The (Almost) Perfect Guide To Imperfect Boys (16 page)

“Of course, I don't believe any of that,” Mom added immediately. “But, honey, if you just skip basketball practice, and you don't keep me in the loop—”

“Mom, I'm sorry,” I said. “I'm not deliberately hiding things. It's just I know how much you have going on.”

“
You're
what I have going on,” she said. “Nothing is more important to me than my Awesome Daughter. Don't you know that, Finley?”

I opened my mouth to say something. Not that I had a plan for what that would be—probably some mash-up of
I was just shooting hoops with Wyeth Brockman/sorry I made you worry/I'm mad you talked about me to Maya's mom/this was a terrible day and please don't make it worse by guilting me out/I love you too/can I please switch schools after the weekend?

But what I ended up saying was this: “How come you took down that post?”

“What post?” Mom asked.

“You know. About getting me to communicate.”

Mom smiled a little. “Because I realized it was a message to you. Not the business of the entire blogosphere.”

And then Addie ran into the kitchen wailing because Max had tossed her stuffed pig into the toilet. So we spent the next twenty minutes giving Oinky a bubble bath and a blow-dry, while Max snuck into the upstairs bathroom and calmly ate an entire cherry ChapStick.

•  •  •

Once when I was in elementary school, Maya's mom took Maya and me to see some Chinese acrobats. I don't remember very much about the show, but I do remember one act they did. The way it worked was this guy lined up a bunch of poles onstage, and at the top of each pole was a plate or a bowl he had to keep spinning, no matter what. If a plate started to wobble, he'd run over to the pole and jiggle it just enough to keep the plate spinning.

Sometimes this was how it felt to be in a family with the Terrible Two. Especially on Saturday afternoon, which was when Mom drove off to do her errands, go shopping, have coffee with her friends, leaving Dad and me in charge. And I know Mom did it on her own
every other day of the week, but on Saturdays it took both of us—Dad and me—to keep the plates from smashing to the floor. Every time Max had a potty accident, or fell and bumped his head on the coffee table, Addie would be finger-painting ketchup on the refrigerator door, or dialing numbers on the kitchen phone, or “typing stories” on Mom's laptop. I mean, seriously, the house was a loony bin.

The good part was that I didn't have time to obsess about the
Life Cycle
, or my ex–best friendship, or the fact that I'd invited Zachary to Chloe's Stupid Party, which would be taking place that very evening. Maybe if I'd had a few quiet seconds to think, I'd have wondered if I needed to call Zachary—or if it was totally obvious to him that I didn't exactly feel like hanging in Chloe's basement with most of our class and specifically
with him
, considering he probably detested me for eternity for what I'd written. And for the way it was broadcast to the class. And for lying about the mnemonics.

But all that Saturday, I was crazy-busy helping with the Terribles. So I didn't call him.

And he didn't call me.

Which made me think the word “croak” was
the last thing he'd ever say to me. No, write to me; I couldn't even remember our last real conversation.

Around five o'clock Mom finally showed up with six bags of groceries.

“So what's the state of your room?” she asked me.

“My room? I haven't noticed,” I said.

“Go notice,” she commanded, unpacking marshmallows, presumably for some Max-and-Addie art project.

I couldn't imagine why she suddenly cared about my room. But by then I was wiped out, so I gladly flopped on my bed, not caring that it was messy, or that the state of my room—exactly like my life—was a disaster.

And maybe two minutes later I heard the singing.

We're the Green Girls

Loyal and true,

Happy together

Never blue . . .

Hanna and Olivia were standing on my doorstep, belting the Green Girls theme song—or anyway, one of them—at the top of their lungs. They were carrying backpacks and what looked suspiciously like sleeping bags.

“Um, hi?” I said, confused.

“We're serenading you,” Hanna explained, laughing.

“Thanks,” I said, because you don't get a serenade every day. “It's very . . . tuneful. Shouldn't you guys be getting ready for Chloe's party?”

“We're not going,” Olivia said. “We're having a Green Girls reunion instead.”

