Miss Match (5 page)

I beam at him. “That’s fantastic, Derek. Good thinking!”

He stoops over and unzips the front pocket of his Burton backpack. “I’m taking Synchronized Swimming,” he says, dangling a pair of neon-green goggles before my eyes.

The flask falls, glass shattering on the floor. Twenty-three heads turn and forty-six eyes zero in on me. Oh, God. He did
not
just say he’s taking Synchronized Swimming.

“Oops!” is all I can think of to say.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, making a beeline for the cleanup closet.

Oh, but it’s
not
okay. The only saving grace of being in Synchronized Swimming is that there are no guys in it whatsoever. Derek can
not
see me in my nose clip and überugly Speedo one-piece. This is the worst news ever!

After taking the written exam so I’m a legal Vespa rider (which I have to admit wasn’t a big deal after all), I wander into the kitchen in pursuit of an after-school snack. Since I didn’t eat lunch, I’m totally starved. With Mom working so late, and with Maddie’s bustling social life, we never eat dinner before seven, or sometimes even eight.

Speaking of Maddie, I’ve got to figure out where the heck she is. Or, more importantly,
who
the heck she’s
with
. That Kevin McGregor dude has been loitering around her lately, and I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t ask Maddie to the homecoming dance. I call her cell.

“Hey, Sasha. What’s up?” she says.

“Hi. Um, just calling to see what you’re doing.”

“Oh, not much. Just downloading a few songs over at Kevin’s. Ever heard of Seven’s Sake? They’re the coolest band ever! They totally sound like Depeche Mode.”

Oh no. This is not good. Must think fast. “I was thinking maybe you should come home,” I say, rummaging through my mind for a compelling reason. “Mom’s all depressed, and I was going to make a really good dinner to try and lift her spirits. So what do you say?”

“That woman’s always depressed.”

“It’s probably because her oldest daughter is never home anymore. She misses you, Maddie.”

After a brief pause Maddie says, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll be there.”

As I hang up the phone, it’s clear I’ve got to find out more about Kevin and Maddie’s relationship. I hope it’s not too late.

“Hi, honey,” Mom says, coming into the kitchen. I just sent an e-mail to Hunter, giving him directions and even attaching a kick-butt diagram of how to stuff folded paper in the doorjamb of Anna’s locker for Operation Paper Stick. I’m totally excited to hear how it goes!

Mom is a classic beauty, an older version of Maddie. However, when she’s tired, like today, she’s all dark under-eye circles and sunken cheeks. At the risk of sounding mean, I’m glad she looks so beat, ’cause Maddie’s psyched about saving Mom from her “depression.”

“Wow, something sure smells good,” Mom says wistfully.

“Halibut Olympia. I thought I’d make something special.” Mom’s a vegetarian for the most part, but she sometimes splurges on fish.

She peeks into the oven and smiles. “Sasha, you’re a gem.”

Ten minutes later the stench of burnt potatoes fills the air. Great. Mom, Maddie, and I take our seats at the kitchen table and dig into the halibut, spinach salad (sans bacon), and the nonblackened portion of roasted potatoes. From time to time Mom’s gaze flits to the empty seat at the end of the table, where Dad used to sit.

“Are you doing better in algebra?” Mom asks Maddie, asking the sort of question Dad would ask if he were here.

“Let’s not talk about something so depressing,” Maddie says with her mouth
full. “Life’s too short to worry about little things like math and
divorce
.”

Mom purses her lips together and says nothing. Her cell phone rings, and she excuses herself to answer it. That’s the thing about being a real-estate agent. Calls equal money, and we’d have to be in the hospital or something for her not to answer.

I dissect a potato with my fork and then look up at my sister. “I wasn’t going to mention this, ’cause I know it’s none of my business. But I’d feel horrible if I kept it a secret and you had to give up everything you’ve worked so hard on all these years.”

“What are you talking about?” Maddie asks, poking at her salad.

