Devon Delaney Should Totally Know Better (12 page)

Not the best thing to say in front of my mom. I don’t think she looks too fondly upon pre- and post-parties, or upon the word “holla.”

“Woot, woot,” Greg/Ryan chimes in. He grins at me.

“Oh, right,” Mrs. Cortland says. “It should be fun.” She looks into the backseat at me. “It was nice to see you, Devon.” Right. It’s obvious she wants me to get out of the car. Then I realize I’m still wearing my mom’s boots. Crap. I was planning on ditching them in the garage on my way into the house, but now I obviously won’t be able to do that, since I’ll be walking right by my mom.

Hmm. I wonder if I can wiggle out of them, and somehow leave them in Lexi’s car, hop into the house without my mom realizing that I’m not wearing any shoes, and then pick them up later. I reach down and slowly start pulling the zipper of the left boot down toward the heel.

“Yes, well, I’m assuming that these pre- and post-parties you’re planning will be supervised,” my mom says.

“Of course,” Mrs. Cortland replies. But she doesn’t really seem like she’s that interested or even means it. Which she probably doesn’t. I’ve hung out at Lexi’s house a lot, and her mom is hardly ever there. She’s always either out working, or in her workout room, or just . . . I don’t know. Out. Lexi’s dad is never home. He’s always on business trips. He sends Lexi soaps and
chocolates from all these different countries.

“And will there be boys attending?” my mom persists.

Ohmigod. I want to die.
Will there be boys attending?
Who asks that? And what is wrong with this boot? The zipper is not even moving at all. Have my feet gotten bigger within the past few hours? It must be all this stress. It’s causing my feet to swell. Definitely not good. I finally slide the zipper all the way down, and pull my foot out of the boot. Ahh.

“The party? Or the dance?” Lexi’s mom asks.

“The party,” my mom says.

“Well, I’m sure the girls will have their dates there,” Lexi’s mom says.

“Oh.” My mom looks a little shocked. “I wasn’t aware that the girls would be going with dates.”

“Well, it is, you know,
customary
for them to go to the dance with their boyfriends. Lexi will go with Jared, and Devon will go with Luke, and I suppose whatever other friends they have going with them will wander into the party.”

The other boot comes off, and I very casually slide it under the seat in front of me. No sweat. Now all I have to do is make it into the house without my mom noticing that I’m in bare feet. Which actually doesn’t
seem like it’s going to be a very hard thing to do, since she is getting very angry. I can tell because she says, “Is that so?” to Lexi’s mom. My mom only says “is that so?” to people when she’s extremely mad. And although she’s saying it to Lexi’s mom, it’s also about me. And the fact that I have a date for the dance and haven’t really told her.

“Well,” I say loudly. “I guess I’ll see you guys later!” I open the back door of the car. “Bye, Lex! Bye, Greg!”

“Bye,” they both say.

When I get out of the car and over to where my mom is standing in the driveway, I have to pretty much grab her and pull her away from Lexi’s mom’s car. But she kind of has no choice, because Lexi’s mom’s phone has rung, and she’s picked it up and is talking into it. I guess she’s done talking to my mom. Yikes.

“That woman is so rude!” my mom says as I lead
her toward the house.

“Totally,” I say. I never realized how cold the cobblestone walk leading up to our front door is. Probably because I don’t ever walk on it in bare feet, except in summer. And then it’s obviously hot. I’m basically hopping up the walk, and hoping my mom doesn’t notice. But since she’s so mad, she doesn’t seem to.

And then, right when we’re about to open the door, Lexi’s mom honks the horn of the Hummer. And when we turn around, Greg/Ryan is leaning out the car window, waving my mom’s boot in the air.

“Hey, Devon,” he says, grinning. “Your forgot your shoes!”

Okay. So. She can’t get too mad at me
for taking her shoes. I mean, they’re just shoes.

The whole boyfriend thing is another matter. She’s definitely going to be mad about that. Right now she is making us grilled cheese sandwiches, which is not a good sign. When my mom gets mad, she just yells and grounds me like a normal mom. When she gets really mad, and there’s some kind of life issue she feels we need to discuss, she gets rid of my dad and Katie, and talks to me alone. And makes us food.

“We are going to the grocery store,” Katie sings, dancing into the kitchen, where I’m sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of chocolate milk. “I’m going with Daddy, and you cannot go.”

“Great,” I say.

