The Boyfriend App (10 page)

He smiled. My toes curled. Was there any way he meant that it could match us? Had he thought about that?

Mindy was absorbed in her turn bowling and she wasn’t paying attention. So I just said it. “Hopefully someone tall, dark, and handsome.”

Like you.

“Or just tall and dark,” Aidan said. The low rumble of his laugh made my body turn on like a light switch. It was definitely the first time we’d ever officially flirted. Or was it? Was I overreacting? Maybe he wasn’t referring to himself. Maybe he was just messing with me. I felt totally nervous trying to figure it out. And then Mindy threw a gutter ball and Aidan went to clap, but his chunky black techno-watch caught the bottom of his sweater. It pulled at the hem and exposed the way his stomach muscles formed a
V
above his jeans. It put me over the edge. I had no idea where I was until his clothes lowered and I could breathe again.

“You, on the other hand, need to stick with creative writing,” Aidan said to Mindy, making her laugh. I faked a laugh, too, and tried to act normal. But now I had visual confirmation of the beautifulness of his stomach muscles. Jesus. There was no going back.

Bowling shoes squeaked behind us.

“What’s up, earthlings?”

My mouth dropped, and the synapses in my brain were too confused to close it. Nothing—not even Lindsay’s rabid texting and blogging about their trip to U.P. Mall yesterday—could’ve prepared me for Nigit’s outfit. Tight-fitting black jeans hugged his scrawny legs and cut off at the ankles. His hair was slicked to the side. A white leather belt with a shiny silver buckle cinched his waist. A skinny tie draped over a slim-fitting white shirt beneath a black sateen dinner jacket. He looked like the cool guy in an electronica band who stands off to the side and plays a cymbal. Or a Bollywood movie star walking the red carpet. He looked amazing.

I glanced at Lindsay. It was the first time since kindergarten that I didn’t notice her outfit first, but not even her peacock-feather hairpiece and gold-framed cat-eye glasses could distract me. She was gazing, googly-eyed, at Nigit.

The smooth skin on Aidan’s forehead creased. Mindy stared.

Somebody had to say
something
.

“Nigit?” I finally sputtered, trying to keep the gasp out of my voice.

“’S’up, Audrey?”

“Um, nothing. Want to bowl on my team?”

Nigit peeled his eyes from Lindsay. “Totes.”

What kind of alternate love universe had the Boyfriend App uncovered?

“Cool,” Aidan said, recovering. “I’ll take Lindsay and Mindy. We’ll need best out of three to beat Audrey anyway.”

A cocktail waitress strode by with a tray full of margaritas, ignoring us. The scent of lime and tequila mixed with the bowling alley’s sweaty-sock smell as Lindsay and Nigit picked bowling balls. It turned out both of their favorite colors were orange. “You should see the way mandarin lipstick brings out my eyes,” Lindsay told Nigit. They then proceeded to go straight to first base right there by the ball return.

I fake-cleared my throat. “Aren’t you a lefty, Nigit?” I asked, gesturing to the white leather glove on his right hand, the one currently in my cousin’s back pocket.

Nigit depocketed. “This isn’t a bowling glove,” he said, fanning his fingers. “It’s part of my weekend look.”

Lindsay set her ball down with a
thud
. “Nigit took my Men’s Fashion Quiz on
FBM
,” she said, smoothing a platinum lock into her hairpiece. A pear-shaped faux-diamond stud took up nearly all of her earlobe. “One of his style icons is Michael Jackson.”

“Rest in peace, Michael,” Nigit said, pointing his gloved index finger toward the ceiling. His body contorted into a surprisingly impressive three-step moonwalk. “And you should always wear a signature piece.” He nuzzled Lindsay’s cheek before turning to me. “You rock for building the Boyfriend App, Audrey.” He clasped his hands together in a prayer position and bowed his head. “It’s a life-changer.”

I was so distracted by Nigit’s personality transplant that I didn’t see the nightmare that had descended on our bowling lane.

“Looks like there’s garbage in the alley today.”

My body registered Joanna Martin’s voice before my mind, and a sick feeling slivered through me. I turned to see Blake, Jolene, and Joanna wearing matching black leggings and pinched expressions.

“Perfect,” Aidan said under his breath.

