How to Meet Boys (16 page)

I turned from studying the menu board. “I know, right?” We both ordered our sandwiches and grabbed empty cups by the pop machine.

“You’re lucky. Well, not that looks are everything. They’re not,” Ava said.

“I know,” I said.

“Because I’ve been wondering about something. If Jackson was a jerk to Lucy, how do we know he won’t suddenly start acting like that toward you?” asked Ava.

I thought it over for a minute while I filled my cup with root beer. As much as I knew about Jackson, I couldn’t say for certain that he wouldn’t do something like that. It was the kind of thing boys did, right? All the time, according to some of my friends.

There was the Jackson that Lucy knew, though, and the Jackson I knew: the Jackson who brought me Junior Mints after learning they were my favorite movie snack; who sent me sweet messages; who kissed me on that one spot by my ear that made me practically melt . . 

“Mikayla, stop! You’re causing a flood!” Ava cried.

The root beer had spilled over the top of my cup and was running over my hands and onto the counter. I pulled my thumb away from the dispenser button and grabbed some napkins to clean up the mess.

“Did you fall asleep or what?” Ava asked as we grabbed our subs.

“I’m having a klutzy summer,” I said with a nervous laugh. “This is not even the worst of it.” I showed her the slight bike-crash scar on my forehead and the volleyball-induced bump on my nose, and then finished wiping up the spilled soda. I grabbed a straw and we walked out of the shop, heading to some wooden picnic tables down on the dock.

The bottoms of my sneakers were sticky from the root beer fiasco and made a funny noise as we walked on the sidewalk. We walked down the sloping hill toward the wooden dock. Tourists were lined up outside various boat slips, waiting for their tours, milling around bait shops, T-shirt shops, and the ice cream stand. There was a whole other life in Bridgeport that I didn’t see much of, being stuck at the Club all day.

I shouldn’t say “stuck,” though. I got to work with tons of great kids, got to be outside most of the time, and had access to everything you could ever want or need. Well, except a certain person.

Ava and I found an empty bench and settled onto it. “So
before
you flooded the sandwich place, we were talking about Jackson.” Ava unwrapped her straw and pierced the top of the cup lid with it.

“Right. So I know he was a jerk to Lucy when he was younger. But he wouldn’t do that now, to me. We wouldn’t do that to each other. We have a real, you know, connection.”

“Connection is one thing. Sticking with it? And loyalty? That’s something else,” Ava declared.

“Right, of course. But I mean, I don’t see any reason Jackson would act like that. If anything, he’s been seeking me out more than I’ve been pursuing him,” I said.

“Listen. I hate to pull the Been There, Done That card. But this is your first real boyfriend. You have to take it slow and look out for yourself.”

I watched Ava for a second as I ate a bite of my sub. Something seemed off about this whole conversation. Why had she tracked me down for lunch? Was she on a mission of some kind? “Why are you saying all this?” I asked her.

“I’m looking out for you, that’s all.” She shrugged.

“Are you sure you’re not looking out for Lucy?” I asked.

“What?” Ava tossed her head, flipping her bangs away from her eyes.

“I feel like you’re trying to push me away from Jackson. Did Lucy ask you to say something? I mean, I know she’s not comfortable with—”

“No,” Ava interrupted me. “Not at all. I mean, she is kind of upset about how this all happened, but no, she doesn’t want him for herself. I promise, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Of course you don’t—sorry. I guess my emotions are running a little high right now,” I said.

“No kidding. So are everyone else’s. Especially Lucy. She even got a speeding ticket this morning because she was telling me how she felt about you and Jackson.”

“What?” Lucy never got tickets—she never sped. “So, um, how
does
she feel?” I asked timidly. “I’m guessing not all that good, if it made her drive super fast.”

Ava dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, brushing off a speck of guacamole. “She wants you to be happy. But she wishes it were with someone else. She can’t help feeling sort of . . . I don’t know how to put this without sounding all dramatic. But I guess she feels betrayed? He was kind of her worst enemy for a while there.”

