The Boyfriend Thief (12 page)

“Remember, a vote for me is a vote for integrity!”

Hannah stood on a makeshift platform of six physics books in the middle of the Willowbrook High main hall. Behind her sat a table full of voting jars for class king and queen, with a large poster of Hannah’s smiling face above her own jar.

Her friends stood in a half circle around her, each holding up their own “Vote for Hannah” poster, with her name written in red glitter and encircled with sparkling silver stars.

“I have served faithfully as class queen these last two years,” Hannah went on, ignoring the fact that no one was listening to her speech. Not that it mattered. Hannah enjoyed any opportunity to make a speech, whether or not people listened. Her voice could be heard over the din of conversations around me as people pushed through the hall toward their lockers or the cafeteria for breakfast before the first bell.

Class king and queen was a secret vote, so the jars had been painted black and it was impossible to tell who was in the lead. But still, Hannah had to know she was the most likely candidate and this whole campaigning thing in the middle of the hall was all for show.

“Can you believe we have to listen to her mouth first thing in the morning?” Molly fell into step next to me and wrinkled her nose toward Hannah and her gang. “A day that starts off this bad can only get worse.”

“She wants attention,” I said, leading Molly away before she did something crazy. “Hannah thrives on attention.”

“I can’t see what Zac sees in her.” Molly looked over her shoulder back at Hannah, who was still leading her voters toward victory from the top of Mount Physics. “She’s so irritating and stuck up. Has she ever had one fun day in her entire life?”

A series of images flashed through my head at Molly’s words: Sleepovers. Skating as fast as we could down the sidewalk in front of our houses. S’mores in the middle of the night, shrieking so much we woke my parents when the marshmallows exploded in the microwave. Whispering secrets to each other in the dark as we lay side by side in her big bed.

“Probably not,” I mumbled.

I could ask myself what had happened to Hannah and me, why were we so focused and serious all the time, but the truth was I knew already. I had been there, had heard the words, and had seen the look of pure hatred Hannah had given me that day she threw her half of the friendship necklace in my face. Everything changed after that moment and we stopped being the giggling, carefree kids we had once been.

You could stand to loosen up a little every now and then,
Zac had said. His words still rang in my ears, accusing me of being as uptight as Hannah.

But what was the other option? Becoming a failure, never making it to Costa Rica, never becoming a doctor.

Never becoming anything that would make people want to stay.

I had already failed once. It wasn’t going to happen again. Uptight or not, I would make everything better for myself and my family. And I would do it by depending on the only person I’d ever been able to depend on: myself.

Molly rattled on throughout my zoning out, oblivious to the fact that I hadn’t heard a word she’d said. I blinked, trying to focus on her voice.

“So I think I’m going to throw out the entire code and start over,” Molly said. “All the tables in the database aren’t communicating the way I want them to and it’s not giving me any logical matches.”

It didn’t take me long to figure out she was talking about the website for A to Z Love Matches again.

“There is nothing logical about matchmaking,” I told her as we pushed our way down the hall. “It’s a scam, it’s always been a scam and it always will be a scam. A computer can’t ever predict romance between two people.”

“You’re the one running a matchmaking business,” Molly said with a shrug. “I’m just the person building your website.”

I pulled at my hair. “I am not running a matchmaking business. Zac is. I’m the unlucky person stuck with him as a partner for a fake business that doesn’t exist even though he can’t seem to figure that out.”

Molly pulled me to a stop in the hall. “Hey, you’re not about to combust, are you? Because your face is starting to match your hair again.”

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths.
Distal phalanges, intermediate phalanges, proximal phalanges, metacarpals, carpals.
I recited the words over and over in a steady rhythm, forcing the tension out of my body in a long breath.

“I’m fine,” I said, when I finally felt as if the last bits of my sanity weren’t about to explode out of my skull. These last couple of weeks with Zac had messed me all up. He’d ruined my perfect sleep patterns and distracted me in class. My blood pressure had probably skyrocketed. I wished Dad had listened to me and bought that blood pressure cuff I’d asked for last year for my birthday instead of a gift card to The Gap.

“Good, because I don’t want you blowing your berries right here in the hall.” Molly’s gaze moved to something behind me and her smile widened. “Hey, there’s Elliott.”

My fists clenched and all the breathing in the world wouldn’t help calm me down now. “Is this morning going to get worse with each minute?”

