My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters (13 page)

I shrugged. Let her suffer. I'd endured sitting through two stupid movies with them, sharing sodas, popcorn. So what if they had had a big fight? It wasn't
my
fault.

"Could you give me a ride?" Megan's voice sounded pleading.

"I guess." I bit into a cake doughnut. "But I kind of want to water-ski."

"What? You never want to do that kind of stuff. You're not exactly—"

Make her say it.
"Athletic?"

Megan rubbed her temples. "Yeah, I guess. I really need to go home. Please."

"Maybe water-skiing could be my new passion. My passion is definitely not yoga. Or foreign cinema."

"Please, Jory." Megan looked at me with her big blue eyes. "Can't we just go home?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "If you think you can score points with Tyler, don't bother." Her face shaded red, like a nasty sunburn.

"That's not it at all."

"Well, what then?"

"I'd like to try something new. What's the big deal?"

Megan blew her bangs. "God, Jory. Can't you see I'm in a bit of distress here?"

"I thought you thrived on it."

"That's
stress.
" She looked over at Tyler, still sleeping on the couch. "This is
dis
tress."

"I'm not as stupid as you think I am, Megan."

"I don't think that." Megan stamped her foot. "I just want to go home." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Luke said he'd teach me to water-ski."

"So Luke's going to be your dreamboat now, huh? Correct me if I'm wrong, but he seems quite attached." Megan smoothed back her hair, regaining her composure. "Though I guess that's never bothered you, has it?"

Now my eyes stung. Megan stomped up to the sleeping porch as Kayla came downstairs wearing a baby-doll nightie with pink underwear showing through. Luke walked next to her, his hand on her butt.

"You got me pink sprinkles? You sweetie." She kissed his cheek. "Isn't he the greatest?" Luke kissed her mouth. "Ooh. You taste sweet," Kayla cooed as she kissed him back, as if I weren't standing right there.

Only to avoid the X-rated scene between Luke and Kayla, I followed Megan up to the sleeping porch and found her sitting on the edge of Finn's bed, talking low.

"Sure," I heard him say. "I'll see what I can do."

Was she using my own family against me? Megan hopped up when I came into the room and headed into the bathroom. She glanced at me kind of smug, but didn't say anything.

"Hey, Jor." Finn sat up. "I just remembered that I promised Coach I'd meet him and some of the guys to practice—"

"Don't let her play you, Finn." I gave the Look to the bathroom door the best I could. "Think with your head and not your dick."

"God, Jory. Chill." Finn stretched his arms above his head. "I'm only saying that Megan could drive the minivan, take me home, and get a ride from her mom. You can ride home with the parentals whenever."

"You actually think Mom will go for that so-called plan?" God. How could Megan be so selfish and ruin my entire family's day at the lake? I just hated her sometimes. So what if she was upset? It was her own stupid fault for going after the guy
I
liked. Now we had to rearrange our lives to make her feel better? I stomped around the room, wishing I had the courage to follow Megan into the bathroom and tell her what I really thought. Instead, I glared at Finn, the little traitor.

"What? Mom loves Megan." Finn got out of bed. "Plus she's responsible and has a sweet driving record."

"Whatever. Fine. Ruin your day."

"Spending time alone in a car with a girl like Megan." Finn grinned, making a crude gesture. "I'm up for that."

"You're disgusting!" I stomped downstairs and sat in the kitchen alone, eating part of Dad's bear claw.

Of course Mom totally loved Finn's plan and eagerly handed Megan the keys to her minivan. When Barbara Briggs offered to take Mom and Dad home in her car, I thought Mom's face would crack from smiling like overdone cheesecake. I decided that I'd try my best to make water-skiing my passion. A day in a boat with cute guys could definitely work to my advantage.

Five hours, approximately twelve ski attempts, ten face-plants, six high-speed enemas, and one sunburn later, I found myself driving down the twisty Mount Rose highway with Tyler, listening to a dreary old Smiths album. I gripped the door handle as Tyler took yet another curve too fast. Forget getting hit by the Smiths' double-decker bus, I'd be dying in Tyler's Jeep.

