Perfectly Dateless (11 page)

“I think it’s hard to be dark when you drive a convertible Mustang and have a life coach at seventeen. What the heck is a life coach anyway?”

“My mom hired her. She’s amazing. She said I could act like I didn’t care about all those kids at school, but then if I did care, I wasn’t being honest with myself. It’s better to be honest and deal with the pain. If it hurts, deal with it. Otherwise you start doing crap like cutting or drinking to deal with the pain.” She shrugs.

“Your mom is afraid you’re going to cut?”

“I think my goth phase started that fear.”

“Claire, I think your parents need to spend less time on vacation and more time with you.”

She stops at the stop sign. “My parents aren’t on vacation.”

“They’re home?”

“No, my dad’s in New York on business and my mom is in Hawaii at a spa.”

“But you said—”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“My dad’s left us.”

I actually laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” she says.

“You kept this secret from me? Claire, I could forgive the nose piercing, but this—you don’t just handle this stuff yourself.” I allow her words to sink in, and I feel the pain she’s avoiding. My head throbs. “Is that why you’re so ticked at my dad today?”

“No, I’m ticked at your dad because he treats you like a toddler. I’m ticked at
my
dad because he’s avoiding me. Keeps giving me these excuses, how I don’t understand. That it’s between him and my mom, but how is that true? She’s not home! He left me!”

“He hasn’t, Claire. He gives you everything to make your life perfect. Remember at the club when we bought everyone at the pool a round of Cokes, and he just laughed it off and paid the bill?”

“How many times have you been around my dad? In all the years you’ve been my best friend, have you ever spent the night when he was home?”

I’m awestruck at the obvious. “No. He travels a lot, though. Some men have to do that.”

“My parents don’t care what I do, Daisy. We may be invisible at school, but at least you’re not invisible at home too.”

“So that’s what the circus-tent shorts are about. Claire, your dad’s your dad. If your parents are splitting up, he’s not going to abandon you financially—”

“He told her we were holding him back. We. He’s not leaving my mother. He’s leaving us. And I don’t want his money!”

“It sucks to work. Haven’t I mentioned that? It’s not cute to answer to a boss when you have no choice. It’s not fun to work overtime because the company is in need of your skills.” I slam her glove compartment shut. “Did the life coach say that was a good way to deal with the pain? Just go shopping like a normal rich girl!”

Claire’s face changes, and it dawns on me that maybe my friend isn’t as tough as I thought. “Shopping doesn’t work anymore.”

“Why is your mom in Hawaii?”

“She doesn’t know Marisa quit.”

“Marisa quit? Claire, you’ve been staying totally alone?”

“They’re arguing over the house.”

“
Who
is arguing over the house? Marisa?”

“No, my parents. Marisa doesn’t want to be stuck in the battles anymore, so she quit. My dad would call her and tell her one thing, then my mother would call back and say the opposite.” Claire half laughs. “It’s cool that she can do that, just quit. I’m stuck.”

“You have to tell your mother she’s gone.”

“She wouldn’t believe it because that would interfere with her life. Right now the only thing that would concern her is if her wine glass was empty.”

My mouth is hanging wide open. I keep waiting for Claire to say, “Psych!” and this crazy story will be over. Claire has everything. Claire has parents caught up in their own love affair. “I’ve seen your parents. They’re crazy about each other.”

“Until things go wrong, then they’re just crazy. They turn on each other like two Dobermans set loose in a ring. The things they’ve said to each other . . .” She shakes her head, clutching the steering wheel. “I couldn’t even repeat it, and you know me, I’d say anything.”

“I feel horrible you’ve been keeping this all to yourself.”

“You’ve got enough troubles.”

“Bad fashion sense is hardly having your world ripped apart.”

“I don’t know, you do bad fashion sense pretty well.” She laughs.

“When’s your mom coming back?”

“I don’t know. She thinks my dad is there. He thinks she’s there, so neither one of them is in a hurry. Apparently they need to be apart for the separation to officially start, so they’re both sticking their feet in the sand. My mother more literally.”

“Aren’t they at least calling to check up on you?”