My stomach sort of lurched. My sandwich suddenly didn’t seem all that appealing. I knew that she’d freaked out about seeing Jackson when we got here, which was why I hadn’t wanted to tell her I’d met him and that I liked him. But she’d had some time to get used to the idea, and they were working together . . . she had to be getting over it—and him—a little bit every day. If she couldn’t, that was a big problem, for all of us.

“I wish she could forget about what happened. I wish . . . it hadn’t happened like that,” I said. “But from Jackson’s point of view, it was typical middle school—lots of drama about not very much. I mean, we talked about it a little.”

“That’s because it wasn’t traumatic for him. It was for her,” Ava said.

“Back then, yeah, but . . . she has to forget about that. She has to move on,” I said.

“Easier said than done.” Ava’s phone rang and she took it out, looked at the number, then slid it back into her pocket. “Listen, I can talk to each of you as much as you want, but you guys really need to talk it over with each other. So, to change the subject for a second, I have to ask you a favor. I already asked Lucy and she’s cool with it.”

I was intrigued now. “What?”

“If by any chance you could not tell anyone that I’m here just yet, that would be good,” Ava said.

“Why?”

“I want to hide out for a few more days,” she said. “My parents are going to be mad that I quit the internship, my roommate is going to be mad that I left town without paying the rest of the rent I owed for the summer, the magazine editor is going to yell at me, and I’d really rather not explain all this to anyone but you and Lucy right now.”

“I thought you said your mom knew where you were. Is that true or not?”

“Not,” Ava said.

“So does that mean you haven’t even told them where you are yet?” I asked. “Is it because the law is going to come looking for you?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing like that. I didn’t commit a crime. I just screwed up royally, that’s all. And the longer I can wait before I have to admit that to everyone, the better. I’ll just get some days in at my new job, earn some money, get things back on track.
Then
I’ll tell them.”

“But they’re going to know you’re not in Chicago,” I said. “What about the office phone?”

“Never gave it to them. Told them to use my cell. And from my cell, I could be anywhere. I turned off all the ‘locate me’ stuff on all my screens and apps and stuff. No one will find me.”

I stared at her. This was a side to her I’d never seen before. “You’re so devious. You’re kind of scaring me right now.”

“Anyone can be devious,” she said. “It’s easy to pick up how to do this kind of thing. I’ve watched a lot of TV shows where people disappeared.”

“Me too,” I said, laughing. “Remember that three-week period in February when I was recovering from mono and I couldn’t leave the house much? I watched about two hundred episodes of
Law & Order
.”

“Yeah, and we all sat around hoping we wouldn’t get it because we all drank out of the same mocha?” Ava shuddered. “Mocha mono. Won’t do that again.”

“Hey, I was the one with mono, not
you
!” I reminded her. I glanced at a new text on my phone. Jackson had directed me to a photo he posted from work—and it featured Lucy holding a bumper sticker that said
I Brake for Apple Pie
.

“She looks fine,” I said, showing Ava the photo. “She looks like she’s having fun.”

“She puts on a show sometimes. You know that about her. It’s from when her parents broke up and didn’t give her any advance notice. She had to pretend she was okay with that, and she did, up to a point. But she freaks out when people surprise her with things because it makes her think she can’t trust anyone. And you most definitely surprised her.”

I nodded. I hadn’t thought about the fact that what I’d done might have reopened an old wound. I’d never meant for anything like that to happen.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

Friday afternoon, I was helping a
customer choose between a red shirt with a green apple on the front of it and a green shirt with a red apple on it, when I saw someone familiar out of the corner of my eye.

I didn’t just see her
, I said to myself.
That can’t be. I
didn’t
just see my mother walk in, did I?

Seconds later, she skittered over to me in high-heeled sandals, black capri pants, and a smooth blue sleeveless blouse. She was totally coordinated, head to toe, as usual. Despite being confused by her arrival, I reached out and gave her a big hug, which felt good. “Lucyloo,” she said, giving me a warm squeeze. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said, cringing at her using my nickname in front of other people. “Why didn’t you call?”

“It was a last-minute decision early this morning. I was driving down Lyndale when it suddenly hit me,” she said.

