Gimme a Call (8 page)

Nope.
Place Desk Here!
and
This is cat
are still freshly written on my wall—which means I’m supposed to call Bryan to cancel. Sweet, adorable Bryan.

As I step into my bright yellow bathtub—my mom picked the color, saying that it reminded her of lemons and made the room feel fresh—I can’t help wondering, Do I really have to cancel? It seems like a crazy thing to do. When you have plans with a guy you have a serious crush on, do you cancel? No, you do not. Although, when your future self tells you it’s for the best, you should probably listen. And I promised her. Technically, I also promised Bryan I would go to the movies with him. But I guess promises to my future self beat promises to a guy I’ve only spoken to twice.

Okay, okay, I’ll cancel. Right after I eat something.

I check to see if Dad’s briefcase is gone. Yup, he’s at work. On a Saturday. I take a handful of Mom’s fresh mini lemon muffins—she loves lemons; what can I say?—to the table on the back porch. I am going to cancel. I am. As soon as I finish eating.

When I’m done, I head back to my room. Now what? Now I should cancel. I should. But … I really don’t want to. I like Bryan.

Instead, I call Maya to see how her party was. She doesn’t answer, so I leave a message.

As soon as I hang up, my phone rings. Unfortunately, it’s not Maya.

“Helllllllo?” Senior Me drawls. “Did you do it?”

I lie back on my bed. “Can’t I just go out with him once? Just once?”

“No!” she cries. “Absolutely not. You have to cancel immediately.”

“But he’s so nice. And cute. And very knowing in the art of stain removal.”

“You’ll go out with someone nicer. And cuter.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet, do I?”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” I grumble. “What is
so bad
about Bryan Sanderson?”

She sighs. “It just doesn’t work out, okay?”

I slam my fists into the mattress. “But what does that even mean? We don’t get married?”

“Of course you don’t get married! I’m only seventeen!”

“So then what’s the big deal? Just because we break up eventually, we can’t hang out tonight? Sounds crazy to me. How long are we together for, anyway?”

“All of high school. You waste your
entire
high school experience on him. Trust me, it’s just better to nip this in the bud. Why would you want to even bother going out with him if you know he’s going to hurt you? Are you some kind of masochist?”

“Of course not,” I say. “But what does he do?”

“He does bad things!” she says, choking up.

“Like what?”

“Stuff!”

“What stuff? I need to know all the details before I change the course of my life.”

“He breaks up with us, okay?” she shrieks.

Er. “That’s it?”

“No! He’s also the reason you’re not friends with Karin, Tash, and Joelle anymore.”

“Really? He told you not to be friends with them?”

“Kind of…. You spend all your time together and blow everyone else off.”

“Well, that was dumb of us,” I say. “And not really his fault.”

“It’s not just that.” She clears her throat. “He cheats on you. On us.”

My heart sinks. “He does?”

“Yes.”

“What happens?”

“What difference does it make? It happens. More than once.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she spits out. “I told you. He sucks.”

I twist my hair into a bun. I can’t believe he would do that to me. Not that I know him that well. I’ve had two conversations with the guy. But still. I didn’t know that sweet salsa guy had it in him to be such a jerk. “I’ll do it. I’ll call him. What am I telling him exactly?”

“Tell him you could do better than a jerk like him and that you hope he rots in hell.”

“I can’t say that!”

“He deserves it.” She clears her throat again. “Tell him you aren’t interested. Now. I’m calling you back in five minutes.” She hangs up the phone.

Alrighty then. I’m about to search my calls for his number when my phone rings.

“That wasn’t five minutes,” I say. “Gimme a sec.”

“For what?” Karin asks.

“Hey!”

“Hi! I heard a certain someone asked for your number,” she sings. “Tell me everything! Has he called yet? Did he ask you out?”

“He did!” I exclaim. He really did! He likes me! “How did you know?”

“He called Joelle when we were still in the car. I called you two seconds later but I left a voice mail. I thought you would call me as soon as you spoke to him.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t hear it. And then, after I got off the phone, I was”—too busy drawing on my wall to amuse my future self—“tired.”

“So how excited are you?” she squeals.

“So excited,” I say. “Except I can’t go.” Boo.

“What? Why not?”

“Because …” Because my future self won’t let me go out with him. That probably sounds a bit on the crazy side. “I just …” Don’t want to go out with a no-good cheater? “I just don’t think I’m up for it tonight. I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh, no! What’s wrong?”

“I’m sick. Really sick. I think it’s the flu.”

“Well. You don’t want to sneeze all over him. Grossness.”

“No kidding.”

“I guess that means you can’t come with me to the mall tomorrow?”

“Oh, um …” Boooooooo. “Guess not.”

“Yeah, you should probably rest up,” she says.

As we hang up, I wonder why I just lied to Karin. Is this how the friend breakup starts? With a lie? Is this why we’re no longer friends? Not that I had a choice.

I take a deep breath. Next, Bryan. I don’t want to call him. Maybe I should just text him instead. Yes! Then I don’t have to talk to him.

Hi Bryan! So sorry! Can’t make it tonight. I’m sick.
Really sorry. I’ll see you at school!
Devi

Done.

