Crush Control (37 page)

The next morning I had an idea. Instead of using all my anti-frizz serums and sprays, I went into Mom's bathroom. I raided her cabinet and found something to add volume and enhance curl. I shrugged and gave it a try. As I blew my hair dry, something incredible happened. My hair fell into cascading soft waves.

When I walked out of my bedroom, Mom's mouth dropped. “You look fantastic,” she smiled.

I smiled.

When Quinton picked me up for school, I noticed the dough love charm necklace he'd been wearing since Saturday was not around his neck. I was about to ask him where it was when Quinton stopped short at a light and turned to face me.

“Do you think I can stop by after football practice this afternoon ? I kind of think we need to have a talk.”

In all of romantic history, I don't think there's ever been a girl more excited to hear the dreaded
we need to have a talk.

“Sure,” I said. “Come over whenever you're done.”

The whole day I fidgeted. Georgia and I placed bets on what he would say, whether the second round of hypnosis had worked. When we walked out of lunch, I passed Max in the hallway and my heart thundered. I wanted to rush over to him, tell him that I was so close to fixing my messes, that my life would be back to normal.
Could we go back to normal? Back to the way it was when Max was the first person I turned to for everything in my life?
But when I finally got the nerve to cross the hallway toward him, Trent walked over to him and devoured his attention.

After school, the minutes crept by so slowly it was painful. When the doorbell finally rang, I popped up off the couch like a jack-in-the-box springing out of captivity. I raced to the door.

Quinton stood on the threshold. Across the family room, Oompa raised his head from his slumber. He glanced over at Quinton, then dropped his fat head back onto his paws, not even making the effort to walk over to him.

Quinton suggested we take a ride to the park. He was torturously quiet as we drove the mile and a half to the entrance of Poplinger Park. He parked next to the swings, and for a moment of agony I shuddered at the thought of another meaningful reenactment of our initial encounter. He sat on the same swing Max had sat on just weeks before and began to sway back and forth.

“I got my midterm grades,” he said.

I nodded, sitting on the swing next to him. “Me too.”

Quinton looked up at a bird flying overhead. “I can't believe how bad my grades were.”

My stomach churned with guilt.

He sighed loudly, his long bangs blowing a little in the breeze of his breath. “I've never blown off my studies or football before.” He shook his head as if reprimanding himself.

“Let me help you,” I offered. “Maybe Mrs. Stabile will let you make up your oral report and I can help you with it. Or I'm pretty good at math. . . .”

He used his foot to stop the swing, then looked over at me. “That's so nice, Willow. I feel bad, but I think that maybe . . . maybe you and I should actually spend a little less time together. Maybe cool things off a bit. I'm really sorry. It's not that I don't like you . . .”

“I understand,” I said. “Quinton, you are so smart and your grades have always been good. You'll be able to pull your GPA back up in no time. Everything will be okay, I promise. And I'll help you in any way I can if you need it. I don't want to be the cause of any stress for you.”

“No, you've never been a stress,” he said, smiling. “I really enjoyed our time together. It felt like . . . like a whole different me. It was fun—it felt liberating. But I think it's time to get back to the old me.”

I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. “It's been great,” I agreed. Relief coursed through my body.

Tension released in his face. “It was the best.”

“We'll always have Oompa,” I said.

He grinned. “Yeah. Do you think I have to break up with him too?” He was smiling, but I could tell he was restless, anxious to get home and re-find himself, so I told him to go on—I'd just walk home. It was a nice night anyway.

He gave me a hug and we parted as friends—the way we had met back on that fateful day in August, when Oompa had sparked our very first encounter.

When I walked through the door, Mom was home from work and sitting at the table paying bills. “So,” she asked. “Success?”

I nodded. “He dumped me.”

“Great,” Mom said. We both laughed at how strange that sounded.

I walked back to my room and sat at my desk. I pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. I had so many things I wanted to say to Max. I wanted to tell him that Quinton was just a plot to make him jealous; that I'd loved him for so long. I had found the courage with Grandma, why was it so much harder to be honest with Max?

I looked out the window at the maple tree. All the leaves had changed into bursts of oranges and reds. It was like the tree sprouted into a brighter, prettier version of itself. It made it seem like anything was possible—like flaws could morph into something beautiful. I thought of how Max loved Oompa in spite of his squished face and moody disposition. He loved his truck regardless of its loud, rumbling motor and messy interior. I needed to see if Max could love the real me—the me he bonded to all those years ago. Was there any way he could love that girl again?

My phone rang. The caller ID flashed Georgia's name. I answered.

“I GOT THE PART!” She screamed over the swooshing wind. She must have been driving with her top down.

“Congratulations!” I yelled. “You're going to be a much better spiritual advisor than Silver Rain!”

“No doubt!” she yelled. “So how did it go with Quinton?”

I told her about our break-up.

“Good,” she said. “Did you hear—Mia broke up with Jake today.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Good for her, I thought. She deserves so much more.

“So, when are you going to talk to Max? Wait, hold on, I need to put the top up so I can hear you better.”

Suddenly her radio blasted at full volume.

I jumped and flailed my arm into a stack of books and CDs. They tumbled across my desk and a few fell to the floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” Georgia said. “I hit the volume knob by mistake.” She adjusted the stereo volume lower. I heard a mechanical hum and then the rushing wind died down. “Okay, so what are you going to say to him?”

