Everyone's a Critic (6 page)

“So he wants to go twice,” I said breathlessly when I saw her. She was walking with our friend Jenna.

“See? I knew it was working!” Hailey exclaimed.

“What's working? I'm not even sure what he means,” I said.

“Well, how many shows are there?” she asked.

Jenna answered for me. “Three!” I kind of wished Jenna wasn't there. She knew I had a massive crush on Michael, but usually I kept the details between me and Hailey. I looked at her, and then at Hailey again.

“Right—opening night on Friday, Saturday matinee, and Saturday night. So if you both go to two shows,” Hailey said, now sounding like an elementary school math teacher, “you have to overlap once!”

“I guess so,” I said, not knowing why this hadn't occurred to me.

“So that's great!” Hailey said, shaking my arm.

“No, it isn't,” I said.

“What is it?” she asked. “What's wrong?”

I wanted to just come out and say that even though this development was fantastic, she had to stop being so pushy, both literally and figuratively. But I couldn't really get into that with Jenna there, hanging on every word.

“Nothing,” I said.

“So this is what I think you should do,” she said, leaning toward me. Jenna leaned in too. “Next time you see him,” Hailey continued in a low, conspiratorial tone, “bring it up, the whole thing about going to two shows, but don't ask him if he wants to go to the Friday night one together. Just say, ‘Well, I'm going Friday night and you're going Saturday afternoon . . .' and then let him fill in the rest. He'll just have to ask you to the Saturday night performance.”

“Perfect plan!” said Jenna..

I had to admit it was a perfect plan. “Thanks, Hails,” I said, and meant it.

Michael was nowhere to be seen in the cafeteria. I wondered where he could be. Sometimes he crammed for a test in the hallway with a friend.
Sometimes he had a team meeting. He could be anywhere. I hoped I'd see him soon. Tickets were selling out fast.

Two days went by and I still hadn't had a face-to-face conversation with Michael Lawrence. Then I was home, spreading peanut butter on a banana for a snack in the kitchen, when the phone rang. My hands were all peanut-buttery and I couldn't answer. A few seconds later, Allie came sauntering into the kitchen. She didn't walk anymore, she
sauntered
. She covered the receiver and came over to me.

“It's your boyfriend,” she whispered in my ear.

I glared at her and grabbed the phone.

“Hello,” I said. Unfortunately, I had just taken a bite of peanut butter and banana and my voice sort of sounded like it was underwater.
Girl Chokes on Peanut Butter, Misses Great Date Opportunity.

“Sam?” he said. Michael never called me Sam. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, hold on,” I said. I put the phone down
and gulped a glass of water. Then I got on the phone again, sounding like myself. “Hi, sorry.”

“Peanut butter?” he asked.

“How did you know?” I said, surprised.

“Oh, I know. I'm a huge fan of after-school peanut butter snacks.”

I laughed, and he laughed too. It was so nice to joke around with Michael. It had been a long time since we'd just chilled out together rather than awkwardly colliding in the hallways.

“So, as I was saying the other day, we really should see every show and each see it twice. The fuller the coverage, the better. Your sister's in it, right? What part does she have?”

“I agree. We should definitely each see it twice,” I said, just so there could be no change of plan. Thank goodness there weren't four shows. “Allie's Anita, Maria's best friend.”

“I've never seen
West Side Story
, but I assume it's a good part. I saw Allie in
Bye Bye Birdie
last year. She was great.”

Wow, I couldn't believe he remembered that! I can barely keep track of what Allie's been in.
“Yeah, she was. Okay, so there's a performance Friday night, Saturday afternoon, and Saturday night. I'd planned to go on Friday night, and you're going on Saturday afternoon,” I said, and then was silent. Operation Hailey's Plan.

“Right,” he said. Then nothing. Then more nothing. This was the part he was supposed to fill in! I debated on whether to shove the whole banana into my mouth so I wouldn't have to talk. I had to fill the void. A silent second on the telephone is equal to an hour of regular time, in my book.

“Um, so we should probably go together on Saturday night?” My voice became really high and squeaky on “night.” Oh no, did I just ask him out? I should really keep my mouth filled with peanut butter at all times.

“Sounds good!” he said, all chipper. “I'll meet you there.”

After we hung up, I sat in silence and ate the rest of my banana. Hailey was not going to be happy.

I waited until that night to tell her.

Why didn't u follow the plan??
she wailed
through the computer after I'd IM'd her the whole story.

I did!

But is it a date or not?
she asked.

It's just a work/school thing anyway. Wasn't supposed to be a date
, I argued. I had to defend myself.

We'll c. New plan tomrw.

I sighed. I hoped her plan didn't include shoving me across the hallway or asking Michael ridiculous questions.