I try calling my number to see if this magic cell phone thing works both ways, but it just goes straight to my voice mail. My freshman voice mail.

Guess not.

I leave my cell on my desk and head downstairs to get a glass of juice. Maybe the vitamin C will improve my spirits in addition to my fake cold. I don’t know why I feel sad. Bryan hasn’t cheated on me yet. I barely even know him.

But now I never will.

chapter nine
Saturday, May 24
Senior Year

“So what’s going to happen with prom?” Mom asks me from her seat on the couch.

My back tenses as I open the cupboard. “I’m not going.”

She pauses
Best Chef
and turns to look at me. “At all?”

“At all,” I say. Instead of looking at her, I take down a glass.

“But what about your dress?” she asks.

A short red prom dress is hanging in my closet. Bryan loved me in red. He thought it made me look sexy. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll return it.”

“You can’t return special-occasion dresses,” she says. “Is Bryan still going?”

“He better not be. He wanted us to go as friends but he can forget it. He doesn’t get to rip my heart into a trillion pieces and then pop the champagne with me. Let him sit home and be miserable. Like me.”

She makes a sad face and then lifts her arms in the air, wanting to give me a hug. “Oh, honey.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Or I would be if Freshman Me would just do what she’s supposed to.

“It’s still two weeks away. Can you go with someone else? Or maybe with some girlfriends?”

If only I had someone else to go with. If only I had other friends. Although, if I did have other friends, then I’d be with them right now instead of hanging with my mom. “Not a big deal.” I turn on the faucet.

And that’s when it happens.

The heart bracelet on my arm disappears. One second it’s resting comfortably on my wrist, and the next second it’s … gone.

“My bracelet!” I shriek.

“What bracelet?” my mom asks.

“The one that Bryan got me!” Did it just fall down the drain? I turn the water off and try to spot it.

“Bryan who?” she asks.

“Bryan-Bryan,” I say, sticking my fingers inside.

Mom comes over to me. “Who’s Bryan? Have I met him?”

My fingers freeze. Huh? My mom doesn’t know who Bryan is?

Wait. The bracelet he got me is gone. My mom seems to have forgotten he exists. Does this mean what I think it means? I look up at my mom. “You really don’t know who Bryan is?”

She scrunches her forehead. “Not that I can remember. Is he a friend of yours?”

Oh. My. God. Freshman Me did it. She canceled her plans with Bryan. They’re not going out tonight. They never go out. We never go out. There is no bracelet. My mom doesn’t know who Bryan is. “You’ve really never met him?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she says, frowning.

Holy time warp. “I need to make a call.” I hurry up to my room to call Freshman Me. “You did it!” I tell her as soon as she answers. “You rock! My bracelet is gone! And Mom has no memory of Bryan. None. Isn’t that crazy? I still remember him, but she has no idea!” I twirl in place, around and around and around. I stop only when I spot the photo. The Halloween picture. Or what was previously the Halloween picture and is now a close-up of Karin, Tash, Joelle, and me—with braces—laughing. We’re standing in a driveway. Joelle’s arms are outstretched, like she took the shot herself. “The last picture of Bryan is gone too! I think the one here now is of you guys last night at Celia’s! It worked. You got rid of him!”

“So that’s it?” she asks softly.

I examine the picture to make sure. “Yes. Well done. I’m so proud of you. Of us. We did it! We got rid of Bryan forever!”

“That sounds kind of long.”

No Bryan.
No Bryan
. I shiver. Who am I without Bryan? “Oh, no,” I say, seeing the wall in front of my bed. My bare wall. Bare arm and bare wall.

“What?” she asks with a twinge of hope in her voice. “He’s still there?”

“No, it’s not that,” I say. “It’s my TV. It’s gone too.”

“What TV? The one in the living room?”

“No, the TV in my room.” TV—gone. Bryan—gone.

“When did we get a TV in our room?”

“Forget it.” I shake away the weird Bryan-is-gone twinges. “Not important. What’s important is that we got rid of Bryan.” I glance back at the picture. “A little piece of advice for the notebook? In the future, you should not wear that lipstick with your braces. It looks ridiculous. In fact, you probably shouldn’t wear any lipstick. I’d focus on eyeliner if I were you. Which I am.”

“I thought it looked good,” she squeaks.

“Well, it doesn’t. Sorry, Freshman Me.”

“Don’t call me Freshman Me. It’s confusing. Call me Devi.”

“
That’s
confusing,” I tell her. “I’m Devi. Why don’t I call you Devorah and I can be Devi?”

“No way,” she says. “I don’t want to be Devorah. That’s what Mom and Dad call us when they’re mad.”

“Then I’ll be Senior and you can be—”

“Junior?”

“I was going to say Frosh.”

“Frosh,” she repeats. “I like it. I don’t like Senior, though.”

“Seniorita?”

“No.”

“Elder?”

She laughs. “No.”

“Genius?” I ask, smiling. “Oh, I know! I’ll be Ivy.”

“I want to be Ivy too!” she says jealously. “I love the name Ivy!”