded. She carefully folded the silk and held it to her chest.

“What else is in the box?” she asked.

“It's my cricket collection,” Vikram said.

For an instant Emma-Jean imagined the dazzling spectacle of dozens of crickets hopping out of the box, filling her bedroom with their symphony of chirps. But of course she realized that Vikram was not referring to the cricket of the etymological world, but rather that of the sporting world, the baseball-like game that had captivated him since he was a small boy.