Miss Match (15 page)

“I’ll pass.”

“Why, Derek,” I say, doing my best Scarlett O’Hara impression, “I do declare—you’ve lost your school spirit. Whatever are we going to do?”

“Fiddle-dee-dee, school spirit. Who needs it?” he says, playing along. “So, why aren’t
you
at the game?”

I look down at my bare feet. “I was going
to play a little one-on-one, but Shaquille stood me up, the chicken.”

“Maybe I could sub in. Let me talk to my manager.”

“Okay. Have your people get in touch with my people.”

“Will do.”

We hang up, and I realize I’m smiling. You know? Yasmin is right. Derek and I really do get along well. He might as well be wearing an
I’M WITH MADDIE FINNEGAN
T-shirt, but that’s okay. While being just friends might have a bad rap, I’d rather that than nothing at all.

Then it hits me that Derek might very well be coming over here and I’ve got to get dressed. I tear through my closet looking for something to wear. Let’s see…something athletic but stylish. Okay, this pair of baby-blue Adidas sweatpants will work, but none of my tops look good with them. Will Maddie have something that will work?

I fling open her closet and begin thumbing through her clothes. She really does have a killer wardrobe. Finally, I pick out a white polar fleece top and drape it over my arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a light pink gown in the back of her closet. I take it out
and hold it up to myself in her full-length mirror. It’s so dreamy: a Gunne Sax strapless. The bodice has a tulle ruffle at the top, and a dainty black ribbon adorns the waist. The satin skirt is full with layers of tulle underneath and scattered rosettes at the hem. I’m not sure when she picked it up, but this has homecoming-queen wannabe written all over it.

The robe falls to my ankles, and I slip the pink cloud over my head. It’s so airy I can hardly tell I’m wearing anything at all. I ease the zipper up halfway and then twirl around Maddie’s room, admiring my reflection in her silk-flower-adorned full-length mirror.

I’m the prima ballerina, pirouetting across the stage, curtseying as the audience tosses long-stemmed roses at my pink satin slippers. I spin around again—

The doorbell rings.

I peek out the window and see a ’66 Chevy in the driveway. Quickly, I peel the dress off and hang it up, placing it back where I found it. No doubt about it, my sister’s going to look amazing in that dress tomorrow night.

“You think you can hold your own?” I ask, dribbling the basketball past Derek’s truck, straight for the hoop above the garage door.
I toss a slow-motion layup, and the net swishes obediently.

“Not bad, Sasha. But if that’s your best, I’m afraid this is going to be a rather quick and painful game.” Derek’s wearing a pair of cords, a sweater, and cowboy boots. Not exactly a licensed NBA uniform, but hey, he looks cute. He smiles and catches the ball.

“So, are you totally excited or what?” I ask, taking the elastic off my wrist and pulling my hair into a no-nonsense ponytail.

“About…?” He takes a shot from mid-driveway and it ricochets off the rim.

“Homecoming. With Maddie.” Hel-
lo
? What does he think I’m talking about? Our chem final? Our synch-swimming routine? I snag the rebound and dribble to three-point range.

“Oh yeah. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Curb your enthusiasm, cowboy.”

“So who are you going with?” he asks.

I bounce the ball a few times. “No one. I’m not really into that sort of thing.” At least that’s what everybody thinks, anyway. No one seems to notice that I’m miserable about not having a date to the big dance. But hey, there’s always prom.

He stoops over, ready to guard me. “Are you warmed up yet? ’Cause I’m ready to kick your butt all over this court—er, driveway.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Bring it on!” I aim at the basket and let it fly.
Swish!

Twenty minutes later we’re both sweaty and giggly and having a great time. Come to find out, Derek can definitely hold his own on the driveway court.

The sun has long since sunk behind the Great Salt Lake, and the temperature’s dropping. Which reminds me, I’ve still got to give him his sweatshirt. “Be right back,” I say, and rush inside to fetch it.

“Here ya go. Sorry it’s taken me so long to return it.” I hold out the A&M sweatshirt. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

He shakes his head. “You know what, Sasha? I have a hundred just like it. My parents went a little overboard when we went visiting colleges last summer. So keep it. If you want to.”

I’m trying not to appear as happy as I feel right now. I’ve really come to love this sweatshirt, and now it’s officially mine! Instead of just wearing it at home in my bedroom, I can wear it anytime, anywhere I want to! “Okay, thanks.”