Molly pinched my arm. “Be nice.” She smiled so wide her teeth looked likely to fall out of her head at any second as Elliott drew closer.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted us. He looked like a slithering snake as he returned Molly’s wide smile. I could almost see him waiting to sink his fangs into poor, naive Molly as soon as I turned my back.

“Hey,” she said. “Ready for the quiz in trig?”

“As ready as I can be, I guess,” he said. “I stayed up until two studying last night. I figure I’ll either pass the test or else collapse on my desk from exhaustion.”

“Your brain retains less information in a sleep deprived state,” I told him. “Which is why late night cramming sessions never work.”

“Thank you, Dr. James,” Elliott said. “I don’t know what we’d do around here without your medical input.”

I glared at him when he grinned my way. Why couldn’t Molly see him for what he was? She laughed along with his stupid joke, which wasn’t even the least bit funny. He could learn a thing or two about jokes from Zac. At least Zac actually knew something about comedy.

Why was I thinking about Zac?

I pushed past Elliott, not caring that my backpack hit him in the stomach. “I have to get to class.”

“See you later,” I heard Molly say to Elliott. Then she was at my side again, almost running to keep up with me.

“What is your problem?”

I raised my eyebrows. “
My
problem? You’re the one hanging all over Elliott Reiser like a pathetic lovesick idiot.”

She stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Molly may have been small, but she was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry. “You don’t have to be so rude to Elliott all the time.”

“Then maybe he should stay away so I won’t have to be.” I tried to move past her, but Molly anticipated my movements and slid to the left along with me.

She crossed her arms, scowling up at me. “I’ve listened to your complaints about Elliott for two years now. And I haven’t yet seen him do any of the things you accuse him of. What exactly do you have against him? It’s something more than what you’re telling me, I know it. Out with it.”

I almost told her everything. About the little gumball friendship ring with the plastic purple stone in the center that I had buried in the bottom of my jewelry box because I had never been able to throw it away. I almost told her about how in the end, everyone had turned their backs on me. How I wasn’t good enough for any of them. Not for my mom, not Hannah, and not Elliott.

And one day, not Molly either.

But I couldn’t say the words. If I told her about what had happened, she wouldn’t see me as the person she knew. She’d understand then how imperfect I really was.

“I lost all confidence in him long ago,” I whispered, my gaze locked on the toes of my shoes.

“That Lila Mahoney thing?” Molly waved a hand, dismissing it. “That’s ancient history and Elliott says it got blown way out of proportion. You can’t always believe the things you hear.”

I didn’t bother to correct her. If I opened my mouth, words I was too afraid to say might come spilling out.

Hannah always had a way of appearing out of nowhere around me. An empty bathroom, a shadowy corner under the stairs in the junior hall, even a carpeted basement den where I’d thought she wouldn’t be nearby to see what I was about to do. Hannah had some kind of sixth sense about me and she always knew exactly when I didn’t want to see her.

Diggity Dog House was crowded, as it usually was after school when everyone stopped for a milkshake or chili cheese fries on their way home. I stood at the back wall behind the counter, scrubbing drops of sticky soda off the drink dispenser with my back to the register. It should have been impossible for me to even hear her low voice when she said my name. But my head turned before I’d had a chance to reconsider acknowledging the call and there she was, standing on the other side of the counter.

I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen her and go back to my scrubbing, but I knew Hannah Cohen wouldn’t let me go that easily. If Mr. Throckmorton saw me ignoring a customer, he’d have a coronary anyway, so it was best to suck it up and head into the lion’s den.

All day I’d been trying to work up the nerve to speak to her, to tell her I was done with this whole boyfriend thief deal, and she could have her money back. The check weighed heavily in my pocket, taunting me. Could I give up Costa Rica for Zac Greeley?

“Welcome to Diggity Dog House. What can I get for you this Diggity Dog day?” Every time I said those words, I wanted to shove my hot dog hat down my own throat.

Hannah tossed her hair back and lifted her chin as she looked at me. “I thought I paid you to steal my boyfriend.” How did she always manage to look cool and sweat-free even in the scorching heat? A sweaty, miserably hot Hannah was less intimidating than one who didn’t seem to be susceptible to heat like everyone else.

