Fat Cat (14 page)

39

"J
ust give him one more chance,"
Amanda argued.

"Why?"

"Because I hate to break it to you, but it's not unheard of for a guy to want to cop a feel. Especially in the Mondo Head--it's notorious."

"But he knows I don't want that! And what's with the whole love thing?"

Amanda ate another bite of zucchini muffin. She had come over for the Sunday report and also to sample whatever I'd made my family for breakfast.

"This is excellent, by the way," she said. "Okay, the love thing."

"He can't possibly really feel that way," I said.

"Why not? You're lovable."

"Right."

"Kit Cat, why is it so hard to believe that a guy could fall in love with you?"

"After two weeks?"

"After two minutes," Amanda said. "Remember me and Jordan."

"That's because the two of you are incredible. Who wouldn't fall in love with either one of you?"

"You're incredible, too," Amanda answered. "Can I have another one?"

I waved her toward the muffins. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Let's go on another double," Amanda suggested. "That way I can evaluate him in action. Has he asked you to Vince's party yet?"

"Yes. I said no." It's an end-of-swim-season/pre-Halloween party one of the guys from the swim team is throwing next weekend.

"Well, change your mind," Amanda said. "Let's do this together. It'll be fine."

I sighed. Heavily.

"Kitty Cat, I'm only thinking of you. You just need to get a certain someone out of your system. What better way than to replace him with someone who thinks he loves you?"

I groaned. "Fine. But I'm not wearing a costume."

"Of course you are."

40

Day 66, Saturday, October 25

Halloween party:
This was the first time I've been exposed to so much junk food since I started the project. And none of it mattered to me anymore. Chips and dip, chips and salsa, Chex Mix, M&M's--I didn't crave any of it. Unbelievable.

Of course Amanda stared me down about the whole costume thing. There's really no denying her once she sets her mind on something.

So she found the costume for me. Or more accurately, she created it. We went to the thrift store this morning, and she started gathering items here and there. She has an eye for that, so I knew I just had to trust her, even though the clothes she picked out made no sense.

But when she was done with me, it wasn't half bad. In fact, the costume was pretty hilarious, once you understood what I was supposed to be.

I wore high heels of my own, but everything else was from the thrift store: a short black-and-white-checked skirt, a pink sweater (a little too tight, if you ask me, but Amanda said to leave it), a long purple bead necklace, big hoop earrings, and a faded black suit jacket.

We dropped by Wal-Mart on our way home (I know, I was in the car again--but Amanda claimed this was the Halloween shopping exception, known to hominins everywhere. I'm not putting that in the research notebook). She picked up a few more items there: some Velcro, some glue, and a map of the United States. She also managed to sweet-talk one of the workers into giving us a large cardboard box from out of the storeroom.

Then we went back to my house to concoct her creation.

She cut a big section from the cardboard box and glued the map to one side. Then she attached a few strips of Velcro to the middle of the map and sewed their matching halves to the back of the jacket.

"Try it on."

I pulled on the jacket and practiced walking around my room with this big cardboard obstruction stuck to the back of me, learning where my corners were so I wouldn't keep scraping against the walls.

She had me detach the map again so she could add a few construction paper clouds and lightning bolts and some random numbers like 71 and 45 written across certain states.

The last step before we left for the party was me consenting to wear makeup. ("Halloween exception," Amanda explained. Whatever.) Amanda worked her particular makeup magic, so I have to admit I looked pretty nice, for me. And since I'd already violated that
part of my hominin rule book, I let her go ahead and style my hair, too, until it was very large and stiff with hair spray.

"Perfect," Amanda said, and I had to agree.

Greg didn't get it, of course. No one did.

Well, not no one.

Matt stared at me from across the room. At first I thought he was glaring, but then I realized he was just concentrating. Suddenly he burst into laughter.

I turned away before he could see me smile. He would think I was smiling at him, not at the fact that Amanda was so clever.

