It's a Mall World After All (11 page)

Reese's eyes grew wide. "You really do know Santa?"

I couldn't help but smile. This was probably as close to famous as I would ever get. "I'm helping him out this year. And since you're seeing Santa during the field trip, you don't have to worry about coming to the mall on Christmas Eve. Santa wants you to spend that day with your family, so he'll bring your mom's present to you at the field trip, okay?"

Reese nodded, his eyes still wide. "Is he bringing me my other gift too? I asked him for enough candy to make me sick."

Colton looked up from his lists. "Why would you want that?"

Reese shrugged. "My mom always says if I eat all my Halloween candy, it will make me sick; but it doesn't— no matter how much I eat. So I figure it would take a lot of candy to make me sick. Maybe a whole sleighful."

"You want a sleighful of candy?" Colton said.

Reese shrugged again. "Santa gets goodies at every house he stops at. He's got to have a lot left over by the time he reaches California."

Colton made a notation on one of the lists. "Uh-huh."

Reese took a step toward me, and his brows pushed together as he considered Colton. He lowered his voice, but not low enough. "Isn't that the guy you asked me to throw soda on?"

Colton's head jerked up. He stared first at Reese, then at me. "You asked him to throw soda on me?"

"Of course not. The boy is delirious. That's what happens to children when they're malnourished. They start hallucinating." I put my hand against Reese's forehead as though checking for a temperature. "I'm afraid he has a serious case of it."

Colton folded his arms and continued to glare at me. "No, Charlotte, you have a serious case of it, and I'm not talking about malnourishment."

Reese stepped away from my temperature check and toward Colton. "She said you wouldn't melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, but you might fizz a little." Reese turned back to me. "He never did fizz."

"I'm about to," Colton said. "Just watch for a few more seconds."

"There's my grandma!" Reese said, and without another look at either of us, he ran to the crosswalk to meet her.

Colton didn't move. He stood with his arms crossed and clenched the wish lists. "Let me get this straight. You know, just in case we ever have another conversation about doing things you later need to apologize for.
You asked that kid to follow me around the mall and throw
soda on me?"

"No. I asked him to pick up trash." I took a step back from Colton. "Although I might have suggested it wouldn't be a tragedy if he spilled soda on Bryant in the process."

"On Bryant?"

"I can't help it if Reese doesn't follow directions well."

Colton shut his eyes. I took another step back from him. When he opened his eyes, he let out a sigh. "This has got to end." I didn't want to ask what he was talking about. In fact,

I didn't want to have any sort of conversation with him. I looked out across the parking lot toward the car. "You know, we should go home. I have homework to do."

"Oh no you don't." He took hold of my hand and pulled me to the crosswalk. "We're going to fix this right now."

"Fix what?" I let him lead me across the parking lot toward his car. I wished he'd just yell at me about the soda and be done with it.

"We're going to see Bryant and work things out between you once and for all."

"I don't want to see Bryant." I tugged at my hand, but he held on tighter.

"I know you don't want to. You'd rather just hate Bryant for the rest of your life, but I'm getting sick of it."

"You?" I asked. "What do you have to do with this?"

We reached his car, and he opened the passenger-side door for me. "I've been drenched by misguided sodas and shoved in pools because of it. Not to mention that you showered Candy's guests with fruit dip because of it."

He motioned to the seat, and I reluctantly slid in and folded my arms. "I'm sorry about the sodas."

"And Bryant is sorry about the spiders."

"No, he isn't." I wasn't trying to argue with Colton.

I just didn't understand how Colton could be Bryant's friend and not realize certain facts about him. Bryant didn't care how other people felt. I didn't think for a moment he regretted anything he'd done to me.

Colton pulled out of the parking lot and drove away from the school. His speed picked up the farther we went. "What do you want from Bryant? An apology? Fine. He'll give you one."

"He hasn't changed," I said.

"What you mean is, you don't want him to change, because you enjoy hating him too much."

He didn't understand. He'd never been unpopular, ridiculed, or pushed to the fringes of school life day in and day out.

I didn't say anything else to Colton. I couldn't. If I spoke, I would either start yelling or break into tears. I knew I'd regret either of those things, so I sat silently in his car and held my hair in a ponytail so the wind wouldn't whip it around my face into uncontrollable tangles.

We drove through the city, and then to Bryant's neighborhood. "You're taking me to his house?"