“You did.” My teeth clenched together as I fought against the part of me that wanted to hang onto the check and the other part that wanted to end this all. And for what? A guy that couldn’t keep himself still, never took anything seriously, and who somehow managed to insult me every time he opened his mouth even when he didn’t intend to? I had let him drink a slushie in my car. I had let him drag me around town in the middle of the night instead of being tucked into my cozy bed getting the necessary sleep I needed to function properly. This was
not
me. I didn’t do things like that. I could feel the fringes of my life beginning to fray and tangle into the mess I had fought hard to fix. I couldn’t let Zac step in and tear up all the work I’d done these last four years.

“Then why is it that he still thinks I’m his girlfriend?” Hannah crossed her arms and stared at me, waiting for an acceptable answer.

But I didn’t have one. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the check, which I’d folded into a perfectly straight rectangle, the folds crisp and neat.

“I can’t do it. Take your money and figure out a way to get rid of Zac on your own.”

Hannah laughed. “You’re giving up? Just like that? What happened to the Avery James I’ve always known, the one who takes what I have without worrying about the consequences?”

I swallowed. “I didn’t take Elliott from you.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day someone will believe it.” She nodded at the check I held between my fingers. “You’d rather be stuck here for another year than to be at that medical program or whatever it is?”

I pretended to punch an order in on the register in case Mr. Throckmorton looked out of his office. “I don’t want to do it. Find someone else to do your dirty work.”

Hannah studied me for a long time until I became uncomfortable and started tapping my fingers on the side of the register.

Finally, she leaned over the counter, her dark eyes locked on mine. “He’s exhausting, isn’t he? You can’t focus when he’s around. His constant movement is irritating. He doesn’t care about anything in life except what makes
him
feel good. And if you have to listen to one more ridiculous idea of his, you’ll rip your own ears off.” She straightened up, her gaze still boring into me.

I stared back at her, my mouth open slightly but no sound coming out.

“Am I right?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “You see now what I’ve been dealing with for almost a year. He’s killing me and he doesn’t even realize it because he never notices a thing other than what matters inside his insane world. I’ve tried to change him, but it’s come down to him or me. And I’m not letting some guy ruin me.”

She tossed her hair back. “If you’d rather give up your future for Zac, fine. I have no problem watching you crash and burn because you didn’t get your way.” She smiled. “Think about it. You don’t go to Costa Rica this summer, you don’t get into your top school next year. It’s all downhill from there. Are you willing to settle for second best?”

Hannah knew me too well. She knew exactly how to stab at me with her words.

I would not be second best. I couldn’t. Everything was planned out and Costa Rica was the first step in that plan.

I could handle a few slushies and comedy shows for the sake of my future, right?

The front door of the restaurant opened and a tall woman in a perfectly pressed white blouse and cream skirt stepped into the room. She made a face as she looked around the dining area, sniffing the air and then shuddering slightly.

“Hannah, are you done here?” She eyed the brilliant gold watch on her wrist. “We’re behind schedule. We’re supposed to start on your calculus review at seven-thirty.”

Mrs. Cohen, Hannah’s mom. I hadn’t seen her since the Cohens moved out of our neighborhood two years ago. She still looked exactly the same—starched, stiff, and not at all impressed by anything.

I instinctively stood straighter as Mrs. Cohen’s eyes passed over me. But whether it was the hot dog I wore strapped across my forehead or just that in Mrs. Cohen’s eyes I’d always been a threat to Hannah’s success and therefore not someone she wanted to get to know well, she didn’t show any recognition as she gave me the briefest of glances before turning away.

“I’ll let you think about it for a few days,” Hannah growled to me. “Consider whether you want to wear that hot dog again all summer. Who is Zac to you anyway? Just a nobody that has never really mattered. People like you and me have the drive to succeed in everything we do. Are you willing to do what it takes to make it there?”

She spun around and marched toward her mother.

“Honestly, Hannah,” Mrs. Cohen fussed as she pushed open the door, “this is exactly the kind of thing that will cost you valedictorian next year. A successful person is punctual at all times.”

* * *

“Hey, honey,” Dad greeted me when I walked into the kitchen after work that night.

“Hi,” I answered. I looked from Dad, who was still smiling wide from laughing a moment ago, to Ian, who was laughing, to Trisha, who smiled up at me. All three were sitting around our kitchen table—Trisha sat in Mom’s spot again—and they had been apparently having a great time without me.

“What’s so funny?” I pulled open the refrigerator to look inside for the bottle of cranberry juice, half-expecting to find it stuffed inside the deli drawer thanks to Trisha’s careless grocery storage. But no, the half-empty bottle was exactly where it was supposed to be, alphabetically between the apple juice and milk on the beverage shelf.

