This Is Me From Now On (15 page)

I lay in bed for a long time wishing there were stars outside my window. And thinking:
Necklace. Boyfriend. Love token.

Okay, not love token. But close enough.

And that was when I had the best, most incredible idea ever. Of my entire life.

It turned out Grace was right about one thing: Mom
did
have a have a problem with the whole Dating in Seventh Grade thing. But at breakfast on Thursday morning she said it would be okay with her if the movie was a “group outing.” Which meant that I could go if, like, fifteen people joined us, and we all wore identical T-shirts and went to the bathroom buddy-system. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But the bottom line was, as long as we invited a bunch more kids, I could have my movie date with Zane. So at 7:30, when I went to ring Francesca's doorbell, I was still basically delirious.

Plus, I had spent the night thinking about My Incredible
Idea, which I sprang on Francesca the second she opened the door.

“Remember that locket your aunt's boyfriend gave her? The one she doesn't wear anymore?”

“Evie? What are you babbling about?” Francesca scowled at me in the sunlight, as if she'd just woken up thirty seconds ago. And she probably had: Her eyes were squinty, her hair was a snarled mess, and she was drinking something out of a stainless-steel commuter cup.

“The silver locket,” I reminded her. “With the fancy initials. It was in the box called ‘Vintage.' You showed it to me, remember?”

“God, it's too early in the day to remember anything. Come inside,” she grunted, and took a big sip from her cup. “You want some Mochaccino?”

A rabbit scampered across her feet, but she didn't even notice.

“Listen to me, Francesca,” I said, the words just rushing out of my mouth. “You know how the letter didn't work, how humiliated Espee felt in the parking lot yesterday? Well, she'll never get anywhere with Theo if she just gives up! But what if she thought he loved her back? Don't you think her body language would be different? And maybe even her
clothes? And don't you think Theo would look at her like, I don't know what, but definitely
not like a teacher
?”

Francesca raised one eyebrow. “Go on.”

“So I've been thinking: What could convince Espee of Theo's love? She's feeling incredibly insecure right now, so it would have to be something specific. But also beautiful, because he's an artist, right? And then I remembered that heart-shaped locket. I mean, I know she never wears jewelry, but I bet she would if she thought it was a love token. Because ‘SP, TR.' How could it
not
be from Theo?”

“Tristan Royce, Theo Rafferty,” Francesca murmured. “Samantha Pattison, Stephanie Pierce.”

I grinned. “The very same initials. Isn't it such an amazing coincidence, Francesca? Don't you think it totally feels like fate?”

“Yes, it does,” she said slowly. “Un-cruel fate. So what are you saying? We should plant Samantha's locket on her desk? Or maybe stick it in her mailbox?”

“Her desk is better.” As soon as I said that, I could feel my heart start to race. “I've been thinking about this all night. The faculty mailroom is too public. Somebody might see us.”

“Evie Webber,” Francesca said. She stared for about
three more seconds, then threw her arms around me. “YOU are an UTTER GENIUS. Did you know that about yourself? Did you realize that you were an utter, utter—”

“Ack. You're squeezing me.”

“Sorry. You're ridiculously skin and bones. And an UTTER GENIUS. What an ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT IDEA. It's gorgeous. No, it's better than gorgeous. It's … STAGGERINGLY EPIC.”

“Shh,” I said, beaming. “You'll wake up Samantha.”

“She's already up. Big audition this morning.” Her eyes widened. “Perfect timing, come to think of it. We can sneak upstairs and get the locket while she's in the shower.”

“You mean now?”

“No time like the present.” She took one last gulp of Mochaccino and then we tiptoed quickly up the stairs. Without Francesca reminding me, I slipped off my shoes outside Samantha's bedroom. Then we tiptoed inside.

“Don't cry for me, Argentina,”
Samantha was singing in her shower. “
You were sup-posed to be immortal …”

“You stay here,” Francesca whispered. “I'll get the locket.”

I suddenly remembered that the boxes were in the closet room on the other side of the bathroom. Francesca would
have to sneak past her singing aunt
both ways
. “Wait! Won't she see you?”