I stared. “You mean right now?
Here?
”

Olivia grinned. “Well, not on your doorstep, Finley; it's a bit chilly for that. But if you invite us inside—”

“Oh, sure. I mean, sorry.” I led them into the front hall, my brain skittering to catch up. “Please excuse the floor; it's full of Smiley-O's. Oh, and squashed Play-Clay bits. Sorry. There are all these
toddlers
in this house—”

“Stop apologizing,” Hanna said. “I wish I had cute little babies at my house. All I have is a grumpy big brother who leaves his socks in the bathroom.”

“And
my
baby sister turned eight; can you believe that? Now she steals my nail polish,” Olivia added. Her eyes traveled down the hall to the kitchen. “Whoa, you know what I just realized? I haven't been over since we stopped having troop meetings here.”

“Me neither,” Hanna said delicately. “That feels like centuries ago, doesn't it?” She paused. “I was really happy when your mom called, Finley.”

“She did?” I said. “When?”

“This morning. She said it was supposed to be a surprise.”

A surprise for me. Huh.

At that precise moment Mom walked downstairs, carrying Addie. “Well, hello there, girls,” she called out in her troop-leader voice. “Long time no see.”

“Hi, dirls,” Addie echoed, waving her hand like Princess Kate.

Hanna giggled and waved back. And Olivia squealed, “Ooh, is this Addie? She's adorable.”

“A doorbell,” Addie agreed.

“Not
a doorbell
;
adorable
,” I corrected my sister. “A-dor-a-ble.”

“NO, NO, FIN-NEE,” Addie shouted. “A DOORBELL.” She gestured toward the front door with her entire body.

Because sure enough, someone was ringing the bell.

“Who can that be?” Mom asked brightly. “Why don't you answer it, Fin, honey?”

But she didn't wait to see who it was; she just herded Addie, Hanna, and Olivia into the kitchen. My stomach twisted as I turned the knob. Judging by Mom's ultraconvincing reaction, I knew it probably was Maya.

And two points for me, because it was.

“Hey, hi,” she said softly. The tip of her nose was red from the cold; it matched her scarf, which she'd wound twice around her neck.

“Hi,” I said.

“You disappeared yesterday after science. I was worried about you.”

“You were? I just went to the library. Ms. Krieger let me hang out. But I'm fine now.”

“Well, that's great. You're so lucky she likes you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

Neither of us spoke.

“Okay if I come in?” Maya asked, tugging at her scarf.

“Oh. Sure, of course.” I did a stupid
voilà
gesture. “Hanna and O are here too. It's like a surprise party. Except it's not my birthday. Which I'm sure you know.” I could hear myself babbling, but I couldn't help it. “Apparently, Mom put together this Green Girls reunion thingy. Behind my back.”

“Don't be mad at her, Fin. She just thought you needed your old troop mates,” Maya murmured. “But I'll leave if you want.”

“Why would I want that?”

“I don't know. Because we're having a fight? And you're mad at me?”

“Maya,
you're
the one who's mad at
me
.”

She let out a long, noisy breath, a combination sigh and groan. “Yeah, well,” she said. “I
am
still mad about the
Life Cycle
, which I
cannot
believe you left on your desk.”

“Me neither,” I admitted. “It was dumb. Even though Mr. Coffee said to leave our stuff.”

“Uh-
huh
.” Maya chewed her lip. Then she said, “But I'm
really
mad at Chloe and Sabrina. They were utterly despicable, the way they kidnapped your notebook. And reading it out loud was just
mean
.”

“It was, wasn't it?” I said eagerly. “Not just to us. Also to the boys.”

“I totally agree. Also, I've been thinking about the stuff you said, how I've been acting superior and all that.”

It was my turn to groan. “Maya, can we please forget what I said?”

“No, because you were right; I get impatient sometimes, so I try to push things along when I should shut up. Oh, and on the topic of not shutting up: What I said about you and boys—”

“Maya, really, you don't have to—”

“The thing is, I wasn't
trying
to be obnoxious.”

“I know.”