The Martin sisters’ highlighted blond streaks were pulled back to expose Angelina Jolie–esque cheekbones and icy-blue eyes. They framed Blake like evil bookends. Xander stood to off to the side. He did a double take when he saw me, but then he looked away and fiddled with his buyPlayer. He took out his earbuds and stuffed them into a pocket of his corduroys. “Come on, Blake,” he said, gesturing to an open lane farther down the alley.

But Blake didn’t move. She pointed at Nigit. “What’s up with Nidgiot?”

Nigit blinked.

“Leave him alone,” I said, my nerve endings on fire.

Jolene let out a barking laugh. Xander averted his glance, but the three girls stared at me until my legs felt wobbly.

A high-pitched singing voice rang crystal clear through the bowling alley.

“Thrillerrrrr.”

It took me a minute to realize the sound was coming from Nigit.

“Thriller night!”

Nigit’s gloved hand flew high toward the ceiling. His other hand grabbed his shiny silver belt buckle, and his limbs started moving at different speeds, exactly like Michael Jackson does in the video.

“And no one’s gonna save you from the beast about to strike!”

Nigit’s voice was a little off key, but his dance moves were killer, like his body was part rubber and part Paula Abdul. Pins clattered in the next lane over and the strobe light came to life again. It bathed Nigit in pulsing white light and made him look even more awesome.

Nigit dance-jumped toward Blake and her cronies like he was doing a special performance just for them. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair and then slammed it back to his side.

“So let me hold you tight and share a killer, thriller.”

He kicked his legs, twirled in a circle, and ended the move by grabbing his crotch, thrusting it forward, and scream-singing,
“Ow!”

A little girl in a neighboring lane started clapping.

Aidan, Mindy, and I stood gaping. Lindsay joined the little girl with maniacal clapping. Aidan whistled and Mindy let out a squeal. “Go, Nigit!” I yelled.

Nigit turned to face us and bowed with a hand flourish like a court jester in the seventeenth century.

Blake looked even more nauseous than the time we had bad yellowtail at South Bend Sushi-Saurus. Joanna shook her head. Jolene stood there with both layers of teeth exposed and a glazed expression on her face. Xander glanced between them and us.

“You’re lame,” Joanna said.

“And you’re mean girls,” Nigit shot back. “Way past the time when the movie was cool.”

“I’d rather be mean than lame,” Jolene said. But the insult fell flat and Jolene averted her eyes like she knew it.

Aidan linked his arm through mine. “You
would
,” he said in his low voice, laughing. And then Mindy laughed, too. A giddy feeling came over me. I watched in disbelief as Nigit spiked forward onto his toes again and did another crotch grab. Lindsay giggled and clapped her hands again, like it was awesome to be a part of us.

Blake stared at me in a way she hadn’t for a very long time. She stared as if it was just us, the way it was every afternoon after school, and again on the weekend mornings when we left the Martin sisters’ sleepovers and went to hang by ourselves in my apartment. And then her lips curved, and she smiled at me like she always used to, like nothing could come between us. And then she laughed, and said, “Your father was lame. And now he’s just dead. One less McCarthy to fit in your tiny apartment.” She shifted her weight. “Your family’s a joke.”

I felt nothing for one full breath. There was only blood swirling in my ears and the steady thud of bowling balls against the wood.

But then something inside of me splintered.

No one spoke. Another bored-looking cocktail waitress passed with an empty tray and a cigarette behind her ear. A mom cheered in the neighboring lane when her little boy bowled a strike and set off the strobe lights.

My bottom lip shook. I clamped my top teeth over it hard, tasting blood.

Aidan pulled me to him. He held me like he’d done it before a thousand times, like he already knew the curves of my body. I felt his breath against my ear. His voice was like steel. “I’m getting you out of here.”

I tried to focus on the contours of his face, the strong cut of his jaw, the flushed skin over his cheeks. His cherry-red lips were slightly parted, and up close I could see the ghost of a scar just above them. I let my hand fall over his, and felt how solid he was.

But then bowling pins shattered, snapping me back to reality.