"Nope. To the park. He and some of the guys are playing basketball."

We drove past a row of houses, then pulled up to the curb. I could make out a group of guys running back and forth on a court behind the playground equipment. Colton turned off the car, got out, and came around and opened my door for me. Not because he was being a gentleman, but because I didn't get out of the car. He bent forward, closer to me, and turned on his intense girl-melting gaze. "Come on, Charlotte, you've wanted an apology for a long time. You're finally going to get it."

"It doesn't count if you make him tell me he's sorry," I said, but I pulled myself out of the car anyway. To tell the truth, I couldn't imagine Bryant would apologize to me, even with Colton there forcing the issue. He'd do something obnoxious like laugh or tell me he no longer thought of me in spider terms because I'd graduated to hound-dog status.

Which would be awful, but at least Colton would finally see I was right about Bryant.

We walked across the grass, then stood at the corner of the courtyard—Colton looked for Bryant among the crowd. I looked for a possible escape route.

After a moment someone sunk a basket, and the group relaxed its pace from run to shuffle. One of the guys walked the ball back to midcourt. That's when Bryant noticed us. He looked from Colton, to me, and then back at Colton. He said something to one of the other guys, and then they paused the game. Most of the guys went to the sidelines to grab a drink from their water bottles. Bryant picked up a Gatorade and walked over to us. As I watched each footstep I thought of all the other places I would rather be than standing here—like, say, having several teeth extracted or being attacked by wild dogs.

Bryant wouldn't apologize, and I was going to recruit several more elementary children to throw sodas on Colton for dragging me here and making this happen.

Bryant finally reached us. He took another sip from his bottle, then wiped away the sweat from his forehead. "Hey, what's up?"

Colton glanced at me, then turned to Bryant. "Charlotte and I were just talking about junior high, and she's still upset about a lot of stuff, so can you just do me a favor and apologize for all the spider crap?"

I held my breath and waited for what I knew would come next. Bryant would smirk, tilt his chin mockingly, and say, "Spider crap? Is that what they did in your desk? Gee, if I'd known, I would have provided you with a tiny roll of toilet paper."

Bryant did tilt his chin, but it was more with disbelief than in a mocking manner. I suddenly felt like a three-year-old who'd thrown a tantrum and so was being given my way.

"Uh . . . sorry about all of that." Bryant shrugged as though it didn't take any effort to pluck the words from his mouth. "I was just joking around."

And that's when I realized Colton was right about me. I felt no satisfaction. In fact, it disappointed me that Bryant could apologize so painlessly. What did that say about me?

"It's all right." I shrugged, matching Bryant's nonchalant stance even though my insides trembled. "So do we have a truce?"

"Sure. Truce." He smiled, but I wasn't sure if he meant it.

Then we stared at one another awkwardly while Colton beamed at the two of us like a marriage counselor who'd just made a major breakthrough. I didn't know what to say next or how to suddenly bridge into small talk, so I was glad when one of the guys yelled, "Bryant, are you in?" With a quick good-bye he jogged back to the game. Colton and I turned back to his car. "Well?" Colton asked. "Well?"

"Okay, you were right. He apologized."

"And?"

"And maybe I did have a chip on my shoulder about him."

Colton nodded, smiling. "See, I told you Bryant wasn't such a bad guy."

I didn't answer. I didn't know if Bryant was a bad guy or not, but for the first time, I was willing to try to give him the benefit of the doubt.

At last he pulled up in front of my house. "I'll call bakeries today and find something to order," I said just so he'd stop worrying about it. "Gingerbread or snowmen or something with red and green frosting. Whatever is cheapest."

"Cheapest?" he asked, as though he'd never heard of the word before.

"Yeah. If we have money left over from our dance budget, we can spend more on the Santa project."

He turned in his seat, considering me with skeptical eyes. "And you're in charge of the decorations too?"

"It will be nicely done," I insisted. "Just not expen­sive."

He continued to stare at me. I could tell he didn't think it was possible to do both of those things at the same time.

"Really, it will be fine," I said. "More than fine. Perfect. And everyone at school will love NHS and think you're wonderful because you're the president of such a cool group."

"Good." He leaned back in his seat as though finally relaxed. One of his hands ran across his hair, smoothing down where the wind ruffled it during the ride. I put my hand on the door handle, but instead of opening it, I found myself admiring the way the sun lay in golden patches across his hair.