“Sure, but they ask how things are, I tell them fine, and that’s it.” Claire gets a twinkle in her eye. The one that always gets me into trouble. “So since they’re both gone and this is our senior year, I think we should throw a party. The kind of party that kids will talk about at our reunion.”

“A party? Claire, your mother isn’t going to stay in Hawaii forever.”

Claire shrugs.

“You have to tell her about Marisa so she knows you’re alone.”

“Do I?”

“What about your dad? We’ll never get away with this. We’re not the types to throw parties, remember? First off, who would come?”

“My dad’s doing a teaching stint at New York University. He won’t be back until after the holidays. If he comes back at all. My mom seems to think he’ll find a twentysomething student and won’t come back. In the meantime, she’s drowning herself in Botox and hot rock massages on a Hawaiian beach.”

“Your dad’s coming back. Stop that. You cannot stay home alone for over a month.”

“You know, I was thinking of a party where we invite everyone from school.”

“Forget about your parents, my father would kill us,” I say with the inflection of “duh” in my voice. “I have to tell them you’re here alone.”

“Don’t you dare! Daisy Crispin, if you tell your parents about mine, I’ll . . . think of something.”

Which is worse than if she’d come up with revenge on the fly. If Claire has time to think about it, there’s no telling what I’d be up against.

“Your dad would be upset, Daisy.” She taps her finger on her chin. “If he found out about it, Chase might have to find out who sent him those secret admirer roses every Valentine’s Day since fourth grade.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Worse yet, if your dad did find out, he’d come to school and put on a play about it. Do you really think you’re up for that kind of humiliation senior year?”

“Claire, if our friendship means anything to you, you cannot tell Chase a thing. I can’t take that kind of humiliation. I’m going to prom this year.”

“You? Going to prom?” Claire starts to cackle. “Why would you want to go to prom?”

“What are you, the wicked stepsister? Yes, me going to prom. Why is that so ridiculous? Most girls want to go to prom.”

“Sorry, I thought you were joking.” She slows to face me and puts her colorful beanie on her head. “A party would give you a chance to spend time with Chase. Real time. Not the kind where Amber walks in and projectile vomits on you, or whatever she’s going to do for attention. Because we wouldn’t invite her. In fact, we’d uninvite her.”

Suddenly I don’t feel so goody-two-shoes. Or even remotely perfectionist, except about the party planning.

“A party would make us matter. Think about it, Daisy. The pool house out back. If my parents divorce, how long do you think we’ll have that?”

“A lot of kids can do a lot of damage.”

“We wouldn’t even have to let them in the house, and we would go down in history for having the most rockin’ party that St. James Academy has ever seen. ‘Class of 2011,’ they’ll say. ‘Now that was the year to be here.’”

“Christians have a phrase for
karma
, right? It’s called reaping what you sow. We already sow a lot of misery. What if we make it worse for ourselves?” I try to force the thoughts of my lies out of my head for the moment.

Claire raises her arm toward the distance. “Think about it. We could have
Gossip Girl
playing on the big screen outside. We could buy party supplies with my credit card. My parents would never know I bought eighty gallons of soda until after the fact.”

“We could pay cash for the supplies. We don’t have to add stealing to the mix.”

“We could personally uninvite Amber and Britney, and then that would be the last we’d have to worry about them. My mom told me that all the girls who are so beautiful and developed in high school will be fat and fake blonde by the reunion.”

“I can’t imagine your mother saying that.” But yeah, really I can. Claire’s mother is gorgeous. I’ve told Claire that if they ever do
The Real Housewives of Silicon Valley
, her mother has to star in the cast. She would make the current housewives appear tame.

The reality of Claire’s parents splitting strikes me. “We can’t do this to your parents, Claire. They’ve got to be under a lot of pressure.” My parents may be deranged, but at least they’re deranged together.

“So I guess you don’t really want to go to prom then. How’s Chase going to even ask you? At school, Amber stalks him, and at home, you can’t even use the phone.”

“He can Facebook me.”

“How romantic. Maybe when he asks you to marry him, he can tweet it.”

“Claire.” I snap my waistband on my flamingo jammies. “Gil says we should let a guy know how we feel. We can do that without a party. We should at least try it first. Do you have someone you’re crushing on? Maybe if we focus on that”—I swallow hard—“and not the party, and pray . . . you know, your parents’ thing will work itself out.”