“It’s algebra. I was in the math office this morning, you know, turning in some extra credit, and I happened to see a list on Ms. Brown’s desk. Looks like your name is on the Ineligible Athletes list.”

She gasps, showing me a mouthful of chewed-up spinach. “Cheerleading?”

“I guess Snowcrest assumes that cheerleading is athletic. It’s a pretty loose definition, but…”

She gives me the evil eye, but I know she knows I’m just razzing her. She takes cheer-
leading very seriously, and there’s no way I could ever do those stunts she does without breaking my neck. Then Maddie shakes her head, her supershiny hair swishing across her shoulders. “I can’t get kicked off the team. It’s my
life
.”

“I know, I know.” I pat her back, which is probably overdoing it, but hey, I didn’t take drama last semester for nothin’.

“What am I going to do?” she asks, her green eyes pleading.

I shrug. “Beats me. I mean, you already waited as long as you could to take it. And even though not being a cheerleader would be tragic, what if you don’t graduate?”

Another gasp, another spinach peep show. “I’ve got to do something! I just totally don’t get algebra.” Her eyes suddenly brighten. “
You
could teach me, Sasha. You’re so good at mathy stuff.”

I bite my lower lip. “Actually, I know this guy who’s an algebra genius.” I frown and then say, “Oh, wait. Never mind.”

She drops her fork with a clank. “What is it?”

“Well,” I say, walking over to the fridge for another Diet Coke, “he’s so amazing at tutoring that he’s all booked up.”

“He can’t fit one more person in?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She’s standing up now, her voice squeaky in desperation. “Call him, Sasha! Call him and
beg
. You’ll do that for me, won’t you? You’re my sister!”

“Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe he had a cancellation or something.”

“That would be
so
cool!” She claps her hands together as if she’s about to start a cheer. Good God.

I pick up the cordless phone and, without powering it on, punch the buttons. Then I pretend to be talking to Derek. “Hi, Derek. It’s me, Sasha…. I’m good, how about you?…Great. Well, I know this sounds weird and all, but I need to ask you a favor…. Okay, here goes. My sister—you don’t know her but she’s really cool—she needs someone to help her with algebra. Naturally, I thought of you…. I know, and I told her that. But she’s totally desperate. Snowcrest might confiscate her pompoms if she doesn’t get her grade up to a C…. Oh? Really?…Let me ask.”

I clamp my hand over the receiver and look up at Maddie. She’s watching me with as much interest as she watches old Audrey
Hepburn movies. “He says he can fit you in at four o’clock Wednesday afternoon.”

She raises her eyebrows for an instant and then lowers them disappointedly. “Tomorrow? Shoot. I was going to the Gateway with Kevin. He needs to find a birthday present for his evil stepsister.”

I say, “Oh,” and then put the phone to my ear again. “Sorry, but she’s got important plans. Thanks any—”

“Wait! Uh, okay. I’ll do it. Kevin can wait.”

I shrug and try not to smile. “Derek? You still there?…She’ll meet you in the library by the biographies…. Cool. See ya around.” I hook the phone on its cradle, and Maddie runs over and gives me a hug.

“You’re the best, Sasha. Thank you thank you thank you!”

She’ll really be thanking me when she sees how cute her new tutor is.

It’s 4:05 Wednesday afternoon. Derek is at his station, rigid in his chair, acting like he’s absorbed in a geography textbook. I whistle to get his attention and give him the thumbs-up. He nods and then resumes his not-so-casual waiting act.

I slip the atlas back in its slot and sneeze when some dust flies into my nostrils. A lively group of sophomores files out of the library with their stacks of borrowed loot.

Okay. So it’s 4:10 p.m., and there’s still no sign of Maddie. I run over to Derek and tell him, “I’ll go to the gym and see if she’s still there.”

He smiles at me, dimple and all. “All right.”