Why hadn't I made up with Colton while I had the chance? Then instead of taking Olivia to the dance, he'd be taking me.

I opened the door and stepped out, but before I shut the door, I turned back to him. "As long as we're all apologizing, I probably should tell you I'm sorry for having Reese throw sodas on you."

"You probably should," he said. "I'm sorry about that and, you know, pushing you into the pool."

He shook his head and laughed. "It's okay, Charlotte." He gave me half a wave, then drove off. I watched him go, my gaze jogging after the car. It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay, because he wasn't taking me to the dance.

ten

T
he next day at school Colton and I split up the wish lists and we each took half to hand out. Even though I wanted to shop for Reese and T.J., we decided the girls should shop for the girls and the guys for the guys. That way Colton wouldn't be forced to search the doll aisles for a Barbie Ballerina or fairy princess and the St. Matthew's girls wouldn't have to wear outfits that the NHS guys put together. I mean, even the poor have dignity.

As we walked to lunch I handed Kelly her list. She took it from me, but didn't read it. "When do you think Wesley will go shopping?"

"I have no idea."

"Why don't you find out, let me know, and then we can arrange to bump into him."

"Kelly—" She lowered her voice and walked nearer to me. "You said you'd help me with Wesley. You promised."

"And it turns out I'm a lousy matchmaker. Besides, I've called a truce with Bryant, so—"

Kelly grabbed my elbow. "There he is—over by the drinking fountain. Go talk to him." She made a sharp turn and walked away, leaving me standing in the hallway.

I stood there for a moment while students flowed around me and locker doors thudded shut. I tried to think of a good reason—or actually any reason—to talk to Wesley. When I came up with a pathetic inkling of an idea, I trudged over to him. He finished taking a drink, saw me, and gave me a brief nod. I stood in his way so he couldn't leave.

"Hi, Wesley." I fingered the lists I hadn't given out yet and prayed he didn't know Colton and I had split up the papers by gender. "Do you have your list of stuff to buy for the St. Matthew's kids yet?" I flipped through my stack as though looking for a paper with his name on it.

Wesley tilted his head at me. "Yeah. Colton gave me mine. He has the guy lists."

Great. He knew.

"Oh yeah. Right." I held the papers against my chests and felt myself blushing. "So you already have your list. When are you planning on going shopping?"

His eyebrows drew together like he was trying to figure out why I was bugging him about it. "Soon," he said. "I mean, I just got the list today."

I fluttered one hand in his direction. " I wasn't implying there was a hurry, or you wouldn't get it done, or anything. I know you're really responsible. I was just. . . you know . . . shooting the breeze."

"Oh." He nodded. "I don't know. Maybe I'll go sometime after wrestling practice."

"You mean today? Today after wrestling practice?" Instead of looking at me, his glance darted around me as though he wanted to sprint down the hallway. "Uh, maybe."

He took a step forward, but I scooted over so I still stood in front of him. I couldn't let him get away now, because there was no way I could corner him some other time today to find out the necessary information.

"Bloomingdale's said they'd give us thirty percent off. And of course Wal-Mart always has a good selection. I'm not sure where I'll go. How about you? Do you know where you'll go shopping yet?"

Wesley's eyes took on a look of panic. He was probably imagining me chasing him down the hallway throwing more questions at him. He took a small step sideways. "I don't know. I'll probably check the ads first."

Still no good. Kelly would no doubt insist I keep pestering him until I found out more details. By the end of the day, he would either think I was in love with him or psychotic.

Wesley took another step to try to get around me, but I reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist. "Wesley, can you do both of us a favor?"

The look of panic grew. "What?"

"Can you please just ask Kelly out so I don't have to follow you around all day like some stalker, trying to find out where you'll be and when you'll be there? I'm too busy to do it, and besides, I can't think of a reasonable excuse for the two of us to bump into you in the boys' underwear section of Bloomingdale's anyway. So I'm just not going to try. Okay?"

He relaxed, but not much. "Okay." I let go of his wrist. "Great. I'm glad we've had this little talk." Then I turned around and walked to the cafeteria.

When I got to our table, Kelly, Aleeta, and Brianna all looked up at me.

"How did it go?" Aleeta asked.

"Good." I put my tray on the table and sat down.

