Miss Match (3 page)

This Derek guy wants me to fix him up with
my sister
!

I’ve worked wonders with beauties and beasts, princes and paupers, city mice and country mice, angels and devils…but never anything so close to home. Literally.

Sure, since I work locally (it’s not like I can jet set all over the world) there’s always the chance I’ll know or recognize a client or the person he or she is all into. But I never thought I’d see the day that a guy would pay me to fix him up with my own flesh-and-blood sister.

Who is this Derek guy, anyway? Am I going to like him enough to help him get a date with my sister? And who’s to say Maddie will even give him the time of day? Does he realize that she’s dated the dreamiest guys from Provo to Logan, and one who just left for his sophomore year at Yale? Or that Maddie changes boyfriends as often as she changes her Abercrombie & Fitch jeans?

Then again, he
did
offer to pay me extra,
and after six long months I’m only one gig away from clearing my debt to Mrs. Woosely once and for all. Besides, when have I ever backed down from a challenge? I guess I can always refund his money and refuse to make the match if I don’t feel right about it…right? So really, what’s to lose?

I’ll just have to get to know this Derek Urban before I fix him up with Maddie.

I hit reply and type:

It’s Friday, 11:54 a.m. I’m sitting in the far corner of the hard yellow booth at the Subway across the street from Snowcrest. It smells like yeast and onions in here. The September sun blares through the window and penetrates my scalp. High schoolers roll in and out, but no one pays any attention to me.

My cell phone rings. It’s Yasmin. “Where are you?” she asks.

Ugh. I’m such a bad friend. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally spaced eating with you. I’m actually having a working lunch today.”

Ever since the day she suggested I turn my matchmaking hobby into an actual moneymaking profession, Yasmin has been my loyal and fabulous sidekick. Not only is she the reigning yearbook editor, she has a flair for digging up everything and anything that’s scandalicious. She’s an expert secret-and gossip-miner. Seriously. I’m floored with all the “news” she’s privy to. Plus, while I tend to blend in, she’s a hottie with a look-at-me attitude, and that proves useful from time to time. Miss Match wouldn’t be such a success if it weren’t for Yas.

“Sure, just stand me up. What, am I sup
posed to eat alone?” she says with a slight whine in her voice. “Might as well banish me to Loserdom.”

“Maybe you can go with Hilary and Sami?” I suggest. “They’re probably at Arctic Circle.”

“Okay. Oh, wait. Brian’s waving at me. Maybe he’ll split his PB&J with me.”

“Sounds yummy.”

“Yeah, I love peanut butter.”

“No, I mean Brian.” I’ve always thought Yas and Brian would make the perfect couple, and I’m even more sure of it now. Long gone are the lanky limbs and pimples of yesteryear. The summer’s been good to him, and Yas noticed too. “Did you know Brian’s the hottie you were checking out at the pep rally?” I ask.

After a pause, she says, “Really? That’s weird.”

“There’s no denying he’s looking
good
these days, Yas.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Her voice sounds a bit distant, like she’s holding her phone away from her mouth. “Well, I’d better let you go, so you can work.”

We hang up just as someone slides up to the booth, hovering over me. Oh my God,
it’s THNG. “Hi!” he says, putting his hands on the table and leaning forward.

I’m sure I’ve got some major red-face issues just about now. Man, he’s cute. He’s wearing baggy, olive-colored shorts and flip-flops. I can’t help but notice what nice legs he has: long and muscular with a leftover summer tan. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “So, what’s up, Miss Match?”
Oooooh
, that accent!

Hang on.

Did he just call me…? No way. THNG is Derek Urban? THNG wants me to fix him up with my sister?

My jaw falls to the floor.

Get a grip, Sasha.

Why am I so surprised that he’s the one? I saw him drooling over Maddie at the pep rally. Plus, he’s new in town and probably doesn’t know a lot of people around here. It’s only natural he’d want to take the hottest girl in school to homecoming, right?

I clear my throat and hold out my hand, hoping it’s not all sweaty. “Just call me Sasha. You know, in public.”

He takes my hand and shakes it slowly. His dark blue eyes are hypnotic. “Do I know you?” he asks.