“But it kept coming out wrong, and I couldn't make it right. Anyhow, I know I screwed up, and I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” I said. Then I corrected myself. “I mean, I forgive you.”

She threw her arms around me. It was always awkward hugging Maya, not just because of the height difference between us but because she hugged so tight it made me lose my breath.

But we were back to being friends. That was the main thing. And despite Maya's hug, which squeezed all the oxygen out of my lungs, I felt like I could breathe again, for practically the first time all week.

Finally she pulled away and grinned at me. “Hey, Fin, I just thought of something. If this is a Green Girls reunion, that means we're having s'mores, right?”

I was about to admit that I didn't know. But suddenly I remembered Mom unpacking the marshmallows. They weren't for some toddler art project; they were for us, obviously. My mom was the Best Former Troop Leader Ever.

“Actually, I'm just about positive we are,” I told Maya, as the two of us ran into the kitchen.

•  •  •

That night was ridiculously fun. It wasn't just the s'mores and the pizza Dad made for us from scratch—we watched
Letters to Juliet
, our favorite movie from a zillion years ago. Hanna said she thought she had it memorized, so to test her we turned off the sound. And then the four of us started saying the mushy-romantic lines in Muppet voices, making each other laugh so hard I ended up with a stomachache and hiccups.

But the best part was what
didn't
happen that evening: no talk about Chloe's party, or the
Life Cycle
, or Zachary, or boys (in particular or in general). I wondered if Mom had told them that this was the rule, or if Maya had, or if all four of us just figured it out on our own. Anyhow, it happened; I was grateful—and almost felt like I was back in elementary school, when everything was unweird and unmessy and uncomplicated.

At ten o'clock Mom told us it was time to head upstairs and roll out the sleeping bags. (She knew us too well to expect us to go to sleep—I could tell she just wanted us in my bedroom so that
she
could go to sleep. But I didn't argue.) Anyhow, I'd decided it
wouldn't be fair if I was the only one to get a bed, so I took my old sleeping bag down from my closet, unrolled it, and breathed its familiar, slightly sour-cheese smell. Then I grabbed my pillow and settled on the rug next to Hanna.

“Hey, Fin,” Hanna said, giggling. “Remember that time in third grade we vowed to stay up until midnight? And you and I were the only ones who made it?”

“Yeah.” I laughed. “I'm not sure what we thought would happen. Balloons, confetti . . .”

Suddenly I could hear my ringtone across the bedroom. It was coming from the front pocket of my backpack.

“Hey guys, what time is it?” I asked, unzipping my sleeping bag to check the alarm clock next to my bed: 10:13. Who could be calling me so late? Probably a wrong number.

“Gah,” Maya said, annoyed. “Finley, would you hurry and answer that thing.”

“Sorry.” I dug into the front pocket of my backpack and grabbed my cell. And my heart skittered when I read the caller ID: mattison.

“Hello?” I said.

Silence.

Then this: “Grrrk.”

“Hello?” I said again. “Zachary? I think we have a bad connection. Can you hear me?”

“GRRRRRRGGGGGKKKK.” It sounded like someone burping into a fist, followed by muffled laughing. Two different pitches. Maybe more than two.

And then this: “Rrrribbit. Rrrrrribbit.”

My face burned. I hit End.

“Who was that?” Hanna asked, frowning.

I shook my head. I couldn't talk.

“Finley?” Maya said. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag. “What
exactly
just happened?”

“Prank call,” I finally replied. “Or should I say,
croak call
.”

“What?”

“I think it was Zachary and some other boys, teasing me about the
Life Cycle
. They were making noises—”

“Noises?” Olivia said. “Like what?”

“You know. Frog noises. Ribbit, ribbit.”

“Oh, I get it, it's because of that list thingy you guys wrote,” Hanna said. “What was it called again?”

“
The Amphibian Life Cycle
,” I said miserably. “You heard about it?”

Hanna nodded. “From Sophie Yang. But the whole grade's talking about it, actually. I know it's a sensitive subject—”

“Uh-
huh
,” Maya said.