The gym is populated with the women’s volleyball team and not cheerleaders. Shoot. I sink onto a bleacher and call Maddie’s cell. “Hello?” she says in her pink bubblegum voice. Hip-hop blares in the background.

“Maddie! Where are you?”

She giggles. “Headin’ over to the Gateway. Why?”

“What about your algebra tutor?”

“Oh no! I totally spaced that.” A pause. “I’m really not that far. I can come back. Tell him to wait up, ’kay?”

“Okay.” I slide my phone shut, feeling deflated. How could Maddie have forgotten? I should’ve picked her up after cheerleading practice and physically dragged her to the library. My bad.

What am I supposed to tell Derek? To wait even longer and cross his fingers that she makes it at all? Or should we just call it a day, and start from square one tomorrow?

Picturing him sitting in the library, so hopeful and nervous, I’m fed up with my sister. I can’t let her get away with this—forgetting all about their meeting and making him wait so long for her to show. Sure, she thought it was just to get some
help with her math. To him, however, it was so much more.

I jog back to the library and accidentally bump into a cart of books. Bending down to pick up the tomes that toppled off, I find myself face-to-toe with the librarian’s blue suede pumps. “Sasha, so nice to see you!” she says in her petal-soft voice. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Uh, no thanks,” I say, rising. “I’m just looking for someone…”

Mrs. Leonard follows my gaze across the library to where Derek is sitting, surfing the Internet or something. Then he swivels to look out the window, resting his chin on his hand. I can’t be sure from this distance, but he seems a little sad.

“Looks like you found him,” Mrs. Leonard says, interrupting my formulation of Plan B.

She gives me this
go get ’im, tiger
smile and nods her head in Derek’s direction. I feel my face heat up, even though she’s got it all wrong. I hand her the books and make a beeline over to him.

I clear my throat, praying my voice won’t come out all croaky. “Derek? I’m terribly sorry, but something came up and Maddie can’t meet you today. She wants to know if
she can have a rain check. How about tomorrow, same time?”

He powers down the computer and scoots out his chair with an earsplitting screech. “I guess that’ll work,” he says. He grins at me, but I can tell he’s more than a little bit disappointed.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, sitting beside him.

He stares down at his hand, which is absently tracing the initials that some loser carved into the table like a freaking caveman. “It’s not me, is it? Did she take one look at me and scram?”

I snort-laugh. My sister might not be the brightest lipstick at the MAC counter, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have any difficulty gazing across the table at Derek. “No! It’s just that she…” I’m tempted to tell him the truth, that she totally forgot their meeting. That she’s ditzy like that. But I need to hold her in the best possible light. So I say, “Something came up; that’s all. Really.”

Riding home on my purple scooter, I feel lousy about having lied to Derek. But I don’t want Maddie to think she can just jerk him around. Besides, I don’t want Derek to come off as the pathetic, desperate type. So I tell
myself I’m lying for the greater good, and by the time I’m home, I feel much better.

After grabbing some pretzels, I go up to my room and swap my jeans for a pair of comfy sweats. I boot up my laptop and then type:

Maddie storms into my room, cheeks flushed. “So I made Kevin speed the whole way back to school, and when I got there, the only ones in the library were Mrs. Leonard and the Thompson triplets.” She plops onto my bed and kicks off her K-Swisses. I still can’t believe Maddie forgot all about her meeting with Derek.
I
sure as heck wouldn’t have forgotten.

I hit send and close my laptop. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I told him you were on your way, but by the time I pushed through all the girls who were swarming him, he said he couldn’t wait any longer.” Yep, the ol’ Scarlett O’Hara approach to getting a crush’s attention: Surround oneself with members of the opposite sex and act utterly irresistible. Knowing my sis and (a) her competitive spirit and (b) her obsession with what the Snowcrest High student body thinks of her, she’ll be dying to meet him and ante up, so to speak. “I think I saw him leave with Kennedy.”

