How to Meet Boys (25 page)

“All this happened in one week?” Lucy asked. “Poor you—why didn’t you let us know?”

“I was trying to figure it all out on my own. Turns out I pretty much suck at that,” Ava said.

“That sounds like a horrible experience,” I said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us before now. I mean, we could have come to your rescue or—or something.”

“You guys have capes, right?” Ava joked. “You could fly in and do the whole superhero thing.”

“But how did it all end up?” Lucy asked. “Are you really and truly okay? I kind of want to drive to Chicago tonight, just so we can tell that guy off.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Ava smiled ruefully. “I did that already.”

We laughed. I’d seen Ava give people a piece of her mind. She could be pretty devastating when she wanted to be.

“Okay, now that we’ve got everything out in the open, let’s toast.” Lucy unscrewed the top of a tall glass bottle of sparkling lemonade and poured three cups full. “To friends. To summer. And to no more secrets.” She handed me a cup and my gaze met hers. We both smiled.

“No more secrets.” I tapped my cup against hers, and then against Ava’s. “So spill where all this secret awesome food came from.”

“Um, Gus,” Lucy said.

Ava abruptly set down her cup. “Wait, didn’t he give you food poisoning? Should we eat this stuff?”

“It’s okay, he doesn’t work for that caterer anymore. And he’s really great.” Lucy’s face turned red and she laughed.

“He poisoned you, so you fell in love?” Ava said.

“Wait a second. How much have I missed in the last three days?” I’d never felt so out of the loop.

“It started before then . . . only I didn’t realize it at the time. He kept coming by the store. I thought he was great, and I guess he liked me. We started hanging out, but I kept taking off when things got intense. For some reason he put up with me. Then we got stranded and we were super close, but then I took off again. . . . Anyway. I went by and fixed things. And he helped me make this picnic. So . . . I don’t know if I’m in love, but I do like him. A lot.”

“That’s so great!” I said, squeezing her arm.

“That is, like, the vaguest story I have ever heard,” Ava said. “I want details.”

“Later,” Lucy said. “But Mikayla, will you go ahead and tell Jackson it’s okay and he doesn’t need to mope around the store anymore, because I’m okay? Really.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I told him I am, but it’ll mean a lot more coming from you. He thinks you’re perfect. You know, he might have acted like a rude dork back in eighth grade, but he’s pretty nice now.”

“He is,” I agreed. I quickly grabbed my phone and sent a text to Jackson.
Hey. When can I see u?

I don’t know
, Jackson wrote back.

Great. Now I had Jackson mad at me, just as Lucy had forgiven me.

Then my phone chimed with another message:
Later tonight when I get off work at WM?

I smiled. I wanted nothing more than to see him that night. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms again. But other things were more important right now, like friends, and reconnecting, and this wonderful-looking picnic, including the little crackers with strange cheese on them. But mostly friends.

I need to wait until tom’w
, I wrote back.
But I promise I’ll see you then
.

“Refill?” Lucy asked, holding the lemonade bottle over my cup.

“I’d love one,” I told her, setting my phone aside.

“Okay, now that you guys are actually talking again and might not kill each other, let’s talk about this party we’re having Saturday night,” said Ava. “Who’s in charge of entertainment?”

“
You
,” Lucy and I said in unison.

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You can do this
.

I was heading up to the cabin after work, rehearsing my speech in the car.

Mom, this isn’t going to work out. You can’t pop in and out all summer planning your wedding and having me be your assistant. I have my life to live. This is going to be my amazing summer—who knows when I’ll have one like this again, with my best friends? Not to mention Gus.

Just thinking that made me blush.
Focus, Lucy. Get through the speech and then you can think about Gus again.

My mom had finally returned to Bridgeport, and she’d announced we were meeting with a couple of photographers after I got off work. Two at the most, she’d promised. They were Bridgeport’s best and didn’t I want to look at their work beforehand?

Never mind that I didn’t have time to surf the web and look at portfolios while I was at work. Gus had come by to meet me for lunch, bringing a strawberry smoothie for me, and we’d sat down by the water for fifteen minutes, talking and laughing, before I had to head back. So I guess you could say Mom’s wedding was sliding even lower on my priority list.