“But don’t worry. I am going to get you a present of one chocolate bar!”

I don’t say anything.

“I said,” Katie repeats, “that I am going to get you a present of one chocolate bar!”

“Thank you, Katie,” I say. “That is very kind of you.”

Katie beams.

“Where’s the list?” my dad asks, walking into the kitchen. He pulls his cell phone off the charger on the counter and slips it into his pocket. Hmm. Very suspicious. He probably wants to call his girlfriend while he’s out with Katie. The thought of this makes my throat get all tight, and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter, and by the time Katie and my dad walk out the door a few minutes later, tears are threatening to spill down my cheeks.

My mom places a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches in front of me, cut in half diagonally just the way I like it, and I burst into tears. She looks shocked.

“There’s no need to cry about it, Devon,” she says. “They’re just boots, I’m not that mad.”

“No,” I say between sniffles. “It’s not that.” I blow my nose on my napkin.

“Then what is it?” she asks. She puts a cup of tea down in front of her own plate, and sits down at the table with me.

“Nothing,” I mumble, swiping at my tears with the back of my hand. How can I tell her that while she’s here making grilled cheese sandwiches and cutting
them in half like she knows I like, my dad is out with my little sister probably making phone calls to some other woman? And how could I have taken her boots? She’s going to need them if she becomes single again.

“Devon, we need to talk about Luke,” my mom says.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say. I blow my nose again and then take a tiny bit of my grilled cheese, which makes me feel a little bit better. “I just didn’t want you to freak out.”

“So he is your boyfriend then?”

“Yes,” I say.

“And what does that mean to you, exactly, having a boyfriend?” she asks.

“Um, I don’t know. That we talk on the phone and maybe hold hands at school and go to the dance together and I’m not allowed to do that with any other boys.”

My mom looks relieved. I guess she thought maybe I was a step away from ending up married with children. I mean, we haven’t even French kissed yet. Lexi and Jared do it all the time, and her mom doesn’t even seem concerned about it. Thinking of French kissing Luke starts to make me feel hot all
over, and I take a sip of the cool milk, hoping it will calm me down.

“Devon, you know it’s okay for you to be interested in boys. What I don’t like is the sneaking around.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin and looks thoughtful.

My cell phone starts ringing, and I look at the caller ID and see Luke’s name blinking. Yay! He can’t be too mad if he’s calling, right? Thank God Lexi didn’t change my phone so that it would say “my 1&only” like she threatened to the other day when she was setting up a ringtone for me. I don’t think my mom would take too kindly to that, and our talk is going so well. She’s not even that mad about the boots!

“Who’s that?” she asks, trying to look nonchalant.

“It’s Luke,” I say, holding it up and showing her, so that she won’t think I’m trying to hide stuff from her. “I’m just going to answer it and tell him I’ll call him back, is that okay?”

“Of course,” she says. But the look on her face says maybe she’s still a little freaked out. But I will show her there’s nothing to freak out about, that there’s nothing going on here, just an innocent little junior high school romance. Well, not exactly that innocent. With the fake ex-boyfriends and all. La, la-la.

“Hey,” I say, flipping open my phone.

“Hi,” Luke says. And he doesn’t sound too friendly. I guess he
is
still mad about the party, and about Greg/Ryan. Thank God he won’t be coming around again. Greg/Ryan, I mean. Well, except for next weekend when he plays a troubled kid from the wrong side of the tracks who goes to St. Mary’s. But Luke doesn’t need to know about that.

“What’s up? I’m just having a grilled cheese with my mom. She cut it in half just the way I like it,” I tell him, glancing at my mom out of the corner of my eye, and hoping this will score points with her.

“Fun,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he really means it. “Listen, I think we should talk about what happened at the party. You know, uh, with Greg.” I chew slowly on my grilled cheese.

“Welll,” I say, wondering just how I’m going to be able to talk about Greg/Ryan when my mom is sitting right next to me. Also, why is Luke bringing this up, anyway? As far as I’m concerned, Greg/Ryan is over. He doesn’t affect our lives anymore. He’s just, poof, gone! I wonder if maybe I should make him move away? Or give him some kind of incurable disease? “I don’t know what there is to talk about.”

“How about how you basically ignored me so that
you could have a secret conference with him and Mel?”

“No, I didn’t,” I say.

“Yes, you did,” he says. “And you don’t even sound that upset about it.”