“What hit you? Another car?” My mom’s driving record is not exactly blemish-free. She once rear-ended a city bus because she was on her phone making a real estate deal. Then again, who was I, recent speeding ticket–getter, to talk?

“Cute, very cute. No, an idea,” she said. “A brilliant, exciting idea.”

Just then Jackson walked out of the back room, carrying a crate of apples to restock the bins.

“And who are you?” Mom asked brightly. She’s like that. She’ll say hello and introduce herself to anyone, because “you never know who might need to buy or sell a house someday.” Her whole life is a marketing opportunity.

It was no use telling her Jackson was seventeen and wouldn’t be buying or selling real estate any time soon. She’d call him a “growth and development market” or something like that.

“I’m Jackson Rolfsmeier,” he said, a little unsure of himself. Maybe he didn’t remember what she looked like.

“Wait a second. What? Not the Jackson Rolfsmeier who lived down the block. Oh my gosh, how are you? We haven’t seen you in ages.” She attempted to give Jackson a hug, but ended up just sort of holding both his arms in hers for a second. Jackson looked like he’d rather die than be kissed by her, so thankfully she got the message and didn’t do her usual two smooches on the cheek. She likes to pretend she’s French sometimes. It’s annoying. She’s Norwegian. No, scratch that—her great-grandparents were Norwegian. She’s from a Twin Cities suburb.

“Mom, I told you he was working here,” I said. Then I regretted it. Why would I be talking about Jackson to my mom? I hoped he wouldn’t think that it was earth-shatteringly important that he was working here, even if it, you know,
was
in the beginning.

“You did?” she asked.

“Well, in passing,” I said.

“That’s amazing! Such good friends as you two used to be. What a cool coincidence,” Mom said. She didn’t even remember what I’d told her about Jackson.

“Well, it’s not that big of a coincidence,” Jackson said. “I mean, our grandparents know each other up here, so . . ”

“Set up by the grandparents to work together, huh?” Mom smiled. “Wouldn’t be the first time my parents tried to pull off something like that. They had me work here one summer with a boy they thought I should be matched up with—”

“It’s not like that,” I interrupted her.

“At all,” Jackson added with a little more firmness than I had.

“Just teasing,” Mom said. “Although they did do that to
me
. So anyway, Luce, the answer was right in front of me the whole time. All the trials and tribulations we’ve been through, the double-booking at the club . . . All of that is completely irrelevant now,” she went on. “Because you know what I realized last night when I was shopping online? I was buying a pair of sandals and on the sidebar was an ad all about escaping the ordinary and heading north to adventure—”

“It’s a tourism slogan, Mom.”

“But it’s more than that. Don’t you see? Gary and I need this escape wedding. We can do it—and we can have the wedding right here.”

“
Here?
” asked Jackson.

“In Bridgeport, I mean. And it’ll be perfect. My parents are here, you’re here . . . and look at how beautiful it is.”

I tried to smile. I really did. But no smile would appear. My mother was talking about moving her gigantic wedding to Bridgeport—and I would get swept up in the tide more than ever. What was I saying? I’d drown in the tide.

“Whose wedding?” Jackson’s forehead creased in confusion. Of course: when we’d been friends, four years ago, my mom and dad were still together. He looked over at me and smirked suggestively.

“Wait a second,” I said. “You don’t think it’s
my
wedding.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mom said. “Lucy’s not even dating anyone, Jackson. Unless things have changed?”

I just stared at the ceiling and rolled my eyes. Trust my mom to show up and embarrass me like this.

“I’m getting remarried this summer. I’m surprised Lucy hasn’t told you about it yet.”

“Oh, we don’t have a lot of time to talk,” I quickly said. “We’re usually busy with customers.” Not to mention not prone to sharing anything about our private lives. He had no idea my parents had divorced not long after he and I stopped hanging out.

“Funny. I don’t see any customers,” Mom said.

“That’s because it’s still early. They’re coming.” Jackson made a big show of looking at his watch. “Every day at about this time, we get slammed by bus tours.” He nodded. “Slammed.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said. “Oh—Luce. A bridge. In Bridgeport. We should get married on a bridge. So symbolic, so indicative of the future.”