“Kennedy Henderson?” Maddie asks. Kennedy is the cheerleading captain, and though they’re supposedly friends, I know Maddie secretly wishes the Hendersons would move to Kansas so she’d have less competition for…well, everything. The most pressing contest, naturally, being homecoming queen. But Kennedy’s dad is the governor, so it looks like their family is here to stay—at least until his term is over.

“Yeah, I think it was her. I can’t be sure, though. She had really pretty hair and dressed way cute.”

Maddie sighs. “That definitely sounds like Kennedy.” She runs her fingers over the books in my bookcase. She tips
Emma
forward, taps it a couple of times, then slides it back into place, between
Pride and Prejudice
and
The Importance of Being Earnest
. “I really wanted some help on my homework. I totally don’t get it.”

“I’ll help you today. And maybe Derek can help you tomorrow. How does four o’clock sound?”

“Super!”

Scratch Plan B. It’s time for Plan C. Basically, Maddie will meet her secret admirer in Synch Swimming first, and then have her tutoring session after school. It’s going to work like a charm!

But wait. I’m so not looking forward to doing the whole hippo-ballerina act in front of Derek tomorrow. Why did he have to sign up for Synchronized Swimming, anyway?

On Thursday morning in the women’s locker room, I get the news straight from the horse’s mouth. Well, from
Yasmin’s
mouth, but it might as well be the horse’s. “Kevin McGregor is going to ask your sister to homecoming.
Today
.”

I gasp. “How do you know?”

“I overheard a bunch of football players in the hall. They were talking about cool ways to ask chicks to the dance.” She slides her superslim body into her pants.

“So can you narrow it down a little for me? Did he say exactly when he was going to ask her, or how?” Maybe I can make an interception or sabotage it somehow. Whatever I do, I’ve got to buy some time so Derek can ask her first. I peel off my hoodie, wishing for the body beneath to have miraculously toned and slimmed to something I wouldn’t mind showing off in a swimming suit. No such luck.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”

“So that’s it? No…dirt?”

“He’s clean, Sasha.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you hand me that boot?” she asks.

I grab her black knee-high boot off the bench and pass it to her, then watch her button up her cropped jacked and flip her hair over the collar. Every strand falls beautifully in place. I gather my hair in a messy bun and snap an elastic band around it. After I say good-bye to Yas, I suck in a deep breath. Though I’m dreading Derek being in Synch
Swimming, at least I’ll get to warn him about his clear and present competition. And with Maddie safe within the confines of the swimming pool, Kevin won’t have a chance to ask her yet.

Speaking of Maddie, where is she? Shouldn’t she be changing into her swimming suit now?

When I walk past the full-length mirror by the toilets, I tell myself not to look. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I take a cursory peek at my reflection. Ugh. My breasts are too small, my hips are too big, my stomach is lumpy, and my thighs look like tree trunks. Well, unless there’s a fairy godmother or genie stashed in one of these stalls, I’m going to have to make do with what I’ve got. I pull my shoulders back and suck in my stomach—enough to engage my ab muscles, but not so much I look like I’m trying. Then I wrap my towel around my body and head out to the pool, my flip-flops slapping against my heels.

The humid, chlorine-scented air greets me, along with Coach White, Snowcrest High’s bespectacled and buff swimming coach. “I hope Maddie feels better soon,” Coach says all sympathetically. Her high
pitched voice echoes all around the pool area.

“Oh?” I’m about to ask what ails Maddie, knowing full and well that she’s just ditching, but I think better of it. You know, in case it’s something like tonsillitis or a brain tumor—something a sister should definitely know about. “That’s kind of you to say, Coach.” I smile at her and make my squeaky ascent onto the bleachers with the rest of the class. The rest of the class minus one Derek Urban and one Maddie Finnegan, that is. Too bad they’re not ditching together, doing something totally romantic.

Then a terrible (yet much more realistic) thought crosses my mind, completely wrecking the lovey-dovey scene I was just imagining. What if Maddie is skipping class to hang out with Kevin? What if he is asking her to homecoming
right this very second
?