Joanna and Jolene were laughing. Their shoulders shook and the strobe light made their movements jerky and robotic. Xander was looking at the floor, his shoes, the back of his hands—anywhere but me. Blake still looked like she was about to be sick, and suddenly I felt sure I was going to be sick, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Aidan. So I pushed him off and started to sprint. Fake explosion noises blasted from a
Buck Hunter
video game. I dodged the cocktail waitress and nearly knocked over the elderly couple with bowl cuts. I heard Aidan and Lindsay call after me as I passed the skinny guy collecting tickets, the bartender pouring blue liquid into a martini glass, and the dad holding his little girl’s hand. I ran harder, as though I could push through everything that hurt.

I shoved the glass doors. The bright sunlight blinded me, and my body folded like a paper doll. I crawled over to a yellow parking-lot bumper and dropped my head into my hands. My cheeks were wet and I had the strange feeling I was bleeding, but when I looked down, there were only tears on my fingers.

I closed my eyes and didn’t open them until I smelled Mindy’s vanilla perfume. She dropped to her knees right there on the gravel. “Audrey,” she whispered, low enough that no one else could hear that it sounded like “Oh-drey.”

“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked, squatting next to Mindy. Nigit stood close to Lindsay, fidgeting like he was nervous.

Aidan knelt beside me. His face had darkened and he looked furious. And then his hands were on me again, lifting me to my feet. I didn’t want him to let me go.

They were all saying stuff as we walked to Lindsay’s car, but it was hard to focus. I wanted to tell my friends I was okay, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t say anything at all.

Aidan, Mindy, and Nigit watched from the parking lot as Lindsay nearly crashed into the letter-board sign advertising
2-FOR-1 FUN!

I swore I saw Blake glancing through the bowling alley’s door. But the sun was glinting against the glass, and I probably just imagined her.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

chapter ten

L
indsay tried to talk to me about what’d happened as we sped along Route 31, but there was nothing to say. Navy flags with slogans like
HERE COME THE IRISH!
waved on manicured lawns, left over from yesterday’s game. The car smelled like the glue Lindsay used to cover her hair clip in feathers.

I counted the seconds until I could be alone with Hector.

We pulled up to the courtyard in front of our building. Claire played with her toy Breyer horses in the grass with my mom.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. (I didn’t want my mom to know I’d been crying. I didn’t need the questions.) My skin looked paler than ever, and my hair was messy, but my green eyes were bright. I didn’t wear makeup—no matter how many times Lindsay advocated for mascara—so nothing was smeared.

Clank. Clank. Clank
. Roger, the super, tossed cans and plastic bottles one by one into a green-painted trash can.

“New
man
dals?” Lindsay asked, gesturing to Roger’s leather footwear, which looked like something one of the disciples would wear. “Where are the Tevas?”

Roger’s cutoff jean shorts were shorter than usual, and even from the car I could tell he’d shaved his legs. His Chihuahua, Nicorette, nosed a crumpled can of Diet Coke near his feet. Lindsay rolled down her window. “Roger!” she shouted, her eyes narrowing on his shiny legs. “How do you keep your skin so moisturized in cold weather?”

I put a hand to my forehead.

Roger moved to the car with Nicorette darting circles around him. He considered Lindsay, and then glanced around like someone might be listening. “Two parts Lubriderm to one part Vaseline,” he finally said, taking a sip of grass-green liquid from a plastic cup. Nicorette barked. “Apply after the shower.”

Lindsay put the car into park. She looked at Roger as if he’d solved a complex algorithm. “I am
so
blogging about that,” she said as I got out.

Claire kissed my mom’s cheek and raced toward us, her dirty-blond hair streaming behind her. “What’s Ubi-derm?” she asked, climbing into the front seat.

Lindsay’s hand covered Claire’s, making me wish I had a sister. “You going to be okay, Audrey?” she asked.

I pushed up the emerald sleeves of my hoodie and nodded. I hated the way she was looking at me. And the last thing I wanted was to make conversation with my mom, who was already staring from the courtyard with her hands on her hips like she knew something was wrong.

Lindsay opened her mouth like she was going to say more, but then an engine growled in the parking lot and a rusted Toyota Camry pulled into the spot next to hers. A
HARRISON HIGH REJECT
sticker was pasted beneath one that read
MUSCLES ARE FOR HIGH SCHOOL. BRAINS ARE FOR LIFE.