“Nothing,” Dad said. “Trisha was telling us about one of her students. It’s a long story.”

I got the picture. It was a
them
thing. I wasn’t meant to be a part of it. Trisha was certainly doing a good job at wrapping the men of this house around her finger. But she wouldn’t do the same to me. I was well aware of her attempts to take over as alpha-female of this house. And then, once everything seemed fine and happy, BAM—she’d pull a Mom act and split.

Nice try, Trisha Montgomery, but not everyone in this family was as blind and stupid as others.

“So how was your day?” Trisha asked me, leaning on her forearms against the table.

“Fine,” I growled, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “Sold lots of hot dogs.”

“And you didn’t bring any leftovers home for us?” Dad asked.

Trisha laughed at Dad’s stupid comment, as if it were the funniest thing she’d heard all week. “Don’t tease her, Mitch. Avery’s working very hard to get to Costa Rica.” She looked back at me, her eyes wide and shining. “It’s only, what? A month and a half until you go, right? Are you getting excited?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Thrilled.”

“I can’t imagine going off so far away from home at your age,” Trisha said, propping her chin up with one hand. “My parents would never have let me do it. Your dad is so cool to let you go.”

“I don’t know how cool I am,” Dad said, blushing a little. “I can’t say I’m exactly one hundred percent behind this trip. Part of me still insists I should tie her down and refuse to let her leave the house this summer.”

I shot Dad an annoyed scowl. “We’ve been over this. There are going to be chaperones, plenty of adults all around all the time.”

Dad reached over and patted my arm. “I know that, but I’m still worried. I like knowing you’re safely at home.”

“Avery is a smart girl,” Trisha told him. “She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah,” Dad said, smiling at me. “I guess I don’t want to admit that she’s grown up. It went a little too quickly.”

Ian made a gagging noise. “Are we done with the Avery love fest yet? Let’s talk about
me
for a while.”

Trisha reached over and pinched his cheek between her fingers. “And what would you like to talk about? How adorable you are?”

Ian blushed. “Well, maybe for a few minutes. Not all night or anything.”

They laughed as if they were this typical, happy family unit. A mom, dad, and son gathered around the kitchen table to talk about their day. I was the outsider here in my own home, unable to figure out how or when this had happened. When had I become second to this strange woman in our family?

“Oh!” Ian exclaimed. “I wanted to show you the new pictures I took for my project.”

My brother jumped up from the table and dashed to his room. We heard him moving things around for a minute and then he came back, carrying a photo box.

“Check these out,” Ian said, pulling out a stack and handing them to Trisha.

Why was Ian so in love with that woman? It was disgusting, the way he looked to her for approval. He wanted her to give him a pat on the head and tell him what a good boy he was to fill in Mom’s absence.

I stood up. “I’m going to put my stuff in my room. I have a lot of…”

My voice trailed off. I stared down at the table, looking at the pictures Trisha had set down in front of her as she looked through them.

“Let me see that.” My fingers closed on a photo that had caught my eye. I blinked at the photograph in my hand, trying to absorb what I was seeing. But no matter how long I stared at the two faces, I couldn’t quite comprehend the scene it had captured.

“Avery?” Dad asked. “Something wrong?”

“When was this taken?” I asked Ian, showing him the photo.

Ian scrunched his face up as he tried to remember. “Two days ago, I think. Yeah, because there’s the Book Nook in the background. I took some pictures around that area two days ago. What’s wrong with it?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Can I keep this?”

Ian shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s not one of my best shots. I wasn’t planning on using it in the collage.”

The picture was blurry so I couldn’t be sure that what I thought I saw was real. But it was close enough I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be in my room if you guys need me. I’m not feeling too well.”

Dad stood and pressed a hand to my forehead. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Is it that picture?”

I shook my head and pushed his hand away. “It’s a picture of a friend from school, so I thought she might want it. That’s all.”

Dad didn’t look as if he believed me, but he nodded and sat back down. “I’ll check on you later and see if you’re feeling okay.”

“I hope you feel better, Avery,” Trisha said.

I nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Good night.”

Once I had shut myself in my room, I laid down on my bed and stared at the picture again. I still couldn’t believe what I saw.

Hannah Cohen walking arm-in-arm with a guy.

A guy who
wasn’t
Zac Greeley.