"So did you find out where he's going shopping?" Kelly asked.

I fully planned never to go out of my way to speak to Wesley again, but what Kelly didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

I put the phone between my chin and my shoulder so I could wrap one of the outfits I'd bought that day. "That's great!"

"Did you really threaten to stalk him if he didn't?"

"What? No, I just suggested he ask you out, you know, so I didn't have to make up excuses for the two of you to run into each other."

Kelly let out a disgruntled sigh. "When you said you were a lousy matchmaker, I didn't know you meant it so literally. I mean, now I don't know if he really likes me or whether he's just afraid of you."

I folded a piece of wrapping paper around the box. "He likes you. Colton told me so."

"Colton?" Her voice rose in distress. "Colton knows I like Wesley? How many people did you tell?"

"Just Colton. Stop worrying. You'll have a great time at the winter dance."

She let out another sigh, this time resigned. "Since Wesley asked me Saturday morning, I felt obligated to spy on Bryant for you."

"You didn't have to do that," I said. "Remember, I called a truce with Bryant."

"Thanks for telling me that now. I spent an hour and a half sitting in my car down the street from Bryant's house. Luckily, I brought my cell phone with me so I could talk to Aleeta. Most of the conversation was about how paranoid you are."

"Thanks," I said.

"Well, sorry, but I was afraid one of the neighbors would see me parked out there and call the police. I made Aleeta check on the Internet to see if spying on someone was an arrestable offense. She never found out for sure, so I'm still half-expecting a police officer to show up on my doorstep."

I pressed a piece of tape against the wrapping paper. "Sitting for long periods in your car can't be against the law. People do it every day during rush-hour traffic."

"There wasn't any traffic. Just me, a couple joggers, and Bryant's dad painting the trim on their house."

The tape dispenser squealed as I pulled off another piece of tape. "Bryant's dad was painting the trim on his house?"

"Yeah. Not something you'd generally do when you have houseguests. I hate to say this, but maybe you were right about Bryant lying to Brianna."

Neither Kelly nor I spoke for a moment. Finally I said, "Maybe his dad wanted the house to look nice for company."

"Right. And maybe he's the type that isn't embarrassed to have guests see him splattered with paint. It is possible. Maybe that dinner they had with Bryant's aunt was the really casual type you can wear your painting clothes to."

"Did you see anyone besides Bryant's dad?" I asked. "Bryant or the aunt?"

"I never saw an aunt, but Bryant pulled out of his garage at six and drove off."

I held the tape limply in my hands. "He drove off?"

"Yes. I'm not exactly sure what he wore, since I had to duck under my dashboard as he drove past, but it looked like that green cardigan Brianna bought him for his birthday. I think he was dressed up."

I didn't want to hear this. Not now. I had the irrational urge to tell Kelly to stop it, to tell her she wasn't being fair. Instead, I let out a slow breath. I'd just go through this conversation logically, without bias in one direction or the other. It would all make sense if I found out the details. "Did you follow him to see where he went?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"Because I'm a teenage girl, Charlotte, not an undercover agent. I figured Bryant would notice me trailing him around town if I drove off after him."

I fingered a piece of tape, not paying attention to where I put it on the wrapping paper. "It doesn't necessarily mean he lied to Brianna. Maybe his mom sent him to the store for something for dinner, or he went to the airport to pick his aunt up, or something."

"You don't get dressed up to go to the store or the airport," Kelly said.

"There might still be a logical explanation. We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

A pause filled the line, then Kelly's voice sounding crisper. "Who is this, and can I please speak to Charlotte?"

"Very funny. I know it's not like me to give Bryant the benefit of the doubt, but I'm trying to have a better attitude about him." I folded the wrapping paper over the top of the box and added the last piece of tape. "Which at this moment is taking a lot of effort."

"So we don't tell Brianna anything about Bryant?"

I stared at the package and thought of Brianna, then Bryant, then Colton. "We don't have anything concrete to tell her. It's all just suspicions. We'd be spreading rumors if we said anything now."

"Okay." Kelly let out a relieved sigh. "But that means my part of the bargain is done, and you're still in charge of decorations, right?"

"Right." I wasn't likely to forget about that. Half my fingers were nicked from where pinecones had pricked me while I glued them into centerpieces.

It was just one more reason, and suddenly I could think of many, to never try to find out if your best friend's boyfriend is cheating on her.