“I am,” I say.

“You don’t sound it.”

“Well, it’s hard right now, since I’m, you know, eating this grilled cheese and all.” I hope he realizes that
eating this grilled cheese
is code for
my mom is right here so I can’t talk about this stuff
, but Luke apparently doesn’t get it.

“You still haven’t told your mom about me?” he asks.

“Yes, actually, I have,” I say, proud of myself. I take a bite of my grilled cheese, chew, swallow, and take a swig of milk. No sweat.

“Then why are you still being so secretive?” he wants to know.

“You’re right, we should totally talk about that in mock trial tomorrow,” I say. Hopefully he knows this means,
We’re in the middle of talking about you right now and we’ll talk about this tomorrow
, while my mom will interpret it to mean that Luke is so obviously smart that he’s the one who wanted me to get into mock trial, a very valuable extracurricular that will allow me to get
into the college of my choice.

“In mock trial tomorrow?” Luke asks. “Why would we talk about this in mock trial?”

“Because that would be cool,” I say. My mom is chewing on her sandwich and looking at something on the wall, squinting at one of our pictures like maybe she’s thinking it needs to be replaced or something. But I know she’s just doing that so it won’t seem like she’s listening to my conversation. “So maybe I’ll call you back later?”

“Devon,” Luke says, his voice getting all soft. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m freaking out about this. But I miss you.”

My face flushes and my stomach does a huge flip. He misses me! Even though he just saw me a couple of hours ago, he misses me! But of course I can’t say that back. So I just say, “See you tomorrow, too,” and then I flip my phone shut.

“Maybe you should have Luke over for dinner tomorrow,” my mom says.

“Maybe I should,” I say.

She changes the subject then, and we talk about Katie being obsessed with the whole Olympic scandal, and how she wants to get her hair cut. We don’t talk that much about Luke, and I can tell my mom is trying
to be cool about it. But later, when I’m alone in my room, I call Luke back on my cell so I can tell him I miss him, too. But he never answers, and by the time I fall asleep, he hasn’t called me back.

“Look, you’re going to have to do it sometime,” Lexi says to Mel.

“That’s not true!” Mel says. “I can definitely decide not to do it ever. Ever in my life.” She looks a little green. Although it could be the shirt she’s wearing, a yellow, long-sleeved T-shirt that says “Peace” in bubbly black letters. I keep telling her not to wear yellow with her skin tone, but does she listen to me? Nooo. Of course, it could also be the lighting here, too. The hallway at school is very unforgiving and does not do anything for anyone’s complexion. Well, except Bailey Barelli. Her skin always looks flawless.

“Ohmigod, here he comes,” I say, and turn back toward Lexi’s locker. It’s between second and third period on Monday, and Lexi is trying to convince Mel she needs to ask Dylan to the dance. But Mel is resisting. We all hold our breaths as Dylan walks by, and I pretend to be talking about something inside Lexi’s locker.

“So that’s what your mirror looks like!” I say really
loudly as Dylan passes by, my face buried in Lexi’s locker.

“Like that wasn’t obvious,” Lexi sniffs once Dylan’s out of earshot. I remove my head from her locker and Lexi slams it shut.

“Excuse me?” I say. “But that was a very good line. I mean, why else would my head have been all the way in your locker if it wasn’t to either look at your mirror or avoid Dylan?”

“Anyway,” Lexi tells Mel, ignoring my explanation, “I’m not saying you’re going to have to ask him out.”

Mel smiles.

“But,” Lexi goes on, “eventually, at some point, you are going to have to ask a guy out.”

“Why?” Mel asks. “Why should I ask a guy out?”

“Because don’t you want to be able to go for what you want?” Lexi asks. She pulls on the hem of the super short purple skirt she’s wearing over purple tights. My mom would have FREAKED if I’d gone out of the house wearing that. But something tells me Lexi’s mom doesn’t care. She probably bought it for her.

“Not if what I want doesn’t want me,” Mel says. She looks satisfied.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I sing. Mel gives me a dirty look.

“All I’m saying,” Lexi says. “Is that if you want to ask him out, you should ask him. Besides, it’s not fair to expect the guy to do the asking all the time. First, it’s extremely sexist and sets the feminist movement back, and second, sometimes guys are shy, too, and you might miss out on someone who really
does
like you just because
he
thinks that
you
don’t like him.” Lexi snaps her gum.