Seeing Mom’s white SUV in our driveway as I pulled up made me wonder if I really could do this. How could I say no to my mom? I’d been trying for years and it never stuck.

“Hey, Lucyloo,” she greeted me when I walked into the house, which was empty save for her.

“Where are the photographers?” I asked.

“I canceled,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in days. The last thing we should do right away is look at photo albums.” She gave me a hug. “So much has happened.”

Tell me about it
, I thought. “Let me guess. You sold another duplex?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

“Well, yes, how did you know?”

I shrugged. “I’m psychic? But—that’s not the point.” I set my bag on the kitchen counter and faced her. “Mom, I’m glad you’re excited about your wedding. And I want it to be exactly what you want it to be. But this summer is a time for me, not a time for me to help you plan your second wedding, which if you think about it, probably shouldn’t be as big of a deal as your first wedding—and I’ve spent so much time with you that I haven’t—”

“Don’t say another word,” she said.

“Mom, just because you always want to talk about yourself and you won’t let me talk—”

“I’ve decided to simplify,” she said, interrupting me.

“Simplify,” I repeated. Did Mom even know what that word meant?

“Gary and I have already decided on a different plan. He thought we were rushing too much, and actually, so did I. And then the food poisoning incident—I’m still sorry about that,” she said. “Anyway, we’ll get married at the orchard,” she continued.

“Nana and Grandpa’s apple orchard?” I asked, fairly stunned. “You will?”

“Not right now, of course. It’d be hot and buggy and nothing’s in season,” she continued. “No, we’ll do it in the fall. Probably September, but maybe October. Have to get past bee season. I hate those bees. Always have. They just come around and look for fallen apples.”

A bee in the tree is worth two in the hive
, I thought, still not sure what that saying was supposed to mean. “Did you just say Oc-October?” I stammered. She was making this so easy. “Really?”

She nodded. “We want the trees to be in full bloom. We want the gorgeous fall weather. I’ll have time to get the menu set, find a proper caterer, and all those good things.”

Exactly what I’d been trying to tell her for the past month or more. Why rush something so important?

“And I know that I’ve been getting in the way around here,” she said. “You have better things to do than hang out with me all the time.”

“It’s not—not that,” I said. “It’s just that you’re rushing so much, and pulling me into all the decisions. I don’t want to be the one who chooses stuff, Mom. I don’t want that responsibility. It’s up to you and Gary.”

Mom nodded. “Very true.”

“And there’s so much else going on here. I mean, you have no idea . . ”

“I have some idea. For one thing, you and Mikayla are hardly talking—”

“Oh, no, we’re past that,” I assured her.

“For another, there’s that boy from the caterer who really seems to like you and keeps showing up,” she continued without acknowledging what I’d said.

“Gus,” I said. “Yeah, he’s—”

“And for a third thing, it seems like you and Jackson have kind of put things in the past. So if you just straighten out that situation with Mikayla, I’d say, all in all, not a bad summer so far. I feel completely fine leaving you here on your own.”

“Mom. You’re not listening to me! Mikayla and I are getting along fine,” I said. “She and Jackson are a couple and things were weird for a while, but we got over it.”

I was getting used to the fact that Jackson and Mikayla were together, and it wasn’t because of Gus. It made sense for them to be together. Jackson had turned out to be a decent guy, and not the person I’d hated for the past few years because of a rumor he’d helped get started. More importantly, he made my best friend really happy.

“Oh. Hm. Well, anyway, another reason I’ve got to take off is that the market’s hot right now. I’m missing out. Kerri and Gary can’t very well be the top team in our region if Kerri is two hundred miles away.”

A few days ago, I probably would have muttered something like, “Right. The market. I should have known.” But now, a part of me was kind of happy my mom hadn’t totally changed. Plus, I realized I was getting exactly what I wanted. I should
thank
the real estate market in the Twin Cities. “So, Mom,” I said instead. “That boy from Chef Michael’s you just mentioned? Gus. We might be dating.”

