Steering the Stars (33 page)

       I opened my mouth to say something but the music changed from fast to slow and I felt myself being tugged in the direction of the other dancers.

       “Wait!”

       Henry smirked over his shoulder. “It’s time. Just try not to step on my toes.”

      “Not funny.”

       “C’mon, Care.” His hand slipped down my wrist to my open hand. He spun us in a circle and pulled me into his body. I felt his fingers move over my hips and my heart chugged.

       “It’s not so bad, is it?”

       No, no it wasn’t.

      
My arms were wrapped around Henry’s neck and our chests were pressed against one another. I was so overwhelmed by his nearness and the feel of his strong body that I was afraid to speak. I’d definitely give myself away.

       “So... Miles?”

       “Hmm?”

       “Miles is at your two o’clock.”

       And… we were back to Miles.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably and pretended to look. Truthfully, I couldn’t have cared less. “Oh. Okay.”

       Henry’s hands moved up my back and he pulled me in closer. My breath caught softly.

       “Is he watching us?” Henry asked in a husky voice.

       I let my eyes close as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Mm-hmm, I’m sure he is.”

       “Good,” Henry said softly into my hair.

       “Mm-hmm,” I murmured.

       “I knew dancing was a good idea.”

       And dance we did. All. Night.

       When our feet got tired and the gym started to empty, Henry found my jacket and drove us to a drive-thru. We ate hot french fries and slurped cold milkshakes as we talked all the way to my house. By an unsaid agreement, neither of us brought up Hannah or the fight we’d had and I was grateful for that. For this one night.

       “You don’t have to get out,” I told him as I climbed out of the car.

       “Of course I do. What kind of date doesn’t walk a lady to her door?”

       I laughed at his teasing tone, but I couldn’t help but think that if this were in a movie, we would be building up to a kiss. But, I reminded myself as we reached the door, this wasn’t a movie and there wouldn’t be a kiss. I was Cinderella realizing that not only did I lose one of my favorite shoes, the dreamy night was coming to an end. No more sparkly dress. No more prince. All that was left behind was plain old me.

       Dad’s truck was here and his bedroom light was off so I knew he was probably asleep. Careful not to wake him, I was quiet as I put my key into the slot in the lock and turned it.

       “So,” I started. “Thank you.”

       “No broken bones or black eyes. I call that our first big dancing success,” he said. “And, I’m pretty sure this means you owe me a coffee date.”

       I quietly laughed. “I had a surprisingly good time tonight.”

       He tipped backward and slapped a hand over his chest. “Ouch. I feel like I should be offended.”

       “You know what I mean,” I said smiling. “Thanks for making me do this.”

       “Thanks for letting me convince you.”

       I opened the door and stopped, suddenly remembering something. “Can I ask you a question?”

       Henry hadn’t moved. His suit jacket had come off after the dance and standing under the porch light, I could see the stark outline of his undershirt through the thin fabric of his white dress shirt. “Anything.”

       It was a stupid question but I wanted to know the answer. “What song were you going to blare out of the boombox?”

       “Guess,” he said.

       “Something by Ed Sheeran?” He was my favorite after all.

       Henry shook his head and started to back away from me.

       “The Lumineers?”

       He smiled lightly. “Nope.”

       I thought harder. “Sam Smith?”

       “Keep trying.”

       “Walk the Moon?” I guessed.

       “And here I thought I was being predictable…”

       “Okay,” I laughed. “Is it something by Passenger?”

       He was already at his car. Before he opened his door, he met my eyes and shook his head.

       I was stumped. “Which one?”

       His smile grew and I felt it all the way down to my toes. “What else would I play for you? You’re
Sweet Caroline
.”

 

From: Hannah<
[email protected]
>
To: Caroline<
[email protected]
>

Date: October 25
Subject: Helloooo???
 

I have no idea if you’re reading this or just outright deleting everything I send your way, but I wanted to let you know that I know why you’re mad at me. I get it now and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to Henry. I shouldn’t have told him about Operation Cupid.

In other news, I talked to Owen (finally!!) and I have so much to tell you about what’s going on with that and here in London but you have to TALK TO ME first.