“I don't know,” I said as I straightened the mess of books. I reached down to retrieve the fallen things and there, on my carpet, was the clear, plastic case with an unmarked CD inside. It was the CD Max had given me so long ago. I had never listened to it because my stereo was broken. On the phone, Georgia droned on about seizing this opportunity but I wasn't paying attention.

I held the CD case in my hand and thought of the music sheets resting on Max's drums. The way I teased him about a love song. How he got so secretive and stashed the music sheets away. How a few days later he gave me a CD. How at Quinton's party when we talked about music he looked like he was going to say something. How when we sat on his couch and talked about broken hearts he held my hand. How he invited me to the concert with him. How we sat on the swings and it seemed like a moment passed between us. How he sat on the principal's bench and told me he liked me just the way I was.

I had to listen to it before I talked to Max. I thought about Georgia's car stereo blasting and suddenly I had an idea. “I've got to go,” I said to Georgia. “No time to explain!” I hung up and grabbed the CD. I sprinted out into the living room. “I need your keys,” I said to Mom.

She pointed to the table. “Is everything okay?”

“I'll know soon,” I said and found the keys. I raced outside to her car and flung open the door. I shoved the keys in the ignition and slid the silver CD into the stereo. I turned up the volume and waited, breathless.

A clicky noise echoed through the speakers; followed by some static.
Hi Willow
. It was Max's voice, and at the sound of it, my stomach fluttered. It wasn't songs on the CD—it was a message.

Oh my God. My heart pulsed.

But then you know what? You kind of showed me how to tell you. Without even realizing it—you gave me my answer.
Max cleared his throat; then there was a strum of a guitar in the background followed by a drumbeat. The tune sounded familiar but different. I couldn't exactly place it, but then it hit me. It was Taylor Swift. The song Pink Sundress sang at Jake's party. He had been listening. He had understood.

The drumbeat slowed down. The guitar softened. Then there was only static. Then there was none.

My heart was on fire.

I needed to go find him. I needed to see if I still had a chance.

I revved the engine and backed out of the driveway.

I was on a mission.

I sped across town to Max's house. I pulled up his driveway and saw his black truck parked in the garage. He was home. I ejected the CD, turned off the car and sprinted up the front steps before I could change my mind.

Mrs. Montgomery answered the door dressed in green scrubs, home from her nursing job at the hospital. “Willow!” she exclaimed. “How are you? Isn't it just
great
about your mom? I'm so proud of her. So proud. She told me she already has about fifty preorders for her video series. Isn't that just amazing? Good things are in store for her. And you. Good things.” She held the door open and gestured for me to come inside.

“Um,” I stammered. “Is Max here? I, um, need to show him something out here.”

“Sure, sweetheart. One second.” She smiled at me and disappeared inside the house.

My heart ticked and my whole body felt electric, like I'd just drunk a hundred Starbucks mochas.
Please don't make it be too late.

Max walked out wearing his white karate uniform, tied with his black belt double knotted in front.

“Hi,” I said tentatively.

“Hi.” He sounded cautious. “What are you doing here?”

I held up the CD case. “Do you mean this?” I asked, my voice wobbly and my hands trembling. “Is it true?”

He froze, looking completely caught off guard.

I walked closer toward him. “I—I finally listened to it. My CD player was broken, and I had to listen to it in the car—anyway, it's not important. All those times I felt something—something between us—did you feel it too?”

He looked down, fiddled with his belt.

“Why didn't you just ask me if I liked you? Why didn't you just try and kiss me or something? Why did you have to go be all cryptic and give me a CD?”

He looked up at me. “Because I was scared, okay?”

“Scared? How could you be scared of me? You're the person I feel most comfortable around! You're my best friend!”

“That's the problem!” he said. He looked over his shoulder at the front door then he hopped down the front steps. He waved his hand for me to follow him. We walked across the front lawn toward the street. “Remember all those years ago before you moved and we were goofing off in that tree? You hypnotized me to always be your best friend! I thought that was all you wanted, Willow—friendship! Every time I got that feeling inside—like I wanted more, like I wanted to hold your hand and kiss you and tell you how much I liked you, how I thought you were the most interesting person I've ever met—I'd hear your voice in my head saying,
you'll always be my best friend.
Not boyfriend. Not crush. Not soul mate. FRIEND. BEST FRIEND. I was HYPNOTIZED, Willow! It was like there was a brick wall between us. I saw the wall. I felt the wall. And I couldn't climb over it.”

I stumbled back and inadvertently fell down on the curb. Again, my affair with hypnosis had botched everything up. No wonder he was so against me hypnotizing Mia.

We stared at each other for a minute. Then Max sat down next to me.

“So all along you wanted to like me, but my own mind control prevented it,” I whispered.

Max turned to look at me. His eyes were soft and sincere. “But the more I was around you, the stronger my will grew.” He took my hand. “I overcame it—the hypnosis—because I swear I heard that brick wall collapse. I saw the barrier crumble.”

“You overcame the hypnosis?” I gasped.

He touched his chest. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

A lump formed at the back of my throat. It was impossible to control people's minds, and now I'd learned you couldn't sway the heart, either.

“Say something,” he whispered.

“I've always liked you, Max. Ever since the day on the phone when you told me I was special.”

“Incredible. I told you that you were incredible.”

“You remember?”

“Of course I do.” He said, his face breaking out in a slow grin. “Man, I didn't like another guy looking into your crazy eyes.”

I took a breath. I didn't want to do it, but I knew I had to be honest. I told Max that I had hypnotized Quinton to like me. I told him I realized what a mistake it was and that I was never going to use hypnosis again.