“Lucyloo!” Mom practically squealed with excitement. “Why didn’t you say anything? Let’s go out to dinner and you tell me all about it. Afterward I’ll vanish, I promise.”

“But . . . not totally, right?” I said. “You’re still going to visit once or twice.”

“If I can. And of course, I’ll call now and then,” she said.

Now and then?
I nodded. “Of course.” We headed out to her car, arm in arm. There was such a thing as speaking your mind—and things being better because of it.

That night, after dinner with Mom, I met Gus down at the beach. We went for a walk to check out the night sky, then spread a blanket on the sand and sat down next to each other, wrapping the blanket’s edges around us.

He reached over for my hand as we both looked up at the sky. “That star right there?” he said, pointing with both our hands. “That one’s called the Milky Way tart.”

“Don’t remind me of the samples disaster. Ever,” I said, trying to pull my hand away. “Certain things should not be spoken of. Or sampled. In fact, when I get married—that is,
if
I get married—I’m having something simple, like Taco Bell, at the reception. In the parking lot. People get hot sauce packets for wedding favors.”

“That’s what your mom should have. Those Doritos Locos things!” Gus cried.

“What are you saying? My mom is crazy?” I asked. “I suppose she is obsessed with creating the perfect day. She should be on a reality show about weddings. It’s going to be called
Say Yes to the Watercress
.”

“Watercress. I didn’t even know what that was, until she insisted on it. I thought she was talking about having a reception on a sailboat,” Gus said. “When the water
crested
.”

“You did not,” I said.

“I did!” He held up his hands. “Scout’s honor.”

“Are you a scout?” I asked.

“No. Hey, I just thought of something. Since she’s getting married at the orchard now, you’ll have to have apples,” he said. “Tons of apples. Bushels.”

“Oh, definitely. I’ll suggest Northern Spy apples. Caramel-covered ones,” I said. “Nobody will be able to eat them without ruining their clothes. It’ll be
awesome
. Hey, speaking of parties, that reminds me. I was supposed to be hosting a bunch of epic parties this summer but I kind of got off to a slow start. So can you come to the first one, this Saturday night?”

“Wait a second. Isn’t this epic enough?” Gus asked.

“It is for me.” I looked at Gus and smiled. “Actually, this is pretty epic.”

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Ava and I were chopping veggies in
the kitchen about half an hour before the party was supposed to start on Saturday night. Lucy had taken off on a mission to get more ice; we’d already filled the fridge with cans and bottles of pop, juice, and Gatorade, but we realized we needed to fill some metal containers too. The only way Lucy’s grandparents had approved the party was when we insisted that no one would drink—or do—anything illegal. They planned to enforce the rule by making an unannounced visit.

We had dip for the veggies, chips and salsa, mini cupcakes, and assorted other snacks on the kitchen counter and outside on the deck. The driveway had been cleared for a beanbag toss game, and we had a net up for badminton or volleyball games. There was croquet in the yard, but playing in the woods was going to be a challenge.

We’d invited about fifty people that we knew from our combined jobs, and encouraged Sarah, Henry, Gus, and Jackson to invite friends too. That might make this party too huge, but we’d lucked out and gotten a warm, gorgeous night.

Lucy walked in, carrying bags of ice. She dumped them on the counter. “I think I came up with the name for this place,” she said.

Ava looked at me as she fanned out carrot sticks on a paper plate. “Uh oh.”

“No, it’s good! I’m going to call it ‘Cozy Charm,’” Lucy said.

I stared at her. “Seriously? No. You’re not,” I said.

“No, okay, you’re right. Here, I already had a sign made. Hope you guys don’t mind.” She held up a giant paper plate, where she’d drawn a picture with a Sharpie pen and written
TIGER POD
in capital letters. “We just put this over the door as our crest.”

Ava and I started laughing. “So we’re finally in the Tiger Pod, huh? But we can’t be tigers,” I said. “We’re turtles!”

“You know what? We’re anything we decide to be this summer,” Lucy said. “
That’s
the whole point.

“Turtles don’t scale! Turtles don’t scale!” Ava cried, lowering herself to the floor and looking pathetic.