Call me? Write? If Owen can find it in his heart to forgive me, can’t you do the same?

Hannah

____________

“Everything is a mess,” I whined into the phone. “Again.”

       It was Sunday afternoon and I’d resorted to crying into the phone to my mom.

       “Oh, Hannah,” she said and I could here her chopping something on a cutting board in the background. I wondered what she was making—her famous chili? A Sunday pot roast?—and my heart ached for home. “It’s not that bad.”

       But it was.

       It was
that
bad.

       On Friday after I’d talked to Owen, I’d deluded myself into thinking that things were going to be better. What a joke.

       “Mom, you don’t understand! I finally know why Caroline is mad at me but that doesn’t do me any good if she’s still refusing my calls. Which she is!”

       “I’m sure if you keep trying then—”

       I cut her off. I was sick of explaining this. “I’ve left message after message after message!”

       “Have you tried sending her an email?”

       “Of course I have!” I shouted.

      “Sweetie,” she said in a calm voice and I heard her set something down. Probably the knife. “There’s no need to yell at me.”

       I slumped down to the floor of my bedroom. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’ve emailed and texted Caroline about a bazillion times and she still hasn’t responded. I don’t even know if she’s reading them.” I sighed and pulled my knees up to my chest. “And I’m beginning to worry that our friendship won’t be repaired until I can see her in person and force her to talk to me. Which means that things might stay like this until Christmas at the earliest.”

       Ugh, such a depressing thought.

       “But what more can I do?” I continued as I twisted a strand of my blond hair over my finger. “Hire a skywriter to write her a message in the sky? Send her one of those sing-o-grams? Call the police?”

       “What about Owen?”

       I groaned and released my hair. “I told you, Mom. Asking him to intervene seems unfair.”

       “How so?”

       “Well, after three years of being my boyfriend, my go-to when times got tough, Owen is now my…my…” My
what exactly?
My friend? My acquaintance? Someone I used to know? I wasn’t even sure how to explain our relationship so I knew that asking him to play mediator between Caroline and me was too much too fast.

       “I don’t know what Owen is to me right now. We’re still barely talking to each other, so I don’t think I can drag him into this.” I paused. “But I do have an idea. Maybe. If you’re willing to help me.”

       “Oh?”

       “Yeah,” I hedged. “I was thinking that you could talk to Henry. You know, have him sort this out and set the record straight.”

       Mom hesitated. “Hannah, you know I don’t like to get in the middle of your sibling spats.”

       “It’s not like that. We’re not fighting. We’re just…” I wasn’t sure what Henry and I were doing. I’d called him multiple times over the weekend but he’d sent each and every one of those calls to voicemail before the phone could ring for the second time, which I didn’t take as a good sign.

       From a Facebook post, I’d worked out that he and Care had gone to Homecoming together after all. Knowing that made me happy and wistful and crazy anxious all at once. WHAT DID IT ALL MEAN? Were they a couple? Was he just being a friend to her? Was Caroline going to wind up hurt and hating me even more?

       “Henry and I are just miscommunicating,” I concluded.

       “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said. “I’m sorry you’re upset but I can’t get involved. As it is, I’m worried enough about your father. He’s been working so much lately and I’ll tell you what, he is overly stressed. Just between you and me, things are not going well with the new branch office his company opened and he’s having trouble with some of the investors.”

       “But, Mom—”

       “Hannah, you have to try to put things in perspective. You and Caroline will work this out.”

       “But—” I tried again.

       My mother plowed past my objections. She was back to chopping. “Honestly, sweetie. I’m sure things will look better in the morning,” she said with a note of finality. “They always do.”

****

But things weren’t looking better in the morning. In fact, by the time the morning rolled around, my brain wouldn’t shut off and my nerves were so jangled that my teeth were literally chattering in my head. Okay, not literally, but suffice it to say that when I showed up to school, I was a walking disaster.

       It didn’t help that things were officially weird with Tillie. Clearly she was still upset that I’d been so snotty to her on Friday. After our economics class, I tried to apologize again but she brushed me off and told me it was no big deal. Obviously it was. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye.

       And to make matters worse, when I tried to tell Joel about it just before lunch, he kind of blew me off. Then he informed me that he was going to spend the lunch period in the library trying to catch up on some of his homework.