I hopped onto my bed and closed the door. I had to get the Dear Know-It-All letter in by Friday. I could save Too Honest for the next issue. I read a couple of new letters I just got, but they were not going to fly:
“I never like the organic option in the cafeteria”
(Don't eat it?).
“I hate blue nail polish and it's the only kind I have at home.”
(Buy a new bottle?) I had to answer the question I was all too familiar with, and lately so familiar with that I was afraid Hailey would think I had written it. Better than thinking I was Dear Know-It-All. I spun around in my chair a couple of times and stared at
the black screen. Then I took a deep breath and went for it. I wrote the answer quickly, all in one pass. Sometimes it's better not to think too much.

Dear Just Friends?,

When you spend a lot of time with someone that you might want to date, it's hard to know what's what. I guess if he asks you out, or if you ask him out somewhere, it's considered a date. If you both decide together, like friends would, then it's not. Maybe don't suggest anything to do for a while. Let him fill in the blanks and see what happens. Good luck!

I don't know if my answer was groundbreaking, but it made sense to me, even if it didn't actually work for me. At least I had something for the column this week.

Chapter 7

“Brilliant,” Hailey said when the issue of the
Voice
came out. She was sitting on a barstool in my kitchen and we were sharing a bowl of popcorn. “Just brilliant!” she said again, and nudged me in the arm.

Friend Possessed by British School Newspaper Advisor.
“You sound like Mr. Trigg. What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You sneaky girl.”

“What?” I said again, and looked over her shoulder. She was reading the Dear Know-It-All letter.

“You wrote this, didn't you?”

Uh-oh, here we go, but I had been through this
before.
Just stay calm, Martone. Luckily no one suspects you are Dear Know-It-All.
At least I didn't think that's what Hailey meant.

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“You wrote in just to get Mr. Lawrence's attention. He'll see this and maybe get the idea to ask you formally to the play this Saturday! Why didn't I think of that?”

I stopped holding my breath. At least she didn't think I was Dear Know-It-All. The truth was much harder to hide.

“What makes you think I wrote the letter?” I said, purposely being a little coy. Might as well have a little fun.

“See! I knew it! Why didn't you tell me?”

“Listen, Hailey. I didn't write this letter to Dear Know-It-All, and there's no way Michael will read this and ask me to the play on Saturday night when we've already decided to go!” Then I took a huge handful of popcorn and shoved it into my mouth. I actually prayed Michael wouldn't think I wrote this letter.

“All right, all right. Don't freak out,” she said,
her eyes gleaming. “I just might have a new plan. Tomorrow, in the morning, hang out by his locker, and wear that cute white peasant blouse, and ask him who he's going to see—”

I cut her off. I just couldn't take another plan.

“Hailey, can I be really honest?” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah?” she said, looking surprised.

At that moment, Allie came bounding into the kitchen in full costume. The swingy purple dress, a dark-haired wig, fake eyelashes, and everything.

“You look amazing!” Hailey squealed. She did, but I was over it.

“Thanks!” she said, and started singing her big number, “America,” at the top of her lungs. She started her dance routine, leaped across the kitchen, twirled, grabbed Hailey, and started taking turns dancing with us, spinning us around. We all began to crack up. Then Allie screamed. Hailey and I froze.

“What?” I cried.

“There's a stain on my dress!” Allie said, looking down at the shiny purple material. I saw
a tiny little grayish smear, no bigger than a dime, on the skirt part just below her waist. “It's a grease stain. What did you freaks get on me?” she said to us, her eyes practically spinning in her head, her cheeks red and flushed.

“Nothing!” Hailey said, and held her hands up like she was being arrested.

“And you?” Allie turned to me.

“Allie, calm down, you can barely see it. We didn't even touch your dress!”

“Humph,” Allie said with a toss of her head. Then she straightened up her wig. “I'm going to be late for dress rehearsal. What am I going to do?” she said holding up the section of skirt. She walked over to the sink and dabbed it with a sponge.

“Allie, seriously. You can't even see it. You're losing a little perspective here,” I said. I was getting sick of Miss Diva, her wig, her fake eyelashes, her singing at the top of her lungs every night,
and
her mood swings.

“Don't tell me I'm losing perspective. You're losing perspective! The play is this Friday. It's Tuesday, and now I've got a stain on my costume.”

With that she tossed the sponge in the sink and hurried out of the kitchen. We both stared at each other, speechless, and jumped a bit when the front door slammed as Allie exited the house.

“Whoa. Who kidnapped your sister and replaced her with that crazy girl?” Hailey asked.

“It's been like this for weeks. One minute she's all excited, and singing and prancing around the house. The next minute she's yelling at everyone. My mom says it's just nerves, but I kind of can't wait until the play is over.”

“I don't blame you. Was she like this for the last show?”

“I think it gets worse every time,” I said.

Hailey looked at me carefully. “So what did you want to tell me before that tornado named Allie blew through here?”

I swallowed. Suddenly it just wasn't the right time to tell her how I had been feeling about all her Michael “help.”

“Oh, I forget. No biggie,” I said, and stuffed another handful of popcorn into my mouth so I wouldn't say another word.