I wanted to look out the window, but I kept seeing my Rudolph nose in the side mirror. So I stared straight ahead. So did Tyler. He hadn't said one word to me, or anyone else, all day. When his mom told him to take me home, he just shrugged. When his dad said something about "That's no way to treat your mother," he just shrugged. When his dad said, "How do you think this makes Jory feel?" he just shrugged. "Thanks for the ride, I think," I said when I got out of the

Jeep.

Tyler sped out of the driveway before I had time to grab my duffel bag. Three hours later, Finn found it on the porch.

No matter how much effort it took, I was going to be
so over
Tyler. Maybe my friendship with Megan was over too.

BUMPING AND BREAKING

I circled the block twice before I found a spot near the Jewel Café big enough to park the van. Parallel parking, still so not my passion. Why was it so crowded? I checked my watch: 12:45
P.M.
Great—no lunch break for Incompetent Delivery Driver. I still had retirement flowers to deliver before—oh, God—1:00
P.M.
I swung the van away from the curb and drove out toward some accountant's office on Lakeside.

The receptionist glared at me when I brought the flowers to her desk at 1:13
p.m.
I'd driven by the place twice, stuck behind slow cars, unsure about the address.

"I hope you know that she's late for her retirement luncheon because we had to keep her here waiting for these flowers from her husband," she said. "I hope you know that I will be calling your boss to complain."

"I'm very sorry." My voice sounded mousy—timid, shy, fearful, wimpy, and self-conscious. Not in any way charming. If Hannah were doing my job, they'd be apologizing to her for making her come so early. Megan would simply never be late. My hands shook as I put the keys back in the ignition.

"Don't cry." I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew how to think of sad things when I didn't want to laugh, but what do you think about when you don't want to cry? I didn't have any recent happy memories, and somehow remembering myself as a little kid made me feel even more pitiful. The only thing that popped into my head was how I felt when Wooster Tom won that snake for me, but seeing him at the movies had been a total disaster, and I'd probably never see him again. My future: living alone in a seedy motel room, drinking a bottle of whiskey every night, passing out in bed next to my tattered carnival snake.

I pushed the gearshift into reverse and backed out.
Bump. Scrape. Oh, God, Jory. No!
I jumped out of the van and ran around the back.

"Oh, crap. I've killed a tree."

I had backed over the curb and onto the grass, hitting a slender young tree. Half its roots stuck out of the ground as it tilted at a distressingly acute angle. There was only a tiny little scratch in the middle of a yellow daisy painted on the van. Could've been there for ages. I tried to lift the tree up straight, but it only tipped closer to the ground, dumping loose dirt on my shoes. I glanced back at the glossy dark doors to the accountant's office.

"I can't do it. Not now."

I squeezed my eyes to block the tears, jumped into the van, and peeled out of there like an FTD Florist—sponsored racecar driver.

I had to drive around the block near the Jewel Café four times because my eyes looked so red; I ended up double-parking. Through the hedge around the courtyard I could hear people laughing and talking as I carried a cake box in each hand—Gideon's mom had doubled her order since last week. I pushed the door open with my hip; several ladies milled around the front room, looking over beads, putting them on little plastic trays.

One lady narrowed her eyes at me. "Helen, it looks like dessert has finally arrived."

Gideon's mom burst through the swinging doors to the beading room. "You're late, Jory! I expected you an hour ago."

Feeling like dirt, I started in on an apology, but she leaned down to whisper, "Thanks to you, several of the ladies have stuck around to buy beads." Helen took the boxes from me and hurried into the kitchen. I heard her call to Gideon to help me.

I went back outside and leaned into the van on my tippy-toes, reaching for a cake that had slid to the back of the shelf when I'd peeled out of the accountant's parking lot.

"I'll get it." Gideon reached around me. "Hand me a couple more."

"No, that's okay. I've got it."

"Fine by me." Gideon turned around and walked back into the café. What a weirdo: he wore holey socks on his feet in ninety-degree heat. He held the door open for me as I followed him inside, but he didn't say anything. He probably couldn't help his good manners.

Helen took the cakes out of the boxes and started slicing them up and then putting them on brightly painted pottery plates. "We just opened for lunch this week, and business is booming. Gideon did this whole e-mail campaign for me and, boy, did it work." She kissed his cheek. "My brilliant son!"

Gideon shook his hair and shuffled his feet. "Well, I better—"

His hairy big toe stuck out from his sock.