“We have chemistry together. Er—the class, I mean.” Oh, God. “I usually sit in the back, but maybe you’ve seen me there?”

He nods. “Maybe.” He stretches the two-syllable word into four with his soft drawl.

“And you also helped me get my locker unstuck,” I blather on.

“That’s right. I remember.” But he says it in a way that makes me wonder if he really does remember, or if he’s just saying so to be nice. Then again, if he did forget the whole Operation Gum Stick experiment, I’m totally relieved. Which reminds me, I need to do some more tweaking on that particular plan for Hunter.

“So, whatcha havin’?” THNG—I mean, Derek—asks, jerking his thumb at the sandwich line.

“Uh, nothing. I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve gotta eat lunch, Sasha. Feed your brain.”

“More like feed my thighs,” I mutter.

He looks under the table. “There’s nothing wrong with your thighs.”

Oh, God. I feel like my head is going to spontaneously combust. I squeeze out a snort sound, praying my face isn’t as red as my shirt. “Um, why don’t you get yourself a sandwich? Then we’ll go somewhere else, so we can talk.”

He hops up and stands under the big
PLACE ORDER HERE
sign. When it’s his turn, I hear him order a Footlong Club Fresh Value Meal. “Hey, Sasha! You sure you don’t want a Coke or a bag of Doritos?” he calls across the restaurant. “How about a chocolate chip cookie?” He points to the plastic cookie container on the counter and licks his lips like he’s in a cheesy commercial.

I smile and shake my head no. Okay, so I lied when I said I wasn’t hungry. I’m always hungry, and a meatball sandwich sounds way good right now. But in a moment of wishful thinking I squished into my skinny jeans this morning, and they’ll burst if I eat anything. Plus, I have this weird thing about eating in front of guys.

I guess I shouldn’t think of Derek as a
guy
. I mean, he’s my client.
If
I find him worthy of my sister, that is.

After Derek gets his lunch, we walk back across the street to Snowcrest’s track and settle on the peeling green bleachers. There’s a hint of an autumn breeze in the air, but it’s warm and sunny. I love September. The weather’s perfect, the aspen leaves are turning yellow, and it’s my birthday month. I can’t believe it—just three more days till I’m sixteen!

A black Eclipse whizzes by, bass pounding. We watch it turn into the student parking lot and disappear down a row of cars. I can’t wait till I have my own set of wheels and don’t have to always rely on my parents, Maddie, and Yas for rides.

Derek unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite. With his mouth full he mumbles, “So why’d we meet at Subway and then come back here?”

“I have to be extra careful that no one knows what I do.” I lower my voice, even though there’s no one around. “Can’t blow my cover. Besides, I wanted to make sure you’d get to eat some lunch. You can’t ask Maddie Finnegan to homecoming with a growling stomach.”

“Not only are you sneaky, you’re considerate.” He waves his club sandwich in the air. “Want a bite?”

“No, really. But thanks.”

He takes a huge bite and chews with his lips slightly parted. The lump in his cheek quickly disappears, and then he swallows, his Adam’s apple shimmying. “So, tell me what I need to do.”

I blink. Right. Maddie.

I guess there
might
be a chance for him.
With Maddie, I mean. First of all, he’s so cute. Second, Maddie wouldn’t know Derek Urban from George Washington. Which would definitely work to his advantage. If he’s a geek or a jerk or a nose picker or an ax murderer, she’d be none the wiser. For all Maddie knows, he could’ve been the crown jewel of whatever Bible Belt high school he came from—a varsity jacket flung over his shoulder, a prom-king crown dangling from his fingertips, and a cell phone that all the Southern belles call nonstop. Ah, I can see it now…

But wait. This is my sister we’re talking about. What if he
is
a murderer?

“Are you okay?” he asks, popping open his Big Grab. “You look like there’s something stuck in your throat.”

“You’ve never killed anyone, right?” Oh my God. I didn’t just say that out loud, did I? “Uh, that’s not what I meant to say. Sorry. What I meant was, you’ve never asked Maddie out, right?”

He tosses a couple of chips into his mouth and grins as he crunches. “Nope. I don’t think she even knows me. That’s why I need your help.”