My stomach goes all knotty, which only gets worse when I spot Derek. He swaggers over to Coach White, his tan, muscular body half naked. I promptly avert my eyes, but then I realize the entire class is ogling him. I’m not sure if it’s because (a) he’s lookin’ oh-so-hot in those surfer shorts or (b) he’s
the only nonfemale to ever set foot into the pool area for this particular class.

Sara and Trinity, who are flanking me, give Derek bashful smiles and immediately straighten their postures. Hmm. Maybe I won’t have to make up any more stories about girls batting their eyelashes at the handsome new guy. You know, to help ratchet up Maddie’s interest in him.

Derek takes a quick break from whatever he’s chatting about with Coach and gives me a confused look followed by a little wave. I smile back and shrug. When the other girls whip around to look at me, I can feel my face turning red. “Sasha, do you know him?” Trinity stage-whispers.

“He’s in my chemistry class.”

“He’s going to be in Synch Swimming?” she asks.

I give her a half smile, just now realizing that I’ve been biting my lower lip. “Looks like it.” The girls begin talking and gesturing animatedly (as freshmen are prone to do) about this newest development.

Coach blows her whistle, startling everybody into abrupt silence. “All right, ladies. Er, I mean,
people
,” she amends, shooting Derek an apologetic look. “It’s time to get
warmed up. We’ve already wasted five minutes, so get to it. Take your places and start with some stretches.”

The girls shed their towels and flip-flops on the bleachers and hightail it to the area at the west end of the pool. I hurry to secure a spot in the back row, hoping no one says anything about my being the only one who’s still got a towel wrapped around her waist.

Derek, the object of much rubbernecking, stands beside me. He reaches up his arms. Next he clasps his hands behind his head, making his biceps
boing
out quite…well, quite nicely, I suppose. “Sasha, why didn’t you tell me you were in this class?” he whispers, as Coach counts down the arm/back stretch we’re all supposed to be holding right now.

“I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Ahh. Well, you’ve obviously never seen my synchronized-swimming moves.” He chuckles, and some of the girls turn to look at him. He clears his throat and performs the next stretch. “
I’ve
never even seen my synchronized-swimming moves, come to think of it.”

“Okay, class, ten laps. Go!” Coach claps and the girls obey like a pack of golden retrievers.

Okay, here goes. The shedding of the protective towel. Now Derek will know what I meant by not wanting to scare him off.

Snap out of it, Sasha.
He’s only here ’cause he’s got a thing for Maddie. He couldn’t care less if I had the body of what’s-her-face who’s on the cover of
Sports Illustrated
’s swimsuit issue. I whip off the towel and dive into the chilly water. Ten laps later everyone’s lined up along the wall in the deep end, huffing and puffing.

Well, everyone except Derek. He’s doing an impressive butterfly in the far lane. How’d he know Coach’s favorite stroke? He’ll probably get extra credit. We all watch in virtual silence until he pulls himself out of the water, his broad chest undulating as he catches his breath.

“Better be careful, or she’s going to recruit you for the swim team,” I whisper to him while Coach goes over the day’s agenda. I can’t help but notice how sexy his hair looks when it’s dripping wet. Okay, so it’s not just his hair.

The class streams by in a blur. How can I concentrate on eggbeaters and paddle sculls when Kevin might be asking Maddie to homecoming at any minute? I still have to
warn Derek. When it’s time to hit the showers, I wrap my towel around me burrito-style and run after Derek, who’s hotfooting it to the men’s locker room. “Derek! Wait up!”

He smiles kind of sheepishly. What, is he embarrassed or something? “What?” I ask.

“I didn’t think to bring a towel. I know, my IQ just took a major nosedive. Bet you’re glad you hooked up with me.”

What?
Freshmen girl heads turn. Now it’s my turn to look embarrassed.

He notices that we have an audience and fiddles with his goggles. “Er, to be chemistry lab partners,” he stammers.