This Is Me From Now On (14 page)

“Ugh,” said Francesca grumpily. “It's all so bloody boring.
Aunt Bitsy keeps begging me to come live with her.”

“She does? Why?”

“Who knows. She thinks Samantha isn't up to the job, or something.”

I glanced at her. “But it's your choice, right?”

She sighed. “Well, I suppose
technically
it's my parents' choice. But they can't agree about bloody
anything.
Mother Darling wants me in Paris, but Daddy insists I'm better off with the aunts. And now the aunts are fighting; I hear Aunt Sam screaming on the phone every night.” Suddenly her face brightened. “Oh, but what about that cute P.S.? Quentin wants your screen name. He likes you, Evie!”

“And I like him,” I said truthfully. “But … well, I
really
like Zane.” As soon as I said that, I realized I was blushing.

She put her arm around my shoulder. “So you finally admit your crush?”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing now. “I guess I do.”

“That's brilliant. Good for you, Evie! Well, don't worry about Quentin, I'll let him down easy. Now forget about my boring family and let's plan
all
about Theo and Espee!”

For a few minutes before Homeroom that morning, we hung out at the faculty mailroom, hoping to lip-read another rendezvous
between Theo and Espee. But they didn't show up. Then we noticed that both their mailboxes were empty, so we thought maybe they'd just arrived early in the morning, for a romantic coffee. In Art we heard Theo tell Katie Finberg that she couldn't stop by at lunch to finish her papier-mâché project. He was “having a meeting with the principal,” he said.

“Oh, sure,” Francesca murmured, winking at me. “The
principal.
”

So at lunch we snuck back upstairs to Espee's classroom. But this time her door was wide open, and we could hear Brendan Meyers's whiny voice inside. “I'll never finish this project! There's just too much stuff to read!” he was complaining.

“Yes, the Civil War is a very rich topic,” she was answering sympathetically. “Have you seen this book? It's a little controversial, but—”

“Blah,” Francesca muttered. “What a bore. Let's get out of here, Evie.”

Spush wasn't any better. Espee gave us a surprise quiz about the Continental Congress, and then handed back some homework. Just like Theo, she seemed the same as always—maybe a bit less twinkly than usual, but today wasn't a twinkly sort of class, anyway.

When the period was over, Francesca leaned over my desk. “Well, so far today's been a bloody waste of time, don't you think? Let's give them one more chance.”

“How? School's practically over,” I whispered. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Nisha and Lily looked upset, probably because I was whispering right in front of them. So I gave them both a really nice smile, but they just frowned and turned away. It felt like a cheek-slap, and I could feel my face reddening.

Now Francesca cupped her hand over my ear. “Meet me in the parking lot at dismissal. Maybe they'll leave together. Or maybe we'll witness a passionate farewell.”

I nodded my answer so that at least I wouldn't be whispering.

The very second school was over, I ran out to the faculty parking lot, where Francesca waved me over to a giant Chevy Suburban. It was so huge that it made perfect cover, so we crouched behind it, peeking out as teachers slowly left the building and got into their cars. We were like that for almost fifteen minutes, and my knees were starting to cramp. I was just about to get up and stretch when Francesca hissed, “Don't move, Evie, it's
them.
”

Theo and Espee were walking out of the building,
definitely together, definitely having some sort of intense conversation. Suddenly they stopped walking and faced each other, still talking, Theo's arms folded across his chest and Espee cocking her head to one side, exactly the way she did in Spush.

He said something that made him hold out his hands like he was asking,
What do you want from me?

She stared at him. “You're saying we do
nothing
? I can't believe I'm hearing this!”

Francesca squeezed my elbow so hard, I almost screamed.

Theo said something quiet.

“No,” Espee answered, her voice rising. “It's not that simple, Theo.”

He said something else. She frowned and shook her head.

Then he looked at his watch. “All right,” we heard him say. “Gotta go now. See you tomorrow, Steph.”

We saw him get into his Explorer. Then Espee got into her Prius, and the two of them drove out of the parking lot in completely opposite directions.

“Well,” Francesca said. She stood up and started dusting off her zebra jacket.

I got up slowly. “That didn't look too good, did it?”

“It looked
disastrous,
” Francesca corrected me. “‘You're saying we do nothing? It's not that simple.' How could he treat her that way? What an utter rejection.”

“I also didn't like how his arms were folded,” I said, strapping on my backpack. “And how he held out his hands. And how he looked at his watch.”

Francesca picked up the cardboard folder she used for cramming in loose papers. “Right. You're totally right. His body language was hopeless.”

“So was hers, actually. She looked like she was scolding a student.”

“Exactly.” Francesca sighed loudly. “I hate to say this, Evie, but the love letter was a failure. Because look what just happened: she bares her soul to him, she expresses her
truest feelings
, and he tells her they do nothing.
Nothing!
And then he drives off in his ugly SUV, like it never even happened. Oh, poor, poor Espee. She must feel absolutely devastated.”

Like an empty, smashed-up soda can,
I thought.

We trudged out of the parking lot, both of us feeling so sorry for Espee that we could barely talk.

A couple of blocks later, Francesca suggested we go to I Scream “as a gesture of support to Espee,” who, she said, was probably rushing right home to snarf down an entire pint of ice cream. I didn't argue; after what we'd just seen, the last thing I felt like doing was sitting at my computer and Googling the San Francisco Earthquake. Besides, I told myself, we owed something to Espee—maybe not sympathy–ice cream, but something real, something that would rescue her from Theo's cruel rejection. I had no idea what it could be, but I wanted to go somewhere and think seriously about the situation. So I said yes to Francesca's suggestion, even though I realized I'd probably be paying.