Every time Greg tried to get me to tell him what I was, I said he had to guess. Finally he couldn't take it anymore, so I told him.

"Weather girl."

He scrunched up his face and looked me over. "Huh?"

I pointed to the clouds over my shoulder and said in my girliest voice, "We expect a high-pressure system over Cincinnati and rain to the south. For those of you in San Diego, the high will be eighty-eight--"

"Oh," Greg said. He still looked confused.

That's when I got a tightness in my stomach and the usual wave of sleepiness.

There were a few decent costumes tonight, but most of them were pretty lame. None could match Amanda's creativity. Several of the girls dressed like Catwoman to show off their incredible figures. At least three different guys wore Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses, as if that made a costume. Matt wore sweats and a tuxedo jacket, whatever that was supposed to be. Greg dressed up like the Wolfman--fur pasted to his face, and fangs and everything. Jordan dressed exactly like he does every day, except tonight he wore glasses.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Clark Kent."

"That's it?"

Jordan shrugged.

Amanda said, "I begged him."

She looked better than all of us--bikini top, long black skirt, beach sandals, and a cape she made out of black sheets she bought at Wal-Mart (who uses black sheets?). She completed the look with a long black wig and a sun visor.

Oh, and she carried a small jar of mayo.

Greg didn't get that one, either. But Matt did.

He came over to say hi to Jordan, completely ignoring me. He turned to Amanda and nailed it. "Sand witch."

Amanda had to give Matt his props. She smiled. "Very good."

"Sandwich?" Greg repeated.

Matt walked away without another word or even a glance at me.

And I knew in that moment there was no denying it: Greg Beecher is no Matt McKinney.

Which is good--
great
--in a lot of ways. In fact, it makes sense to consider only those guys who are the exact opposite of Matt.

But there's this one small matter that I just can't escape: I like the way Matt thinks. I like how smart he is. And he's clever, like Amanda--he sees things in a way other people don't. If only he weren't such a miserable excuse for a human being.

I watched him weave through the crowd. Watched the back of his stupid tuxedo jacket and the tousled hair that made him look like he had just woken up. I watched him turn to talk to a group of people, and smile and laugh with them, the way he used to around me.

I don't regret that we aren't friends anymore. What we had was obviously a lie anyway. But a part of me can't help wondering how things would be different if I hadn't overheard what he said at the
science fair. Would we still be hanging out together? Still inventing things, still looking through his telescope at night, me still pretending that he liked me more than he obviously did?

See, that's the point. No matter what I think I'm missing, it was all just a fraud.

So then why do I let myself keep feeling this way?

41

T
he good thing about my costume
was it really thwarted any of Greg's attempts to put his arm around me. Not that he stopped trying.

"Why don't you take the map off?" he kept saying. "Everyone's seen it by now." He'd long ago removed the Wolfman teeth--they made it too hard to stuff his face. But I insisted that the map was the most important part of Amanda's costume for me, and I wasn't going to ruin it.

Around eleven, I'd had enough of the party.

I pulled Amanda to the bathroom along with me.

"Whatever you do," I told her as we waited our turn in line, "please do
not
leave without me tonight. I can't ride home with that guy. I can barely take another minute of him."

"That bad, huh?" Amanda winced. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have talked you into this."

"It's okay. I needed to know once and for all. And believe me, I know."

"I do, too," Amanda said. "He's definitely not right for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've been watching you two tonight--actually, watching him. And there's just something ... wrong. I can't explain it."

"Good. Then you'll let me off the hook?"

"Totally," she said. "Just let him down easy--he is still a friend of Jordan's. You don't have to make a big deal about it. Just tell him it's not working out."

"Do you think I should do it here?" I asked. "At the party?"

"Depends. How badly do you want to get it over with?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't suppose you'd like to do it for me?"

"Sorry, sweetie, goes with the territory. To each girl her own breakup."

