The Boyfriend Thief (17 page)

“That’s always good,” I said, trying to be the supportive best friend.

“I might...I don’t know, I might really,
really
like him. You know what I mean?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Do you mean love him?”

She shrugged, smiling a little. “Maybe. Am I stupid?”

“No. Besides, you could never top me in the stupidity department.”

We fell quiet again and I listened to the sounds of water moving through the pipes in the walls.

“I wish the truth didn’t have to hurt so much.”

Molly looked at me, raising her eyebrows. “You like him, don’t you?”

“It was never part of the plan, but I can’t stop thinking about him. And when he kissed me—”

“Wait! Back up!” Molly twisted around to glare at me. “He
kissed
you and you didn’t think to mention it to your best friend in the whole universe?”

“Well, you were giving me the silent treatment,” I said.

“Which you deserved,” Molly said. “But I’m not anymore, so spill. Details now!”

For a week, I was too busy to think much about Zac. I threw myself into studying for exams, barely noticing anything that went on around me. Molly and Elliott were an official couple now and the three of us often met at each other’s houses to study together. I pretended not to notice whenever they slipped in a kiss between textbooks and pretended even harder that it didn’t make me think of the feel of Zac’s lips on mine.

On the morning of the last day of school, I noticed the table of jars for class queen and king. I had been so wrapped up in everything else that the stupid popularity contest had completely slipped my mind. For the first time, I really looked all the gaudy, ridiculous “vote for me!” posters plastered all over the walls. The winners would be announced that afternoon during the end of year awards ceremony.

Twenty years from now, would any of us remember who won class king and queen?

Hannah would. If she won, it would be one of the things she held onto as her shining moment, even when we were all old and gray. Because she needed that validation. She needed to know that, yes, she was good enough.

Maybe Hannah and I weren’t so different even now.

I dug into my bag, searching for my change purse. I counted out half of my coins and then dropped them into the jar.

“I’ve already won,” said a voice behind me. “So it doesn’t matter if you vote against me.”

Hannah smiled smugly, looking as put together and pressed as always. Her hair shone like silk in the fluorescent lights overhead.

She stepped toward me, offering a small folded piece of paper.

“What’s that?” I asked, not taking it.

“The rest of the money I owe you. Three hundred dollars, a check written out to you.”

My heart fluttered in my chest and I almost couldn’t breathe. “He dumped you?”

She nodded. “Last night. It was tragic. There were tears.”

I still didn’t take the check she held out to me. I stared at it, unable to move.

“So what was that all about last week when you accused me of cheating on Zac?” Hannah raised her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

“My brother’s doing a photography project for his art class.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain. Hannah was the one sneaking around, she should have been the one explaining things. “He ended up taking a picture of you outside the Book Nook with some guy a couple weeks ago. Then again at the movies.”

And then, Hannah did something I hadn’t seen her do in a long time.

She laughed.

Now I was the one raising my eyebrows. “What is so funny?”

“You. You always expect the worst in people, don’t you? If a girl is in the presence of some guy who isn’t her boyfriend, then obviously she’s cheating. It’s so black and white in your world. No room for shades of gray.”

“Then you didn’t cheat on Zac?”

“Of course not. Why would I get rid of one boyfriend that takes up too much of my time to get another one? Not that it’s any of your business, but the guy you saw me with was my life coach. He keeps me from completely stressing out and ripping your head off.”

Hannah had a
life coach?

“Is that like a therapist?” I asked.

Hannah’s glare made me snap my mouth shut. “He is not a therapist. A life coach advises me on steps I should take to eliminate the stress in my life. One of those being getting to know myself by being single for a while. Not dealing with anyone else’s expectations of me except my own. He’s helped me tremendously these last few months.” She smirked. “You might want to try it sometime.”

I tried to make sense of what Hannah had told me, but my mind was spinning. The chaotic swirl had started again and I couldn’t get things back under control.

“But if all you wanted was to be single, why do this whole break up thing?” I asked. “I’m sure if you had talked to Zac and explained how you felt, he would have understood and backed off. You could have broken up easily long ago. Why get me involved to hurt him?”

Her eyes hardened and she crossed her arms. “My intention wasn’t to hurt Zac.”

