Flirting with Disaster (5 page)

“I’ll think about it,” I promised, but really, except for writing the one article—which frankly I’d be lucky to get permission to do—I had no idea what I could do to help. I gave Becky my number and gathered my bag and notebook before walking home.

Later that night, Becky called me. “Savvy, it’s Becky. Listen, I’m sorry that I brushed right past your offer to help with the auction. Maybe you could come in once or twice a week till then and help with inputting things into the computer?”

“I’d love to,” I said. That was something I could do. I hoped Becky would be very, very happy that she’d asked me to help.

Chapter 9

Wednesday night I headed to the coffeehouse at church. I’d been pretty busy the week before and hadn’t been able to make it. Sometimes Tommy came, sometimes not, especially during football season.

My friend Supriya met me at the door. “Hey, Savvy! Mocha—whipped cream?”

“Definitely!”

We headed to the coffee cart, chatting and catching up while we waited. “New nose stud?” I asked. The stud in her creamy brown skin seemed a bit more pink than the last one I’d seen.

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. “Gift from my grandmum in Mumbai.”

We sat on one of the couches with a few other friends to talk, when Joe, the youth pastor, came over and nudged me. “Hullo, Savvy. Listen, good news. We’re going to need a guitarist on worship team in a couple of weeks. Are you up for it?”

I could see that Supriya looked delighted. Only a couple of months ago it had been my dream to play on the worship team at church, to be a part of leading others in worship. But now that the opportunity was staring me in the face, it sounded a lot scarier. Besides, I had another ministry that very well could take up a lot of my time, in addition to my main one—writing the column. “I’m not sure,” I said.

Joe nodded. “Right. You’ll want to pray about it. I totally understand. Well, let me know after you decide, okay?”

After Joe walked away, Supriya said, “Good idea to pray about it first. I’m sure that took a lot of self-discipline, ’cause I know how much you wanted it.”

I smiled and didn’t correct her. Prayer. Yes, that would be a good idea. I just hadn’t thought of it. I really didn’t think I needed to pray about this one, though. I was pretty sure I was on the right track.

After worship that night, someone came by handing out flyers. I took one and glanced at it before sticking it in my Bible.

As I was picking up my room before bed, a text came in. A forward. I didn’t recognize the number, so I texted back.

Who is this?

Chloe.

Chloe? As in, the Aristocat who’d had a meltdown at the tea shop last month, which my mother and I witnessed? who had thrown her purse at the May Day Ball, scattering its contents, including Tommy’s phone? who hated me because . . . well, because Tommy might like me?

Who had given her my number?

I quickly added her to my address book, just so she’d be in there for good and I’d know who she was if she tried to contact me again. She sent the forward again. I wrote back just to be uber-polite.

Hey.

But no way was I sending that forward on. Even if it did warn of bad news if I ignored it.

I was grateful I didn’t believe in jinxing.

Chapter 10

Thursday morning I got to school early to deliver the papers. As I loaded the bag, I noticed Hazelle hunched over the new edition. She never read the paper on the morning it came out unless she had an article in it, and this week, she did not.

Okay, so I should have remembered that curiosity killed the cat. But I wasn’t a cat.

“Whatcha reading?” I asked politely, jiggling the Peter Chen bag in order to fit in as many papers as possible.

“Nothing,” she snapped.

Wow.
I backed off.

“Oh, well, if you must know,” she said, “my horoscope.” She looked up at me. “What are you?”

I must have looked as dumbfounded as I felt. I had no idea what she was asking. “A girl?” I offered.

“No, I mean, what sign are you?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“When is your birthday?” she persisted. For some reason the whole line of questioning was starting to make me nervous.

“July.” I didn’t give her the date.

“You’re probably a Cancer,” she said.

As she spoke, Natalie quietly came up behind us. “That’s not a nice thing to call your friend,” she teased. “I think Savvy is rather nice, not a disease.”

Hazelle rolled her eyes. “I mean her astrological sign is Cancer.” She closed the paper. “I’m a Cancer too. Things don’t look so good for Cancers this week.” At that, she grabbed her book bag and made her way back to her desk, very clearly closing down the conversation.

Natalie smiled chummily at me and raised her eyebrows as if to say,
Well, what can we do?

Against my better judgment, I found myself warming to her.

First period I walked in just in time to witness a hostile look from Brian to Hazelle and the evil icicle she hurtled right back at him. At which point Brian turned to me and asked very sweetly, “Hey, Savvy, do you have a piece of gum?”

Now Brian and I had been gum-chewing buddies for months, but I wasn’t about to get sucked into a lovers’ Bermuda Triangle. “Fresh out today,” I said, grateful that Louanne had pinched my last few pieces the night before.