“Not through the steam,” she replied. And immediately I knew she'd done this before.

I stood barefoot in the fabulous boudoir listening to Samantha belt out show tunes, and also to the chandelier:
plinka plinka plinka,
the most beautiful faraway music. Only it wasn't faraway, it was right here. And so was I. The weird thing was, I felt like I belonged. Even though of course I was totally trespassing.

“Got it,” Francesca mumbled as she burst out of the bathroom. “Now let's get out of here. Fast!”

I grabbed my shoes and my backpack, and we ran out the door and all the way to Blanton Middle School, laughing like crazy.

Once we got to school, the big question was: How could we get the locket onto Espee's desk without her—or anyone else, for that matter—noticing? Francesca had a fantastic plan: One of us would distract her, and the other one would slip inside the classroom and plant the locket on her desk.

“But since the whole thing is your idea, you get dibs,” she said, which I thought was incredibly generous.

I told her I wanted to plant the locket.

“Lovely,” Francesca said. “All right, Evie, let's think. She usually gets a container of yogurt for lunch, right? So on her way upstairs from the lunchroom I'll stop her to talk about U.S. History, and you'll break into Spush.”

“Break in? Not
break in,
Francesca!”

“Go in. Walk in. Whatever you want to call it.”

“
Walk in
is fine.” I considered the plan for a second. “Wait, wait! You'll stop her to talk about
U.S. History
? Won't that seem a little, uh, suspicious?”

“I'll ask her about the San Francisco Earthquake, okay? Don't worry about
me.
Everything is going to be absolutely perfect!”

Then Francesca handed me the locket, which I quickly rolled up in a tissue and stuffed into my pants pocket.

It all went according to plan. Francesca was a chatty talker, which meant I had plenty of time to position the locket perfectly on Espee's overflowing desk. I have to admit that just being alone in Espee's classroom was as big a thrill as standing all alone in Samantha's boudoir—in a way, an even bigger thrill, because I knew I was doing something wonderful and important for someone who desperately
needed my help. So I made the moment last as long as I could, listening to the classroom clock tick, and also to the busy humming sound of Espee's computer.

Then I ran downstairs to the lunchroom, where Francesca was standing by the frozen yogurt machine, squirting herself a gigantic bowlful.

As soon as she saw me she put down her bowl. “How did it go?”

“It went,” I said.

We fist-bumped and grinned at each other.

“I'm so fantastically proud of you, Evie,” Francesca murmured, her green eyes shining. “You're utterly transformed; you're the opposite of paralyzed.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, it's obvious. You're like a whole new Evie Webber.”

A whole new Evie Webber
. I actually felt goosebumps. Not the cold kind or the nervous kind. The incredibly happy-and-excited kind.

Then Francesca picked up her cardboard bowl and took an enormous spoonful of frozen yogurt. “And now,” she said, swallowing it all in one gulp, “we sit back, twiddle our thumbs, and wait to see what happens.”

We didn't have to wait long.

As we were walking down the hall to Spush, we could see Espee standing in front of the classroom chatting with Kayla and Gaby, who was doing her car-alarm laugh. I couldn't imagine why. Was Espee making some kind of joke? It was hard to imagine her saying something that Gaby would find so hysterically funny. On the other hand, Gaby was the type to laugh at anything.

Finally the horrible laughing stopped. And we were maybe ten steps away from them when I noticed something shiny around Espee's neck.

It was the locket.

Tristan's present to Samantha.

Which Espee was
actually wearing
.

“Francesca,” I said.

“Brilliant,” she murmured. “Stay calm, Evie.” Suddenly her voice sounded loud and cheerful. “Oh, hello, Ms. Pierce. Thanks for chatting with me before about the earthquake. Those books you recommended sound absolutely fantastic.”

Espee blinked. Whatever she'd just said to Gaby, she looked totally serious now. “Really? Well, I'm glad I was so helpful.”

“Oh, you were! I think I'll stop by the library this afternoon and try to find them.”

I wanted to add something impressive-sounding about my own research, but I could feel my cheeks burning stupidly, and I thought that at any moment I might burst into nervous giggles. Plus, I could see that Kayla was rolling her eyes at Gaby. So I poked Francesca.