The silence hung between us. Farther down the hall, I could hear voices and footsteps, lockers slamming as other students arrived for the last day of the school year. The chaos in my head had finally grown quiet as I understood what Hannah wasn’t saying.

The entire plan wasn’t to hurt Zac. It was to hurt
me
.

“Hannah,” I said, taking a step toward her, trying to cross the chasm that had existed between us for four years, “I’m sorry about what happened that summer.”

Hannah stiffened. A muscle in her jaw twitched, but she only shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re even.”

So much had changed after that summer. Hannah’s family had changed, her entire life had changed, and I hadn’t been there like I once was. My mom’s leaving had affected so many more people than just me and I was only now realizing it.

“Do you remember that time we ate all the raw cookie dough your mom had in the refrigerator?” I asked suddenly.

A small smile twitched at her lips. “Five tubes of it,” she said. “My parents swore we’d die from E. coli.”

“I did spend the entire night sick with a bad stomach ache.” I smiled sadly. “If I could go back and change what happened that summer, I would.”

Hannah’s face clouded over again. “What’s done is done. And believe me, I
don’t
miss you.”

But her voice cracked halfway through the words, and it came out sounding more like a lie. She held the check out to me again.

“Do you want this or not?”

I looked at the check, but didn’t reach for it. “No, I don’t.”

Hannah blinked. “What?”

I pulled the first check out of my bag and ripped it into tiny, neat squares. “I’m out. I’m not doing this.”

“It’s already done. All you have to do is cash the checks and then you’ll be off to save the world like you always wanted.”

“The world can wait a year for me.” I opened her hand and dropped the ripped pieces into her palm.

Then I swung my backpack over my shoulder and smiled at her.

“Don’t let your mom convince you that you’re not good enough, okay?”

Her brown eyes turned glassy and she clenched her jaw tight, the muscles in her neck twitching.

I started to walk away as the morning bell rang to signal the start of the last day of school. Then I paused and looked back at her.

“By the way,” I said, “I didn’t vote against you.”

“Can I help you?”

I jumped at the voice behind me and straightened up from my skulking posture over the hood of Zac’s dirty car. His dad stood in the driveway at the Greeleys’ house behind me, eying me with a suspicious stare.

Then his eyes registered recognition and he nodded at me. “You’re Zac’s friend, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Yes. Avery James.”

“Right.” Mr. Greeley took a sip from the thermos in his hand. He held a stack of papers and folders in the crook of his other arm. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

His gaze roamed to the car behind me and then the carnation clasped in my fist. The flower was leftover from the math club carnation sale. It was nothing remarkable, as far as flowers went. It was easy to see why this particular flower hadn’t been purchased during our fundraiser. It was small and oddly colored. The majority of the flower was white, but a small circle on one side was discolored with orange streaks on the tips of the blossom.

It was imperfect, and yet, perfect.

“No, I was leaving something for Zac,” I answered. My cheeks were on fire, but I tried to remain casual and confident under Mr. Greeley’s scrutinizing gaze.

His forehead creased in confusion. “Would you like me to tell Zac you’re here? He’s right inside.” He gestured toward the house.

My cheeks flamed even more. Mr. Greeley had to think I was crazy, sneaking around in his driveway to leave flowers on his son’s car.

“No, thank you. I can’t stay. I just wanted to leave this here for Zac to find...” I waved the pathetic flower toward the car.

Mr. Greeley studied me a moment longer, sipping from his thermos again. “Okay. If you’re sure. I’m headed out on some calls, so I have to go. Nice to see you again.”

He walked toward his car, which had “Greeley Lock & Key” written on the door. He set the thermos on top of the car while he fished around in his pocket for his keys.

“Mr. Greeley?”

He stopped and turned toward me again. “Yes?”

For a moment, I considered telling him the truth about what Zac wanted to do with his life. But that wasn’t my secret to tell. I couldn’t control Zac’s life any more than I could anyone else’s. If Zac never told his dad, I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Zac is a great guy,” I said, swallowing back my nervousness as he stared intently at me. “He’s funny and smart, much smarter than anyone gives him credit for. Listen to his ideas every now and then, and take him seriously sometimes. Let him be who he wants to be. Because the person he is, is pretty amazing.”