I Scream was crazy that afternoon, with a Cub Scout troop and a little kids' birthday party spilling out of the back room. As soon as Francesca and I walked in the door, we dumped our school stuff on a corner table and ordered two large chocolate shakes from Zane's dad. We'd just sat down with our shakes when Francesca announced that she desperately needed to go to the bathroom. “Don't steal my shake,” she scolded, wagging her finger at me. “I'll be able to tell.”

“Shut up,” I answered, sticking out my tongue at her.

For a few minutes I sat there giving myself chocolate brain-freeze and watching this sweaty magician-type blowing up balloon dachshunds for the screaming birthday kids. And then, all of a sudden, Zane appeared out of the back room. He was wearing an
I SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM
T-shirt and a Bob the Builder party hat. And for some reason, he walked over and sat down in the empty chair next to me, that boy way, with his legs spread far apart.

“Evie,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” I wiped my chocolate mustache with the back of my hand.

“About Friday.” He blinked his beautiful gold-hazel eyes. “What about a movie?”

“What about one?” I said. And then it hit me. He was asking me
to
a movie.

HE WAS ASKING ME TO A MOVIE.

“Oh. Yeah, great,” I said casually. “That sounds … great.”

“We'll talk,” he said, doing that head-jerk thing with his bangs. And then he got up from the table and walked back to the birthday room.

I nearly peed.

“Evie, are you okay?” Francesca asked like one-majillionth of a second later.

“Omigod,” I answered. I stared at her.

“Did something just happen?”

“YES,” I said. “Zane asked me out. To a MOVIE.”

“That's wonderful!” She beamed at me. “It's what you wanted, right?”

I nodded. “But, I mean. It's
unbelievable,
Francesca. He barely even
spoke
to me before.”

Francesca sat down and took a long sip of milk shake. “Well, you should have a little more self-confidence, Evie. You're a truly good person, you're smart, you're pretty, and my cousin liked you, so why shouldn't Zane?”

“Your cousin?”

“Quentin, remember? The cute P.S. on that hideous card? So what do you think you'll wear on Friday?”

“Wear?”

She laughed. “You'll need an outfit. Want to borrow something from Aunt Sam?”

“NO,” I said, suddenly waking up. “I mean, no thanks! I'll just dress normally. I mean, normal for
me.
”

“Well, what about those earrings?”

“You mean those gold dangly ones?”

“Just think about it, okay? You'll want to look gorgeous for your date.”

“Yeah,” I said, grinning like an idiot. “I'll think about it, Francesca.”

Then I floated home.

Grace was sitting at the kitchen table doing her AP Bio. “Hey, Evie,” she said as soon as I came in the door. “Are you okay? You look weird.”

“I'm absolutely perfect.” I sat down next to her. “Can I tell you something amazing?”

“If it's quick.”

“Somebody asked me out.”

She stared at me. “You mean like
on a date
?”

I nodded.

“Whoa. Well, you're not going, are you?”

“Sure I am. Why shouldn't I?”

“Because you're
in seventh grade.
” She frowned at me. “Does Mom know about this?”

“How could she? I just got home!”

“Well, you'd better tell her tonight. And you should realize she'll probably say no.”

My heart was starting to bang. “Why should she? It's just to the movies!”

“Evie,
I
never went out when
I
was in seventh grade.”

“Well, what does that have to do with me? You're you, and I'm—”

“Too immature to be dating.”

“How would you know?” I could feel my armpits getting wet. “Besides, tons of people date in seventh grade!”

“Well, maybe that's because they have messed-up priorities.”

“What?”

“Maybe they aren't putting academics first. The way they should be, at your age.”

“So according to you,” I said in a loud ha-ha sort of voice, “unless I freak out the way
you
did in seventh grade,
I'm totally messed up? Is that what you're saying?”

Grace looked slapped. “I didn't
freak out,
I
focused.
Unlike you, apparently.”

“What? I'm completely focused!”

“On what?”

“Lots of things.” I didn't want to say “Theo and Espee,” so I added, “School. And also having a life.”

“Let me tell you something,” Grace said. “You can focus on
school
, or you can focus on
having a life.
You can't focus on both.” Then she shut her book and stomped out of the kitchen.

Well, what does Grace know?
I thought.
Why CAN'T I have both?
I remembered what Francesca had told me that night on the beach: “School is not the whole wide world.” Plenty of things were just as important—love, for example. Of course Grace wouldn't understand this, because all she cared about was schoolwork. In fact, that was all my whole family seemed to care about—work, work, work. I suddenly felt sorry for them—sorry for everyone but Francesca, who actually asked herself cosmos questions and thought about things like
soulmates
. Even Espee understood that life was bigger than Blanton Middle School. If only she could be as blissfully happy as I was right now.

It turned out that Mom had an endless real estate dinner that night, so I couldn't talk to her about the date business until the morning. Which was fine with me, actually. Because as long as she hadn't said I couldn't go, I could imagine Friday night any way I liked: me with earrings, me without earrings. That night I went to bed so ecstatic, I thought I might even wear my amber necklace to school tomorrow. After all, Nisha wasn't talking to me, so she couldn't tease me about the prehistoric mosquito. And since Zane
had asked me out
, it was okay to wear a (sort of) love token. Although maybe, I thought, it would be better to save it for Friday, in honor of my first-ever date.