We were next in line. And there was something more I had to say, even though I considered not saying it. But if you can't confess everything to your best friend--

"Besides, I think you may be right. About the other." I leaned closer to whisper it. "About Matt."

Amanda's eyes widened. "Oh. Okay. Wow."

One of the Catwomen came out of the bathroom just then, and Amanda pulled me inside. She locked the door behind us. "Let's hear it."

I didn't really want to say it out loud. I brushed my finger across my heart, brought both fists together, and snapped them apart.

"Heartbreak," Amanda said.

I nodded and sagged against the sink. My map crinkled against my back. "I just ... miss him sometimes, you know? As stupid as that
is. I really, really miss him. And seeing him here tonight, looking so... good."

"Although what is with that costume?" Amanda said.

"Yeah, I know." And then for some reason I could feel myself getting a little weepy.

"It's just that--" I cleared my throat and made myself wait a moment. "I think maybe you're right--what you said about me and guys. And about Matt. I think I really don't want to like anyone again. It's too much trouble. And no one is ... like him anyway. I think maybe I'm always going to compare every other guy to him. He really was the perfect one for me." I smiled and swiped away the one tear that sneaked out. "So how incredibly stupid is that? Considering what a jerk he is?"

"It's not stupid at all," Amanda said. "I think it makes perfect sense. It's like those baby ducks who'll follow around a human, thinking it's their mother. It's early imprinting. You can't fight it."

Amanda detached my map and gave me a big, sisterly hug. "But we still hate him, right?"

"Yes," I said. "Deeply."

Before we left the bathroom, Amanda whipped out her makeup brushes and touched up my smears. Then she patted me on the back and sent me out. "Now go break up with your boyfriend."

We returned to the packed living room and saw the three of them standing there talking--Jordan, Greg, and Matt.

Greg was laughing at something, Jordan was giving him a weird look, and Matt seemed really angry. Matt said something I didn't hear, Jordan braced his hand against Matt's chest, and Greg just laughed again. Then Matt saw Amanda and me coming, and turned and stalked back into the crowd.

As we walked toward Jordan and Greg, I suddenly lost my nerve.
There was no way I was breaking up with him at that party. In fact, I might have to make an exception to the cell phone rule just so I could text-message him tomorrow.
we r ovr
.

I tugged on Jordan's sleeve. "I'm tired. Do you mind if we go home now?"

"Okay," Greg said, as if I were talking to him.

"I think I'll go home with these guys," I said.

Greg looked like he didn't understand. "It's no problem. Let's go."

"She's on our way," Amanda said. "We'll just drop her off."

Somehow I knew it wasn't going to be as easy as that.

"Can I talk to you?" Greg asked.

Amanda and I exchanged a look. She was right--it was best to just get it over with. "Sure," I said.

I followed him through the kitchen, out to the backyard. A group sat around the fire pit, all of them drinking and some of them smoking. Greg drew me toward the privacy of the trees.

"What's going on?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "Look, you're a really nice guy--"

"Wait--are you breaking up with me?"

So much for my delicate intro. "Um, yeah--"

"Why?"

I couldn't see much of his face. It was too dark. But I did feel his fingers around my arm.

"It's not just you," I said. "I don't want to go out with anyone right now."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Nothing." His fingers were digging in harder. I started to pry them off. "I just ... this isn't what I want."

Some people came out from the kitchen, and Greg pulled me deeper into the darkness.

"Cat, I thought we had something here."

"I thought so, too," I lied. "It's just not the right time for me."

"It was the right time last week. And the week before. What's your problem?"

I didn't exactly like his tone.

He must have noticed that himself, because suddenly his voice softened. "Come on, Cat, what's going on? Did I do something wrong? Tell me."

He closed the distance between us, and I didn't realize until that moment I'd left my map back in the bathroom. He wrapped me in his giant arms and pulled me too close.

I didn't want to be hugged right then--not by him and especially not that hard. I wriggled out of his embrace. But I still tried to be nice about it.