“Gil? Since when do you listen to Gil?”

“Since he was popular and we’re not.”

She nods. “But when was he popular? 1960?”

“He graduated in 2004. He’s not that ancient.”

“He does look like Josh Lucas,” she reasons.

“There’s that.”

“But if Gil’s wrong, we’ve made complete idiots out of ourselves for nothing.”

“No!” I raise my finger. “Then we know the guy wasn’t that into us.”

“Why do I want to know that?” Claire asks. “Ignorance is bliss.”

“So we’re done with the party idea?”

“I didn’t say that, just that I’ll reconsider if shopping does the trick and brings back the thrill of the hunt. Regarding the party? You owe me, Daisy. I’ve put up with your second-grade schedule for twelve years. You’ll be leaving home in less than a year. It’s the party or I give up.”

“That’s blackmail. But I want to come back home at some point, not be unwelcome to return!”

Claire pulls into the parking lot of the mall. “There are gym pants in the back. Go ahead and change.”

I climb into the backseat and pull out her gym bag, which reeks. “These are foul.”

“Well, yeah. I was taking them home to get cleaned. Just get dressed so we can go explain to my manager why I can’t work.”

“I’m going to have a plume of stench following me!”

“Then wear your pajamas. They’re cute. Certainly no uglier than your regular outfits.”

I stick my tongue out and yank off my jammies. I pick up the hardened gym shorts. They’ve morphed into an unforgiving shape. “I can’t do it.”

“You are such a baby.”

“What are
you
going to wear? Won’t they want their uniform back when you tell them you’re not working?”

“I’ll work that out,” Claire says.

As I shimmy back into my jammies, I’m struck by all Claire has kept inside about her parents, and my thoughts come tumbling out. “Are you testing how gullible I am again? I’ve never even seen your parents raise their voices. Not once.”

“My parents should be the actors. They’ve got a lot more experience than your parents. I don’t think anyone but me has ever seen them fight, and trust me, it is not pretty.”

“What’s one party?” I ask her. “I mean, in the scheme of things, we’ve been good kids.”

“I know, right?”

We both look at each other and break into laughter. Before this, the new Daisy was nothing more than a dream. Today the dream takes shape. Even as my conscience sears me with guilt.

8

I feel this surge of electricity as I enter the mall, much like when I’m in Chase’s presence. My endorphins are flowing and sparkling all over the place like fireworks. I’m going shopping! Even in my dorky pajamas, which I have to say seem as though I planned the look, I’m SpongeBob-happy.

“My endorphins are going crazy. I’m euphoric. I’m stupid-happy.”

“Okay . . .” Claire stops abruptly in front of the kiddie carts for hire and shakes her head. “You know, it’s not the numbers.”

“What’s not the numbers?”

“All this time, everyone said, ‘Daisy is so good with numbers. She’s brilliant with numbers.’”

“Am I missing something?”

“Naturally, you want to major in finance because you’re good with numbers, right?”

“And living on nothing,” I remind her. “Cheap is a fine art, and I am Michelangelo.”

“But you have just as many facts about sloths, endorphins, neurotoxins. Pretty much anything geeky.”

“Did you know sloths move so slowly that algae can grow on their fur?”

“See!” She points at me. “You can’t major in finance, Daisy. You have to do something in the sciences. That’s where your heart is.”

“My dad says it’s too hard to make money in that. We talked about neuroscience.”

“And yet your dad puts on puppet shows and your family’s all here. You’re eating and going to private school. My parents are on two different sides of the hemisphere—”

“Actually, New York and Hawaii are both in the Northern Hemisphere. Oh, and the Western too. They’re in the same hemisphere.”

“Enough, Daisy. If you drop one of your stupid facts at the party, our chances of being remembered for the greatest party ever are over. I’m only telling you about science because I think your career is headed the wrong direction. The clothes are the tip of the iceberg. You keep trying to make your parents happy, and you never think about what you want.”

“The sloth fact totally makes sense,” I say. I’m not going to let her simply tell me I’m crazy. “I was thinking of the energy that spiked when I walked in the mall with the hope that I’d be dressed differently on Monday, and it went together. The sloth extending so little energy.”