“Yes, of course,” I say. “You read my
matchmaking philosophy on my website, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He clears his throat and recites all officially, “You’ve got to put yourself in the picture.”

I smile. “Right. I’d hate to think how many could-be love connections never happen ’cause the one with the crush just watches all googly-eyed from the sidelines.”

“Well, Miss Match, I’m ready to stop watching all googly-eyed from the sidelines and put myself in the picture.”

I laugh. “Great! Let’s get started, then.” Then I pause, knowing what I’ve got to get out in the open before this goes any further. “Listen, Derek,” I say, now serious. “There’s something I need to be honest with you about, from the start.”

“All right. Shoot.”

“Maddie’s my sister.”

His eyes widen. “Ah. Now I see the resemblance.”

I snort. When most people learn that Maddie and I are sisters, they assume one of us was adopted. No one’s
ever
said we resemble each other in any way whatsoever. Since she was born fifteen months before me, she selfishly used up all of Mom and Dad’s
top-quality genes. Oh, I know I shouldn’t complain. Maddie really is a great sister. And she deserves a great boyfriend. Maybe, possibly, Derek is the One.

“So, if you two are sisters, I guess this makes…
this
…pretty awkward.” Derek peers down at his sandwich and hunches his shoulders a little.

“Not at all.” I flash my best confident saleswoman’s smile—the one I picked up from Mom when she’s trying to close a real-estate deal. “As far as I’m concerned, I have an edge. I know exactly what makes my sister tick, and I can help you become the guy she’s dying to go to homecoming with.” Oh, wow. There’s that dimple. I hope Maddie likes dimples. “So, here’s the plan,” I continue. “You’re in chemistry, so I take it you passed algebra with flying colors?”

“Well, I guess…but it’s been forever ago.”

I shake my head. “No matter. You see, Maddie’s terrible at algebra. If she doesn’t keep a 3.0 GPA, she’ll be kicked off the cheerleading squad. So, I’m going to tell her you’re the school’s top algebra tutor. She’ll show up at the library to meet you. How does four o’clock on Wednesday sound?
There aren’t any games that night, so I think all she has is cheerleader practice, which wraps up at three forty-five.”

“Wednesday at four. Okay, I’ll be there. But I’ve never tutored anybody before.”

“Just help her with her homework…” I trail off, distracted by a bread crumb on his lower lip.

“…and be myself?” he fills in the blank, grinning.

“No! Er, no. I mean, you want to be yourself to some extent, but if you want to impress her, you’ve got to go beyond that.”

“Really?” His grin deflates a couple of notches.

“You know, embrace her values as your own. Show her that you two have a lot in common. But you’ve got to be somewhat mysterious, too. Don’t give her all the answers. Make her work a little. You’ve got to leave her wanting more.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I’m confused here.”

“Let’s start with the easy part. Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m from Paris, Texas—”

“Stop. Maybe leave out the Texas part. Paris is much more glamorous.”

“
Oui
. But I don’t exactly pass for a Frenchman, Sasha.”

“She’ll never know. Besides, it’s not lying.”

“I guess not…”

“What else? What do you do for fun?”

“Ride.”

“A Harley?” I ask hopefully.

“My horse. Bob.”

“Oh. Well that works, I suppose. She has a My Pretty Pony from when she was, like, seven. It’s pink. What else?”

“I play the guitar.”

“Are you in a band?”

He scratches his shoulder. “A one-man band.”

“Hmm.”

“I work on my truck. It’s a 1966 Chevy. It was my grandpa’s, back in the day.” Oooh. I love old pickups. But Maddie won’t appreciate its inherent charm. She’ll wonder why it hasn’t been taken to the junkyard yet.

“Do you know anyone who has a
cool
car? You know, something like a Viper? Or even a Mustang, perhaps?”

“No, why?”

“Erm, never mind. Okay, let’s talk about Maddie now.” I dig a red spiral notebook
and pen out of my backpack and slide it across to him. “Take notes.”

“Okay.” He holds his pen in ready-to-write position and looks up at me expectantly.

“Her favorite flower is a daisy. Yellow. She once saw an episode of
Gilmore Girls
where a man proposed to Lorelai by filling her house with a thousand yellow daisies, and she still talks about it.”

“Yellow daisies. Check.”