“All right, well, see you inside,” she said brightly to Espee, and we walked into the room. As soon as we were inside, Francesca clapped her hands. “Yee-haw, it worked! She's wearing the locket, so that's Step One in the self-esteem
makeover. Now we've got to get her out of those clothes and into something less tragic.”

“How?” I said, laughing. “You're going to stuff one of Samantha's sarongs into her mailbox?”

Francesca laughed too. “Yes, yes, perfect! Oh, Evie, you're on fire! Do you think she likes tropical flowers?”

Of course all I could think about the entire Spush was planting the sarong—not in the mailbox, but somewhere private and discreet, like maybe in one of the cupboards in Espee's classroom, or in the small closet where she stored her maps. I wanted to spend the afternoon planning this out with Francesca, and also settling on which sarong we'd steal from Samantha's collection. But at dismissal Francesca told me she couldn't, because one of her aunts—I think she said it was Beebee—was coming over to Samantha's “just to check in.”

“Check in on what?” I asked, not even trying to hide my disappointment.

“Who knows. The rabbits, probably. Anyway, it'll be a complete waste of
my
afternoon, but at least
you'll
have some time to work on your movie date. Have you thought who else to ask yet?”

“Not really.” The truth was, I'd been so busy thinking
about Espee's love life, I hadn't been focusing on Friday night. “So far there's you, me, and Zane.”

“Not enough to satisfy Mom, I presume. What about Nisha and Lily?”

I shrugged. “I told you, Francesca. Things are sort of weird.”

Francesca frowned. “That utterly makes no sense. You should at least ask them if they'd
like
to go. It's your first date—you shouldn't exclude your best friends!”

“Yeah,” I said, biting my lip. “Except maybe they're not anymore.”

“Don't be deranged, Evie. Of course they are; you three have been best friends
forever,
right? And forever means forever, like that hideous card said. So just because you're friends with
me
now—”

“Whoa, stop,” I interrupted. “This is not about you, okay?”

“It's not? I thought they had a problem with me.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I admitted. “But it's more like they had a problem with
me.
”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I'm not even sure.” I sighed. “I guess you could say I wouldn't obey their rules.”

It was funny. Because when I said that, I guess I was expecting Francesca to say something like,
Oh, you hate rules too, now. You're just like me!

But that's not what she said. She said, “Well, figure it out, Evie.
Talk
to them, ask them on your date, and also ask some b-o-y-s, please! Now I'd better go, or else Beebee will be furious.” Then she blew me a kiss, buttoned her zebra jacket, and ran out of the building in Samantha's cowboy boots.

That day I walked home by myself, which was something I hadn't done in a long, long time. I thought about inviting Nisha and Lily—I really did—but I couldn't even remember the last time we'd had a real, no-fighting, face-to-face-to-face conversation. So I couldn't imagine calling them and being all,
Hey, what's up, and oh, by the way, ZANE ASKED ME OUT and would you like to come?
I could already hear Nisha's response:
Zane who? I thought you didn't even like him
. Or:
Oh, so now we're on speaking terms? Because your mom says you need some date-buddies?
Or:
Sorry, Evie, but Lily and I are working on our Attic Project. Have a nice night.
And of course Lily would be all sweet and sympathetic, but in the end she'd just go off with Nisha, the way she always did.

I needed to face reality: Things were bad with my best
friends. Really bad. Dangerously bad. And if I didn't fix it all soon, our friendship might be permanently wrecked. But inviting them on my Zane-date was not going to solve anything. In fact, even talking to them about it would probably just make things worse.

But if not them, who should I ask? I couldn't invite Kayla because … well, I was pretty sure you didn't invite ex-girlfriends along on a date. And if Kayla was out, that meant so was Gaby. I thought about Katie Finberg; she was a little bit perfect-perfect, but she was basically a decent person. And Brendan Meyers would probably be okay, as long as he wore deodorant and didn't spit. I told myself that five people (me, Zane, Francesca, Katie Finberg, and spitty Brendan) had to count as a big enough date for Mom. Because five was a definite group, right? Even without Nisha and Lily.