Mr. Greeley continued to look at me silently, his serious gaze boring into me. His keys hung from one hand, his fist squeezed tight around them. I understood how Zac felt whenever his dad looked at him, as if he were being examined for imperfections.

But then the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile.

“I think,” Mr. Greeley said, “judging from how often my son mentions your name, he thinks you’re pretty amazing too.”

My breath caught somewhere in my chest and I was unable to respond. Mr. Greeley nodded at me and then got into his car and drove away.

The house behind me was still. I scanned the windows, but Zac was nowhere. I didn’t know if he knew I was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to risk having the door slammed in my face if I tried to talk to him.

So I turned toward his car and lifted one of the windshield wipers. I stuck the carnation in place and then added the little slip of paper I had folded into a neat square.

The note read simply, “Midnight comedy?”

My shoes scuffed along the concrete floor as I pushed open the door to the Gas ‘N Drive. Jake leaned against the magazine rack behind the counter. I thought he was asleep until he opened his eyes and nodded at me.

“Hey. Avery, right?”

I nodded. “Right.”

He tapped the side of his head. “I never forget a face or a name. You here with Zac?”

When I had slipped out of the darkened house fifteen minutes earlier, driving across town at midnight for a slushie hadn’t seemed the least bit ridiculous. But now the absurdity of my situation struck me. I was in Zac’s gas station, wanting Zac’s drink, talking to Zac’s friend. But without Zac.

“No, it’s just me.” I held out my hands to indicate I was his only offering for company tonight.

This didn’t seem to strike Jake as strange at all. He nodded again. “Cool.”

I headed toward the back of the store before I lost my nerve. A sugar rush was exactly what I needed right now. The machines hummed as usual, swirling red and green and purple icy liquid.

I tried for nearly twenty minutes, but no matter how I mixed the combinations, I couldn’t get the cherry to lime to grape ratio right. It was a skill that apparently only Zac possessed. I stared into my slushie, frowning at the taste that was still slightly off. I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Nothing I tried worked.

Jake leaned against the magazine rack again, his head resting against the glossy cover of
Time
and his eyes closed. I was about to put the money on the counter and leave him to his nap when I noticed his lips moving.

He must have sensed me standing there because he opened his eyes again. “Studying,” he said in response to my unasked question. He rang up my purchase on the register.

“Zac told me you’re training to be an emergency medical technician,” I said as I handed him the money for the imperfect slushie.

Jake nodded. “I have one more semester to go. It’s been a lot of work, but I’m looking forward to graduating.”

“I’m hoping to become a doctor one day,” I told him. “I haven’t decided what I want to specialize in. Still exploring my options and reading as much as I can about the different areas.”

Jake bobbed his head in his slow nod. “That’s cool. Maybe one day we’ll be working on the same patients.”

“Maybe,” I said, laughing. “I have to get through medical school first. There was this study program I was hoping to do this summer in Costa Rica. But I didn’t save up enough money, so it’ll have to wait another year.”

“Have you checked out the summer programs at the hospital?”

I tilted my head to the side. “The Willowbrook Hospital?”

“The one and only. They have some great programs for high school students. You don’t do much, change sheets and follow doctors around all day, but it at least gives you some immersion into daily life in a medical career. And it’s free, since it’s a volunteer program.”

I hadn’t even considered checking with the local hospital for study programs. All my focus had been on Costa Rica. A grin spread across my face.

“Jake, you are a genius.”

He shrugged, giving me a goofy grin. “Well, I didn’t want to brag or anything...”

When I left the Gas ‘N Drive, I sat down in my car and took a sip of the slushie. Outside, stars twinkled and the red lights of a plane blinked steadily as it moved across the night, high overhead. Only a few cars drove by, rumbling softly before disappearing around the curve in the road. The blue light on my dashboard clock read 12:21 AM. The world felt quiet and still.

My legs squeaked on the plastic seat cover when I shifted a little.

I frowned. Something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t only the bad combination of slushie mixed into my cup.

I climbed out of the car and reached down to peel the plastic off the seat. Then I opened the other doors and peeled the plastic off all the seats one by one. I balled the covers up and stuffed them into the trunk.