He spins the ball on his finger, just looking at me. Finally, he breaks the silence. “Sasha, can I be honest with you?”

My breath gets stuck somewhere in my throat. “Of course.” He hands me the ball, and his fingers brush mine. I bounce it a couple of times and then rest it on my hip, giving him my full attention. Trying to concentrate on what he’s about to say, and not how he looks so adorable with his hair all messy.

“It’s about tomorrow night. I’m nervous to take your sister to the dance.”

What, did I think he was going to profess his love for me? Did I think he was going to admit he’d chosen the wrong Finnegan sister? I slip into Miss Match mode, hiding my disappointment. “Did I ever tell you how much Maddie loved your homecoming invitation? It’s got to be the most romantic one in history. Every girl at Snowcrest is jealous.”

His lip twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. “I keep hearing my mother’s voice in my head, saying, ‘Derek, look what you’ve gotten yourself into.’ She used to say that a lot when I was a kid. That and, ‘No, you cannot let Bob in the house. He’ll sleep just fine out in the barn.’”

We laugh.

“Here.” I pass him the ball, then direct him to the makeshift free-throw line, a ragged crack in the cement. I put my hand over his eyes so he can’t see. His face feels warm to my touch. Is the rest of his body this warm? “Shoot,” I say. “If you make it, you and Maddie are destined to be together. If you miss, you aren’t.”

He takes a deep breath, one I can feel as if it’s my own. “Okay.”

The ball arches from his fingertips and flies through the evening sky. It bounces off the backboard and lands in a pile of crispy leaves beside the driveway.

A miss. A bad miss, really.

“Well?” he asks when I take my hand off his eyes. His eyes search mine, as if whatever I have to say is going to change his life forever.

I touch my gold heart charm and give him my best Miss Match smile. “You made it, lover boy.”

“Where is Jenny?” Maddie practically screams. “Derek’s going to be here in twenty minutes to pick me up, and my hair’s not done.”

“Do you need help?” I ask, looking up from my
Seventeen
mag.

Maddie is pacing around my room in her strapless push-up bra and matching panties, both (as if I need to say) pink. “She told me she’d be here at six o’clock on the dot. And it’s already seven minutes past. She’s totally late! How can she be so
insensitive
?”

“Do you want me to do your hair?” I try again.

She stomps over to my mirror and shakes her head upside down, her beautiful auburn hair swishing this way and that. She whips
back up, lets out a very unladylike “Argh!” and storms out of my room, huffing, “I guess I’ll just go put on my dress now.” As if actually being dressed before Derek gets here wasn’t part of her master plan.

Five seconds later the ballerina princess formerly known as Maddie Finnegan is standing in my room again, hands on her hips. “Do you suppose you can stop reading that dumb magazine long enough to zip me up?”

She’s just stressed, I tell myself, trying to calm myself down before I bite her pretty head right off. The zipper slides easily over her narrow, tanned back. “Are you positive you don’t want me to do your hair?”

She turns around, a smile on her freshly lipsticked mouth, a look of delight splashed on her dewy face. “Sasha, that would be super!”

I roll my eyes and drag her into the bathroom, where I go to town with the straightening iron and the miniature white flowers she bought for the occasion. After I give her a hearty hairspray job, I step back to give her full view of the mirror. “What do you think?”

She flings her manicured hand onto her
heart and sighs. “Wow, Sasha. Who ever knew you were so good? I look…
perfect
.”

I force myself to smile, knowing that in a mere five minutes Derek will be here to whisk her away. And I’ll have hours and hours of Maddie-free peace.

But when the doorbell rings, I’m not as relieved as I thought I’d be. My stomach feels like it’s tied in knots, and my hands go all sweaty.

“Where’s the camera, Sasha?” Mom hollers. “We’ve got to get a photo of this!”

I grab the digital off my desk and bring it down to the foyer. When I see Derek in his black suit and white tie, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean-shaven, my stomach knots so tightly I can hardly breathe. Much less speak. I hand the camera to Mom.

“Now get close together, you two. Don’t be shy,” she says, playing the part of embarrassing parent with prowess.

Derek chuckles (hey, is he nervous?) and Maddie kinda rolls her eyes, but they do as Mom says. Derek and Maddie look like they just stepped out of
Teen Vogue
’s prom edition. I think I’m going to be sick. Seriously.