       Okaaay…

       Instead of eating by myself, I spent the hour on the concrete steps in front of Warriner watching the London traffic move by on the street below and asking myself the hard questions.

       What was I going to do about school and the ten thousand words Mr. Hammond wanted me to write?

       Would Caroline read my latest email?

       And, what was up with Joel? Was he avoiding me?

       He’d definitely been acting cagey this morning. And then there was the fact that we hadn’t spoken at all over the weekend. Not at all. Not even in a text.

       At the time, I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. Yeah, we’d left things a bit unfinished on Friday afternoon but I figured we were okay. I figured he was just giving me some space, letting me stew in my misery.

       But maybe that wasn’t it.

       Maybe it was more.

       Feeling a little panicky, I groped around my bag for my phone. I sent him a short text asking how homework was coming along. Then I waited. And waited.

       Nada.

       Radio silence.

       It was deja vu.

       By the end of the lunch hour, I was determined to talk to him, to confront him if I needed to. I wanted to do this before class, but he walked in the door late and didn’t take the desk behind me.

       Did he do that on purpose?

       Had he chosen to sit in the back of the classroom because he was avoiding me or was it simply the first open seat he’d found?

       God, I was driving myself crazy. Seriously. Even though I was sitting down, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath and my insides were lurching wildly. I tried to focus on what Mr. Hammond was saying—hell, I
needed
to focus on him—but I must have looked over my shoulder at least fifty times trying to make eye contact with Joel.

       When I realized that wasn’t going to work, I made a plan to catch him as soon as class was over. But like he was some kind of ninja, he disappeared, slipping through the door before I could even get out of my chair.

       To my annoyance, that left squash practice.

       Dressed in the awful blue and yellow uniform, I walked into the gym after school and looked around. Joel was standing near Mr. Hammond. His hands were on his hips and his stance was slouched, casual. He was reading something on the clipboard Mr. Hammond was holding.

       I took a deep breath and approached.

       “Hey!” I was hoping to sound cheerful, but my voice came out way too high. Like Minnie Mouse sucking on helium high.

       Joel looked up, met my gaze. He didn’t smile or look sorry that he’d blown me off earlier. He just seemed…. flat or distant or something. It was definitely strange and I was rattled.

       I tried to cover this up by chatting and blathering like nothing was wrong. I even brought up the Grimm dinner theater thing he’d asked me about on Friday. But Joel only responded in grunts and awkward head nods. Before I could flat-out ask him what the deal was, Mr. Hammond set up a series of targets and split us up into teams of four. We were supposed to run drills using the targets to help us improve the aim and accuracy of our drives.

       Yeah right.

       There wasn’t another chance to talk to Joel alone until practice was over. After the targets and the balls and the rest of the equipment was put away, I ran ahead to catch up with him before he could vanish into the changing room.

       “Joel!” I called out but he acted like he didn’t hear me. “Joel, stop!”

       He kept walking.

       Was he being serious right now?

      
I sped up until I was just ahead of him and then I spun around and put my hand on his chest. He stopped, looked down at me.

       “Jeez!” I said, bending over a little to catch my breath. “Didn’t you hear me?”

       He shook his head to the left once. Not very convincing. “What’s up?”

       “I just…” This was harder than I thought it would be and I was flustered. I pushed my sweaty hair back and tried to straighten my stance. “I wanted to know if you’re ignoring me?”

       He looked above my head and shrugged.

       “Is that a yes?” I asked.

       He shrugged again and tried to walk around me but I refused to let him pass.

       “But why?” I persisted.

       “Because I have nothing else to say.”

       I was shocked by the coldness in his voice. “W-what? What did I do?”

       He placed his hands on my shoulders and moved me to the side so he could get past me.

       “Joel, please,” I cried at his back. I didn’t care that the rest of the squash team was watching us. “This isn’t fair! You can’t just walk away from me like this.”

       He stopped walking and haltingly turned around to face me. He crossed his arms and locked his yellow-green eyes onto mine. “
I thought it was over between you and your boyfriend?”

      
Where was this coming from?
“My boyfriend?”