Anyone watching would probably think I’d lost my mind. Panic swept through me at the thought of what I’d done. I risked ruining the car I had taken so much care of and kept as perfect as it could be. One spill would destroy all of that.

But then I giggled when I sat back down, rubbing my hands over the soft cloth of the interior. I had forgotten what the seats felt like under the plastic. Taking the covers off felt rebellious, fighting back against the voice in my head that told me I’d spill my slushie and the stain would never come out.

A flood of exhilaration worked its way through me, tingling in my fingers and toes. I felt as if I could take on the world.

I needed to hold onto that feeling for what I was about to do next.

* * *

The comedy show had already started by the time I reached the Rose Castle. I sat outside in the parking lot for several minutes, reciting my hand bone mantra to help settle my nerves.

I could do this. Mr. Throckmorton would probably kill me for it and most certainly would fire me, but it would be okay. Sometimes the risks were worth the payoff, right?

I slipped into the diner without drawing much attention to myself, despite the big bag I carried over one shoulder. Elliott had helped me sneak it out of Diggity Dog House after my shift earlier in the night. A young woman was on stage, telling some joke about her ex-boyfriend. I scanned the crowd, but I didn’t see Zac anywhere. Sweat broke out along my forehead. What if he wasn’t here? Had he chosen this one night not to come for the comedy show?

Staying close to the wall, I made my way over to the person who looked to be in charge. “I’d like to add my name to the list of performers,” I told him.

The man eyed me under his thick, bushy eyebrows. His head was bald in contrast to the vast amount of hair on his forehead, making him look a little funny.

“You ever performed before?”

I shook my head. “First time.”

He checked his list for a moment. “You can go on in fifteen, I have an opening there.”

“Okay.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Could you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”

He pointed to a vague area over my shoulder before turning away. I made my way through the tables, accidentally bumping a couple of people with my bag.

After chanting a repeated series of “Sorry, sorry” I found my way to the restroom and pushed open the door. The sounds of the rest of the diner were muffled in the bathroom.

I leaned against the sink and staring at my reflection in the spotty mirror. My hair had half-fallen out of the ponytail I’d pulled it into and my cheeks were flushed. My eyes definitely displayed the wild appearance of the early stages of a panic attack. I splashed some cold water on my face, telling myself everything would be fine. If Zac wasn’t here tonight, I’d come back every night until he was. I had tried apologizing. This was my last hope.

A toilet flushed and I stepped out of the way for the woman who emerged from a stall to wash her hands.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted me in her chirpy voice.

I looked up to find an older woman with wild, curly blonde hair grinning wide at me. The smell of peppermint arrived with her and she wore a bright blue shirt with the words “ZAC PACK” emblazoned across the front.

“I’m Ally,” she reminded me as she washed her hands. “You’re Zac’s friend, right?”

I nodded, smiling at her despite the fact that I felt certain I was about to be sick. “Right. Avery. Nice to see you again.”

“It’s good to see
you
.” She enveloped me in a tight hug, once again breaching my personal space without a second thought, as if she went around hugging everyone so easily all the time.

Maybe she did.

“Do you know if Zac is here?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “Haven’t seen him. But the night is still young. He could show up later.”

I groaned. “I’m on in about twelve minutes, so I hope he gets here soon.”

Ally’s eyes widened and she let out a shriek. “You’re performing? You go, girl!”

I laughed at her excitement. “Don’t cheer yet. You haven’t seen my act. I might be horrible.”

“As long as you make the audience laugh, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.” She clapped her hands. “I can’t wait. I’ll be out there front and center.”

She squeezed me into another hug before leaving me alone in the bathroom. I slipped into the stall and locked the door, dropping the bag to the floor.

I leaned my head against the cool metal door and let out a long breath. Had I completely lost my mind? I had no business going on stage at a comedy show.

The last time I was here flashed through my mind. When Zac had called me onstage and everyone had turned to look at me, I felt as if I’d been split wide open and laid out for everyone to criticize.

“The point of comedy is make people look at you,” I reminded myself. “Making them laugh is a
good
thing.”

Taking another deep breath, I reached down and unzipped the bag.

It felt like hours before I heard the muffled voice of the announcer saying, “And now, some new talent here at the Rose Castle tonight. Appearing for the first time onstage, please welcome Avery James!”