The camera clicks away, capturing the first moments of Maddie’s senior homecoming. The
happy couple exchanging corsage and boutonniere, the happy couple quickly running out of happy couple poses. After about twelve years Mom stops photographing and says, “Well, you two, that should do it. Have a great time!” and disappears down the hallway, wrapping up her part of the homecoming preshow.

“Yeah, have a great time,” I echo, infusing my voice with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

“Oh my God!” Maddie says, poking around in her dainty beaded handbag. “I almost forgot my lipstick! I’ll be right back, Derek.” She skitters off in her high heels, leaving Derek and me alone.

“You look amazing, Derek. Really.”

Is he blushing? “Er, thanks.” He reaches up to his tie and loosens it a notch.

I’m not really sure what to say, and apparently he’s speechless too. He’s probably got visions of Maddie dancing around in his head. Maddie in her matching bra and panty set, perhaps. Ha! That would leave any guy speechless.

Then the strangest thing happens. Derek reaches out to me, pulls me in to his chest, and squeezes me tight. He’s hugging me! His body feels so hard and muscular, just
like I imagined he would feel. He rests his chin on the top of my head, and for a split second I’m in utter ecstasy. The stomach knots are gone, and in their place is a warm, happy feeling. I remind myself to breathe. Oh my God, he smells incredible. “What kind of cologne are you wearing?” I ask.

“Stetson.”

Come again? Like that old man drugstore cologne? I must have a revealing look on my face, because Derek goes on to explain:

“It was a gift from my grandma.” He smiles warmly. “I know you said Maddie likes that Polo one or whatever, but this is what my grandpa used to wear when he was alive, and it’s a lot more me than some designer kind you get at department stores.”

I nod, completely understanding.

“Oh!” Maddie says when she turns the corner and sees us standing here. Hugging. “Um, I’m back.”

We let go of each other, but Derek’s hand remains on my upper arm. Which is a good thing, because my knees are so weak I’m not sure I can stand on my own quite yet. “Thanks for everything, Sasha,” he whispers in my ear, tickling it with his cinnamony breath.

He turns to my sister and sticks out his
elbow. “Ready to go?” She smiles at him and takes his arm as they walk out to his ’66 Chevy.

I wave from the front porch, watching the truck disappear. Watching my sister take off with the guy I’m…

Oh, God…totally falling in love with.

The phone rings. “Sasha, can you get that?” Mom says, “I’m late for dinner with Holden.”

“Sure.” I plop onto my bed and pick up the phone mid-ring.

“Hey, is Maddie there?” an out-of-breath girl asks.

“Uh, nooooo. She’s at homecoming.”

“Oh, crapola! I was supposed to do her hair and I totally spaced it. I hope she’s not pissed?”

“She’s fine, Jenny. It all worked out in the end.”

She exhales loudly. “Whew! Well, okay then. Laters.”

“Laters,” I say all air-headily, and then drop the phone on my bed.

When I look up, Mom’s standing in my doorway, smirking. “One of Maddie’s friends?”

I nod.

She walks in and sits beside me. “I really like that sweater,” I say. “It brings out the green in your eyes.”

“Thanks, honey.” She takes my hand in hers. “Listen, are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to stay home? We can watch Audrey Hepburn movies and gorge on popcorn.”

“Don’t be silly, Mom. You’ve got a hot date. Go have fun with Holden.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve got tons of homework to do. Don’t worry about me. I’m cool.”

She stands and starts walking out of my room. When she gets to my door, she turns around and smiles. “You really are cool, you know that?”

I throw a pillow at her. “Get out of here. You’re late!”

She laughs and finally heads out.

When I hear the hum of the garage door closing, my smile putters out, and my nose starts tingling. I grab as many of my pillows as I can hold and rock back and forth on my bed. How did I let myself fall for Derek Urban?!

I’ve closed Beth’s file, flipped through all my October magazines, called Dad and offered to address wedding invitations (I’m great at calligraphy, if I do say so myself),
scarfed an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s (screw it—they probably ordered me the size-twelve bridesmaid dress anyhow, and I’m really starting to embrace my body, curves and all), studied for our next chemistry test (Mr. Foley said he’d let us drop one test score this term, so as long as I get As on the rest of mine, I’m golden), and written a report on
Jane Eyre
that isn’t even due till after winter break. I know, I’m a total geek. But I figure that as long as I keep busy, I’m not obsessing about what Maddie and Derek are up to at homecoming.