“She loves old New Wave music like Depeche Mode. But she’d never admit it ’cause she’s into what people think of her.”

“Closet New Waver. Check.” Without looking up from the notepad he asks, “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, does she?”

“Uh, she dates a lot of guys”—he looks up at me and blinks—“but usually breaks it off after a month or so.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “Not sure. Maybe she’s afraid of commitment. Or maybe she’s got ADD or something. But the good news is, she’s not in a serious relationship. So she’s as good as yours.”

“Hmm.”

“Her favorite cologne is Polo Explorer. She’s always stopping at the counter in
Dillard’s and sniffing the sample cards. I recommend you get your hands on some, if at all possible. It’ll totally turn her on.”

“Well, I’m pretty well stocked in the cologne department, but I don’t know. Maybe I can try it out.”

“Good. Okay, let’s see. Schoolwise Maddie’s all into extracurriculars. But she struggles with her core classes—you know, math, English, history. She’s a major procrastinator. Take Advanced Algebra, for example. Most people take that when they’re freshmen or sophomores, right? But she waited until her senior year. And Snowcrest has a swimming requirement. But Maddie didn’t want to get her hair wet during school hours, so she waited till the last minute and ended up having to take Synchronized Swimming with a bunch of freshmen.”

He squints at his sandwich. “Synchronized Swimming?”

“Yeah, you know, twenty girls swimming around in circles, fluttering their hands and feet underwater like a bunch of hippo ballerinas in flowery swim caps.” Okay, so I’m in that class too, but I’m not going to admit it to Derek. None of Maddie’s friends would sign up with her, and she didn’t want to
take it all by herself, so she begged me as a last resort. In the name of sisterly solidarity I agreed. A strand of hair blows into my eyes, and I swipe it away. “So what else do you want to know about Maddie?”

He rips the page out of my notebook and folds it into quarters. “That should do for now. So tell me, how did you get started doing this? You know, matchmaking.”

“It makes me happy to help people find love, and I wanted a job that made me happy.” My stock answer, delivered with a wistful smile.

“That’s strange.”

Huh? “What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well,
most
girls are obsessed with finding boyfriends for them
selves
. In fact,” he continues, picking up momentum, “they work at jobs where they can meet guys. You know, like at Hot Dog on a Stick. ‘You look sexy in that enormous red-white-blue-and-yellow hat’ is the best pickup line ever.”

“You’re really starting to scare me, Derek.”

He laughs. “Not that I’ve ever
used
that line—”

“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes and try not to crack up.

He nods twice and then stuffs the rest of his lunch in his mouth. After swallowing and giving his mouth a quick napkin swipe, he hands me a chocolate chip cookie. “For you.”

“Oh!” I smile. “Thanks.”

“Thank
you
, Sasha. Thanks for helping me get a date with your sister.”

“No thanks necessary, Tex. It’s all in a day’s work.” And that’s how I’m going to have to treat this. As work. Derek’s PayPal payment should be deposited into my account any day now. I’m going to put a hundred and ten percent into this gig, just like all the others. Sure, Derek’s adorable (sigh), and Maddie needs another guy crushing on her like the Spears sisters need more babies, but hey.

Now that I’ve psyched myself up, I can’t wait to get these two together!

And I totally can’t wait for Monday, my sixteenth birthday. I’ve been working so hard for six months, and I’ve just about paid Mrs. Woosely back for her car repair job. Now I’ll be able to get my driver’s license, and a new car will be sitting in the driveway with a big bow on top. I can just see it now.

I sleep like a baby the night before my sixteenth birthday, visions of Hondas, VWs,
and Nissans dancing in my head. When Maddie turned sixteen, Mom took her to get her license, and when she got home, a VW Beetle was parked in the driveway with a big bow on its hood. Ever since, I’ve been superexcited to see what my parents would have planned for me.

When the alarm buzzes, I leap out of bed and sprint over to the window. At first I don’t see anything. Then I notice there’s a Vespa parked in the driveway. With a big yellow bow on the handles.
Huh?

When what I’m seeing synchs with my brain, I about die.

Storming through the house I scream, “Where is he?”

Maddie pokes her head out of her room. “Who, Dad?”