I had stayed in the bathroom during the wait, but now I pulled the door open, propped it with one foot as I shoved my hand back into my white puffy glove, and then made my way into the dining room.

The faces of the audience all turned as one toward me.

And then they laughed.

Making my way toward the stage dressed as Bob the giant hot dog and carrying my portable CD player proved to be a little difficult. I stumbled and bumped into a few tables and chairs before an old man took pity on me and helped me ease myself up the few steps to the stage.

“Hello, everyone,” I said into the microphone, jumping at how loud my voice sounded in the dimly lit room. “How are you all doing tonight? I’m doing really good today. I’m doing these daily affirmations each morning. It’s very important to start the day off on an optimistic note. So I look in the mirror and tell myself, ‘Go out there and face the world, Avery. You can do it. You’re the best. You’re a wiener!’”

Seeing the audience through the mesh screen over my face was almost impossible. But I could hear their laughter just fine. It sounded polite, but I had never expected to win them over with my jokes.

“But the thing that really helps me is this trick I learned from a good friend of mine,” I continued. “He has dance parties for no reason at all. Even when there’s no music, he dances because he feels like it. And we had a bet that if we made an A on our school project, I’d dance for him. So what better way to celebrate than shaking my bun around onstage?”

Several people cheered me on as I set the CD player on the floor and then took the microphone off the stand, setting it near the speaker so the audience could hear the music.

When “Who Let the Dogs Out?” blasted through the diner from my little stereo, I didn’t pause to think. I didn’t worry about what anyone else thought either. It didn’t matter if I was perfect or not, it only mattered that I made the audience laugh.

So I danced every dance I knew. The Hot Diggity Shuffle. The Running Man. The Twist. Cabbage Patch. Even a few moves that would never have been called dancing. I let the music take over, guiding me into chaotic movements across the stage.

And the audience loved it. Their cheers and laughs drowned out the song so I didn’t know if I was even still dancing to music at all anymore. Most of them stood up and danced along with me at their seats.

When I finally stopped, breathless and sweating, I threw back my head, laughing inside the hot dog costume. I finally felt free of
myself
, of every rule and total order I’d ever placed on my actions. I felt like the girl I had once been, back before I’d been damaged by life, reemerging from the walls I’d been trapped behind all these years.

“A-ver-y! A-ver-y!” the audience chanted my name, begging for an encore. I waved as I made my way offstage. As exhilarating as it was, once was enough for my first time.

I slipped out the front door of the diner after a long journey through the audience. Everyone wanted to stop and shake my hand or pat my bun, telling me how great I was. Ally promised to change her shirt to say “AVERY & ZAC PACK.”

Once I was outside, I peeled the costume down enough to let my upper body free of the sweltering heat inside. I paused, closing my eyes and sucking in the fresh night air. It had finally cooled, the record heat wave breaking at last before summer officially began.

“I have to say,” said a voice nearby, “those were some very impressive moves.”

I opened my eyes and there he was, leaning against the hood of my car, his arms crossed over his chest.

I was almost too afraid to breathe, worried I might break the spell and he would vanish into the night.

But when I blinked, he was still there.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Zac answered.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“And miss out on watching you shake your bun? A million rabid Zac Pack fans couldn’t keep me away.” He smiled, but it was a reserved smile, as if underneath the joking demeanor he was still a bit afraid of what was happening between us.

I grinned, trying to push back my own nervousness. “Better watch out. I might be stealing your Zac Pack for my own Avery Army.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Want to have a dance-off to see who wins? You may have some moves, but I’ve got style.” He did a short moonwalk across the gravel parking lot and then turned, moonwalking back to me.

I laughed and so did he, and for a moment the only sound was the muffled laughter and applause drifting from the diner and our own laughter in the quiet night.

Then my smile faded and I looked at him, hoping this time he wouldn’t walk away.

“I’m so sorry for everything I did. I was stupid and messed everything up. I really, truly never meant to hurt you.” I was rambling, unable to control the words coming out of my mouth, but it was important he understand how terribly I felt about what had happened. “I didn’t think about anyone except myself at first, but then as time went on and I got to know you, I realized how wrong I was. I never expected to feel the way I do about you. I didn’t take the money. I gave it back.”