Miss Matched (9 page)

“Okay, excellent. In that case, I would say . . . Hey, watch it! Sorry, Fiona, are you still there?”

“Yep.”

“The drivers out here are the worst. Everybody's in a hurry. Can't be late. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right, the best way to break up a couple is to make one of them think the other one likes somebody else.”

“That works?” asked Fiona.

“Like a charm. As a matter of fact, that's just what happened with Noah Wycroft and Annabelle McGibbons on yesterday's episode. . . .”

Fiona stopped listening at that point, because an idea landed right in her lap. She hung up the phone and took a piece of paper out of her backpack. “We need to write a letter from Oliver Piff to Loretta.”

“Who's Oliver Piff?”

“The guy who plays Noah Wycroft on TV,” explained Fiona.

“Who's Noah Wycroft?” Milo said.

“The guy Loretta likes.”

“She does? Since when?”

“Since I don't know,” said Fiona. “She talks about him sometimes.”

“When does she talk about him?” asked Milo, eyes narrow.

“Milo,” Fiona said, waving her hand in front of his face, “that's not important.” She held up the piece of paper. “The letter, remember?”

Milo nodded. “What kind of letter are we going to write?”

“An L-O-V-E letter,” said Fiona.

“No, a D.O.O.M. letter,” he said, smiling.

M
aybe it was
the two extra thick strawberry milkshakes, but after she got home Fiona felt heavy. And lost. Like the time she wandered around forever in the corn maze at Crumland Farm and had to throw her shoe up in the air to let them know she needed to be rescued. Every turn she made was a wrong one, getting her farther away from where she wanted to be.

But where was that exactly? And if being president didn't get you there, then what in the
world did? When would she get to be extraordinary?

Fiona plopped on the couch and pulled off her shoes. Questions filled her brain like buttons in a jar. The biggest of them all was sitting right on top: Why
didn't
she start a meteorology club back when Principal Sterling asked her to? She turned that button over and over again in her head.

She tossed her shoe into the air and caught it. The answer came to her then like it had been there all the time: “I don't want to be club president,” she said out loud. And as soon as she said it, things seemed to be a little less outer spacey.

“What are you doing?” asked Max.

“I'm rescuing myself.” She threw her shoe again.

Max took off his flipper and tossed it into the air. It landed behind him.

“Here, catch,” she said, throwing his flipper like a Frisbee across the room. Max dove for it and
almost caught it before tripping on the rug. “You okay?”

He grabbed the flipper and threw it back to her, laughing.

She caught it and hugged it to her chest.

“Are you going to give me away to Cleo anymore?” he asked.

“No,” Fiona said. “I guess you're stuck with me.”

“Good. Like lima beans and corn?” said Max.

“Like lima beans and corn,” she said, smiling. And then she remembered. “Loretta!”

• • •

Fiona waited for Milo in front of
school the next morning. As soon as he rode up on his bike, she bolted at him, almost knocking him down. “Where's the letter?”

“Hey there, President,” he said.

“The letter!” she said. “You have to give me Loretta's letter!”

“I can't.”

“Yes, you can,” she said. “I changed my mind. I don't want to be a breaker-upper.”

“Too late,” he said, smiling. “Mission accomplished.”

“What does that mean?” asked Fiona.

“I rode by Loretta's house on the way to school and put the letter in her mailbox.”

“You did what? How did you even know how to get to her house?” Fiona scratched her head.

“I got directions on the Internet,” he said.

“Ahhh!” Fiona rubbed her eyes.

“What's wrong?” he said. “I typed it up on the computer like you told me and then I delivered it. Hey, where's your D.O.O.M. ring?”

“Here,” said Fiona. She pulled the plastic ring out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I quit.”

D
ad!” Fiona yelled
when she got home.

“In the study!” he called back.

She ran down the hall and poked her head in the door. “Do you have Loretta's phone number?”

“Loretta?” Dad squinted his eyes like he had to think about that one. Sometimes he liked to pretend he didn't know what Fiona was talking about. Which Fiona usually thought was a fun game to play, but not when she was trying to stop a matchbreak.

“Come on, Dad!” said Fiona. “You know, Loretta. My watcher.”

“Should be on the phone list on the refrigerator,” he said.

“Thanks.” She started back down the hall.