"You better offer Jory a sample of my pasta salad," Helen said. "Have you had your lunch break yet?"

"Oh, I don't know—" I peeked at Gideon to see his reaction, but he ignored me.

"I'll call Katie and cover for you. Stay a bit, have a bite." Helen handed me a bowl. "Go sit outside in the shade." Helen shooed us away with her hand, and Gideon picked up a plate with a slice of chocolate cake, rolled his eyes, and motioned for me to follow.

Helen had transformed the courtyard into a fairy garden. Lanterns hung in the trees; a whole wall of roses scented the air; and fairies seemed to be everywhere, sitting on branches, hiding behind bushes, perched on the tables. Cooling mist sprayed over several little umbrella-covered tables. A group of older ladies drank iced tea.

"I don't know why she thinks shade is cooler than the air conditioning inside," Gideon said.

I shrugged and stabbed a noodle with my fork. Everything around me looked so cheerful and happy, which made me feel worse about sitting next to a guy who tolerated me only because he wanted to please his mother. Total weirdo, right?

I tried not to touch his legs as we sat on a wrought-iron bench painted with wispy silver clouds. I watched the little waterfall that tumbled into a small pool with goldfish swimming in it. Gideon ate big forkfuls of cake while I nibbled on the pasta salad, trying to avoid getting dressing on my chin; I still managed to drop a greasy artichoke heart on my pants.

"I'll grab you a napkin," Gideon said. "Want something to drink?"

"Okay, I guess." I hadn't realized how hungry I'd been. Mom had been on the Raw Food Diet since feeling totally intimidated by Lindsey Dickenson's high-cut swimsuit. Plus, Mom swore she'd eaten a month's worth of calories on the Fourth.
Drank
would be more like it.

I hadn't eaten anything but fruits and vegetables for two days. Finn spent most of his allowance eating out; while I totally envied him, I'd stuck with whatever Mom served so I could save my nose-fund money. Gideon walked back out, carrying two glasses of iced tea and a few napkins.

I wiped my chin and, when Gideon wasn't looking, tried to wipe away any shine on my nose too.

"I liked the music you played the other night." The rush of carbs in my system made me feel strangely energetic and brave. "Violin sounds so good with, you know, rock music."

"Didn't think you'd noticed." He scraped frosting off his fork with his teeth. "You seemed a little busy."

I sighed. "That wasn't—"

"Whatever." Gideon flipped his hand back. "None of my business."

"Yeah, whatever." I balanced my bowl on my lap. My throat felt tight, so I took a drink of ice tea and had a big coughing fit. Tears dripped down my cheeks. The bowl wobbled on my lap. I watched the ladies who'd been having tea get up and go inside, leaving us alone.

Gideon put his hand on my back. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." I stared down at my chipped toenail polish and Gideon's holey socks.
Suck it up, Jory.

"Trying to catch another glimpse of my toxic toenails?"

"No!" I whipped my head up and looked at him—for a second.
God, he's got long eyelashes.
"I didn't mean anything by that, I was just upset about, whatever, but I didn't want—And I noticed your toenails, like, glowing—" I scrunched my nose in spite of myself. "So, I just said something without thinking, and I'm sorry. Okay?" I regretted the sharp edge to my voice.

"All that laughing sure didn't do much for my confidence. Here I was freaked out about playing with the band for the first time, so when the crowd got into the song, I felt pretty good, and I got my courage up to come talk to you, even after you were all cozy with your man and all."

"Ass Grabber is
not
my man!" I jumped up and the bowl fell from my lap, shattering on the patio. "Oh, God. I'm sorry." I knelt down and started to pick up the pieces. A few tears dripped onto the back of my hand.

"You'll cut yourself." Gideon took the shards of pottery from me like I was a little kid. "Let me get a broom."

As I sat on the ground with my head in my hands, my mood darkened like Mississippi mud cake. Why couldn't anything go right for me? I looked up at a wire fairy floating on a tree branch. Maybe an evil fairy had cursed me at birth as I lay in my crib, putting an ugly spell on me to ensure that I would never find my Prince Charming. I'd die alone in a motel room. The world's oldest virgin.

Gideon came back, swept up the pottery, and tossed it into the dumpster in the alley. I kept my head down and tried to think happy thoughts. Nothing.
Nada.
Zip.