Only my shirt smells like Stetson, so it’s impossible to get Derek out of my mind. I strip out of my Derek-scented clothes, put on my pajamas, and climb into bed.

Just as I’m getting comfy, the phone rings. I search for it in the folds of my sheets, finally finding it at ring number four.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sasha. It’s me.” Maddie?

“What’s up?” Why in the world is she calling me in the middle of her big date? “Did you get homecoming queen?”

“They’re announcing it at ten thirty. But that’s not why I’m calling. I need your help. It’s an emergency!”

I sit up and flip on my bedside lamp. “What is it?”

“I broke my heel!”

I sink back into my pillow. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Well,
yeah
! So, anyway, I was thinking you could just grab your silver strappy sandals and bring them by the school? They’re a bit too big, but it’s better than hobbling around on a broken heel.”

“Maddie, are you serious? I’m already in bed.”

“You’re in
bed
? Like sleeping?” she asks as if I just announced that I’m an alien and I’m taking her entire Depeche Mode CD collection to a lab on Mars.

“Besides, don’t all the girls end up taking off their shoes to dance anyhow?” I try.

“That was junior high, Sasha. We’re in high school now.” Yeah, right. Well, maybe I haven’t been to a school dance since junior high. But I’m so not bringing up that little morsel of humiliation.

“So, will you? I’ll meet you in the gym parking lot. It’ll just take a sec.”

I bring my knees to my chest and sigh. I can’t very well leave Maddie high and dry on her big night. “Okay, I’ll do it. But make sure
you’re waiting right by the parking-lot doors, Maddie. I’m not coming in to find you.”

“Oh, thank you so so so so so much! I owe you one, sis.”

“Yeah, well, you owe me like two hundred and sixteen. But who’s counting?” It takes me a moment to realize that she’s already hung up.

I lug myself out of bed and throw on the clothes I was wearing before: jeans and a lavender cami with lacy straps and a coordinating cropped sweater. Derek’s scent washes over me, and I get that fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach all over again.

I suppose I could’ve just stayed in my pajamas, since Maddie’s going to meet me in the parking lot. But knowing my luck I’d get pulled over by a policeman for being a horrible stick driver.

I blast my stereo, getting more pissed by the minute. Maddie has me get out of bed to bring her my shoes, and she isn’t even here. I check my watch and make a mental agreement with myself that in two more minutes I’m outta here. Maddie can just go up and accept her homecoming-queen crown barefoot. Heck, didn’t that one country singer
chick accept her Grammy with no shoes on? Of course, she never won a Grammy—or any award, for that matter—again.

One more minute…

And then she appears, the lovely ballerina princess, illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the gym hallway.

I turn off my stereo and roll down the passenger-side window, letting in a chilly gust of autumn air. “Hurry
up
, Maddie.”

She runs over, and I’m suddenly aware that she’s got two fully functioning high-heel shoes on her feet. My cheeks heat up in anger.

“Your heel isn’t broken!” I hiss as she pokes her rosy face in the Jeep.

Her smile deflates. “Oh yeah, that. Well, I actually just wanted to get you here. There’s, uh, someone who wants you to be here.”

“What are you
talking
about? I already told Yas I wouldn’t third-wheel with her and Brian.”

“Just park and come with me.”

“Maddie, I’m not coming in. I already told you that. Now please pull your head out of my Jeep so I can go home.”

She flings the door open and jumps into the front seat, her arms crossed across her
chest the way she does when Mom’s not giving in to her every whim, like buying her that three-hundred-dollar pair of boots she saw in Neiman’s.

“Get. Out.”

“Not until you agree to go in. Just for a second. Pleeeease?”

“Get. Out. NOW!”

Maddie shakes her head. One of the mini white flowers in her hair comes loose and flutters down onto the seat.

I try another tactic. “Listen, if you’re in here with me, you’re going to miss the homecoming royalty announcement. What if you’re voted queen and you’re not there to accept your crown or dance with the king?”

Her jaw drops just slightly before she repositions it into a determined pout. “If I miss it, I miss it.”

Ominous clouds are gathering in the midnight-black sky. Looks like rain.

I glance down at my watch. It’s 10:24. If the announcement is at 10:30, she’s got to hurry. “They’d have to give it to Kennedy if you weren’t there,” I try.