“Hey, I want to talk to you,” he said.

“Right now?” she said from the hallway.

“Suits me.”

Fiona stuck her head back inside the door. “Yeah, Dad?” She tapped her toe impatiently.

“Have a seat,” he said.

“But . . .”

“It will only take a minute,” he said. “I've hardly seen you lately, Dancing Bean.”

Fiona sat in the chair across from his desk and waited. She couldn't tell if she was in trouble or not. Dad was good at springing trouble on you.

“Remember when I said that a student, Milo something or other, wanted to start a news program at your school?”

“Milo Bridgewater,” said Fiona. “Also known as electrician, president, and D.O.O.M breaker-upper.”

“Wow, that's quite a résumé,” he said. “Anyway, we've been talking to Principal Sterling, and she thinks it's a great idea for WORD to be a partner.”

“That's great,” said Fiona, getting up. “Sounds really fun.”

“Sit, sit,” he said. “That's not all.”

Fiona sat in her chair, but she couldn't stop her feet from moving.

Dad leaned forward at his desk. “This Milo fellow seems to be really interested in meteorology, and Principal Sterling wants Milo to be involved in producing that part of the news program.”

“Oh,” said Fiona.

“Well, since you are the snow angel and give weather reports for the station,” said Dad, “I just wanted to see how you feel about that.”

Fiona thought about what he was saying. Since Milo was going to still be president of the meteorology club, it made sense that he was part of the news program. She looked at her feet. They didn't feel stepped on. “I'm fine about it.”

“Really? You're sure?”

“Could I still do my snow angel weather reports at WORD if I wanted to?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said. “This would only be for your school news program.”

Fiona nodded. “Then, okay. Yep. Sounds fine and dandy. Can I go now?”

“I'll take a kiss first,” said Dad. “And then you can go. Unless you want to tell me more about this matchmaking club of yours and Harold Chutney's hair.”

“No, thanks,” she said, and then she kissed his cheek and ran to the kitchen.

She dialed Loretta's number and left the
following message: “Loretta Gormley, we have a watcher emergency. Please report to the Finkelstein's house as soon as you get this message. And do not open your mail. I repeat, do not open your mail. This is not a test.”

F
rom the front
window, Fiona watched and waited for Loretta.

“Expecting company?” asked Mrs. Miltenberger.

Fiona kept her eyes out the window. “Yep.”

“Anybody I know?”

“Yep.”

“Well, don't leave me in suspense,” said Mrs. Miltenberger.

Fiona's brain was set on how she was going to get that letter before Loretta read it. “Yep.”

“Fiona Finkelstein,” said Mrs. Miltenberger, “are you listening to a word I'm saying?”

“Yep.”

Mrs. Miltenberger cleared her throat. “So, then, you're going to clean your closet right after you scrub the inside of the microwave?”

“Yep . . . huh?” said Fiona. “Wait a second.”

“Gotcha.” Mrs. Miltenberger laughed. “So, you've got a boyfriend coming over?”

“Gross nuggets, I don't have a boyfriend,” said Fiona. “Loretta is coming over.” Then she saw her car coming down the street. “She's here!” Fiona ran out the front door to meet her.

“I got your message,” said Loretta, getting out of her car. “What's the watcher emergency?”

Fiona looked in the window of Loretta's car for the letter. “Um, did you get your mail today?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Why?”

Fiona stomped her foot nervously. “Did you read it?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Oh.” A corned beef feeling came over Fiona.

“Okay if I come in?” asked Loretta. “The watcher emergency, you know.”

“Oh, right,” said Fiona. “Okay.”

“Loretta, what a nice surprise,” said Mrs. Miltenberger, greeting her at the door. “Come on in.”

“So,” said Fiona. “Did you get anything interesting in the mail today?”

Loretta reached into her corduroy purse and pulled out a piece of paper. Then she did something Fiona didn't expect. She covered her face with her hands and started making these wheezy hiccupping sounds.

“What's the matter?” asked Fiona. She thought she'd be happy to get a letter from Oliver Piff. But then again, maybe she was sad because she would have to break up with Jeremy Bridgewater. Who knew? The mystery of teenagers.

Loretta held out the letter, and that's when Fiona could tell she was laughing. “What's so funny?”

“Read it,” said Loretta.